“Zombie prom queens?”
“Nora does an excellent job with her costuming.”
God, she was so cute. “Okay, next question. What career aspirations did you have when you were a child?”
“My mother was a school librarian, so for a long time, I thought I’d do that.”
Hot librarian indeed. Even hotter when she wasn’t angry. Although she was hot when she was angry, too.
I looked at the screen so I’d focus on the question, instead of how good her boobs had looked with her shirt partially open. “When I was five or six, I wanted to be a race car driver or a firefighter. But when I got a little older, I wanted to be an astronomer.”
“And now you’re a data analyst and psych researcher.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point I stopped looking at the sky and started looking at the people around me.”
“People are so fascinating.” She leaned forward and her voice was passionate. “So perplexing, and yet so many human behaviors follow discernible patterns.”
“Exactly. You can even see it in the data. You’d think distilling human behavior into numbers would take the humanity out of it, but it’s the opposite. When you realize there are things you can predict if you understand the patterns, everything gets more interesting.”
“Yes, I know. When I was an undergrad, I came across a meta-analysis on the psychology of friendship formation and I couldn’t believe how much the data supported my own casual observations and experiences.”
We blinked at each other, the air still buzzing with our shared excitement. Almost simultaneously, we both adjusted our glasses—again—and looked away.
I suddenly wondered if this was the worst idea I’d ever had. Even worse than fucking Hazel in the copy room at work. Although, to be fair, that hadn’t been an idea as much as following a primal instinct and letting my inner sex beast take over. But we were only on question two, and this was already getting a little intense.
I’d done this before. I knew these questions inside and out. But answering them, especially the early ones, had never felt like this. It was like walking into a maze I’d thought I’d solved—the route to the exit memorized—and realizing all the walls had moved.
But it was too late to go back now. Wherever this led, I was committed.
22
Hazel
“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.” Marie Curie
This wasn’t going to work.
I’d already decided before even catching a glimpse of Corban’s questionnaire. Oh, I was answering his questions. I was even being honest. But it wasn’t going to create, or accelerate, intimacy between us. And it certainly wasn’t going to make me fall in love with him.
Fifteen questions in—halfway through—and I was holding strong.
Mostly.
The initial questions had led us to discuss things like our most prized possession, our fears, or lack thereof, when it came to public speaking, and whether or not we liked spoilers when we watched movies or TV shows. Incidentally, we agreed that the thrill of discovery was worth the anxiety of not knowing the ending, even when the storyline was dramatic or tense.
I could sense the methodology behind the questionnaire. Some were easy to answer: What do you find relaxing? I’d answered baking; he said rock climbing. Seemingly innocuous tidbits of information to share with another person. But every question we answered sparked a mini-conversation. What was it about baking that I found aided in stress relief? Why did rock climbing, which was an intense physical activity, provide an experience that was relaxing? And why had neither of us said something more passive, like reading or getting a massage?
And every time we moved on, it was easier to answer the next question. If we’d started with If you could plan your own funeral, what would it include?, I doubt either of us would have been able to answer honestly. But by the time we got to that question—number eleven—it was like we’d been primed to answer. Our conversation flowed so easily, I found myself sharing things I wouldn’t have under different circumstances.
With the way Corban blinked in surprise at some of the things he said, I wondered if he felt the same way.
However, learning things—even interesting things—about him wasn’t going to change my mind. About anything.
“If you were suddenly independently wealthy, what would you change about your life?” he asked, reading from his laptop screen.
“I’d move. My apartment is adequate, but I’d enjoy having more space. And no one living above or below me.”
“Is that all?”
“I suppose there would be changes to my professional life, but I’d still do research. What about you?”
He paused and nodded silently, like he was working through his thoughts before speaking. “Money means security. It means being in control of your own destiny. I’d move, too—not because I can’t afford to now and more money would make it possible, but because I’d know that I can stay where I am for as long as I want.”
“Have you moved a lot?”
“We moved around a few times when I was a kid. Not enough that it was excessive, but enough that I didn’t have a childhood home. As an adult, I’ve always followed my career, moving when I got a new job.”
“And that’s not what you want.”
“No, it’s not. Now that I’m back in Seattle, I’d like the security of knowing I can stay. Especially since Molly’s having a baby.”
I tried to covertly chew on the inside of my lip so he wouldn’t see me react. That statement had absolutely not hit me right in the ovaries.
That was a lie. It really had.
It was my turn to read the next question, so I used it to steer the subject away from babies—and the way it made me feel a little melty when Corban talked about his niece.
“What’s the best advice you’ve ever been given?”
