Into the Black Hole

Chapter 32: Unexpected Longings

When I arrive at Soma five minutes to ten-hundred hours, Huxley appears in my line of vision wearing a gray Oxford shirt and black jeans. A crooked smile lights up his once again flawless face as he saunters toward me.

"I'm disappointed you don't have a black eye," I tell him.

"Nalani and her magic."

"Really? Even after how rude you were?"

He shrugs. "She can never stay mad at me for long."

"No, I guess no one can."

He takes my hand, tugging me into Soma's line. The Cosmics around us chatter in low voices, undoubtedly wondering what their Boss is doing waiting in a coffeeshop queue like a plebeian. Huxley nudges me and points to the shop's awesome logo. "I'm not sure what creature that's supposed to be. A unicorn? A fish?"

"You're joking right?"

"What?"

"It's a narwhal." I pull up a picture of the animal and show it to him.

"No way. You have these on Earth?"

"Yep."

"I've never heard of this creature."

"Sure." I'm not convinced of his ignorance, but why would he lie to me?

After drinking what might in truth be the best coffee I've ever tasted—literal straight mocha and marshmallows—Huxley coaxes me into watching a comedy with him. The movie theater is relatively empty with only a couple other individuals present, but I hardly notice them whenever Huxley laughs. He's relaxed, not his usual suave and chill pretense, but truly comfortable. I still hate him, but the passion behind the feeling has subdued.

The movie ends, and we throw jokes at each other on our route to an ice cream boutique. The lady behind the counter hands us our orders—mine in a cup, his in a sugar cone—and we choose an elaborately decorated booth near the back.

"Coffee flavor?" Huxley exclaims. "Seriously? You're disgusting."

"What?" I counter, "You think you're so sophisticated with your Peanut Butter Cookies & Cream? Get out of my sight."

"Hey, I don't pretend to be anything. I've accepted the fact that I'm forever seven years old. You, on the other hand..."

He cuts himself off at my narrowed eyes as they dare him to finish that sentence. "You want to die?" I offer, "Because that can be arranged."

Biting his lower lip, he leans forward, catching a stray lock of my hair between his index and middle fingers. "I love..."

My smile vanishes.

"... your hair."

I can breathe again. I shrug, my visage unaffected. "Born with it."

"I love this." He touches a spot above my eyebrows.

"My forehead?"

"Your mind. Your method of thinking."

"Well, that's too bad. I've already decided to donate my brain to the University of Leonardo after I die."

He cocks his head. "Really?"

"Mm-hm. It's in my will and everything."

"Aren't you too young to be contemplating a will?"

"With my line of work, I'm not."

"What if your body isn't returned to Earth?" he asks, inscrutable.

"Then I presume Leonardo will be in tears over the loss of my spectacular organ."