Chapter 2

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe

The light I never knowed

And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe

I'm on the dark side of the road

But I wish there was something you would do or say

To try and make me change my mind and stay

But we never did much talking anyway

But don't think twice, it's all right.

So it ain't no use in calling out my name, girl

Like you never done before

And it ain't no use in calling out my name, girl

I can't hear you anymore

I feel a slight twinge of pain in my shoulder when I toss the football back to Max. For some reason, whenever I play with him or Owen, I always try to prove myself to them by throwing too hard and practically dislocating my shoulder. I guess because they're geniuses and always so talented, and I'm so...defective, I feel like I need to prove myself to them, even though they've never once treated me like I was anything less than perfect.

I've had to ask my dad multiple times if I was adopted, since I look nothing like my brothers. Owen and Max could be twins with their dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes, if it wasn't for their two year age difference. I'm the youngest at 17, with Max being 18 and Owen 20. I don't look a thing like them or my dad, with my dark hair and green eyes.

Everyone in the family has some variation of blonde hair and brown or hazel eyes, but my dad did say that my mom had the same green eyes as me, which was the only thing that convinced me I wasn't adopted. Everyone else is tall, while I'm a little under 5'. So, yeah, you can see why I think I don't have any blood ties to my family.

We're at First Beach again; it's Max's first time here and he's so not impressed. It's been a few days since the last time I was here...meaning it's been a few days since the slushie fiasco.

I went home and continued on with my day, not regretting a single thing about what I did. The guy deserved it. Okay, so the phrase "what are you, deaf?" is so common that I shouldn't have gotten offended, but it's not like I can help how I felt. And plus, he seemed pissed off so it wasn't like he was teasing me or being playful, it was coming from a place of anger.

Whatever, point is, I've (somewhat) forgotten that little encounter and filed it away in my head as something I don't want to think about.

I watch in satisfaction as the ball sails perfectly into Max's arms, and I can't help but do a little victory dance at my perfect, amazing, beautiful throw.

Max grins and drops the ball to the sand between his feet so he can use his hands to sign. "What is that you're doing with your body? It looks like you're seizing...Should I call someone?"

"I should go professional! Is there even an NFL team for girls? You know what? Who cares! I'll join the boys team and kick all their asses," I sign, ignoring him and still doing my weird shoulder and hip shuffle.

Max just laughs, folding his arms to watch me.

He and Owen learned sign language before I was even old enough to, and they taught me. Max was two when my dad finally noticed that I didn't react to loud noises, that I didn't react to his voice. My mother was a prescription drug addict, throughout all of her pregnancies actually, but other than Owen's ADHD, I was the only one affected. My inner ears didn't form the way they supposed to, and the doctors blamed my mother's drug use.

My deafness has never been an issue for them. It was never an 'obstacle' or something they needed to overcome, it never really affected them unless I got upset about it. Despite all the doctor visits, the failed surgeries, and the communication barrier, it never affected anyone but me. They never acted like it was a problem for them, they never got irritated when they'd have to take the extra time to sign something or get my attention or translate.

My deafness was just a part of me, and they've always loved every part of me and never let me forget it.

"You done yet?" Max signs to me, but I ignore it in favor of 'dancing'.

I end my victory with a horrible version of the moonwalk that Michael Jackson would be ashamed of, along with some jazz fingers.

The football is sailing my way before I can do anything else, something I know Max did intentionally so I wouldn't try to butcher any more classic dance moves.

But, the football doesn't sail my way. It sails way over my head, and I stop moving to mock glare at him. "You did that on purpose! You know I can't reach that high!"

"You're the only person on the planet who isn't tall enough to reach that, shortstack," Max signs back with an amused smirk.

I just huff and go to fetch the ball, but I can't see it anywhere on the sand. I look around, and spot a tall, tanned, shirtless form about ten feet away, holding the football with two hands.

I only take a quick glance at this guy's face, but then my eyes dart right back to his...what is that? An eight-pack? Ten-pack? Twelve-pack?

Whatever it is... damn.

And I mean...dayum.

I can feel heat flood my pale cheeks, so to avoid further embarrassment I hold my hands up to form a triangle, a universal sign to throw the ball.

But I wait, and wait, and wait, and finally have no choice but to make eye contact with this otherwordly being when he doesn't get the memo toss me the ball.

