“Why? I don’t expect everyone to know who they are. It was a nice change.”
“My dad loves your dad,” Todd tells him and glances at the picture again just to make sure.
“Well, I guess someone has to.” Daniel grimaces, and Todd is immediately brought out of his starstruck state.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it’s a sensitive subject.” Foot in mouth, a story by Todd Navarro.
“It’s not. He’s well aware I’m not his biggest fan.”
Todd bites his tongue on the why? that’s dying to slip out. Daniel doesn’t look as if he wants to talk about it, judging by the squared shoulders and the pinched eyebrows.
“Can I help you prepare anything?” he asks, and his chest expands at the way Daniel’s shoulders relax.
“No, they’re bringing the food, and we’ll put the snacks out later.”
“What’s the plan anyway?”
“Sorry?”
“What’s the plan?”
“For the evening?”
Todd nods.
“Hanging out and board games.”
Todd has always enjoyed board games. He’s a lot better at them than athletics. “How many are you expecting to show up?”
Daniel frowns. “Just the four of us?”
Oh. So there’s not a massive guest list. Daniel was really just having Mela and Jesse over and asked if Todd wanted to come too. That makes sense; Todd wouldn’t want to hang out with a couple either.
“Is that a problem?” Daniel asks, as if he’s heard Todd’s internal conversation.
“No, of course not. I just sort of assumed that it would be a big crowd.”
“It’s easier with fewer people,” Daniel says, and Todd looks at him, waiting him out. “Well, frankly, four people is not exactly ideal. I’m expected to converse with everyone and I can’t. Jesse’s going to help me out with interpreting.”
“We’ll try to figure it out.”
“I’ll be around people who know me and what I need, so it’s different from when I’m with a group of people I’m not close to. It’s easy to forget that I need things from the people around me.” Daniel shrugs. “I think I told you before, but I had better hearing when I was younger, and it took me a long time to be comfortable asking people for what I need.”
“It shouldn’t have to be like that,” Todd says.
Daniel eyes him. “You forget sometimes too.”
“I know,” Todd frowns at his hands before looking up again. “I’m trying to do better. I wish it wasn’t something I have to think about consciously. I’m working on it.”
“Sorry?”
Todd repeats himself.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know that too.” Daniel smiles slightly. “It wasn’t until I started spending time with other people with hearing loss that I stopped feeling like I was the odd piece in the puzzle somehow. Most of them are like me: We’ve grown up with hearing parents and siblings and friends, in hearing culture. I didn’t even know about Deaf culture until quite recently. How messed up is that?”
Todd can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound like an empty cliché, but Daniel doesn’t seem to need his input.
“When I hang out with other people like me, it’s a lot easier than when I’m spending time with hearing people. Sometimes, especially in large groups, it’s easy for people to forget to not have several conversations at the same time or interrupt each other. It’s tiring to read lips and it’s difficult it is for me to hang out with people in bars or restaurants because of all the distractions.”
Todd swallows strokes the back of Daniel’s hand, which is resting on the counter. His skin is a bit dry. “That must be difficult.”
“Yes. It takes up a lot of my concentration, and afterward I’m beat, you know? I have my hearing aids, but they’re not magical. I can’t even use them all the time. Some of my closer friends learned to sign to make it easier for me, Jesse for example. We’re about equally fluent. We started learning together.”
I’m learning too, he wants to say, but he’s far from getting there, despite practicing every day. It would be false advertising.
Daniel takes a slow breath, then gives a small shrug and says, “I’m proud of who I am, but it really blows when other people forget who I am.”
That statement feels final. That’s okay. It’s up to Daniel to decide when or where he wants to share.
“Anyway,” Daniel says. “Let’s go upstairs for a bit.”
Todd sits on Daniel’s bed after an indecisive moment of awkward lingering. He watches as Daniel straightens some notes on his desk. His shoulders visibly relax with every second that passes, and he scoots a little to the left when Daniel comes to sit opposite him.
Hugging his legs to his chest, Todd looks at him. “So, how are you?”
“Good.” The pause makes Todd wait, and Daniel looks away. “I took the LSAT a while back.”
“When?”
“Around midterms.”
Todd had no clue about that, but he should’ve asked. “How did it go?”
“I should find out any day now.”
“How did it feel?”
“What?”
“How did it feel?”
Daniel lets out a sigh. “I really have no clue. Right there, it felt okay, which is usually a good sign. I’ve started doubting my answers more now and I just know that I didn’t get the score I need.”
He looks weary all of a sudden, as if all the air has left him, but softer and more vulnerable than ever. Todd digs his fingers into his arms.
“You don’t know that yet.”
“I’m not even sure I want the score to get in,” Daniel admits, and his voice is so quiet that Todd can barely make out the words.
“Why not?”
“That way I don’t have to make a choice.”
“And you don’t want to go to Harvard?”
Daniel shrugs and stares at Todd’s hands for a long while. “I don’t know, honestly.”
The urge to comfort is so strong that Todd has to bite his lip to keep from saying anything. He waits and waits until Daniel looks up at him again.
