Page 69 of The Unlikely Pair
“Are those my two options?”
“Pretty much.”
“Can I complain to the chef?”
“You can try. I’m not sure if he’s open to receiving feedback though,” Harry says.
I huff out a laugh.
Harry is more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. Maybe having sex with something other than his right hand for the first time in fifteen years has made him less uptight? Maybe my gift to the planet is providing a serviceable hand to Harry Matheson.
I decide not to ruin the moment by suggesting this aloud.
Instead, I focus on the novelty of eating something besides a dry energy bar. It might be charred on the outside, but underneath, there are parts of the fish where the pinkish-white flesh is almost perfect, the flavor exploding on my tongue.
Let’s face it, my standards are not the most exacting right now.
I can’t help giving an involuntary moan of pleasure, one that has Harry glancing up.
Our gazes meet for a second before Harry drops his.
When I follow his gaze to his fish, I suddenly realize it looks like Harry has given himself all the charred parts.
“Why are you eating all the burnt bits?” I ask.
“I actually like the taste,” Harry says.
He so does not like the taste of the burnt parts. I can see it in his micro-expression of disgust as he chews a mouthful of burnt fish.
Is this just another way for Harry to upstage me?
But really, who is there to impress?
If Harry wants to prove to the grass and trees and sky that he’s more manly than me because he’ll choke down burnt fish, then good on him, I say. Especially because he’s so careful to divide the fish between us evenly and counts the burnt parts as part of his portion.
He’s almost showing socialist tendencies, being so focused on being equal and fair. I decide not to point this out to him.
Instead, I enjoy the feeling of a full belly of fish and a warm fire.
I will cherish this moment of happiness because I don’t know how many more I will get. It’s a strange thing to find joy amid so much uncertainty.
But maybe that’s what makes it so precious.
Chapter Eighteen
Harry
The awkwardness comes when it’s time for bed.
By necessity, we’ve doused the fire. Neither of us is willing to chance keeping the fire going at night. At least we agree on that, so it’s not another point of contention between us.
Despite my initial reticence to stop moving, I can’t deny that it turned out to be a prudent decision. My heels are feeling markedly better after being out of my shoes for a few hours and having a chance to dry out my skin by the fire. Hopefully, they’ll sufficiently recover overnight, so we can start moving again tomorrow.
Succeeding in catching a fish has definitely buoyed my morale, and having a full stomach seems to have elevated Toby’s spirits as well. I have noticed he’s more irritable when he’s hungry.
It’s also the mental adjustment that comes from being able to procure some of our own food. The dwindling stock of energy bars is no longer so disconcerting.
We can do this.
