If I live forever, can I live now?

3

"Tessa. Tess."

David's voice sounded like a distant memory.

"You have to stop messing up and passing out after." He whispered, and he touched my hand. I could feel something between his skin and mine, and, as I opened my eyes, I spotted a thick bandage over my injured hand.

"I punched him." I confessed, and I smiled. David was smiling as well. He didn't seem to be mad at me for having been a reckless psycho, once again. He seemed amused.

"You punched the guy." He said, nodding, and he laughed so deliciously that I wondered how he managed to be so serious and serene, and so full of sunshine at the same time. "And, guess what? The police officer spilled the beans, and I found out that... you broke his nose! We absolutely have to drink Dom Perignon to celebrate that tonight."

I laughed lightly, and, as I observed his square jaw and exquisitely arched lips, the feeling that he was a unique combination of impeccable poise and irresistible impishness made me think of a conversation I had once had with Africa. It was a breezy Brighton morning, and we were sitting outside my house, trying to figure out why I had slept with Luke if I didn't have feelings for him anymore.

As those thoughts filled my head, I looked up into David's vivacious eyes, and felt an urge to hit myself for having let memories that were related to Luke invade me when I was trying to figure something out about him.

But they had something in common.

That morning, Africa had suggested I hadn't fallen in love with Luke genuinely. She had made me see that I had chased him, and craved him, because I had projected my dreams and wishes on him. I had longed to be reckless, and venturesome, and I had tried to precipitate into imprudence by drowning in Luke's green eyes.

I had never considered that it was possible that the same thing had happened with David. I admired him. I cherished his intelligence, and his elegance, and I treasured his impetuosity and his contagious joy. As I looked at him from the hospital bed, as I felt his graceful fingers caress my cheek, I realized that I considered all the things that I admired of him to be features of my own as well. However, they were correctly organized in him. He was a brilliant balance of everything that was important to me. Was that the explanation of why I loved him, or did it mean that, once again, I had just tried to free myself of my chaos through another person?

"Look who's here!" he said, taking me back to reality.

Alex appeared beside me even before I had time to guess who it could possibly be.

"Oh, hey, Alex! I didn't know you were working today."

"Yes, I am. And, apparently, you should have been too; at least, you don't punch people around here."

David laughed, and they looked at each other and shook their heads. She wouldn't have doubts. If she were me, she would be sure her feelings were authentic, because she didn't admire anyone but herself. She didn't project herself onto others, because everything she wished could not possibly have a more accurate and outstanding expression than herself.

I spent a lot of time with her, and I considered her to be my friend. We were the youngest doctors in the hospital. When I had recuperated the rights over my discovery, the university had suggested that, instead of completing the nine months of clinical practice that I needed in order to obtain my medical degree, I should take a fast track and graduate in two months. They needed me at the anti-aging research laboratories. They needed me to treat the patients that didn't thoroughly understand how the treatment worked, or why they should submit themselves to the world forever.

Alex considered herself to be a key factor in my findings — she considered herself to be the epicenter of everything — and she had stated so when I had been offered a shortcut to graduation. She had wanted it for herself as well, and, just as she always did, she had managed to achieve it.