Page 35 of Free Heart
I can’t help the chuckle that comes up, even though I want to stay firm and annoyed. “Well, you’re hot too.”
“Even now?”
I roll my eyes. “No, sorry, you’re right. Two functioning legs were what I really liked about you. The face, the body, the dick, the personality, the smug little grin—none of that was really my thing at all. Just the legs.”
Dan gives me the bird.
“Do you want me to prove to you that I’m still into you?” I ask, suddenly interested in another way of distracting Dan from his pain, and me from my frustration. “I could blow you. It might help calm you down.”
Dan looks tempted, but then he waves at his crotch. “It’s not working. Doctors said it could be a few weeks. Months even. Trauma and all.”
I smile. “Well, I can wait.”
He lifts a brow. “You’re not going to get back on that app to find someone else to worship that hole of yours?”
Now I’m the one to give him the finger. “Who’d worship it as good as you?” I ask, turning on my heel to go shower like I’d told him.
“No one!” he calls after me. “Remember that! Even when I’m being an asshole, I still lick your asshole better than anyone else ever will!”
I don’t bother replying to that. Dan’s going to be an impatient jerk through parts of this recovery. That’s a given in every way. But he has my heart, and I’m determined to make it through to the other side.
I want to see him standing, walking, and, yes, climbing again.
“Look up the seahorse!” I yell before I strip and get into the shower. I wonder what he’ll think when he discovers what I’ve been saying. I take my time washing.
I need a minute to myself to breathe.
*
Dan
The view ismuch better from the sofa. At least I can see mountains, and autumn leaves, and green grass, and the cold breeze from the open doors has me pulling the soft throw blankets around my shoulders as I google about seahorses. Shortly, I think I have the answer.
Eventually, Sejin emerges from the bedroom in soft pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt. As he sits down on the other side of the sofa to brush the knots out of his long, wet hair, I say, “It’s not true that all seahorses mate for life.”
“Huh?”
“Seahorses. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
“They do too.”
“No, that’s a myth. They’re just monogamous for a breeding season. French Angelfish mate for life.”
Sejin stops brushing his hair, letting it drip against his shirt, and pulls his own phone from the pocket of his pajama bottoms. He types with his thumbs, and then says, “Listen, this is from National Geographic. ‘Seahorses are truly special, and not just because of their curious equine shape, and the fact that the males of the species carry and give birth to their young—’” Sejin carries on in a louder voice, “—‘but also because, unlike most other fish,they are monogamous and mate for life.’”
“Well, this article—”
“Dan, I don’t care what that article says. I’m a seahorse.”
“Well, so long as you aren’t telling me you can get pregnant, I’m fine with that.”
Sejin laughs and his eyes turn into those pretty half-moons that I love. I’m glad I conceded, even if the science articles I’ve just read say he’s wrong because, in another way, he’s right. It doesn’t matter if all seahorses mate for life, or only some, or none. Sejin’s telling me he’s committed to me, and that’s what’s important here.
“I’m a French Angelfish,” I say. “I mate for life too.”
Sejin snorts. “Great, a seahorse and a French Angelfish. What a compatible pair we’ll be.”
“For life,” I say, nodding.
