Love, Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood

            “I said, not now,” I repeat impatiently. “I’m in the middle of something important. Lucas and Lance are adults—if they want to ruin their lives, by all means, let them. I don’t care, and I don’t care what Aunt Minnie says on Facebook. Please, stop calling me with anything related to that.” I hang up.

            Jack stares at me with a stony, impenetrable expression.

            “Um, sorry about that.”

            “No problem. It was . . .”

            I squeeze my eyes shut. “Unhinged?”

            “I was going to say hot. Elsie, look at me.” His tone is commanding, but in a way I don’t mind. “Why are you here?”

            “Because I . . .”

            I close my eyes for a moment. Take a million deep breaths.

            “Because I accepted George’s offer. And I’ll be working here next year.” His smile widens with undeniable happiness—then stops abruptly when I add, “And because I hate you, Jack.” I feel something warm on my lips. Salty, too. “I hate you, and it’s pretty annoying, since I think I might also . . .” I shake my head. “And you’re right—I am terrified, scared shitless that the more you know me, the less you’ll like me, and I just . . . I loathe it sometimes.”

            He gives me a confused, curious look. Like he knows that I’m complicated, but he doesn’t mind. Like he’d rather spend the rest of his life studying an inch of me than discovering the mysteries behind the universe. “What do you loathe?”

            “The way you seem to always get under my skin.”

            “Elsie.” His eyes close for a brief moment. When he opens them, stars are born. “You think you don’t live under mine?”

            “I . . . I don’t know, really. I don’t really understand you. You didn’t tell me about Laurendeau, and . . . you know everything about me, but I know next to nothing about you. I’m constantly showing myself, but you rarely reciprocate—some, sure, but so much stays hidden, and I’m not sure what . . .”

            He moves closer. Cups my face. There are people all around us—Monica, Volkov, Andrea. Jack’s current and my future colleagues are getting a show, but he bends down anyway, like my space is his own.

            “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.”

            Jack straightens. He takes a step back, an intense, calm look in his eyes. Like he’s said what he meant to and could never regret it.

            “That was . . .” I clear my throat. “Honest.”

            He’s quiet for a moment and then nods. “It’s what I want to be. With you. And I’m sorry I lied.”

            “I . . . It’s okay. This once.” I clear my throat. “What you—the things—the fact that—” I take a deep, decisive, mind-clearing breath. And then I finally say it. “I am, too.”

            His head tilts. “You’re what?”

            “Almost there. Where we’re going . . . I’m practically there, really. It’s like . . . an inch away. I just need to . . .” I take another breath, this time shuddering. “I just need to find my footing. Feel the ground.”

            He smiles, and my heart thuds. Somewhere in the Tadpole Galaxy, comets are born, stars spring into being, liquid crystals twist, align, queue up in tidy formations.

            “I’m here,” Jack says. We’re alone in this hallway, me and him. Just the two of us, in any way that matters. “But take your time, Elsie. I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”