Love, Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood

            “Should we break up with them?” I hear Dora ask.

            “We certainly deserve better,” Jack answers. But that night he hugs me from behind while I brush my teeth and whispers, “You are the most magnificent thing that ever happened to me,” and I know it to be true.

            I’m a mess. A work in progress. I’m two steps forward and one step back. I hoard my cheese, and I can’t efficiently load the dishwasher, and I’m going to struggle with the truth until the day I croak.

            Jack knows all of this, and he loves me. Not anyway, but because.

            So the next day—that’s the one. Thursday. It’s cutting it close, but it works.

            “How’s the job?” Mom asks me on the phone while I’m on my way to my apartment.

            “Good. Great, actually.”

            “And that boyfriend of yours?” It feels a little robotic—like a list of questions that she’s written in her Notes app. But she’s trying. And she hasn’t demanded I take care of Lance and Lucas in a while. “Has he proposed yet?”

            I laugh. “Mom, it’s been less than a year.”

            “That’s plenty of time!”

            “I don’t need him to ask me to marry him,” I say, distracted, rummaging in my bag for the keys that I almost never use anymore. I hope I haven’t left them at Jack’s.

            “Why not?”

            “Because . . .” Ha! Found them. “Because I already know that he wants to.”

            Cece arrives just a couple of minutes after we hang up. “Does Jack know why you’re here?” she asks, cheeks bright from the cool breeze.

            “Nope. I told him we were just hanging out. A last hurrah before we move out for real next month.”

            “Good idea.” She watches me mix the powder in water. “Maybe I should have brought Hedgie? For girls’ night? But Kirk’ll enjoy some one-on-one time with her.”

            He won’t, since he’s as terrified of her as I am. I finally feel seen.

            “It’s a bit bittersweet that we won’t renew the lease,” I say.

            “Don’t worry.” She grins. “I wrote down Mrs. Tuttle’s HBO password.”

            I laugh and shake my head. “It’s just the end of an era.”

            “It’s not, because our new places are five minutes apart.”

            “Still.” I glance around. “Maybe I’ll miss the coconut crabs and the exposed wires.” I go back to stirring, and we’re quiet for a while. Then her shoulder bumps against mine. “Elsie?”

            “Yeah?”

            “FYI, you’ll always be my favorite.”

            “You too, Cece.” The red in the pot gets a bit blurry for a second. “You too.”

            The following morning, when Jack steps into his office, I’m already there. Waiting in the chair behind his desk.

            “Well, well, well,” he says. Surprised. Delighted. “Look who’s—”

            His eyes fall on the fruits of my labor: his little Hadron Collider model is . . . well, where it always is. Except today it’s trapped in cherry Jell-O.

            “Happy birthday,” I say. I’m a little breathless. I still get knocked off my feet when I see him after a while. I wonder if it’ll ever end. I wonder if all these beautiful, momentous things I feel for him will ever settle into something ordinary. I can’t imagine they will.

            “The Jell-O is my birthday present?” he asks, like he’d be overjoyed if it were.

            “Nope.” I point to the card next to it. “That’s the present.”

            The dimple makes my heart skip a beat. “Is it another Wayfair gift certificate? To buy more curtains?”

            I laugh and swivel around in his chair—faculty members do get better furniture than the postdocs. I listen to him tear open the plain envelope, and let my eyes roam out the windows, to the trees that are just about to turn red and yellow, to the students going about their lives, to the blue sky. Then I close my eyes and picture Jack’s face as he reads my words.