I have to squint, to make sure that's really who I think it is. I mean, how many tall, tanned, buff (but not too buff) guys are in this tiny town?

Is this seriously my life? How can one person be so unlucky?

I freaking dumped a slushie on this guy not even three days ago!

He spins the football in the air, probably trying to show off, and it distracts me from the weird, intense eye contact we were having.

When I see the first movement of his lips, I take two steps closer so I can actually see, since I'm too far away.

"-s this yours?"

"Of course it's mine! Do you not see my hands, obviously waiting for you to throw it back to me?" Is what I want to say. But I already spoke enough when I verbally talked to the douchebag in the gas station, and I don't really feel like doing it again, nor would he understand me if I signed it.

So, I just stare at him with a blank expression. I mean, he has to know who I am. I doubt anyone can forget the face of the deaf person who dumped a slushie on their head.

I can see him mouth the words, "Oh, right," with a remorseful expression, before he drops the ball to the sand just like Max did.

I see him bring his hands up... and for a second I think I'm hallucinating, but then I see his hands moving. Moving in gestures that are so familiar, but the setting makes me think I'm imagining it, so it takes me a second to register that he's actually signing.

I mean, he's signing badly, and it's obvious he doesn't know any words, just the alphabet. But... I watch as he signs what he just said out loud. "I-S T-H-I-S Y-O-U-R-S?"

I'm so shocked that I actually stumble backwards, and I know I have a giant 'what the fuck' look on my face, but I can't help it. What the fuck are the chances that this guy knows sign language? I mean, he's really bad at it, but... wow.

Then... I sign my thoughts back to him. "What the fuck, man? You know how to sign?"

His eyes rapidly follow the movements of my hands, but it's glaringly obvious he has no idea what I just said.

I hadn't even realized Max had sidled beside us, nor had I realized it's been a few minutes, until I see Max's mouth moving, talking to the guy. He signs while he speaks for my benefit so I know what he's saying.

"She said, 'what the fuck, man? You know how to sign?' And I have to say, I'm curious about the answer to that, too."

Max then directs his next question to me, turning more to face me.

This time, he speaks for this guy's benefit while he signs. Whenever we talk and there's hearing or non-hearing people present, he always translates for everyone, speaking and signing at the same time.

"You know this guy, Kota?" He asks.

Oh... boy, do I know this guy.

And boy, do I not like him. Yeah, he's gorgeous, and probably the hottest guy I've ever seen in real life and not through a screen, but that doesn't mean I like him.

I don't answer, instead opting to look at the guy to see what he says.

I don't always get the lip reading thing right. Some words look like other ones, and despite my 17 years of lip reading, I still get it wrong 80% of the time. But this guy enunciates his words perfectly, "I don't... really... Just letters, really, and not well."

It's obvious that he's stumbling over what he's saying and he's nervous, since his speech is stilted. I know it's not my reading, it's him.

I can't tell if he's enunciating his words on purpose, because usually when people are aware of my situation, they try to over-exaggerate the movement of their lips, and it always ends up making it worse. He looks uncomfortable, like there's something embarrassing about this admission, though I can't see what.

"And... yeah, kind of... we know each other. I mean, we kind of know each other."

His brows are pinched, but then he looks me in the eyes and suddenly his lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, like he's remembering our meeting, and he's actually remembering it fondly.

I know I still have that WTF look on my face, but this situation is so bizarre I can't help it.

"I dumped a cherry slushie on his head," I sign slowly, too in shock to form the right words in a normal amount of time.

When Max sees, he turns fully to face me and stares at my hands disbelievingly. "You did what?"

I cross my arms, a sure indication that I don't want to say anything more on the subject.

Max, knowing he's not getting anything else from me, turns to the guy- and I wish I knew his name, so I can stop calling him 'guy' in my head- and speaks to him. "Why did she dump a slushie on your head?"

I tap Max on the arm to get his attention. "Cherry slushie."

Max gives me an annoyed look, obviously not really caring about that little detail.

"-shitty." I wasn't paying attention, so I had only caught the tail end of what he said.

Wait, what's shitty? He better not be calling me shitty! The asshole.

"What did he just say?" I sign quickly to Max.

"He said that he's said something shitty to you."

My eyes instantly dart from Max's hands to this guy's eyes, only to find him already looking at me. His eyes seem to say everything that I will never be able to hear.

He's sorry.

