Give Me a Sign(34)
“No, no, no,” he signs, stretching out his arm, pretending to caress the side of my face. “Wait for me . . . ” I take a deep breath. He inches closer. “To sign . . . ”
I know exactly what’s coming, as well as the response it will elicit from me. Looking up at the sky, I feel a blush rise in my cheeks, very aware of how many people are watching.
Isaac waves for my attention before continuing. “Honey, if you love me . . . ”
Of all the ways to sign “love,” he used the I-L-Y sign. I mean, it’s all part of the game, right? He’s still pointing to himself as I shake my head, facing him directly and forgetting that he’s not done with his request.
“Please . . . smile?” He tilts his head and gives a wide grin of his own, which is contagious. Very much so.
It’s taking everything I’ve got to keep my expression neutral. Now comes the hardest part.
“I love you, honey,” I sign super fast, biting my lip and watching his head lean forward, eyes wide in anticipation. No big deal—I’m just dropping the L-word, casually, to a guy I’m super into in front of an entire crowd of people. He rests his chin on his knuckles and bats his eyelashes again. “But I—” Then Isaac switches it up, dropping his smile into a dramatic frown and clutching his hands to his heart. Peering at me with those big brown eyes.
And I forget to clench my mouth tight, letting slip the edge of a grin.
Game over.
“I got you!” he signs, jumping up in celebration. “Finally! A victory!”
As the kids and staff break the circle and get ready for the hike, Isaac helps me up. He’s still laughing, and I playfully swat him away.
“Why are you laughing?” I sign, standing up on my toes to get in his face, the game-ending smirk having not yet left mine. But this makes him laugh even harder, a mostly silent, wheezing, full-chest, adorable kind of chuckle. “Are you seriously giggling right now?”
He watches my lips, reading them carefully, and purses his lips together, nodding.
I stand back flat on the ground and sign this next part quickly before I lose my confidence. “Okay, that’s cute.”
Then I hurry away, leaving Isaac there, smiling.
Chapter Thirteen
The weather for the next few days is spotty. Storm clouds drift in on Wednesday, but we still get to be outdoors most of the day. The light drizzle turns into a proper downpour on Thursday, though. We’re stuck with indoor activities or hiding out in the warmth of the dining hall for extended meals. After hours, most of the counselors gather in the staff cabin. I grab a jacket from my bunk and step outside to join them, pulling up the hood to cover my hearing aids from the drizzle that remains. Ethan and Isaac are at the firepit, fighting the light raindrops to get a small flame going.
Ethan catches me looking their way and waves me over. He and Isaac haven’t managed to start the fire yet, but they’ve gathered a decent amount of damp kindling. Ethan’s got a raincoat on, while Isaac is sitting on the bench, legs scrunched up, in an oversize bright-green poncho.
“Not going well?” I call out, bunching up the ends of my jacket sleeves in my hands as I walk over.
“Nothing’s dry enough,” Ethan says and signs. “I’ll be right back.” He jogs off down the path in the direction of the craft barn and dance barn.
“Why are you here? It’s raining,” I say and sign to Isaac.
“Rain is almost finished.” He shrugs. “Want to ——，” he asks, along with a familiar Y-shape sign, but at the moment I can’t remember it.
“Again?”
“S-t-a-y?” he fingerspells.
“Right, stay.” I smile. “Maybe . . . ”
To sweeten the deal, Isaac stands, reaches into his backpack, and pulls out his beach towel, resting it across the drenched bench for me. He also rips a few blank pieces of paper from a beat-up sketchbook and crumples them in his hand, stepping back into the circle to toss them under the big logs. He picks up a lighter that’s been sitting by my foot, dries it off with the edge of the towel, then squats by the fire like a little green frog.
Flames consume the kindling, and soon, a proper fire is burning. Isaac jumps up, holding both arms out to the pit, showing off his creation. He bends down again to carefully fan the flames, throwing a few more pieces of crumpled paper inside.
“Nice work,” I sign. I can’t stop staring, totally amused, so I gesture toward his outfit. “Where’d you get this?”
“I don’t know, it’s so old.”
He sits beside me, and I lean away, thinking the water droplets I felt were from his poncho, but it turns out the rain is picking back up. Isaac quickly undoes a few of the plastic buttons on the side of his poncho. He throws the dismantled green sheet over both our heads and backs, so we both huddle together.
“I thought the rain was almost finished . . . ” I sign, but I don’t really mind, because we’re pretty cozy at the moment.
“Whoops, hopefully soon,” he signs one-handed. He looks back at the fire. “Still going!”
“For now.” I glance around, realizing Isaac and I have been alone for a while. “Where’s Ethan?”
“I don’t know.” But Isaac doesn’t look around. Instead, he crosses his legs and spins his body on the bench to sit and face me. But he doesn’t say anything. Does he want to tell me something?