The next week flew by, swallowed up in work. Thank goodness our restaurant didn’t serve breakfast or I might have broken down and started living in my uniform. I surfed with Matt twice early in the morning, feeling more confident and in control of my board every time we headed out. We flirted at church and texted back and forth a few times, but the scheduling trolls at Hannigan’s had tied up my weekend with double shifts on both Friday and Saturday. It meant plenty of extra cash, so I didn’t complain. Much. But I felt bad I hadn’t been able to redeem Matt’s rain-check request.
By Tuesday night, I was more than ready to see him at Institute. I escaped the restaurant without much of a fight because Tuesdays are notoriously slow all over the dining out industry, and they could handle business with a skeleton staff. I was standing in front of my half of the closet. Actually, my quarter of the closet. I didn’t have nearly as many clothes as Celia did, just what fit into two giant suitcases when I drove down for the summer. She was sweet to give up even part of her overworked closet space for me to shove a few things in.
Bored with my choices, I decided to make sure it would be worth the effort to dress nice.
Are you going to OT tonight? I texted Matt.
Who is this?
Ashley!
Who?
I snorted. I’m the brunette with a great sense of humor. We surf together sometimes.
Oh yeah. You.
Yep. Are you going to OT?
Why? You going to ditch?
No. But if you’re going, I might actually drag a brush through my hair or something.
You’d brush your hair for me? Cool. I think you like me.
I laughed. I usually did when we were going back and forth about something. I think you’re all right, I texted back.
You’re making me blush.
Good. Are you going or ditching?
I’ll go if you promise to sit by me.
Done. I have to go brush my hair now.
Want to ride over with me?
A knock on the bedroom door distracted me.
“Ash?” Dave called. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
He poked his head in. “Can I go to Institute with you?”
I wrinkled my nose. “You want to take another religion class? Do you miss your mission that much?”
“Funny. No, I’m hoping Laurel will be there. She wasn’t at FHE last night.”
“Hold on. Let me ask.”
Can Dave come? I tapped out to Matt.
No problem.
OK. Come and get us.
“You can come, but I’m catching a ride with Matt,” I reported to Dave.
“Cool.”
He ducked back out again, and I returned to my outfit search with purpose now. I settled on a white cotton skirt and snagged a cute pink hoodie from Celia’s side of the closet. We had an informal trade working where she could raid my makeup box anytime she wanted to and I got to borrow from her to expand my wardrobe. I rustled my flip-flops from under the bed and dug out my brush. When my curls refused to cooperate, I gave up and braided two long pigtails. Checking out my full-length reflection on the closet door, I convinced myself that my look could pass for bohemian chic and not a girl who lost a fight with her hair.
I had barely slicked on my favorite strawberry Lip Smacker when a knock sounded on the front door, right on time. Dave beat me to it, but I enjoyed the extra moment I had to admire Matt when the door swung open. Man, he was hot. He had some cool Von Zipper sunglasses tucked into the neck of his light green shirt, and it hardly seemed fair that he had to do so little to look so good.
Dave turned to glare at me. “How come I have to wear a collar? Matt doesn’t have one.” Dave had taken our advice about making a little effort with his appearance for Laurel and wore a short-sleeved button-down shirt with some cool snaps on the front.
“You’re wearing shorts, so you have to counteract that with a collar. Matt is wearing jeans, so he doesn’t need a collar,” I answered.
Matt looked perplexed. “Is that true?” he whispered as I walked out the door.
“I have no idea. It sounded good.”
“You had me convinced. I thought maybe I’d been a fashion don’t for years, and nobody told me.”
“You’re fine. Dave has to wear a collar because he’s trying to impress a girl, and he needs to compensate for his age deficiency.”
“Age deficiency? Isn’t he twenty-one?”
“Yeah, but that’s human years. In guy years, he’s barely fifteen.”
“What the heck is a guy year?”
