Dinner for Three

Ryan's smile faltered when he saw who had arrived with me.

“Hey, Jamie. Hey, Captain.”

Cole's hand was resting at the back of my neck.

“Jamie invited me,” he said.

Ryan looked from him to me. “Right. Of course.”

I waved, then pointed at the booth we'd reserved in the little restaurant beyond the east quad.

Cole slid in beside me before Ryan had finished taking off his jacket.

That put Ryan across from both of us, looking suspiciously like a student attending office hours.

I nudged Cole with my knee.

He looked at me.

“Be nice,” I signed.

“I said hello.”

“You said my name like you were identifying a hostage.”

His mouth twitched. Ryan watched us with polite uncertainty.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Perfect,” Cole said.

Under the table, his knee stayed against mine.

I asked Ryan what kind of fish he liked. The restaurant served whole grilled fish with different sauces, which had seemed like a good choice when I booked it. Sharing food was romantic. Picking bones out of your teeth slightly less so, but I was willing to take risks.

Cole translated, “What are you ordering?”

A little less friendly than my version. Still usable.

“The spicy one sounds good,” Ryan said.

Cole nodded. “Jamie can't have that.”

I turned.

Ryan looked concerned. “Oh, sorry. I didn't know.”

“He gets a sore throat easily,” Cole added, unfolding my napkin and putting it beside my plate. “Spicy food doesn't help.”

I tapped his arm hard enough to interrupt the performance.

“I can eat spicy food. I just don't eat it every day.”

Cole watched my hands, then looked at Ryan.

“He says the spicy one is fine, but he'll need something to drink.”

That was not what I had said.

“I'll get something,” Ryan offered, already halfway out of the booth.

I signed faster. “There is water on the table.”

“He likes the peach tea from the shop by the west gate,” Cole said.

Ryan stopped. “The west gate?”

It was a long walk around the construction fence.

“The convenience store next door has bottled tea,” he suggested.

I nodded vigorously.

Cole smiled at him.

Ryan lost some of his confidence.

“He has a favorite,” Cole said. “Don't worry. We can wait.”

I made an incredulous noise. My throat could produce sounds, just not speech; this one was an excellent approximation of outrage.

Ryan looked at me. I reached for my phone, but he was already putting his jacket back on.

“No problem. I'll be right back.”

He left.

I turned on Cole.

“What was that?” I signed.

“What was what?”

“You know what I said.”

His eyes followed my hands. Then he let his forehead fall onto my shoulder.

I froze.

“I've been awake since six,” he murmured. “I came straight from training. I haven't even had water.”

“You have a glass in front of you.”

He stayed where he was.

The weight of his head was warm through my shirt. His hair brushed my jaw. I could smell his shampoo, familiar from the bottle he kept abandoning on my side of the bathroom shelf.

Against my better judgment, I poured him water.

He sat up when I touched the glass to his hand.

But instead of taking it, he curled his fingers around my wrist and drank while I held it.

His lower lip brushed my index finger.

I nearly tipped water down his shirt.

He looked at me over the rim.

“What?”

I pulled my hand away. “You can hold a basketball. You can hold a glass.”

“Your hands were already there.”

My ears felt hot.

He had no idea what he was doing. That was the problem with straight men. They behaved like that and expected you to continue functioning.

Ryan returned flushed from the walk, holding two bottles of tea.

“I wasn't sure which flavor,” he said, placing both in front of me.

I smiled at him. His shoulders relaxed.

Cole finally lifted his head off me.

For the next twenty minutes, he interpreted properly whenever our conversation involved courses, exams, or basketball.

When I asked whether I could watch Ryan play sometime, Cole became deeply interested in removing a fish bone.

When I said Ryan had a nice smile, Cole took a drink.

When I tried asking Ryan whether he liked movies, Cole announced that we needed more rice.

By then, Ryan had started recognizing when I was waiting for an answer.

He leaned forward. “Sorry. Was that for me?”

I nodded and took out my phone.

Cole's jaw shifted, but he didn't stop me.

Do you like movies? I typed.

“Yeah. There's a new superhero one playing at the student cinema tomorrow.” Ryan hesitated. “Would you want to go with me?”

I nodded before Cole could order any more carbohydrates.

Ryan smiled properly then. He had dimples. I had not been aware of the dimples. This was an encouraging development.

“I managed to get two seats,” he said. “The late showing. Apparently it's sold out now.”

Cole's hand landed on my shoulder.

“Send Jamie the tickets. We'll get there early.”

Ryan blinked.

“So you can have a proper dinner first,” Cole continued. “Jamie forgets to eat when he's busy.”

I stared at him.

He squeezed my shoulder. “What?”

“Two tickets,” I signed. “Two people.”

“I heard him.”

“Then let us go.”

His smile thinned.

Ryan suddenly developed an intense interest in his empty plate.

“I don't need an interpreter to watch a movie,” I signed. “And Ryan waits for me to type.”

Cole looked at my hands a moment longer than necessary.

Then he took his arm away.

“Sure,” he said. “Have fun.”

For some reason, it didn't sound like permission to have fun at all.

He paid before I could reach for my wallet, told me to text when I got back, and left us outside the restaurant with a light touch to the top of my head.

Ryan waited until he was out of earshot.

“Does he hate me?”

I shook my head and typed, He's protective. He's a good friend.

Ryan read it.

Then I added, He's straight.

Ryan looked toward the corner where Cole had disappeared.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Because from over here, he kind of looks like a man whose boyfriend just agreed to go on a date with somebody else.”