Page 120 of Read My Lips

They all seemed to do that.

One showed Simon staring at my mouth while I spoke. In another, I looked so sickeningly earnest as I gazed into his eyes, it was a wonder we hadn’t been hauled in front of HR. Sev thought she had evidence, but it wasn’t true. This – all of these – showed us talking, wrapped up in two-way communication with a focus not many hearing people knew how to deliver. That was all any of it was.

The next picture faded in. A little further out – Simon looking past the people he was chatting with, across the crowd, to me, our bodies tilted towards each other across the space. The connection between us was obvious. The glimmer of a laugh in his eyes matched the one in mine.

The rest of the crowd could have been in monochrome – only the pair of us picked out in colour. Two humans in a room full of waxworks.

My heart clenched painfully. This wasn’t real. It was a mirage of what I wanted. Simon had only been looking because we’d been signing across the room.

“I was talking to him,” I snapped, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyeballs. “That’s how signing works, Sev – you have to bloody look at each other.”

Sev huffed. “Oh my god, I could brain you. Listen, Ben. I think Simon is an idiot for getting into this situation, and I really would much rather he disentangled his personal life from his job. I have not enjoyed wasting hours of my life constructing the pair of you a passable virtual footprint. But open your fucking eyes and look at what is right in front of you before I flip out and shank you with my multitool.”

I swallowed hard, eyeballing her in alarm. No doubt she would do it.

“Sorry.” She held up a hand, finger stretched wide, jittering slightly. “One too many energy drinks.”

I nodded slowly, and she jabbed at the screen again.

“That,” she said, a ring of preemptive triumph in her voice, “is not communication.”

On screen, I stared down into the bottom of my champagne glass, hovering at the edge of the room.

I remembered being there. A gallery opening night. Simon in a purple jacket with velvet on the collar, and me out of my depth, surrounded by politicians.

He’d come out of his bubble, away from the crowd, and leaned against the wall, right next to me. I hadn’t realised it was me he was watching – his entire face at ease. The deep, settled contentment had to have more to do with the alcohol than me.

In the next shot I peered up at him, the same glimmer in my eyes too.

“See,” Sev crowed, like she’d proved everything.

I opened my mouth, about to protest. But she shushed me.

“And here.” She flicked to another image. Another party. Another corner away from the group. “And here.”

A team bonding exercise with Simon beaming at me, arm slung over my shoulders. “And here.”

I squinted at a figure in the background – Richard. But Simon wasn’t looking in his direction. He’d joked around with me all afternoon.

“But he doesn’t like me.”

Sev raised both eyebrows. “Really, are you still going with that?”

She slapped the lid of her laptop closed, shaking her head, jaw tight with her exasperation. “You know what? Fine. Do nothing. Let whatever you might have had burn to the ground before it gets too real, so he doesn’t get to reject you first. Entirely up to you. I don’t give a shit as long as you get on with it. His wedding speech is going to be bloody awful if he’s still got a broken heart by then.”

“Broken heart?”

“Should I try again in BSL? It might take me a while, but you don’t seem to be following.”

I swallowed sharply. The sting in my eyes took me by surprise.

“You said he wasn’t interested. You said he always does this. That it didn’t mean anything!”

Sev rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t blame me sunshine. Since when do you let people outside of your relationship dictate your relationship decisions? You know who does that? Total idiots.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Anyway, I didn’t say he didn’t like you. I said he always does this. By which I meant: get tangled up and pretend he doesn’t care.”

I buried my head in my hands. “Oh my god.”

“Did you seriously think Jo would suggest bringing you to our wedding if she thought it had anything to do with selling this fake-dating nonsense? Think for one minute, why she would let her brother hijack her already less than dream wedding for a fucking PR stunt. Because, spoiler alert – she wouldn’t. She knows exactly what he’s like. And it looks like you’re both as bad as each other.”