Saffron A. Kent

“Roger isn’t a homophobe. He was assaulted by a man. Excuse him for not liking it up his ass and being angry about it!”

“Simon. And I don’t mind. Doctors are morons, yes. They think they can save everyone. They have this God complex. They think they are heroes. They think the whole world depends on them. Like they aren’t capable of making mistakes.”

“Do you have a God complex?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“So, you’ve never made a mistake?” he asks with disbelief.

“No,” I lie, making him chuckle.

“Are you claiming him? Because if you are then I need to know. I don’t screw around with what belongs to my friends.”

I almost choke on my food again. “He doesn’t belong to me. It’s such a stupid way to put it. Like he’s an object.”

“Does he or does he not?”

“If I say yes, will you stop talking about him like that?”

“Yes. Pinky swear?”

“I deem him qualified enough to fix me,” Penny declares.

Although, they finally give me saltines and ginger, probably to shut me up. So there’s that.

I sink my hands in his dark chest hair. “This isn’t biology?”

“This is fucking madness.”

“Willow,” he cuts me off with a black frown. “Shut the fuck up.”

He looks at me like I’m so precious.

Maybe he’ll find my fanciful thoughts young and immature. Like he finds me.