Love, Theoretically

by Ali Hazelwood

Maybe instead of getting people to think that I’m worth their time, I should stop giving a shit about them? Hmm. Food for thought.

I would like to thank the Academy, my roommate, and the girl who runs the WhatWouldMarieDo account—my rocks during the harrowing years of grad school. I owe this to you.

“I do. No bed in it, though, and according to my friend Adam, my air mattress ‘sucks ass.’ ”

“In my weird fantasies, Elsie . . .” He shifts me till our curves and angles match up. Perfectly. “In my fantasies, you allow me to keep an eye on you.” I feel his lips at my temple. “And when I really let go, I imagine that you let me take care of you, too.” It

does sound outlandish. “Why?” “Because in my head, no one has done it before.” I fall asleep huddled in the curve of Jack’s throat, wondering whether he might be right.

Jack smiles. “You should sell the movie rights, Ol.”

She leans closer with a surreptitious expression. Her skin is 90 percent freckles, and I’ve known her for five minutes, but I want to be her friend. “I’ve set it already. We’re getting married in April. During spring break. Adam just doesn’t know it yet.” “How does that work?” “So, he’s into nature. Hiking, that stuff. I’m taking him to Yosemite, where a park ranger will marry us in a quick and painless ceremony. Then it’s just going to be the two of us for a week. And the bears, I guess. Oh God, I hope the bears don’t eat us.” She shrugs the thought away. “Anyway, Adam doesn’t love people, and we can always have a party later, but this . . . I think this is the kind of wedding he wants. The one we’re meant to have.”

Professionally, my life sucks a bit. Psychologically, I’m not, as some would say, “healthy.” Musically, I should hire a tuba to follow me around. But on the upside, I’ve been killing it in the lunch invite department.

Crap. “I . . .” I swallow. Buck up. Take a deep breath. “I missed you.” I rub my forehead. “God, I’m such a weirdo.” He nods slowly, as though mulling it over. Then offers, “I went to campus today to get work done. Instead I kept wondering how buck wild it would be if I asked you to move in.” I let out a surprised laugh. “You’re a weirdo, too.” “Yeah.” “Have you ever . . . ?” “Nope. Total first.” “What’s wrong with us?”

“Go to sleep.” “What? Why? No!” I try to move up, but his arms cage me tighter. “We should be having all the sex.” “In a minute. For now, just close your eyes and be silent for twenty seconds.” “Why?” “It’s a kink I have.” “You perv.” Yawn. “What happened to anal play and bondage?”

I leave with a promise to meet her for drinks next week when her friend Bee’s in town.

“Okay, then. Honesty.” He tilts my face backward, lips brushing against my ears. “I want you, Elsie. All the time. I think of you. All. The. Fucking. Time. I’m distracted. I’m shit at work. And my first instinct, the very first time I saw you, was to run away. Because I knew that if we’d start doing this, we would never stop. And that’s exactly how it is. There is no universe in which I’m going to let you go. I want to be with you, on

you, every second of every day. I think—I dream of crazy things. I want you to marry me tomorrow so you can go on my health insurance. I want to lock you in my room for a couple of weeks. I want to buy groceries based on what you like. I want to play it cool, like I’m attracted to you and not obsessed out of my mind, but that’s not where I’m at. Not at all. And I need you to keep us in check. I need you to pace us, because wherever it is that we’re going . . . I’m here. I’m already right here.”