I wish I liked the real world more. I wish I could embrace life. I wish for so many things, and I have no idea if it’s possible for me to have them. I could try, maybe, but I have no clue where to start.
I shake my head and snap out of my dreaming. It was dumb to go so far from campus, and now I have an hour walk home in temperatures that are dropping into the low fifties. I cross my arms for warmth, and I make my way back to the main street. I forgot that traffic is barred from this street after five o’clock, and so now people wander freely down the middle of the road. College students are already invading the area, ready to hit the bars for the night, and I keep my head down, focused on getting past this scene as quickly as possible. A few people bump against me, but I don’t react, even when a burly guy knocks against my sore shoulder. In fact, I feel nothing. I suppose that should be concerning.
I’m midway through the chaos, still keeping my attention on the cobbled bricks under my feet, when someone grabs my arm and drags me off the sidewalk. “Can you help? We just need one more person. It’ll only take a few minutes, promise! He’s my brother, and I swear he’s cool.” The girl’s voice is friendly and animated, but I look up reluctantly.
“Um, what?” I say rather blearily and give her a cursory glance.
Her honey-colored hair is tucked behind her ears in a short bob, and a strand comes loose as she practically dances backward while tugging at my hand. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Just sign this. It’s a release form, nothing crazy.”
I barely hear what she’s saying, because I’m too busy trying not to trip over my own feet and also considering how to escape. She stops after a few yards and grabs a clipboard from her bag. “Name?” she asks.
“Huh? Me? Oh.” I have no idea what’s going on. Probably a petition of some sort. “Allison Dennis,” I mutter.
She has me sign my name. I hope I didn’t endorse a group supporting whale hunting or tempeh-only meals being served in the cafeteria. “So, all you do is sit in a chair and hold eye contact for a hundred and eighty seconds,” she says. “No talking, no vocalizing of any kind, no looking away, no touching. Just don’t break eye contact.”
I snap out of it. “What are you talking about?” There are too many people gathered here, and I want more than anything to run, but I suspect she is the sort who would chase after me. Better to placate her and then make my exit.
“It’s just a social experiment of sorts. It’s cool. I’m Kerry, by the way. I take the video.” She smiles broadly. “Now, go. Sit before it gets too dark.” Kerry pivots my body toward a chair at a small card table.
“Video? Wait, no! I don’t want to do any social experi—” I start to protest, but before I know it, she’s plunked me down.
There is a matching empty chair across from me, and I clutch my hands together as mounting anxiety takes over. Clearly, I am doing something besides signing a petition. What did she say? A hundred and eighty seconds? And I have to look at somebody? Great. But that’s only three minutes. In three minutes, I will be done with whatever stupid thing this is, and I can go back to my room, crawl into bed, and disappear again. I want to return to where I was only a short time ago. That place of nowhere. I fidget with my fingers and concentrate on spinning the rings I wear on my right hand while my foot taps repeatedly and uncontrollably.
Even without looking up, I see someone take the seat across from me, and hesitantly I lift my head.
Esben sits in front of me.
My insides clench; a surge of adrenaline and a sense of danger take over. Everything in me tenses and braces. For what, I don’t know.
A hint of recognition crosses Esben’s face. He remembers me from yesterday, a fact that only serves to stress me out more. This is the first time I’ve looked at him head-on, and his presence both alienates and beckons me. Instantly, I am horribly ashamed because I want to run to him and I also want to shove him so forcefully that he careens back in his chair and cannot do whatever we’re about to do. Instead, I try to tolerate the ice that now seems to be running through my veins. Esben shifts in his seat to get comfortable and casually runs a hand through his mop of curls, pushing the hair from his face so that I have a full view of how irritatingly striking he is. I frown. He appears utterly relaxed, now leaning back in his chair as though this bizarre arrangement is the most normal thing in the world.
My desire to bolt is now threefold.
I could run. I don’t have to sit here.
I retain the power of free will despite the circumstances.
Yet, I don’t leave. Inexplicably, I am tied to this chair.
I turn and look for Kerry, but she’s already poised with a video camera, standing in a now-silent and very large and observant crowd that has formed a circle around us. As if I’m not already feeling out of my element, the expectant silence that spreads among them is unnerving.
Esben speaks softly, his voice incredibly silky and reassuring. “You ready? One hundred and eighty seconds.”
CHAPTER 5
ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY SECONDS
One hundred and eighty seconds. That’s not long. That’s nothing.
Slowly I shift my gaze. I start at his hands, both resting casually on the table, and then move to the bracelets. A few inches to the right, and I see the bright blue of his soft shirt over his chest. I lift my chin, see the stubble on his cheeks, the barest smile on his lips.
Fine, I tell myself. He’s just a boy. He can’t do anything to me in three minutes.
I meet his eyes, and in the beginning of the sunset light, their amber color is even more brilliant. He raises his eyebrows, silently questioning.
I glare at him and nod, as though he’s challenged me to a fight for my life. As though getting through the next three minutes will somehow make me less weak than I am. “One hundred and eighty seconds,” I affirm.
Bring it.
There is a blip in his confidence. But he gives me an inviting smile that I cannot take personally. He’s probably done this countless times. I’m just another participant.
Esben signals Kerry, and she says, “Time starts now.”
Ten seconds. His eyes practically bore through me. Esben is not screwing around here. He means it when he makes direct eye contact. My hands tighten together. Despite how much I hate what is happening and how awful it is to force myself to not look away, I keep my expression blank, and I do not break from him. I don’t know how I will get through this. He’s making it worse by looking so at ease, so comfortable taking me in. But I will not back down.