“My grandfather always said that I would be great at law, and my mom thinks so too.” Daniel takes a deep, slow breath that reminds Todd so much of how he tries to calm his own racing heart when his brain starts working at high speed.
“What do you think?” he asks, trying to make his voice gentle.
Daniel blinks. “Come again?”
“What do you think?”
“I’ve always known that I didn’t want to go into sports, like my dad. I’ve always assumed that I wanted to go into law. It’s just now, when I might have to make that choice…” He takes another breath and lets it out through his nose. It’s loud in the silence. “What if I make the wrong one?”
“You can always make a new choice,” Todd says. “Maybe you can’t change the one you’ve already made, but you can make a new one.”
Daniel nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I always figured, you know, that your occupation should be your purpose in life.”
“Do you still think so?”
“Sorry?”
“Do you still think that?”
“I don’t know anymore.” Clearing his throat, Daniel looks at the duvet and then up again; his cheeks have some color to them now. “I’m thinking that maybe the project, the one I told you about, maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do.”
“Can’t it be?”
Daniel shrugs again. “I don’t know. Is it a failure if I choose the wrong thing?”
“No, definitely not.” Todd squeezes his knee. “I think failure is when you choose the wrong thing and then don’t try to do anything about it, even if you can.”
; “What? I didn’t catch the part after choosing the wrong thing.”
“If you don’t do anything about it, even if you can, I think that’s a failure.” Todd looks at him. “Not just making the wrong choice. That’s just part of life.”
“So how do I know what to choose?”
“Maybe you have to ask yourself if you will regret not giving it a try?”
That brings out a tiny smile. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You’re one of the smartest people I know, even if I don’t know you that well yet. You’ll figure it out when you get there.”
“You know me pretty well,” Daniel tells him. “You had me all figured out from the start, remember?”
Todd grimaces, remembering that conversation so well. Has it really only been a few months? It feels as though it’s been years. “Don’t remind me.”
“Why not? I had a great night.”
Biting his lips, Todd has to look away from Daniel’s gaze. The part of him that sometimes wonders what things would’ve been like if he hadn’t messed up is always louder when they’re alone like this.
“So did I.” He offers finally. “You were really cocky.”
He looks up when Daniel lifts his chin with a warm hand. “Come again?”
“So did I,” Todd repeats. “You were really cocky.”
“I was not,” Daniel scoffs.
“Yes, you were. You just bragged about how great you were at swimming and that you’re so smart.”
Daniel gapes, but a glint in his eyes makes Todd’s stomach lurch and his skin crawl in anticipation. “Liar. You’re the one who asked if I was a good swimmer, and I confirmed.”
“You bragged,” Todd protests.
“I did not. You were judging me so hard, and I had to defend myself.”
“I did not judge you!”
“No?” Daniel smirks. “Am I imagining all the comments about me being typical Ivy League and me being a stereotypical jock?”
Todd somehow manages to get his stupid grin under control and does his best to give Daniel his most serious nod. “Yes, I think you might want to get that memory of yours checked up.”
When Daniel doesn’t reply, but just looks at him with that glint still in his eyes, Todd cracks under the anticipation. Grabbing a pillow, he throws it in Daniel’s direction and immediately regrets it when Daniel catches it and pushes him down on the bed with it in two seconds flat. His arms are locked against his chest and Todd can’t stop laughing, making it impossible for him to find enough strength to fight back.
“Let me go,” he whimpers, and his cheeks ache.
“What?”
“Let me go,” Todd says again.
“Giving up already?” Daniel puts the pillow aside, but his hand locks around Todd’s wrists, keeping him in place.
Todd stares up at him, struck by the way Daniel looks at him. His grin is warm and wide, and he’s so close, leaning over Todd on the bed. The air between them goes from fun to tense in the best of ways, and Todd just knows that they’re going to kiss.
Licking his lips, his eyes drop to Daniel’s mouth.
“Wanna help me set the table?” Daniel asks.
Blinking, Todd forces himself to meet Daniel’s gaze and suddenly he’s hot all over for a completely different reason. God, he’s so stupid. There was never going to be a kiss. They’re friends.
“Yeah, sure,” Todd says.
Daniel climbs off the bed and Todd is left awkwardly disentangling himself from pillows and sheets to go after him down the stairs. His beanie has slipped off, and his hair looks a little wild when he walks past the mirror on Daniel’s open closet door, but he leaves the hat on Daniel’s bed anyway. Mom always nags him about not wearing it indoors.
In the kitchen, Daniel is already grabbing glasses from the cabinets and there are plates on the counter. He taps Daniel on the shoulder.
“Where are we gonna sit?” Todd asks him, once Daniel has put the glasses down. His gaze lingers on Todd’s hair, and there’s a new kind of smile on his lips for a second.
“Sorry?”
Todd repeats the question.
“What do you think? Dining room or kitchen?”
Todd shrugs. “Maybe kitchen? If we’re gonna eat and play games. I’m gonna get intimidated in the dining room.”
Daniel snorts at that. “You’re not, but I see your point. Kitchen it is. The table is smaller.”