I shrugged. “By middle school, pretty much every girl has figured out that we mature twice as fast as guys. In human years, we might be the same age as you but in guy years, you’re emotionally only half as developed. But don’t worry, it all evens out around twenty-five.”
“I see. So, I’m pretty much grown up now that I’m twenty-six?”
“Yeah.” He’d grown up quite nicely from where I stood.
“Good to know. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“No, I haven’t. Girls just know this stuff.”
He shook his head. “But you don’t tell us and then wonder why we can’t figure you out.”
“We do tell you, though. That’s what we mean every time one of us tells a guy to grow up.”
He shot me a glance full of mock concern. “You’re not going to get your chick card revoked for revealing girl trade secrets, are you?”
“I told you, you’re old enough to know now.”
He helped me into the car while Dave scrambled into the back, and we headed out for Institute. Megan and Laurel were already seated when we got to class, third row center, as usual. Dave threw me a slightly panicked look. “What do I do about Megan?” he asked out of the side of his mouth.
“You’re the one that said she’s harmless,” I reminded him.
“Fine, she’s the devil incarnate. Now will you tell me what to do?”
I thought about it for a minute. “Maybe I can draw Laurel off. She seems to like me okay.” I mean, it was hard to tell from our nonverbal communication, but she did help pick all my stuff up the week before. “I’ll give it a shot,” I said. “I’ll get her talking, and then you can come join the conversation and I’ll introduce you.”
“Who are we talking about here?” Matt asked.
Dave nodded his head in Laurel’s direction. Since our vantage point was behind the girls, they wouldn’t catch us ogling and conspiring unless they turned around. “The blonde next to Megan.”
Matt smiled. “Good choice.”
“Thanks, man.”
I set out for the pair, intent on my mission. Sliding into the seat next to Laurel, I said, “Hi. If I promise not to let Megan knock over any more of my stuff and make you clean it up, can I sit next to you?”
She looked confused and before she could answer, Megan jumped in.
“That was an accident. It didn’t look like such a big deal that you would need help.” She sniffed.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “If I asked you for the time of day, would you give it to me?”
“I’d probably fudge it by fifteen minutes.”
That startled a laugh out of me, and I felt an unwelcome twinge of respect for her.
“Good strategy,” I said. “I’d probably only have lied by ten.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. Laurel’s head swiveled back and forth between us, her expression growing confused.
Matt chose that moment to wander up. “Hey, Megan,” he said. “Did you get that surfboard?”
She nodded. “Thanks for the advice,” she said.
“You should probably get a surf rack for your car,” he said. “I can check it out really quick for you before Sister Powers gets here, maybe help you figure out which one would work best.”
Way to take one for the team, Matt. I knew he didn’t relish Megan cornering him in the parking lot again, but it was a great way to get her out of Dave’s way. Megan touched Laurel’s shoulder and said, “I’ll be back.”
Laurel nodded and Megan shot me a small, satisfied smile before following Matt out of the classroom.
“So, you’re Laurel, right?” I said.
She looked uncertain.
“Isn’t that your name? Laurel?”
She nodded.
“Do you like coming to Sister Powers’s class?”
Another nod.
“Have you taken any other classes from her?”
A head shake.
I began to feel a little frustrated. This girl was beyond shy. I’d never had such a challenge in pulling actual words out of anyone before.
Changing tactics, I groped for an open-ended question.
“What did you think of the assigned reading for today?”
She hesitated, forced to choose between breaking down and talking to me or being outright rude and not answering. I waited her out. She swallowed, licked her lips nervously, and then said softly, “It was hard to follow.”
Her voice sounded strange, a little hollow even, and I wondered if she was hoarse or something, but I felt encouraged that she answered so I pressed on.
“Yeah, I thought so too. I mean, the pieces are starting to come together for me, but there’s a lot of really arcane stuff, and I get a little lost sometimes, you know?”
She looked confused and then trapped. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have a hearing loss. Could you repeat that?”
