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“Oh,” she breathed. “Um … thank you.” She laughed nervously. “Wow, your hands are very warm and …” Her eyes went to my lips as she trailed off, and I lifted an eyebrow. What was she going to say? And my mouth was warm, too? The thought had my mind picturing all the places I wanted to put it.
I continued to hold her gaze, noticing her grow more flustered. Why could I not stop coming up with ways to touch her that day? Maybe it was the realisation I liked having her in my space, showing up at my work. I wanted her around as much as possible.
I continued warming her face until the bus arrived, and I had to let go of her hands. I lowered them and tucked them inside her coat pockets before withdrawing. We boarded the bus, and I walked to our usual seats, motioning for her to take the window while I sat in the aisle. It was a quieter journey today. Normally, Maggie would ask me to show her some sign language, but she was silent now, contemplative. I wondered if she was just tired or perhaps I’d been touching her a little too much and should stop. But she hadn’t seemed to dislike it when my hands were on hers, my mouth blowing warm air into her palms. On the contrary, she’d closed her eyes for a moment like my heat and touch were soothing.
When we reached our stop, I stood, allowing her to step out first before I followed her off. She turned to me then, something self-conscious in her expression when she said, “I’m not going straight home today. I have an appointment.”
I arched my eyebrow curiously, and she went on, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Well, actually, it’s not an appointment. It’s a class. I’m attending that adult literacy class I told you about. It’s time I faced my fears, and if it all works out, you might not have to wait so long for me to read your texts anymore.”
I was filled with pride for her, not that it was my place to be proud. Maggie didn’t belong to me, even though I wished for something more with her. But I was very impressed she was biting the bullet. I knew it had to be nerve-wracking to start something new.
Also, her mention of texts made me realise I still didn’t have her phone number. I pulled mine out and created a new contact with her name. Then I handed her the phone, hoping she’d put her number in. She peered at the screen, then glanced up at me.
“You want my number?”
I nodded, and a small smile shaped her lips. “Okay,” she breathed, then proceeded to tap it in.
I took the phone back, warm from her hands, slid it in my pocket, then signed, Good luck with the class.
She bit her lip, a look of apology on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that.”
Instead of going to the trouble of typing it out, I pulled her in for a hug. Just as always, I was assaulted by her scent, her small hands resting against my upper chest as I squeezed her once, then released her. She gave a shy smile, eyes fluttering to the ground before meeting mine once more, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
See you tomorrow, I signed before we parted, going our separate ways.
***
Over the next few days, I sent Maggie a handful of texts, though she tended to reply mainly with emojis or GIFs. I suspected it was because she was self-conscious of typing things out.
When I’d messaged her on Wednesday night asking how her literacy class had gone, she’d replied with a thumb’s up emoji, which I took to mean it had gone well. The rest of the week passed, and on Sunday, I wondered if she remembered my invitation to dinner. I’d forgotten to remind her when I walked her home after the bus on Friday.
I’d just gotten out of the shower while Daniel sat by my bed, whining to be taken on a walk. I quickly dried and got dressed, then sent Maggie a text.
Are you coming over today?
I didn’t receive a reply until I was strolling down the canal later with Daniel. My heart raced as I pulled out my phone and opened the message, which consisted of a single thumb’s up emoji. Instantly, my mood brightened. I picked up the pace, much to Daniel’s disgruntlement; he liked to stop and leisurely sniff at things that caught his interest.
When I got home, I could hear Dad in the kitchen preparing dinner, the sound of the extractor fan blaring and the clinking of various utensils. He was talking to someone, and I thought my brother and Dawn might’ve arrived early, but then I entered the kitchen and spotted Rhys sitting at the table with Stephanie by his side.
