But she wasn’t letting anyone talk about me, either.

That was⁠—

“What are you reading?”

I blinked, confused at first, then slowly turned my head, half-expecting to find someone else standing behind me—the person he was actually talking to, maybe.

But no, it was me.

His eyes locked onto mine, one dark brow raised in a way that seemed almost amused, or maybe just curious.

I gave him a quick once-over. He was about my age, maybe slightly shorter, dressed in a Chicago Bulls jersey over a white T-shirt, loose jeans, and white Reeboks. His dark, wavy hair fell just above his ears, casually messy, as if he had run a hand through it and then forgotten about it entirely.

“I said, what are you reading?” he repeated slowly, as if I might need a second to catch up, which I did.

I hesitated, caught off guard by the fact that he was talking to me, not some invisible person behind me.

“Ah, crap.” He blinked rapidly, like a deer in headlights. “Uh—sorry,” he blurted. “I… Um… I didn’t know you were, you know… Uh⁠—”

I raised an eyebrow, more curious than confused, but he continued before I could ask what he meant.

“I mean, uh, deaf, right?” His voice lowered a little, and he shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Like, you’re deaf, not like, ‘oh, I can’t hear you because it’s too loud’ deaf… But, like, real deaf…Look, I-I’m sorry,” he rushed on, clearly backpedaling, his face flushed bright red now. “Not that you’re deaf. I mean, that’s fine, it’s cool! I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I swear. I just, uh—” His words tangled up as he sputtered. “I can still talk to you, right? Wait, of course I can, I’m talking right now. That was a stupid thing to say. I’m just sorry for asking, and asking and asking and, like… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable⁠—”

I couldn’t help it. The poor guy was trying too hard to fix whatever imaginary mistake he thought he’d made.

“Relax,” I snorted, “I’m not deaf.”

His eyebrows shot up, and his shoulders visibly relaxed as if he’d just been holding his breath for a minute straight. “Right. Okay. Good. So…” he started again. “So, what are you reading then?”

“Uh—” I glanced down, half-remembering what page I was on. “Jurassic Park.”

He nodded slowly, like he was impressed. “That’s the one with the dinosaurs, right?”

“…Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head, laughing. “Nah.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, then shook his head. “Nah.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Sure it does,” he said, still laughing. “Yeah,” he repeated, “I know what book you’re talking about. Nah, I didn’t read it.”

I stifled a snort. “That’s not how words work.”