And then it hit me. The quality to her voice that I couldn’t quite place . . . it sounded like I do inside of my own head when I’m talking and my ears need to pop but they won’t. Perfectly clear but kind of far away.
“You’re deaf?” I asked.
She nodded, shy again.
“Wow, that’s great!” At her look of surprise, I hurried to add, “I mean, it’s not great that you’re deaf unless you think it’s great that you’re deaf. I mean it’s great that you weren’t ignoring my cousin Dave the other night.”
“You talk really fast,” she said.
“Sorry! You need to read my lips, right?”
“Right,” she smiled. “And they move really fast.”
“I’ll slow down,” I promised. “Have you always been deaf?”
She nodded. “I was born deaf.”
“So are your parents deaf too?”
“No, hereditary deafness is kind of rare. The doctors aren’t really sure what caused my hearing loss.”
“You read lips really well,” I said.
“Thanks.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Dave approaching.
“Hey, do you care if I introduce you to my cousin? He thinks you’re cute.”
A flustered look crossed her face. “The deaf thing kind of bothers most guys,” she said.
I grinned. “Dave is not most guys. Come on, let me introduce him.”
She sighed but nodded.
I waved my cousin over, and he stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled toward us, trying really hard to appear casual.
He stopped a little behind us, and I pulled him around so Laurel could see his face more easily.
“Dave, I’d like to introduce you to my friend Laurel. Laurel, this is my cousin Dave.”
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” Laurel answered quietly.
I sat back, deciding to let them carry on the conversation since my introduction was done. A long, awkward pause ensued.
At last, Dave mumbled something that sounded like, “So you mblf nnngr mmmml class?”
Laurel looked at me, anxious and unsure about what Dave had said since he spoke to the floor.
“Dave? Laurel needs to see your lips when you talk.”
His head shot up, confusion creasing his forehead.
“I’m deaf,” Laurel said.
Dave brightened. “That’s cool,” he said.
I stifled a laugh, and he hurried to clarify, “I mean, it’s not cool, exactly. Not that it’s not cool, but I didn’t mean that—” He interrupted himself and started over. “I think it’s interesting that you’re deaf,” he said. “My best friend on my block when I was a kid was deaf. I learned some sign language from him. I forgot most of it, but it was a great experience.”
He made sure to speak clearly enough that Laurel could keep up, and she answered, “I was raised orally, so I didn’t learn to sign until a few years ago, but now I love it.”
Dave slid into the seat on her other side and began peppering her with questions. Satisfied that they were off to a good start, I moved back a couple of rows, leaving another empty seat by Laurel so that Megan could sit there and not by oh, say, Matt.
When he and Megan returned a couple of minutes later, he made a beeline for me, and Megan threw me a glare before reclaiming her seat next to Laurel.
“How was it?” I asked quietly enough to avoid having Megan eavesdrop.
“Oh, you know,” Matt said.
“Don’t be stingy with the details. I want to hear all about your fantastic parking lot field trip.”
He rolled his eyes. “This is what I get for trying to help.”
“No, it’s not. That is,” I said, nodding toward Laurel and Dave, who were still engrossed in conversation. “The satisfaction of knowing you did your part.”
Laurel headed for the piano to “play” the opening hymn by pushing the preset button, which also made a lot more sense now. After the song and prayer, Sister Powers began by saying, “Time for fun with ancient scripture.”
When the lesson ended despite Megan’s best efforts to extend it with multiple off-topic responses, Matt twisted in his chair to confront me head on.
“Do you have some sort of bias against weekends I should know about?”
“No. Why?” I asked, caught off guard by the slight impatience in his tone.
“I think you’re trying to duck out of our date.”
“I am not!” I protested. “You’re the one who canceled last Wednesday.”
“No, that was a postponement, and you won’t let me cash in my rain check. What’s up with that?” He crossed his arms and waited for my answer.
“I have this thing about making a living,” I said. “Weekend shifts pay the bills.”
“Fine. No weekends. How about tomorrow night?”
