Who We Are (The Seafare Chronicles 2)

“Aren’t you gonna want to… you know… experiment? Like, with other guys? Or whatever? Obviously if you were checking out David, then that means you’re capable of finding other men attractive. That’s different than where you were even just a few weeks ago. Who’s to say you won’t want to see what else is out there?”

I can see the worry in his eyes, but it’s nothing compared to the horror I feel in my own.

“Are you out of your goddamned mind?” I say incredulously, because he has to be to ever open his mouth and say something so stupid.

He starts to pull away, freeing my arms. I reach up around his neck and pull him back down on top of me, chest to chest, his heart beating rapidly against mine. “Bear, you don’t know—”

“Oh, I do know, you can trust me on that. No one in their right mind could ever put up with my bullshit like you can. I still don’t know why you do it, but you do. You’re one of the only people in the world who gets me, that allows me to speak even though you know I shouldn’t. Christ, Otter, let’s just say for the sake of argument that I’m… bisexual”—( For the sake of argument? it snickers. Oh please. )—“and that I can find other… guys…

attractive. I would never do that. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“If I can’t worry about the future,” he says quietly, “then you can’t be worried about the past.”

Damn him and his logical logic. “I’ll still worry,” I mutter. “It’s not my fault that you have hot exes and everybody in the natural world wants to jump your bones.”

He snorts against my neck and it’s gross, but I love it anyways. “Oh, please,” he scoffs. “What about all the people that check you out? You don’t hear me bitching and moaning about that even though I want to knock them all into next week. You don’t know how hard it is to have that kind of restraint. Just because you haven’t seen me act jealous doesn’t mean I don’t get that way.”

I laugh, a small sound that escapes before I can stop it. “What the hell are you talking about? No one looks at me.”

He raises his head to look into my eyes, apparently trying to find out if I’m being serious or not. And I am. No one looks at me twice, except for maybe Otter, and I’m okay with that. I don’t have time for anything else, not that anyone would be looking. “You’re being serious,” he says, as if not believing it.

“You’re being dumb,” I tell him.

“How can you not know? Jesus, Bear. How can you not see it? You…

you’re so goddamn beautiful. Like, as in you walk into a room and take my breath away kind of beautiful. There’s times when I feel like I’ve been knocked flat just by seeing your face. How the hell can you not know that?

That other people would think the same thing?”

I roll my eyes, even as I begin to blush. “Even though you’re biased, you’re still laying it on kind of thick, don’t you think?”

He looks at me like I’m the one spouting crap. “You’re hot, Papa Bear,”

he says, as if trying to convince me. “Trust me when I say that. If you’d look around once in a while, you’ll see that plenty of people think so too.”

Oh, gag, it whispers. This Ego Strokefest Palooza is so lame. And yes, Bear, he’s saying that just to make you feel better. You only have to ask yourself if you have an alibi.

Alibi?

U-G-L-Y, you ain’t got no—

You’re an idiot. Maybe when I go to therapy with the Kid, the doc can make you go away.

Doubtful. He’ll take one look inside your head, and you’ll go straight to a padded room. Do not pass go. Do not collect two—

You’re annoying, for a conscience.

I love you too.

“All the time,” Otter insists. “It pisses me off.”

“Why pissed off? You know I would never….”

His eyes grow shuttered for a moment, the gold-green muted and dark.

But then it passes. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” he says quietly. “It’s everyone else.”

“I don’t care about anyone else,” I tell him. “I’m a big boy. I know how to say no.”