At first I wanted to measure its effects on me and then on Will, so I could have actual data that would show how much of it we shared. But when I sat down to actually design the experiment, I realized I’d have to measure the fluctuations in weight over a twenty-four-hour period, during which we’d have to basically stay totally still in the same spot. And, like, not eat or pee or sweat or anything, so that wasn’t really feasible. So I just measured its effects on a glass of water instead. After all, we were seventy percent water, so whatever effects the moon had on water it had on us, right? Plus, you know, it was a way easier experiment.
Anyway, call it a love letter sent in the form of a final project—that was as romantic as sending the sounds of your love into space, right? Even if Will would never know about it.
It had been hard to leave Will’s the other night. After we had sex, he was in a mood I didn’t recognize. Like he had something to say but was holding back. Everything in me wanted to stay and pry it out of him, but I reminded myself of Tonya’s words and I made myself let go. My work now was to finish finals. I knew I had to have a major conversation with Will, but that wasn’t the moment.
Our dorm room looked like a whirlwind had hit it. An FBI-profiling, serial-killer-tracking genius whirlwind. The filing cabinet seemed to have taken up permanent residence on Charles’ bed, and I didn’t even think he was paying attention to where he was in any schedule, thirty-six-hour days or otherwise, because he had, as far as I could tell, been up for two days straight, finishing the write-up of his behavioral psychology project. I couldn’t really bring myself to care much, though, and, since the filing cabinet wasn’t on my bed, I dropped onto the messy covers and was asleep before I could even think the words filing cabinet.
Later, I’d just gotten out of a much-needed shower and was feeling shockingly not dead when I got a text from Will telling me to come over whenever I was done and we could watch the Lord of the Rings extras in celebration.
When I’d been at my parents’ house in Holiday, I’d grabbed the DVDs out of my bedroom. I had been teasing him ever since about how in love I was with Viggo Mortensen and how Will would have to sword fight him to compete for my affection. And I’d extracted the promise from him that when I was finally done for the year, he’d watch them with me. All of them. I couldn’t fucking wait. I also couldn’t wait to tease him about looking like Legolas, who he always referred to as “that elf douche.”
As I stepped out of the elevator on Will’s floor, Mrs. Gemelli was leaving her apartment, flowered silk scarf wrapped around her hair, pink lipstick bleeding into the wrinkles around her lips. We had bonded over fabric softener in the laundry room when I stayed here over January term.
“Hi, Mrs. Gemelli.”
“Hiya, DaVinci. What’s cooking?”
“Just finished up with finals, so I’m free!”
She clapped her hands in front of her, pink press-ons clacking together.
“How’s Toadstool?”
“Oh, the little shit started taking a wee in my shower. It was too much. I put him on Prozac, so that should help. Damn cat’s out of his mind.” She shook her head.
“Wow, I didn’t know they even made Prozac for cats.”
“Honey, this is the twenty-first century. They make Prozac for everyone.” She winked at me and walked slowly to the elevator, her hand resting on my shoulder for just a moment as she passed, light as a leaf, leaving a whisper of violets behind her in the hall.
It was quickly overpowered the second I opened Will’s door, though, the smell of Thai food making my stomach lurch with hunger.
“Did you know they made Prozac for cats?” I asked as Will came over to me.
He kissed me hard. “Uh-huh,” he said, then he kissed me again.
I gave him the highlights while we ate, the most significant of which was that Milton’s roommate had had some kind of breakdown and they’d had to call his parents in the middle of the night. It was horrible and Milton felt awful because he was convinced he should have said something earlier when he noticed that Robbie was staying in the room more—honestly, though, Milton was almost never in their room and they weren’t friends, so I thought he was being too hard on himself.
Will didn’t want to admit it, but he was so into the extras. It was a cool, breezy night and we had the window open, the sounds of the city drifting in to mix with the sounds of the New Zealand-created Middle Earth. Will kept saying “Whoa”—as the timeline for creating the Shire was revealed, as horses galloped over the plain, as huge blocks of foam were carved into the exterior of castle walls. I think he was even kind of developing a crush on Orlando Bloom (out of costume, that was), much to his horror. “He kind of reminds me of you, actually,” Will said. “He’s all… twitchy and soft.”