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Evelyn Perez

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Evelyn Perez

Message to: J <3
I don't know, JJ. It's not like I know him, I just think he's nice.

Message from: J <3
Send me a pic.

Rolling my eyes, I try to figure out a way to get a picture. I do not want him to think I'm creepy, and I definitely do not want him to catch me. Flicking my eyes over to where he sits in the living room, I gently lift my phone to be eye-level with me. Just as I tap the capture button, Harry strikes his head up at me and sticks his tongue out at me. Eyes wide, I drop my arm to my side, and I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. He starts to chuckle at me, and I can't help but cover my beet-red face and do the same.

I quickly put my phone on the counter and turn back around to stare at the banana bread batter in the pan, and the stupid mess I've made. I have never been good at concentration, and I decided to start texting JJ instead of cleaning up after myself. My roommate must think I'm a fucking creep.

I quickly put the bread in the oven, and set the timer for it. After that, I grab paper towels to clean up the spillage on the counter. I am desperately trying to get embarrassment out of my system, because I'm bloody humiliated.

Message from: J <3
Hello Ev??
You'd better be making out with him if you aren't replying to me.

Message to: J <3
Calm your tits, I wasn't making out with him!
I'll send you the picture.
*attachment*

Message from: J <3
Holy shit, no wonder you've got a crush!
If I were living with him, I would've hit that the first night.

Message to: J <3
Josephine! Oh my god!

Message from: J <3
Well I'm just being honest!
You should get to know him. You said you're making banana bread?
Ask him if he wants some and then sit with him.

Message to: J <3
Yeah, okay. There's only about 10 minutes left on the bread, so I'll make tea too.
I'll talk to you soon? Miss you like crazy xx.

Message from: J <3
You'd better wake up in his bed tomorrow morning!
I miss you, too, Ev. I promise I'll visit soon.

Shutting my phone off and leaving it on the table, I get up and check the bread. It smells heavenly in this home, and it makes this place even more relaxing than before. The bread is golden brown on top, and the chocolate chips have definitely melted throughout. I go over to the cabinet and get out two plates and two mugs; all of which I bought while online shopping and on the phone with JJ.

The timer goes off on the oven, and I only know that because I saw the flashing from the corner of my eye. Turning on the kettle to let it get ready, I run over to the oven and take out my bread. It's the best looking one I've ever made. I set it on a plate to cool, make our tea, and grab plates. I was lucky enough to still have odds and ends of my own from my old apartment, so I grab two small plates that Olive gave me. One has olives on it, and the other has a young girl in a bonnet and dress. Each signifies her and I.

Having plated the bread, I decide how I want to ask him. I like the notepad and whiteboard idea, but honestly I wish it were easier. One idea pops into my head, though.

"H-Harry," I say. His head doesn't turn, so I muster up all I have to hopefully say his name a bit louder.

"Harry," I repeat. This time, his head turns up and he has wrinkled eyebrows. I pick up his plate and gesture it to him, and he finally understands. He sets his guitar down, which he had been fiddling with for the past hour, and makes his way over to the kitchen. As he walks past the fridge, he grabs the whiteboard that's magnetised to the metal door.

'You can speak?' He asks me with his writing. I love his penmanship. I take a minute to think, and then I write back.

'I lost my hearing when I was 5, so I could speak for about 4 years. Sometimes, if I try hard enough, I can.' I answer. He nods his head a few times, before thanking me for the banana bread and tea. He's gotten into the habit of signing to say 'thank you', and I completely adore it.

We make small talk a little bit back and forth, about the house and how we want to decorate, and if either of us had pets growing up. I giggle when he tells me a story of his childhood dog, Max. Apparently, when Harry was a super young baby, probably one year old, he would lie on the floor with Max and even in his basket with him. And then, he would stick his dummy in Max's mouth. I cackled out loud picturing a small, curly haired boy like Harry having the idea to give his paci to his puppy.  I told him about how we didn't have any pets in my house until I was far older, but that my cat that I adopted still lives at home with my sisters and my Mum.

We sit quietly for a little bit, drinking what's left of our tea, before he grabs the board and asks me; 'can you teach me more signs?' He seems a little nervous when I read it, which I've noticed happens to him a lot. He gets really shy when asking me something so personal, or something that intimidates him.

I smile sweetly to him, before mouthing 'of course'. I want him to feel comfortable around me, especially since we live together. I clear my throat and try to think of a couple signs that are used fairly often. Lifting my left arm to be level with my chest, I bring my right hand fingers to my chin. He copies my movement perfectly, and then I let go of my chin to twist my arm to touch my other hand, which is facing the ground and still at chest level height. 'Goodnight' I mouth, repeating the sign a few times. Harry has always made a point of saying goodnight to me, so I thought I could start with that one.

I teach him a few more; like 'good morning', 'how was your day?', and other common things we say to each other.

We giggle as we sign back and forth, our tea and dishes long forgotten. His laughter seems to have slowed, and then he looks at me. He watches my face, like he wants to memorise every imperfection on my face. I start to get self conscious, wondering why he keeps looking at me. Are there crumbs on my face?

I grab the paper off the table and ask him why he's looking at me. He studies the paper, and takes it from my hands. He writes something down, and when he slides the paper back to me, he asks me something that has my heart bursting.

How do I sign "you have really pretty eyes"?

The butterflies that live safely inside of me are quickly awoken by the blood rushing from all over my body to my face. I must look like the tomatoes that grow in the garden right now.

I build up the courage to sign it for him, because who am I if not a helper?

"You have pretty eyes, H." I signed for him. I put an emphasis on the first and last words, because little did he know, I've dreamt of waking up in the sea of sage that are his iris'.

He blushes; I guess he remembers the signs for those words. Shit.

We continue to chat a bit more, although my thoughts continue to drift to the secret gardens of my mind, wondering more and more about Harry. What made him want to be a writer? Where are his favourite places in England? What's his comfort food? Does he think about me as much as I think about him?

The things I'd give to find out...

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⏰ Last updated: May 18 ⏰

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