We were a little over two months into the school year and only now was I willing to admit that my feelings for Beau were steadily moving past the “just friends” territory.

I felt some noise of surprise escape my throat when Beau touched my knee and it finally clicked in my brain that he’d been trying to get my attention for some time.

OK? Beau signed, this alarmed expression on his face. “. . . lost you.”

“Toilet!” I blurted out, and immediately I wanted a sinkhole to appear in the floor and swallow me up. “I mean, can I use the bathroom?”

I was grateful Beau didn’t laugh at my embarrassing outburst, just nodded and stood up, a little unsteady on his feet as he led me to the bathroom around the corner and down the hall.

I didn’t really have to go to the bathroom—the bathroom here was just as nice if not nicer than Nina’s with the fancy towels and decorative soaps—but I needed the few minutes to snap myself out of this weird stupor I was caught in.

“Get a grip,” I muttered to myself after I splashed cold water on my face and used a fancy hand towel to dry off. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Sitting there on the couch next to Beau, so close I could feel every one of his smallest movements, I was far too aware of his presence.

I had never been so preoccupied by a boy before—hearing or Deaf—and so far it was proving to be a major distraction when I had this dumb midterm to worry about.

After a few minutes in the bathroom I returned to the living room, but came up short when I saw Beau sitting with his right leg stretched out in front of him, his pant leg pulled up to his knee. It was almost the same way he always sat during class, but this time he was pressing his fingers along his shin as if massaging the skin there. Even from where I stood I could see a scar that ran the length of the lower half of his leg. Given how pink and smooth the scar looked, it had to be years old, but by the way Beau was massaging it, I’d bet it still caused him pain.

It took effort to recall the task at hand, and I made sure to slap my feet against the hardwood floor as I walked into the living room, announcing my presence. This didn’t seem like something Beau wanted me to see, and I wanted to give him the chance to straighten himself up in peace.

The scar was covered, his pant leg back down when I took my seat next to him on the couch again. He’d forced a smile on his face when he looked my way, no dimples in sight.

“Find anything?” I asked, nodding toward my laptop.

“. . . few videos,” Beau said.