“For your rain check? Yeah, sure,” I said, suddenly stumped as to how to come up with a good date idea quickly.
“You sound way excited,” he teased me.
“I am,” I said. “I want to hang out with you. I’m just going to have to think of something to do for our date.”
“How about if we go to the ward activity?” he said. “I know that sounds kind of lame, but my sister is the activities chair and I told her I’d go. It would be way better if you were there.”
“Okay,” I said. “I can do that.”
“Good,” he smiled, and I felt a little curl of attraction unfurl somewhere in my chest. He had an amazing smile.
When I saw it stretch a little wider, I realized I was staring and gave myself a mental shake.
“Don’t be getting all attached to me and stuff,” Matt joked.
“I wasn’t. You have something in your teeth and I can’t look away.”
He snapped his lips closed and began poking around with his tongue.
“Is it gone?” he asked, baring his teeth once more.
“Yep,” I said, feeling slightly guilty that there wasn’t anything there in the first place.
“Anyway, the activity tomorrow is sushi. Are you down with that?”
“Sure. I love sushi. Are we meeting at Tuna Town?” I asked, naming a popular downtown spot.
“No, at the church. I guess we’re going to be learning how to make California rolls or something.”
Score! That meant I could potentially cross off number eight: learn to make sushi.
Noticing my happy grin, Matt asked, “You really like sushi, huh?”
“Yum,” I said and left it at that. Dave walked up looking pleased.
“How’d it go, dude?” Matt asked.
Dude is a favorite HB word. Everyone gets called dude. If you see a girl in a cute outfit on Sunday, it’s totally acceptable to call out, “Dude, cute skirt,” and no one thinks twice about it. People use it for everything from saying to their buddy, “Dude! That’s a sweet wave!” to saying, “Dude, nice doilies!” to their grandmother. I hadn’t adjusted to this, even after a month, but hearing it out of Matt’s mouth, it sounded pretty good. Mellow. Full of surferness.
“That chick is cool,” Dave said. I winced. “Just messing with you,” he said. “That’s a cool girl.”
I smiled at him. “She seemed super nice.”
“Totally,” he agreed. “She said I could call her sometime, so it’s all good.”
“Call her?” I asked in confusion. “How are you supposed to call her?”
Now Matt looked confused. “I’m guessing with a phone? That’s how it’s usually done, right?”
“She’s deaf,” Dave explained.
“Oh.” Matt looked even more confused. “How are you going to call her?”
Dave shrugged. “She said there’s this thing called a video relay or something. But I guess I just call her, and someone interprets for her.”
“Whoa, that’s cool,” Matt said. “I wonder how it works.”
“Maybe like Skype?” I suggested.
“It sounds a little bit like Skype except she’s the only one with a screen to look at,” Dave said.
Making sure that Laurel wasn’t looking, I slapped him a five. “Good work, cousin. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Ash. From the Strategy Queen, that means something. I think I have a tear.”
“Strategy Queen, huh?” said Matt. “Tell me more.”
“Ha ha, silly Dave,” I said. “Uh, I need to check with you about something out in the hall. We’ll be right back, Matt.”
He nodded, a skeptical eyebrow raised.
In the hallway, Dave eyed me. “What is wrong with you?”
“With me? What’s wrong with you, making that crack about the Strategy Queen?”
“What are you freaking out about, Smashley? He has no idea what I’m talking about. Until you lost your mind and yanked me out here, he probably thought I was talking about the advice you gave me. Now he’s going to wonder what else is going on.”
I unhinged my jaw to light into him but snapped it shut again when I realized he was right.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Seriously, why did you just freak out?”
I had no idea, except that Matt and I were in a good rhythm where everything felt organic. I almost forgot that I had engineered the whole thing. I worried that if he knew how hard I worked to make sure we “fell” into hanging out, he would see our relationship as being far less casual than I wanted him to. If he thought I had put tons of effort into attracting his attention, versus it being a happy accident, well . . . he might not believe that I really meant no attachments. This could cause him to either back away or hold on tighter. And since I very much liked things with Matt the way they were, the overwhelming urge to wipe out Dave’s comment had temporarily hijacked my brain function.
