Page 45 of Dock

Her just being her is enough.

Blows me the fuck away.

She’s smart.

Strange.

Content in those aspects, yet so anxious to see more.

Do more.

Feels trapped by her situation.

Her condition.

I get it.

And I hate that I get it.

But I love that I get it.

Her.

That we match even if we look like we don’t.

The thought leads me to warmly informing, “Great Blues typically mate for life.”

At that, Emaline lowers the object to meet my gaze, unmistakable hunger lingering. “Is it mating season now?”

I lick my lips.

Slowly shake my head.

Swallow the low grumble that’s on the tip of my tongue.

“Late winter.”

“Oh,” is dripping with minor disappointment, “that’s too bad.”

“You wanted to watch two birds fuck?”

Her jaw falls cartoonishly to her lap causing me to open my mouth to laugh. “I wanted to see a dance!”

Continued laughter gets her squeaking again.

“Or like rocks moving! Or house building! Or chest pumps!”

“Birds don’t lift weights,” teasingly escapes only to receive a playful elbow in my side.

“Just,” adorable flusters precede her shoving the binocs back at me, “find me another bird to see, H.”

There’s no stopping the soft smile that slips into place. “I like H.”

Her dark eyebrows lift in surprise.

“I like it more than Hogan.”

A tiny nervous nibble is given to the corner of her bottom lip. “You um…you don’t want me to call you Dock?”