I can't help but soften just a little. Knowing that he only knows the alphabet, I sign slowly in letters so he can understand me, and try to keep it short and sweet. "N-A-M-E?"

There's something else I want to ask, like how he knows ASL, but first things first.

It takes him a second to catch on, but then he motions to himself, in a "Who, me?" way, and I nod.

"P-A-U-L," he signs, and the way he's smiling at me- no, scratch that- the way he's beaming at me, it completely changes his face. He has a rough-around-the-edges look about him, and frequently makes expressions that indicate he's always angry, but man, that smile right there on his face, it completely transforms him. He's looking at me, and there's this light in his eyes, that, combined with that gorgeous smile, causes this weird twist in my heart and pang in my stomach.

The feeling is so foreign and I'm so focused on it that I don't even realize I've been smiling back at him.

When I do realize it, we've both been smiling way too long and Max is looking at us funny, especially me, since I'm usually a bitch to guys on mere principle... for reasons I don't really like to think about.

I quickly drop my smile, and then Paul does too, narrowing his eyes at me in response. His beautiful eyes rove all over my face, taking in every detail and lingering on the freckles I know are scattered on my nose and cheeks.

I have to look at everyone's hands and lips to make sure nobody has said anything, and after a few seconds I realize that nobody's been talking and that it's just kind of an awkward pause. I can't really say awkward silence, because for me it's always silent, so I'll settle on just awkward pause.

The guy... Paul, points to me and raises his eyebrows in question.

Am I- am I supposed to know what that means? It looks like he was pointing at...

I look at Max, "Was he just pointing at my tits?"

Max laughs, and I know it's loud by the way he leans over and clutches his stomach, and too late I forget that whenever I sign in front of a hearing person, he translates out loud. So Paul knows what I just said, and instead of being embarrassed of my own bluntness, I'm amused to see his russet cheeks turn a dark, dark red.

I can't help but smirk at his reaction and the violent way he shakes his head no. I let out a laugh, and his head snaps towards me and he starts smiling again, and I don't really want him to ever look at me again if he doesn't have that look on his face, that light in his eyes.

Jesus, I never want him to look at anybody but me for the rest of my life. If I'm being honest, I could probably look at him for the rest of my life, too, he's that attractive.

Max signs and speaks at the same time. "He meant he wanted your name, dumbass."

I shove Max, hard, but he just laughs as he doesn't move an inch. "I think I just felt a nice breeze," he spreads his arms out, joking around, and I scoff at him before turning back to Paul.

He's watching our interaction with a little grin on his face, his cheeks still red but not as bad.

"K-O-T-A," I sign slowly, trying to be considerate. He must not use ASL that often or... or he just recently learned it.

His hands copy mine, and I see his lips mouth something too late for me to catch.

I don't think before I reach over and adjust his hands when he signs 'N' instead of 'T', but quickly pull back when I realize I'm completely invading his personal space and that he's not just hot as hell, his skin is hot as hell.

I think I gasp, because he kind of reaches towards me with a worried look on his face, but I take a large step back. I've never voluntarily touched someone who isn't related to me in a long time (and for good reason), and the comfortability I had with touching Paul is what makes me nervous. What makes me... shifty.

He has that hurt look on his face, kind of similar to the one he had at the gas station, but I don't really stay to apologize. Although, I still never got an apology for the gas station thing.

I lean down at his feet and snatch the football away quickly, then grab Max's arm and steer him towards the parking lot.

If Paul says something, I can't hear it.

I just...flee.

A/N: I just want to say that I hope it's assumed that every time Kota "says" something, she's signing. I'm not going to put 'sign' after everything, and no, I haven't forgotten she's deaf. If there's quotation marks, and it's obvious that the words are Kota's, then she's signing. Just want to put that out there.

Gosh, I can't even thank you guys enough for all the love I'm already feeling for this story. I seriously can't believe the response I've gotten so far. And can I just say, I always find it so amazing that so many people from all over the world read my stories? I'm so in awe, whenever I see the stats and see all the different countries people are reading this from. It's crazy, and mind-blowing, and gives me all the feels.

This chapter isn't really edited as many times as usual, so sorry for any mistakes.

I'm currently posting this in favor of studying for my finals so... I'll blame this website when my grade drops lol.

I love you all, and I love your reviews, so please let me know what you guys think!

-M