“In high school, a teacher said there are few things as exhausting and ultimately useless as changing who you are to get people to like you. At the time, I had a crush on my sister’s best friend, Paisley Hayes. She was pretty and popular, and the only reason she knew I existed was because of my sister. She dated jocks and cool guys, not math nerds. My teacher wasn’t necessarily talking about girls, but I thought about what he’d said and realized it was kind of dumb for me to keep crushing on a girl who’d never notice me.”
“I know what that feels like. The part about having a crush on someone who doesn’t notice you. In high school I liked a boy on the baseball team. But he liked my friend, Nora. Of course, all the boys liked Nora.”
“Was she dating him?”
I shook my head. “No. She knew I liked him, so she tried to redirect his attention to me. Naturally that didn’t work, but as seventeen-year-old girls, we weren’t yet experienced enough to realize it wouldn’t. When he didn’t ask me out, we decided we hated him and burned a picture of him in the fireplace at my friend Everly’s house.”
Corban chuckled. “I’m pretty sure Molly burned a guy’s picture—or his stuff—more than once.”
“It was very therapeutic.”
“What about you? Best advice you’ve ever been given.”
I had to consider that for a moment. “You know, I’ve been given numerous tidbits of wisdom from professors and colleagues over the years. But I think the best advice I’ve ever been given was from Nora. She told me to own it.”
“Own what?”
Having sex with you in the copy room. “She was referring to a specific incident, but really, she meant own everything. My choices. Myself. Who I am.”
He grinned. “That is good advice.”
We paused to get a snack. Corban was like a bottomless pit after not eating for a day. Then we settled back onto the bed to continue.
The next several questions were thought-provoking without being uncomfortable. We talked about recurring dreams and discovered we both t
ended to dream about missing a college final exam when we were stressed. We’d also both read much of the relevant literature on such dreams.
Finding our way back to the questionnaire after the dream discussion, we answered several more. Then we came to question twenty-two.
“Tell your partner about a mistake you made that you’ll never make again,” Corban read.
“Marrying the wrong man,” I said without thinking.
My mouth snapped shut. Oh no. I shouldn’t have said that. This wasn’t a topic I enjoyed discussing.
“You were married?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes. We got married when we were still in grad school. It didn’t last very long.”
“What happened?”
“We both applied for a job in London. It was a long shot, but an exciting opportunity. He got the job, and I didn’t. We decided there were too many benefits to his career for him to turn it down, and we could make a long-distance relationship work. After all, we were both so busy, we hardly saw each other. It wouldn’t be terribly different from how we were already living. So he went.”
“And long-distance didn’t work.”
“No. Actually, I thought it was working at first. I’d been right, it wasn’t so different from when we’d been living under the same roof. Which probably tells you everything you need to know about our brief marriage.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
I shook my head. “I thought it was because we were so similar. Neither of us was overly emotional or sentimental. Both very independent and focused on our careers. It turns out that what I’d perceived as a lack of sentimentality was actually a lack of him being in love with me.”
Corban’s hand twitched, like he was going to reach out and touch mine. But he didn’t.
“He’d been gone three months when he called to say he wanted a divorce. He said he’d never really been in love with me and he knew that now because he’d met someone else. His feelings for her were so strong, he was having a hard time refraining from committing adultery. I hadn’t realized the man was capable of strong feelings of any kind, romantic or otherwise. We never even fought.”
“Really? Never?”
“Not once, and we were married for a year before he moved to London.” I looked down at my hands in my lap. “It was for the best. He’d been gone three months and I hardly missed him. So we quietly divorced.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was, and it wasn’t. It was just some paperwork. We didn’t have any children or shared assets. But…” I paused. This part was harder to share. But somehow I felt safe enough with Corban to share it. “The hard part was that divorce felt like such a failure. I’d been so wrong about him. I should have known better.”
I hated admitting that. Hated having been so wrong.
He shrugged. “Sometimes you can’t see things for what they are until you get on the other side of them.”
I nodded. “And I suppose I wasn’t in love with him either. I was sad when things ended, but it didn’t take me very long to move on. I’ve had other break-ups that were worse than the end of my marriage.”
He raised his eyebrows, like he wanted to ask about them.
“Don’t ask. Your turn. What’s a mistake you’ve made that you’ll never make again?”
He hesitated, once again wearing his thinking face. I hoped he wasn’t going to say having sex with his coworker in the copy room.
“My mistake is one I don’t want to make again, but sometimes that’s easier said than done.”
I bit my lower lip, waiting for him to continue.
“I was working on the algorithm for the dating app and everything was coming together. We’d started market testing it on a small scale and it worked better than my team and I had expected. I’d been developing the questionnaire at the same time, plus taking psychology classes and diving into all the research I could find on attraction and relationship development. I liked the data stuff, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do. I wasn’t excited about finding ways to match people using a phone app, even if it was more accurate than anything else out there. I wanted to dig deeper. Focus on the humanity behind the data.”
