“Good evening, everyone.”
“Good evening, everyone.”
“Good evening, everyone.”
Simple enough. Then I continued. “Lew…Let’s…we…well…welc…ome? Welcome t…t…to…”
I stopped, flinging the papers onto the bed, letting out a frustrated growl. Why couldn’t they record me the speech? They knew I could quickly memorize things if I could hear them. I was good at that, aural learning. I listened to things all the time. That was how I got by. But the answer was clear. My parents pretended that my problem was a figment of my imagination, not a learning disability. Like I could read just fine, butchosenot to. Gathering the papers in a huff, I tried again. “Welcome t…to…the joint…the jet…the joining of…”
“Hera and Craig,” a voice finished behind me.
I jumped, slapping a hand over my chest.
Shit, shit, shit, shit,shit.
Ransom was standing at the door, showered, freshly shaven, and oozing sex appeal in casual cargo pants and a black V-neck.
What must he be thinking?
That you’re a dumbass or high. Exactly what he thought ten seconds ago.
He pushed off the doorjamb, advancing toward me.
“You’re dyslexic?”
“Get out of my room, Random.” I pushed at his chest frantically, hysterically.
Why would he say something like that?
“You are.” He gathered the pages, frowning as he skimmed through them. “You can’t read.”
“Yes, I can.”
“You can, but it’s hard, and frustrating for you.”
“It’s fine, I’m pretty,” I snorted out bitterly.
He looked up from the pages, his frown deepening. His eyes were so very green, his nose so very straight, and his mouth so very kissable. Again, I thanked my lucky stars for my shaky confidence. It didn’t allow me to consider anyone romantically without chiding myself.
“Are you undiagnosed?”
“I need glasses, that’s all.” I knotted my arms over my chest, glaring hard at him. “I’m not dyslexic.”
“Yeah, you are. Either that or you have a pervasive intellectual disability, and that can’t be it. Lack of intelligence has never been your issue.”
I was dizzy with the unexpected compliment. It was the first time someone had told me I wasnotan idiot. Even Keller, my best friend, never complimented me on my wits.
“Why were you never diagnosed?” Ransom pressed, a vein throbbing on the side of his forehead.
“It wasn’t nece—”
“You didn’t read the contract.” His eyes flared. “That’s why you were so clueless afterwards. You just signed it.”
“Stop talking.” I raised a warning finger, aiming it at him. “Just…juststop.”
Now that we were face-to-face, it sure looked like he was angry. But it wasn’t directed at me…why not? It was my failure, not his. He could read just fine.
I stomped my way to the closet and flung it open. Maybe it was time to get out on the town and grab dinner outside. I’d been cooped up inside long enough.