Unspoken

Chapter 2

The scent of roasted coffee beans wrapped around Mia like a warm hug as she stepped into the just off-campus cafe. It was cozy and bustling, filled with students typing furiously on laptops, others chatting in hushed tones. Mia adjusted her bag on her shoulder and joined the line, pulling her notebook from her bag as she waited. She planned to spend the next few hours working on a paper for her modern art class—something about abstract expressionism.

Lost in her thoughts, Mia barely registered the tap on her shoulder. She turned around, her brows knitting together in surprise. Standing behind her was Jake, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, an innocent expression plastered across his face.

He smiled, tilting his head as if to say, "What? It wasn't me."

Mia smirked, her hands moving instinctively. "Really? No idea who tapped me, huh?"

Jake shrugged, barely holding back a grin. "Could've been anyone."

She shook her head, the hint of a laugh in her smile. "What are you doing here?"

Jake leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. "Same as everyone else. Coffee and pretending to be productive."

Mia chuckled, her hands quick. "Good luck with that."

Their conversation continued until it was Mia's turn to order. She stepped up to the counter, pulling her phone from her pocket. The barista glanced at her, waiting expectantly. Mia quickly typed her order: Medium mocha with whipped cream and oat milk, please. She turned the screen toward the barista, who nodded with a polite smile.

After paying and stepping aside, she glanced back to watch Jake step up to the counter. He gave his order aloud, no hesitation and deliberate: "Medium black coffee, no sugar."

Mia blinked, her expression neutral, but inside she filed that information away. He must have a hearing background.

Drinks in hand, Jake gestured to a table near the window. "Got time to sit?"

Mia nodded, her curiosity piqued. "Sure."

They settled at the small table, sunlight streaming through the glass, catching the steam rising from their cups. Mia tucked her notebook away, deciding that her paper could wait.

Jake leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed. "So, what's on your agenda today?" he asked.

"This," Mia signed, gesturing to her bag. "Paper for my art history class. You?"

He shrugged. "Not much. Thought I'd get some fresh air, maybe sketch a bit."

Mia raised an eyebrow. "You draw? What happened to being "dragged" to the art exhibit for "culture"?"

Jake laughed, his smile modest. "Nothing fancy. Mostly landscapes. And hey, I learned a lot that night and how to appreciate it!"

Mia shook her head, laughing. "Sure you did."

"I'd love to see your drawings sometime." he said smiling and looking interested.

"Oh I can't draw to save my life." Mia shot back again laughing.

Jake's hands paused mid-motion, his brow lifting. "An art history major who can't draw? I think you picked the wrong major."

Mia shot him a mock glare. "I love art! I just... wasn't blessed with the ability to create it. My talent lies in appreciating it and helping others do the same."

Jake grinned, leaning forward slightly. "Fair enough. But you've never even tried?"

Mia raised her hands, half-defensive. "Oh, I've tried. Stick figures are about as good as it gets. Trust me, it's better this way."

Their conversation drifted naturally from work to hobbies. Mia learned that Jake loved hiking and often carried a sketchpad with him to capture the scenery. He discovered that Mia had a thing for photo realistic drawings —"the ones that feel alive," she'd said.

Eventually, the topic shifted to family.

Jake sipped his coffee, his hands moving slower now. "My family's hearing. They don't sign."

Mia's expression softened. "That must've been hard. I kinda guessed that when I saw you ordering your drink."

He nodded, his movements deliberate. "It was... isolating. I didn't start learning ASL until I was 15. Before that, it was a lot of guessing and nodding along. Forced speech therapy, forced technology and forced communication."

Mia frowned, her hands pausing. "That's tough."

Jake gave a small smile. "It got better once I found people who signed. Now? I don't even bother trying to explain deaf culture to my family. They don't get it."

Mia nodded in understanding. "My family's different. My mom's hard of hearing, so we all sign. And when I was born it just became how we communicate. A priority to make everyone understood and confident."

Jake's smile turned wistful. "That sounds nice. Your brother?"

Mia grinned. "Max. He's hearing, but he's fluent. He doesn't really have a choice."

Jake laughed, his shoulders shaking. "I like him already. My siblings can only say hi and help and very basic signs. I have never had a perfect conversation with any of them."

Their conversation flowed easily, weaving between lighthearted banter and deeper topics. Jake's dry humor matched Mia's quick wit, and they found themselves laughing more than once.

Eventually, Mia glanced at the clock on her phone. "I should probably get started on that paper."

Jake nodded, though he looked reluctant to leave. "Let me know how it turns out."

Mia tilted her head, her eyes teasing. "You expect updates?"

"Of course," he signed with a grin. "How else will I know if I'm distracting you too much?"

Mia rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "Fine. I'll keep you posted."

As they gathered their things, Jake hesitated for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad. He scribbled something quickly, tearing the page out and sliding it across the table.

Mia picked it up, reading the neat handwriting: Text me sometime. If you want to procrastinate more. Below it was his number.

She looked up, her lips curving into a smile. "Maybe I will."

Jake gave a small wave before turning to leave, blending into the cafe crowd. Mia watched him go, the scrap of paper still in her hand.

As she tucked it into her notebook, she couldn't help but wonder where this new connection might lead.