It’s round with six chairs, and Todd thinks it will be easier for Daniel to sit here, especially with Jesse helping. They set the table together in silence, and Todd puts the glasses on the wrong side, but Daniel just rearranges them.
Todd notices weird little things, like the way Daniel bites the inside of his cheek when he’s considering where to put the vase with fresh flowers or how he lines up the plates and bowls of snacks on the counter hesitantly, as though he’s worried that Todd thinks he’s overdone it—which he totally has, because there’s snacks for twenty people, but it’s sweet. Why Daniel prepares the snacks already, Todd has no idea, but it’s not like Cheez Doodles go bad anyway.
“I don’t know what you like,” Daniel confesses.
“I like everything that’s edible.”
Daniel turns away, but Todd catches the smile.
Mela and Jesse arrive shortly after that, and Todd is stiff with surprise when Jesse hugs him instead of giving his usual shoulder-squeeze.
For a group that hasn’t been hanging out together regularly, they’re oddly comfortable and in sync. When they team up for the board games, Todd automatically teams up with Daniel and doesn’t think twice about it until it’s two a.m. and his stomach hurts from too much laughing. That’s when he looks away from Mela and Jesse sitting close together on one of the living room couches and realizes that his own feet are under Daniel’s thigh on the other.
He takes in Daniel, who’s looking at his cards in deep concentration, but his arm is resting on Todd’s knees, using them as an armrest. Todd wiggles his toes experimentally. Daniel doesn’t look away from his cards when he reaches down to squeeze Todd’s calf and says, with a laugh in his voice, “Stop, I’m concentrating.”
Todd knows that it’s nothing on Daniel’s side, since he definitely backed away from a perfect moment to kiss, but it stings a little bit how easy and unproblematic affection seems to be to Daniel. It’s as though it’s not even that, as though touching someone this way doesn’t have a deeper meaning to him. In comparison, Todd is warm and pliant and comfortable this close to him. It’s not just the wine.
“What?”
Todd looks away from where his feet have disappeared under Daniel’s thigh and finds Daniel looking at him, obviously having noticed his staring.
“I’m just thinking about my next move,” Todd lies.
“Did you forget the rules again?” Daniel smirks.
“I never forgot the rules! You just use the wrong ones.”
Mela and Jesse leave an hour later, and Todd loads the dishwasher while Daniel lets them out. It’s not until he’s grabbed the dishrag to wipe the counter that he notices Daniel watching him from the doorway. A sudden rush of insecurity washes over him, and he puts it down.
“Sorry,” he says, realizing that he’s taken some liberties.
“For what?”
Todd holds up the dishrag.
“For cleaning up?” Daniel steps closer. His shirt is rumpled, and his hair is disheveled from a long night. He looks tired in a warm, pleased way.
“I kind of did it from habit.”
“Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”
Todd smiles and puts the dishrag down for the second time. “Did you have a good time?”
“I did. Did you?”
“Yeah, it was great.” It was a freaking double date, but with only one couple and two people where one is oblivious,
and the other is pining.
“Do you want to go to bed?”
“Yeah. I think the wine glasses are still on the coffee table, though.”
“Come again?”
“I think the wine glasses are still on the coffee table.”
“I’ll deal with them tomorrow.” Daniel nods toward the door. “Come on, let’s get to bed.”
“Can we maybe watch Netflix first?” Todd asks when they reach Daniel’s floor. He’s not ready to part ways.
“Sure.”
Todd changes into sweats and a T-shirt, then goes to Daniel’s room. Daniel is already in bed, covers tucked up to his waist, and he’s not wearing a shirt. Todd is proud of himself for managing not to look, as he curls up against the headboard next to Daniel.
“Wanna continue the one we watched last time?”
“Yeah.”
Todd breathes in the smell of Daniel’s skin and closes his eyes. Maybe it’s cologne or just his body wash, but he smells nice despite having a long day, and Todd’s chest aches. Because this, this feels a lot like falling in love, and he knows that he shouldn’t.
He opens his eyes when the mattress moves. Daniel is out of bed putting the laptop on the desk, and Todd must have fallen asleep sitting up with his head uncomfortably against the headboard. His neck aches.
Groaning, Todd rubs his eyes and musters his strength to get out of Daniel’s bed and make the short walk to the guestroom.
“Stay if you want.” Daniel’s words take him by surprise.
“Sorry for falling asleep.”
“It’s fine. I figured we’ve shared a bed before.”
“It’s always because I fall asleep on you.”
“Can you repeat that?”
“It’s always because I fall asleep on you.”
Daniel smiles. “Yes. You can go back to sleep again as soon as you’re under the covers.”
“You don’t mind?” Todd asks, just to make sure. He knows it’s a bad idea, knows because he’s already too attached.
“No.” With a shrug, Daniel gets in bed and reaches for the bedside lamp. “When I turn the lights out, we’re out of ways to communicate.”
“Gimme a second.” Todd kicks off his sweats and drags his T-shirt over his head before he can think too much about it. He’s already warm. The sheets are tepid when he gets in, but they’re so soft. “Okay.”
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