30. Rin

30

Rin

We stay there for a moment, uncomfortably close to each other while staring into each other's eyes.

I know it is a bad idea before I go ahead with it, but I allow my brain to be fogged by the moment and the longing look I think I see in his eyes.

One of his big hands is holding my back and I push myself forward in his arms and move my face slightly closer to his, then I get too shy to close the remaining distance.

The heat coming off his body is spreading to mine, radiating off from his body in waves and seeping into my pores.

Kuret is completely still for what feels like a full minute before his eyes widen dramatically and the warmth of his hand leaves my back.

I lean my face forward and I see him doing the same; our lips are a breath away from each other when Kuret stops and jerks back.

His eyes seem thick with passion. I shut mine and look away, heart aching from the rejection.

How am I reading this wrong?

I am a terrible mix of appalled and ashamed as I pull myself away from him and wrap both of my arms around my torso. I want to speak up and say something to let him know my actions don't mean anything, but whatever words I have are stuck in my throat. Embarrassment turns itself into a metal ball and sits deep in my stomach.

He speaks up first. "Do not take this wrongly, Nasrin. You are just too young, and I will lose honor if I do not stop this now."

His words hit me like heavy bricks, one at a time. Painful each time. What does he mean? Too young?

I could swear that he wanted this too. I know it in my bones. So why make up things about age differences?

Is he like those vampires people are swooning over lately? Thousands of years old while looking like they are twenty?

He looks just as young as I am.

I frown at him, annoyance replacing my shame. "Too young? What do you mean by that, Kuret?"

The words slip out with more anger than I intend, and he turns away from me. I have to know why his so-called honor requires him to kill things and make decisions based on my age. Why does he feel like he has the authority to tell me who I am old enough to kiss?

If he doesn't want to, he should just say it. Not blame it on something about me.

It reminds me too much of the oppressive regime I have spent my entire life living under, and I don't like it one bit.

"We don't know how much daylight we have."

He has his face turned away from me, like he can't bear to look at me for too long.

It makes me start feeling a little dirty, but I push it aside. There is nothing dirty about the way I feel or the things I want to do. I won't be made to feel that way ever again.

It's my choice, just like it has been any woman's choice, and I always hated when people judged it.

I know he is only trying to avoid me and that makes me a little more annoyed. I am not a child; I am an adult and I find it completely disrespectful that he is choosing to reject me based on something I'm not.

"Don't call me a child, Kuret. Just say you don't want me."

"I didn't call you a child and I… can't say that."

What? He makes no sense, and it makes me so mad I whack him as hard as I can on his shoulder.

It surprises us both when he stumbles, but then he looks back at me with a hiss before whipping an arm out and yanking me to him.

Kuret pulls me close, his hands wrapping around my waist as he squeezes me to him. I can feel the strong beating of.. two hearts? I shake my head, then let out a squeak when he lifts me up off the ground so I am face level with him, my legs wrapping around his waist without thought.

My heartbeat quickens to match his, and time seems to slow down around us.

I start to pull myself away from him, but he is still clinging to me, his eyes staring into mine. Our faces are in such close proximity that I can see the black striations in his bright green eyes.

His face lowers onto mine, and my entire nervous system starts to misfire.

I freeze as my brain recollects all the information about kissing that I have ever known. It is one thing to attempt to initiate it and not know what you're doing and another to actually do it.

He notices the apprehension on my face and sets me down immediately. "I am sorry, I forgot myself," he says after he has cleared his throat and starts to walk away, but I decide that I have had enough of the back and forth.

"What if I want it, but I'm just not very good at it?" I ask softly behind him and he stops in his tracks.

I expect a response, but I watch his shoulders drop with defeat when he decides against it and makes his way to the cart. I chase after him and repeat my question, louder this time.

"You are too young for me, Nasrin. Please understand," he finally says when I catch up to him.

I let out an annoyed grunt, and this seems to catch his attention. "I think you are using this age thing as an excuse instead of just outrightly saying that you are not attracted to me."

He turns around, his hair whipping in the wind, the ornaments clacking and tinkling. His brilliant eyes are wide, the marks against his dark skin flaring to show his shifting emotions.

I almost can't believe there was a time when I didn't find him attractive.

"That is not true, Nasrin," is all he lets out.

I stay locked on to his gaze, afraid to break the connection I feel between us.