“But you didn’t?”
“No, and that was my mistake. I had a conversation with my parents about it and I let them sway me into staying at my job. I didn’t trust my instincts. Ultimately, it worked out fine. I did leave my job, obviously. I’m here now. But at the time, it was kind of a blow to my confidence.”
“I’m glad you did eventually trust your instincts.”
He met my eyes. “Me too.”
Feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, I shifted the laptop to read the next question.
They didn’t get easier.
Before beginning, I’d understood the logic of the questionnaire in an academic sense. But I hadn’t realized how it would feel to experience it. Especially how it would feel to experience it with Corban.
The thought-provoking questions drew out answers from deep inside. His responses fed my openness, as if my subconscious sensed his vulnerability and sought to match it. It was like spinning down a whirlpool. The more questions we answered, the more we shared. The more we shared, the deeper our responses became. The deeper our responses became, the easier it was to continue, and the more I felt something very unexpected.
Connection.
Understanding.
Familiarity.
I couldn’t fight the strange desire to continue. And as we answered the last few questions, I realized there was something to this. Something brilliant and deep and real.
But his questionnaire was not going to make me fall in love.
23
Hazel
“The good life is one inspired by love and guided by knowledge.” ~ Bertrand Russell
The Seattle air felt cool after nearly a week in Florida. Not that I’d gotten out much. Other than a couple of early morning runs on the beach, I’d mostly been in the hotel.
With Corban. But I didn’t want to think about that right now.
The parking lot across from Brody’s Brewhouse was nearly full, and I’d already seen several people out for a walk or jog, taking advantage of the clear day. Standing next to my car, I stretched my quadriceps while I waited for Nora and Sophie to arrive. Everly hadn’t yet returned from her honeymoon, but the rest of us were sticking to our half-marathon training schedule. We’d increased our mileage and all of us, even Nora, had been getting in solo runs during the week.
Although I was still a bit jet-lagged from my trip, I was glad to be meeting my friends for a run today. Seeing them would provide the bit of normalcy I needed after the conference.
Specifically, after all the mind-blowing hotel sex I’d had with Corban.
That first night at the conference, we’d both said it wouldn’t happen again. But we’d continued to succumb to the temptation of each other, over and over. On the one hand, it had been enjoyable and satisfying. Incredibly satisfying. Intensely satisfying, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.
But on the other hand, I wasn’t sure what it all meant. Or whether it would continue. Or how I’d feel about it if it did continue… or if it didn’t.
It was a lot of information to process. An afternoon spent with my friends, focused on running, was just what I needed.
That, and a very strong martini afterward.
Nora pulled up in her red convertible Jeep with Sophie in the passenger’s seat. They both got out, and Nora adjusted the straps of her sports bra. Her dark hair was in a ponytail today, and she wore a fitted tank top and black shorts that showed off her legs. I’d always admired the confidence she had in her body.
“How was Florida?” she asked. “And why aren’t you tan?”
“The conference was… very informative. And I was mostly indoors.”
“That’s better for your skin, anyway. You look great. Very satisfied.”
I looked away and lifted my other leg to stretch it. “It w
as time well spent, but I’m glad to be home.”
“Time well spent? Oh, Hazel.”
“What?”
Nora smiled at me. “Nothing.”
“You do look great,” Sophie said. Her curly hair was unusually tame, most of the strands contained in a thick bun. She wore a purple tank top, black capris, and what looked like a new pair of running shoes.
“Thank you. Are the shoes new?”
“They are.” She stuck out one foot, pointing her toe. “Thanks for noticing. I went to a fancy running-shoe store last weekend. The sales guy who helped me was so cute.”
“Did you get his number?” Nora asked.
“No. I kind of knocked over one of the big shoe displays. After that, I just wanted to get out of there. But that’s okay, because I got these and they’re the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever had. I ran seven whole miles the other day and my feet felt great. Plus, I didn’t trip once.”
“That’s a very impressive mileage gain,” I said.
“Thanks,” Sophie said brightly. “I’m not very fast yet, but I’m really starting to think I’ll be able to finish this race.”
“Of course you will,” Nora said. “Hazel came up with the training schedule, and she’s brilliant, so we know it’ll work.”
“It will definitely work. The research says—”
“Stop,” Nora said, and I closed my mouth. “You know I love you, but you already told us all about the research.”
“You’re right, I did. Perhaps we should just get started.”
Nora nodded once. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Uh-oh.” Sophie gestured toward the parking lot entrance. “It’s them again.”
A white SUV pulled into a spot a few cars down, and the Bedazzled Bitches poured out. They were wearing their gem-encrusted tank tops and had added matching hats to their attire—decorated with more bedazzling.
Love According to Science Page 17