I can’t keep my eyes off the girl sitting across the park, and I think she’s caught me looking more than once.

She’s sitting on a metal bench under a bare tree, perfectly illuminated by the bright city lights behind her, and the sparkling snow which blankets the ground. A blue overcoat is buttoned up her torso, light sky-blue gloves grip the book she’s reading, and large glasses sit delicately on her small nose.

In contrast to her small nose, her horns are huge. Starting on the far sides of her forehead, they curl backwards and form a full loop bigger than her head, with the sharp ends pointing towards her back. It looks like she should have difficulty cocking her head left or right, since her horns would get caught on her shoulders and neck. On her horns are long specially made socks with a pattern of swirling blue and red. It compliments her thick white hair, perfectly framing her face and glasses.

In contrast to the perfect aesthetics of her symmetrical horns, mine start above my ears and sprout outwards, haphazardly splitting out like tree branches. All my groundskeeper tools have a hook on the handle, and I’m hanging them on my horns like decorations.

As I’m staring, the girl looks up from her book and glances at me. I quickly twist my head away, and the motion sends the flat side of a handheld shovel right into my face. The rest of my tools harmlessly clang against each other, or slap my arms.

Holding my broom tight, I feign ignorance by sweeping the loose dust of snow off the concrete path. My knuckles are white from gripping the handle so hard, but my fingers are cold and red.

Leaning the broom against my shoulder, I cup my hands in front of my mouth and breathe slowly. Using this to try and hide what I’m doing, I turn my head just enough so the girl is in frame of my glasses.

We lock gazes. She didn’t turn away after she glanced at me previously.

I’m momentarily lost in her eyes, those large, silver-blue pupils set between long white eyelashes. Absolutely stunning.

It takes me a moment to regain my senses, and I quickly turn away again. My handheld shovel swings and hits me in the back of the head. My hearts pound in my chest, their beats synchronized as my survival instincts trigger. Adrenaline makes me shake, I nearly crush the wooden broom in my hands as my breathing is slow, heavy, and deliberate.

I should just walk over there and introduce myself, right? Stealing glances from afar is cowardice. Either she’ll accept my feelings, or she’ll reject me and I’ll move on with my life.

After setting my broom against a nearby tree, my quaking hands start unhooking the tools that hang from my horns. With the adrenaline flooding my brain and muscles, it’s hard to fight off the instinct to ball my hands into fists. With my tools discarded in the snow, I adjust my coat to look presentable, then march over. Locking eyes with her, the fear and determination is plainly visible on my face.

She stares as I approach, her eyes wide and unblinking. She closes her book and sets it to her side. Her body trembles, every muscle in her face twitches and spasms at random intervals.

Cutting across a patch of grass, the snow crunches under my shoes. A brittle wind picks up, sweeping a light cloud of snow into the air, and rustling the bare tree branches above us. I don’t stop walking until I’m a foot away, towering above her.

Her head is locked straight forward, but she’s looking up through her eyebrows at me. My head is forward too, and I’m looking down my nose at her. Her fingers are wrapped around the front edge of the cold metal bench, while mine form tight fists. She’s below the frame of my glasses, so it’s hard to make out any specific details.

“Hey.” My voice resounds as the words originate from deep in my diaphragm.

Her body jolts as instincts overcome rationality. Her head tilts and her back arches until her chin points straight up. Her thighs noticeably grow larger from flexing, and her hands grip so hard they nearly dent the metal of the bench.

I grit my teeth in preparation, and put my right leg back, digging my boots into the snow and frozen dirt.

Every muscle, bone, and joint works with the precision and coordination developed from thousands of years of evolutionary refinement. Her legs kick off the ground like a spring, her back jerks forward, and her neck muscles arc forward in a devastating swing which smashes her forehead against mine.

Our horns don’t have compatible shapes, so it’s our skin that connects. The impact punches my brain like a gunshot.

A shot of pain travels from my forehead to my ears, my jaw, and the base of my neck. Everything goes black as my eyes cut out. It’s a brutal effort just to stay conscious, her smaller body hit a lot harder than I was expecting. I lose my balance and my legs buckle, but I force my muscles to flex and my joints to lock. Grimacing, my lips curl and show off my gums in a display of pure, excruciating physical effort.

My struggle works, despite the trembling of my limps and dulled consciousness. I avoid falling to the ground, and a moment later, my vision starts to return.

I feel a warm trickle of blood fall between my eyes, then down the side of my nose.

The blackness fades into a dizzying array of lights and colors which seemingly exist without rhyme or reason. The blinding lights of the city solidify, then my brain registers the twinkling specks of pure white snow crystals which blanket the park and dress the trees in a gorgeous coat. My glasses were knocked out of place, so even after my vision returns to normal, everything still exists as a variety of multi-colored blurs.

Slowly, I bring a hand up to set my glasses back on my nose. Several joints popped out of the frame and ear rests, but they’re designed to do that so I can fix them later.

My attention falls on the girl.

She’s sitting on the bench, knees locked and feet separated, with her toes pointed inward. She’s upright, but her eyes and lips are closed tight. Bright red blood gushes down her face, originating from her forehead. Her nose, lips, and chin look like they were painted over and, since she’s leaning forward, the blood drips off her chin and soaks into the fabric of her chest and thighs.

“A-are you okay?” I ask.

She opens her eyes, but there’s no awareness present on their crystal-clear surface. She’s completely blind.

Slowly, the neurons in her brain reconnect, and the silvery-blue color returns to her pupils.

She blinks twice, then brings her hands up to readjust her glasses. All the joints have popped out of place, revealing the inner elastic band that keeps the pieces together. She blinks again, then looks up at me. With her hands holding the lenses in front of her eyes, her gaze trails my horns. Once she realizes our horns never connected, her eyes falls to my forehead.

A delightful smile marks her face, “yes!” She jumps up, the top of her head only reaching my chin, then reaches up to grab my glasses. Her hands quake as she pops the joint back into place, but by the time they’re fixed, her nerves and hands are steady. “What about you?”

“Well, my skull didn’t break, so that’s good.” I reach into my inner coat pocket to pull out a towel, then hand it off so she can wipe her face. The split in her skin has already sealed, forming a prominent scab which can be peeled by morning. “So,” I wipe my forehead with my sleeve, “do you want to go eat something? Or go do… something?”

“Hehheh,” she looks up at me with a bright smile, and most of the blood has been wiped off. “Sure, okay!”

Then we walk off, holding hands. Her shoulder is pressed against my bicep, and she’s standing under the shadow of my branching right horn.

The hard part of asking a girl out is over. I’ve survived her ruthless test without passing out, now I just need to woo her on our date. That part should be easy though.