“You said all that before, Wats, over and over, a hundred times, even when I wouldn’t listen.”
“Let me say it again, now that you are. I felt really bad…I still do…that you had to give up swimming.”
“Truth?” We were holding hands again, and I couldn’t even pinpoint when it had happened. Sometimes they rested in my lap. Sometimes Cal moved them around.
“Yeah. Truth. Always,” I said.
“I probably would have quit by now anyway.”
“Seriously?”
“One thing I definitely don’t miss is competitive swimming.” He waved it away, like he meant it. “Never once did I get a swimming boner, like you do.”
“You did so. Remem—”
“Metaphorically, you anus. One of the social workers back when I was in the hospital, she made me envision the rest of my life. I was a dick, at first, like I was with you—”
“No.”
“Let me talk. Jesus, Wats.”
“Sorry.”