Tone Deaf(7)

Arrow grimaces. “Since when do I call you sweetie or darling?”

“Well, you could always start.”

I groan. “Guys, seriously, take it up with a marriage counselor. Preferably not in my RV. ”

Arrow hesitates as his gaze settles on me, and I know he’s debating whether or not to bring up the anniversary of my mom’s death. It’s been six years, but that still doesn’t make it an easy topic. Arrow never knew my mom very well—my dad shunned anything and anyone non-Deaf, and since Arrow doesn’t know sign language, he just never got a chance to communicate much with her. But I know he hasn’t forgotten about his aunt’s death, and I give him a little shake of my head, sending a silent message: Let’s not talk about it now. Please.

Arrow nods and collapses on the couch next to his boyfriend. He tosses an arm over Killer’s shoulders and kisses his cheek, and just like that, Killer forgets that he’s supposed to be grumpy. He throws both arms around Arrow’s neck, closes his eyes, and nuzzles his face into Arrow’s T-shirt.

“Good god,” I mutter. “You two are sickening.”

Killer sticks his tongue out at me without opening his eyes. “We make you horny, and you know it.”

I turn back to my laptop screen, absently refreshing the page. “Killer, how many girls do I have to be with to convince you I’m not gay?”

He yawns and says, “At least one.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the genius around here?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at Killer. “I thought an IQ of 140 would be enough to help you figure out I’m not a virgin.”

Arrow barks a laugh. I shoot him a sharp look, but he just says, “Dude, no one needs a high IQ to know you’re not a virgin. Anyone smart enough to read a tabloid can figure it out.”

“Then go buy Killer a tabloid,” I snap. “Get him off my back about being gay.”

Killer wags his finger at me. “Sleeping with girls isn’t the same as being with them.”

I scoff. “Don’t get all romantic on me, Killer.”

“He has a point,” Arrow says. “You’ve never had an actual relationship with a girl.”

“Yes, I have.”

“One-night stands don’t count as relationships, Jace,” Killer says. Then he scrunches his face and looks around the RV. “By the way, where’s your company for the evening?”

“I didn’t bring a girl back tonight.”

Killer slaps the sides of his face, like he’s stricken with shock, and makes a show of peering out the window.

I just roll my eyes, but Arrow takes the bait. “What are you looking for, babe?”

“Meteors,” Killer replies.

“What?”

“Jace didn’t bring home a girl after a concert. That means either the world is ending, or he wasn’t in the mood.”

“And the world ending is more probable?” I mutter.

“Naturally.”

I shake my head and refresh my laptop, bringing up a new batch of @ToneDeaf tweets. I see #MarryMe in two of them and disgustedly close the browser. Can’t they at least try to be original?

“I’ve been with girls for longer than one night,” I mutter, although I’m way too late replying, and it sounds downright pathetic.

“Two nights doesn’t count as a relationship, either,” Killer says.

I have no response for that one, so I open up a MS Word document and start absently typing. “Free writing” is what Tony calls it; he says it’s good to let the imagination go and just write whatever comes into my head. But after a minute, all that’s on the page is: “Once upon a time, there was an annoying dude named Killer. He died. The end.”

It’s definitely not going to win me any short story awards, but maybe I can work it into a song . . .

The RV door bangs open, and I cringe as it crashes against the wall. “Jon, for the love of god! How hard is it to open a door without denting my RV?”

Jon saunters into the RV and makes a big show of closing the door softly. It’s actually mildly impressive, considering the muscle the dude packs. Freshman year, our high school’s coach tried to make Jon the star of the junior varsity football team. That lasted about one week, until the coach discovered that Jon couldn’t bash into anyone without spewing a bunch of nervous apologies. But our music teacher figured out he’s much better at bashing drums, and he’s been at it ever since.

Jon raises his eyebrows at me as the door clicks quietly into place. “Better?”

I give a grunt of approval. Jon smirks as he walks over to the other couch right next to my desk, collapsing onto it. Cuddles ditches her spot at Killer’s feet to lie down next to Jon, and he scratches her under the chin.

“So what’d I miss?” he asks. “I heard arguing.”

Killer nudges Arrow in the side, and says, “We’re trying to get Jace to come out.”

Jon groans and covers his face with both hands. “I knew it. I’m the only straight one in the band.”

I roll my eyes. “Jon—”

He points a finger at me and cuts me off. “No, Jace, I’m not dating you, so don’t even ask.”

I grit my teeth, keeping in a yell of frustration, and grind out, “I was going to ask you to kindly shut your obnoxious trap. Got it?”