I can see that he has more to say but will not unless I force the words out of him, so I speak again. "So what is the matter, then? Surely I am not that much younger than you, Kuret. I would say that we are pretty close in age."

His brow furrows in the middle, creating a wrinkle on the sides of his face that I have come to associate with him being annoyed, insulted, or confused. "How long into your life are you?" he asks me.

I want to say about twenty or thirty percent but can't bring up the words to properly translate it into his language. When I don't find a suitable word, an idea comes to mind and I dart out to pick a long blade of grass from the ground, then turn back to him.

I hold it out between us. "This much is how long I have lived." I mark a quarter of the length of the leaf to show him. "And this is how much is left." I raise my hand and wave the longer bottom of the blade of grass in front of his face.

He shakes his head in what looks like a poor mockery of the human movement, and my heart speeds up.

I plead with it to slow down, thankful that he cannot hear my heart going crazy over the fact that he has just mirrored my actions. Surely that means something? That he would study my movements and mimic them.

You don't do that if you don't care.

He points to the bottom of the blade. "This is when you are ready. You are still too young."

Hearing him say this again feels insulting—like he is infantilizing me—but I try to figure out where we are miscommunicating.

Because that's the only explanation once I push aside my pride. He has never lied to me.

I shake my head vigorously and throw the blade of grass away. "I am not living my entire life being aroused like this and unable to even touch you, Kuret."

He lets out a breath. "I want to hold you tightly against me and make you happy for as long as I possibly can, Nasrin. You do not know the torture it has been watching your beauty and not being able to say the things that I really think and—"

I don't let him finish. "Then why don't you say them? Why do you continue to pretend like you don't feel all the tension between us?"

I raise my hands up to my cheeks as I talk, exasperated, and also embarrassed that I have been so pushy with him.

My family would be appalled to see me acting so shameless.

Can't he see we can't go on ignoring this?

"Because you are far too young for a donor, Nasrin! You will die after it, and I couldn't live with it. I will live as far away from you as possible if it means that you get to you live your life and be happy."

I take a deep breath. "You have spoken about donors before, but I don't know what they are. Can you at least tell me?"

There is still so much I don't know about him, but I genuinely don't care about all that; I just want to know why he is torturing both of us this way.

He swallows thickly and I watch his throat bob up and down. Why am I finding such weird things about him attractive? Is this how these things work? I wouldn't know. I have never been around men outside my family I felt anything but anger and disgust around.

I have never had any crushes, and I told my family I would never marry and become one of the greatest teachers our country had ever seen.

Bābā would joke about how it saved him the stress of having to kill any man who looked my way. Māmān was much less happy about it, scolding bābā for encouraging my silly words and telling us that she wants grandchildren from me.

The memory of them saddens me again, but Kuret speaks and I divert all my attention back to him.

"There is one time in a woman's life when she sees a man. The donor is the man who she sees."

I frown. "I am seeing you right now, am I not? And you can see me, so what do you mean?"

The patterns on his cheeks start pulsing, which means he must be embarrassed, and his eyes meet mine for a split second before he looks away nervously.

This seems hard for him to talk about, I realize, but it is a conversation that must be had.

One of his hands goes to rub against his shoulder and I watch as the same green patterns dance over the skin of his exposed arms. "That is not what I mean. They touch each other," he places emphasis on the word touch , like I am supposed to understand what he means.

"You are going to have to give me more information than that, Kuret."

My hands are folded over my chest and my foot is tapping impatiently on the ground.

Kuret sighs again and presses his hands over his eyes. "It is the time when she wants his seed."

The words come out in a low grumble that I almost don't hear, but I piece together the words after a moment and it dawns on me that he is talking about sex.

I cannot blame him for having such a difficult time talking about sex like this, since my mind is trying to shut this conversation down, too.

But why would they wait their whole lives?

Sex education back home is nonexistent, and the best explanations of sex most women are given happen days before their wedding night, when the older women tell them all the ways to please their husbands. It is either that or they have conversations with their friends who were "defiled" before their wedding nights.

I step forward, reaching up to I place a hand on Kuret's face and he leans into it, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Kuret, at the end of my life, my body will have no use for the seed of any man. I will be too old then."

He looks down at me, his face a mask of confusion, but I don't care to clear it up. I just want him.