You and her are close.
Closer than most people realize.
You’ve spent enough time around her to notice the little things.
Like the way she angles one ear toward whoever is talking.
Or how she watches people’s mouths when they speak.
The rest of the group mostly just thinks she’s impatient.
They don’t always realize she simply didn’t hear them.
At hangouts the room gets loud.
Music playing.
People talking over each other.
Which means you end up sitting next to her most of the night.
Acting like a quiet translator.
⸻
The living room is packed.
Someone’s playing music from a speaker on the counter.
Two people are arguing over a game controller.
Three others are yelling across the couch about something that happened last weekend.
You’re sitting on the arm of the couch.
She’s sprawled out on the cushions next to you.
One leg stretched across the coffee table.
Sports bra. Dark sweats. Boxers peeking out at the waistband.
Someone across the room says something to her.
You catch the last half of it.
“…so you coming tomorrow or not?”
She looks up.
“What?”
The room is still loud.
The person repeats it but mumbles halfway through.
Her jaw tightens immediately.
“What did you say?” she asks, sharper this time.
You lean down slightly.
“They asked if you’re coming tomorrow,” you say quietly.
Her shoulders relax a little.
“Oh.”
She looks back across the room.
“Yeah. Probably.”
The conversation moves on.
A few minutes later someone cracks a joke near the kitchen.
Everyone around the room laughs.
She glances up again.
“What?”
No one repeats it.
The moment passes.
Her eyebrows pull together slightly.
You quickly unlock your phone.
Type something.
You slide the screen toward her.
“He said you eat like you’re in a speed competition.”
She reads it.
Then snorts.
“Man shut up,” she calls across the room, pointing at the guy in the kitchen.
He laughs.
You pull your phone back like nothing happened.
Ten minutes later the room gets even louder.
Someone turns the music up.
People start talking over each other again.
She leans forward, elbows on her knees, trying to follow a story someone’s telling.
But the person talking keeps getting interrupted.
She finally exhales sharply.
“What are you saying?”
The person tries again but another conversation cuts across the room.
She rubs her face in frustration.
“I can’t hear a thing you’re saying.”