Deciding that it was too complicated to explain to a cousin who hadn’t yet graduated from Remedial Dating, I offered a different explanation. “It’s possible I have a chemical imbalance caused by too much Cap’n Crunch and my brain went temporarily soggy. That’s normal, right?”
“For you? Probably.”
“So I guess I made an idiot of myself. What do I do now?” I muttered, more to myself.
“I think I can fix this,” Dave said. “Do you trust me?”
“Last time you asked me that you shoved me off my surfboard.”
“So that’s a yes?” he grinned.
“I have to, since I have no good ideas of my own.”
“Cool. Let’s go back in.”
I followed after him, trying not to show any anxiety over what he might say or do next.
“Get yourselves all figured out?” Matt asked when we walked up.
“Yeah. Ashley’s been coaching me on how to talk to Laurel because we thought she was shy, not deaf, and my cuz had some ideas on how to work around the shy thing. Anyway,” he continued, “Smash gave me some great advice on how to get Laurel to talk to me, but she’s afraid you’re going to think she’s all like, manipulative and stuff just because she gave me good ideas for getting Laurel’s attention. She was telling me that it was bad manners to point out her part in it.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent another outburst and forced a smile instead. Sounding like a complete nag probably wouldn’t help my image either, but interrupting and clarifying would only make me look like a control freak. I kept smiling and said nothing.
Matt laughed. “Considering you just laid out the whole guy-years-versus-girl-years thing for me and pulled back the curtain on that big mystery, I don’t think manipulative ever crossed my mind. I’m leaning more toward blunt.” When I winced, he hurried to add, “But I’ll think of a word that sounds nicer. Like forthright?”
I shook my head.
“Frank?” he tried again.
Another shake.
He paused and thought for a minute. “How about direct?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take that one. Direct.”
I could see Dave fighting back a smart remark about my “directness” and decided to remove the temptation. “Hey, look, ping-pong,” I said, pointing him in the right direction. “Why don’t you go show them your sick paddle skills and flex extra hard if Laurel’s looking?”
I barely finished before he was trotting off to wait his turn. The boy never could resist a round of table tennis.
“Do you play?” Matt asked.
“No. I always hit too hard. Darn ping pong ball is lighter than it seems,” I said.
“What about the real deal?” he asked. “Do you ever play regular tennis?”
“In like, middle school PE, I think? By high school I had enough going on with swim team and volleyball to keep me too busy for other sports.”
“Well, it seems like it’s a summer of new stuff for you. You want to try tennis too?”
“Sure.” I had no idea how I’d fit that in around work and the fifty thousand other things I wanted to do for The List, but I nodded, anyway.
“Cool. I haven’t gotten to play much since my parents left on their mission. It used to be a thing with me and my dad.”
I laughed. “I don’t think I’m going to give you the same challenge,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he shrugged. “They’ve been gone six months and I haven’t played much. I’m pretty rusty, and you’re pretty athletic. It might all balance out. You don’t work on Saturday morning, right?”
“No, not a huge demand for filet mignon at eight a.m.”
“Then how about sushi tomorrow night and tennis on Saturday?”
“Sounds good. Except for the part where I want to surf too. Can we do that this week?”
“Yeah, any day. Name it.”
“I pick Thursday.” I only had a night shift and didn’t have to worry about exhausting myself before lunch.
“I have three students that morning, but if you don’t mind heading out around eleven, then that’ll work.”
We finalized our plans and I realized that Matt had managed to carve out a slice of nearly every one of my days for the week. Or maybe I had managed to carve out slices of his. It was hard to say. But one thing I knew for sure was that doing anything with Matt Gibson was a great way to start the day, and ending it with him was even better. Between morning tennis and evening sushi lessons, I could feel the rest of the week shaping up just right.