Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Only then did it click.
He'd flinched.
Flinched.
People who couldn't hear didn't flinch at loud noises.
I straightened so quickly the world spun for a long second. But as he came into view, I could see the truth of it in his face.
He could hear.
He could hear, he just couldn't speak.
If he could hear, that meant he'd heard me. Rambling about eye-banging and sex dreams.
"Oh, my God," I whimpered, pulling up the baking sheet, using it as an actual physical guard, resting it against my head to hide my burning cheeks for a second before spinning around, pretending like washing the cookie sheet required my utmost attention.
There was a rustling noise I chose not to turn around to find the source of. As it would turn out, I didn't need to turn. Because not a minute later, the source of it slapped down on the counter at my side. A yellow notepad that had been in the drawer under the TV since I moved in. I couldn't bring myself to throw out something the old owner left behind, the front few pages various versions of a note he had been writing to a local newspaper.
Cam had folded those pages over the back, the fresh page scribbled with his writing.
I'm sorry. I should have told you.
"It's okay. It's not a big deal." Though why he would keep that from me was odd. "Does everyone else know?" I blurted out, only realizing how inappropriate such a question might be after it had left my lips.
Yes.
Somehow, that made it all the more unusual. Everyone else knew, but it kept it from me. Why?
Maybe because it was easier not to have to explain, just to let me assume. And, honestly, I got that.
Don't be mad.
"I'm not mad," I insisted immediately, the honesty unmistakable. "This might actually make things a little easier in a way. Except maybe that I am much more likely to make an idiot of myself."
You're not an idiot. And I like the rambling.
"Well, that makes one of us. So, how do you like your garlic bread? Just a touch of the stuff, or could-keep-vampires-away?" To that, he simply tapped the garlic. He didn't need to write it down for me to know what he was trying to get across. "Did you find something for us to watch?"
Murder Mystery. It is a whodunit but also a comedy. Figured it ticked both our boxes. Have you seen it?
"Nope. I haven't seen anything that has been on Netflix. Or you know Hulu or Prime or any premium cable channel in, I don't know, several years. I never have access to any of it."
But you like TV?
"Yeah. I mean you learn not to miss it too much. But if I had the choice, I would definitely spend a few nights here and there binging something that everyone is always talking about."
I've got Netflix. And Hulu. Prime. HBO. Showtime.
"Careful, you might have me over there all the time."
Got a big couch. Plenty of room for you.
It shouldn't have, but my belly flip-flopped at what was unmistakably an offer. To spend time at his place. To curl up on his couch. When he was there.
I couldn't help but imagine it. A long binge session, making us both sprawl out to get more comfortable. Maybe his arm would brush mine. Maybe my head would lift. Maybe his head would tilt, eyes looking down at mine. And then maybe he would lower down. Maybe his lips would seal over mine.
"That would be nice actually. I can make the food. I bring the food. You provide the entertainment. It sounds like a date. I mean..." I rushed to add, cheeks heating again, wondering why the hell it was so easy to make a fool of myself around this man in particular. It was never the kindly middle-aged guy at the pharmacy that you stumbled all over your own words in front of. It was also the super hot guy that you didn't want to think you were a simpleton. "You know... like a platonic date. A friendly, neighborly date. Oh, my God. I am just going to stop talking now."
There was a tap at my side, Cam bringing my attention down to the notepad.
Like the babbling. It's cute. Don't stop talking.
Cute.
He thought I was cute.
I mean, technically, he said the babbling was cute. But the babbling was a part of me. I was just going to take this one.
So I did.
A warm, stretching sensation bloomed in my chest, something both wholly new, yet somehow familiar at the same time.
And that, well, I couldn't let that happen. Not with Cam. Not with anyone. I was not someone with roots. I couldn't let myself feel things like that. Not now. Maybe not ever.
"Well, good. Because I can never seem to stop myself. Alright. I am going to put this in, then we maybe have like twenty more minutes before everything is ready. I would offer you something to drink, but I only have tap water. Well, tap water and coffee. But I have never been one of those people who can drink coffee and eat at the same time. My mom used to. I always feel like it makes the food taste funny. But if you want some coffee, I can make some." I glanced over, finding him watching me, eyes bright, lips curved up slightly. "See, I told you. Can't seem to stop it." That look he was giving me certainly wasn't helping either. "So, ah, where do we stand on the coffee thing?" I asked, feet shifting restlessly, suddenly all-too aware of just how close he was standing. Close enough that I could feel his body heat warm the air between us.