When My Heart Joins the Thousand(16)

“‘All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.’” My voice comes out singsongy, like I’m saying a nursery rhyme. “‘And whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you.’”

Silence.

It’s over. It’s barely been five minutes, and already I’ve ruined this. Maybe I should just get up and walk away, spare him the discomfort of making an excuse to leave—

“Watership Down,” he says.

My body stops rocking; the breath freezes in my throat.

“That book about the talking rabbits,” he continues. “That’s what it’s from, isn’t it? That quote? The sun god says that to the rabbit prince. What’s his name, again?”

“El-ahrairah,” I murmur. I look at him from the corner of my eye, clutching my arms. “You’ve read Watership Down.”

“A long time ago. Is that where the name in your email address comes from? ThousandEnemies?”

“Yes.”

He smiles. “I thought that sounded familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. I loved that book.”

I look down at my feet, fidgeting. Then I take my Rubik’s Cube from the pocket of my hoodie and twist it around. I know it’s rude to play with a puzzle while you’re talking to someone, but having something to do with my hands keeps me calm. If I didn’t carry this thing around, I’d probably have taken up smoking by now.

“You know,” he says, “usually I’m the quiet one. I mean, when I’m talking with my coworkers, it’s not a conversation so much as them telling me things while I nod along. I like to think that’s because I’m a good listener. But sometimes I feel like I could be replaced by a mannequin and not have it affect the conversation much.”

I hunch my shoulders and continue twisting around the Rubik’s Cube. “Do you feel that way with me.”

“No.”

The cube rests motionless in my hands.

Fading daylight reflects off the planes of his angular face, with its sharp features and high cheekbones. His hair is not exactly brown, I decide. It’s more muted gold, the color of wheat. His eyes briefly meet mine, then his long eyelashes sweep down, hiding them, and a light flush creeps into his cheeks.

The rabbit lopes a few yards away from us and keeps nibbling at the grass. He watches it. “I’ve always wondered . . . what do they eat in the winter? Rabbits, I mean. The grass and leaves are all dead then, right?”

“They eat bark and dried grass,” I reply. “They also consume their own feces. Food is partially digested and expelled directly from the cecum.”

“That’s . . . interesting.”

I pick at the edge of one thumbnail. “It’s called cecotrophy.”

“I’m kind of glad humans don’t do that.”

I slip the Rubik’s Cube back into my pocket. The last traces of daylight are fading from the sky. There’s only a thin orange sliver of sunlight on the horizon, shining through the branches. Stanley’s long, thin hands are folded over his crutch. “I’m glad I got a chance to meet you.”

There’s an odd flutter, like a moth trapped in my chest.

The last wisp of sunlight disappears. The air feels very still, and there’s a hollow sensation in my stomach, as if I’m looking off the top of a tall building. And I realize—if I’m going to ask him, it has to be now. If I put it off any longer, it won’t happen.

“Do you like sex,” I ask, staring straight ahead.

There’s a long pause. “Do I . . . what?”

“Like sex,” I repeat, enunciating the words slowly. My arms are crossed over my chest.

“Uh . . . why do you ask?” His voice sounds a little unsteady.

“Because,” I reply, still staring ahead, “I was wondering if you would have sex with me.”

When I finally look at his face, his eyes are wide and a little unfocused. A few beads of sweat stand out on his forehead, and he dabs them away with his sleeve. “Y-you mean . . . are you talking hypothetically? Like if we were on a desert island or we were the last two people in the world after a nuclear war or—”

“I’m asking if you want to have sex with me tonight.”

His mouth opens and closes several times. “You’re serious.”

“Do I seem like I’m joking.”

“You want to have sex with me,” he repeats. “Tonight.”

“Yes.” I wonder if I’ve done something wrong, if I asked incorrectly. Or maybe he’s just disgusted at the idea. I sit motionless, shoulders hunched, arms crossed.

His grip tightens on his crutch. He takes a deep breath and rubs his brow. “Sorry. I just—didn’t expect this.”

My breathing quickens. I take the Rubik’s Cube from my pocket and start playing with it. That look. I’ve seen that look before. The voices of former classmates echo in my skull. Weirdo.

I twist the Rubik’s Cube faster. My fingers are slick with sweat. It slips from them and bounces off the ground, and I don’t pick it up.

He hasn’t spoken for almost thirty seconds. I feel sick to my stomach. “Go on,” I whisper. “Say it.”

“What?”

“I’m a freak.” My voice comes out stiff and tight. This is bad. I have to get out of here before the situation worsens. I lurch to my feet and begin to walk.