IT'S FOR RESEARCH PURPOSES

chapter 3

I gave Ari my contact information after he kissed me. Turns out the steak thing is Friday. I guess that means this is our first date. How should I go about taking notes for this? Voice memo? Lists? I’ll just do a standard plot sequence. It’s a nice night though. Since he’s sitting directly in front of me, I should probably say some words to him. “Hey, so how were you able to afford this? I thought you lived in a trailer.” I ask.

“Hah, It’s an all-around expensive restaurant, so I’ve been saving for quite a while. It feels like summer. Doesn’t it still?” he asks.

“It’s not you think that because it's unusual for the temperature to rise. We’re in school now.” I say. Hopefully, that helpful information will guide him to refocus his mind on school work and studying. He should get out of the mindset of summer and vacation. It's imperative to have proper discipline.

“So what are you gonna order?” he asks seemingly dejected.

“Steak, probably. Did I get a dud? Should I return you?” I kid. He seems to not be able to take a joke. His face creates frowning wrinkles on his forehead and near his mouth. An egg in microwave about to crunch. He takes a deep breath in and an even deeper exhale. Maybe I should apologize for making him upset. “I'm joki—” I say, trying to clear up any misinformation or communication mistake.

He cuts me off before I can finish my tiny ass sentence. “I know.” He says. His hair is still white despite the light from the fire touching his face and body. His black t-shirt is instead a casual business suit. With a beige tie. He's wearing matching coal-colored dress pants. Should I compliment him on his apparel? Will that make him less grumpy? I'm not getting how to deal with people on such a personal distance. Ahh! Why in any multiverse would I let this happen? I can not deal with emotions, I can’t do this. I can't do this. No, no, no, no. “Your suit.” I say. I try to find the words but I freeze. Am I nervous 'cause I have a crush on him suddenly? Not possible. I just met him. Second to that, I legitimately have no appeal to him besides research. I take note of that in the travel-sized notebook I brought with me.

“What? so now you’re getting on me about my suit? It was my grandpa's!” Ari looks in a downward direction. The waiter comes around.

“Hello! My name's Geneva. What can I do for you today?” she says. She has muscular features, sharp jawline, big biceps.

“I’ll have the Risotto potatoes and the Salisbury steak, and my hot GF is gonna have a normal steak.” He says. He glares up at me from the menu. “You want that well done?” He whispers at me with a face. Somewhat comparable to an aggressive cow with his teeth out. I write that down.

“Actually, can I have that medium rare? And could you line the edges with cumin and chilli powder?” I ask.

“You dig spicy foods masoch—” he grunts under his breath.

“Alrighty, I’ll be back when your food’s ready. Would you like any complimentary bread or drinks?” She asks. She somehow ignores the stiff tension coming off of Ari with every sentence he mutters in secret. He probably thinks he’s being silent. However, he’s audible enough for just everyone at the table to hear but no one else. I suddenly notice the moon’s glow on the edges of Ari. His eyes glisten red as blood… unique… They kinda- they're almost creating their own small source of light. The color is dark… But not quite blood. It’s just an extremely bold crimson but more 'cherry-esk'. He looks like he’s wearing colored contacts as if he were some sort of cosplayer.

“I’d love some tea?” I ask.

“Can I get more ice? In my water?” He asks.

“Absolutely! The ice has been melting far too quickly because of the weather. Nearly eighty degrees every night…” she responds.

“Thank you!” I say as she prances off to the kitchen.

Ari closes his eyes and takes two deeper breaths. He’s breathing a lot. I can tell he’s mad… And I feel kinda bad for not knowing why.

His face changes to something calmer. “It’s okay, never mind.” he says.

“Your eyes are red.” I say writing a list of attributes about the situation and atmosphere.

'Hot night — sweat? Moon — that rim lighting, eyes — eye contact — intimate, Candles — drip? Hot? Pretty — fancy, Food — meat — savoury.' I write in my leather-yellow notebook.

“Thank you.” he says unexcited.

I take a bunch more notes and write down questions. ‘How do you talk to people?’ ‘What are key aspects of the creation of a good, and enjoyable date?’

“Try complimenting me.” I say trying to get through this insufferable occasion.

“Alright… um. You're very dedicated to your work?” He says. His teeth show again not in a mad way similar to the emoji. He looks uncomfortable. I will write that down. He keeps looking around? Why is he doing that is he embarrassed? Is he embarrassed of me? Why? Did I do another wrong thing? Did I order too much food? Wait, was the well-done option cheaper? Is he vegetarian? Wait that that doesn’t make a single sense. Maybe I should just stop talking to him entirely. He’s sick of me, he needs a break. That’s understandable, I think. Maybe I should put my notebook away. Are people staring at us? Are they judging me for bringing a notebook to a date? This isn’t technically a real one tho. Not gonna lie this is more of an interview… Should I be asking more questions? Or less? Did I ask too many? Oh, s**t! I did, didn’t I? No one enjoys being berated by someone with a thousand questions. Ok, I’ll do that that’s the plan. Say nothing and wait for the date to be over. There’s no way that'd fail.

“So um… You look good.” He says.

I look down at my dress that’s uncomfortably tight in some places yet breezy in others. I couldn’t find anything to wear to a fancy place, so I stole one of Julies dresses. It almost fit except for the chest situation. My mother has said I'm too well-endowed for most clothing she wants to get me. “Thank you, I wanted to say earlier I—” I get cut off by the waitress arriving to give us our food. She sets the plates down in a chauvinistic way, crossing arms.

“Thank you!” he says quietly as she walks away. He at me with charming eyes.

“Never mind…” I say.

He starts to eat his potatoes still looking at me with pleading eyes. I can see from peripheral vision. He eats his meal slowly most likely to savour it. I write that down and take about three more bullet notes.

Good food

NO questions

Be polite

There. I’m making good progress on the notes I think. I examine my steak it looks spicy but only around the edges that’s exactly how I prefer it. It’s a glorious masterpiece of a dinner. I cut through the steak like clay. The slice is so tender it’s mind-boggling. I take a bite and the flavours of savoury meat and spicy cumin the chilli powder mix is extraordinary. My saliva almost cascades my mouth and my canine teeth get a solid bite at the forkful that melts in my mouth. My pallet does somersaults and my taste buds fly a plane into outer space. My love for this steak is graphic. I chow down every last bit and write down some more notes. The moonlight is no longer completely aligned with Ari’s head as I finish. The candles have burned at least an inch down than how it was when we got here. The warm air turns almost autumn feeling and I sip my water, now colder than before.

Ari slowly eats his potatoes. Then stops as he’s halfway done.

“Are you about ready to go?” he asks. He glares at me lifeless. He looks cage raised. Cow pun.

His hands hang down on either side of his body. His leg bounces up and down a few times.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Peachy!” he says.

Shit, I asked another question! Is he mad again? I wish I knew how to talk to people. I’m so inept with that! I don't know if any of these notes are useless or not. For all I know, I could have skipped over some very key details. Like his leg or something. I write a few more things down.

“Um yeah, we can go if you’re done.” I respond to the first question.

“Great.” he responds with no emotion whatsoever. He stands up and stretches. Then holds his arm up like he’s calling a taxi. “Waitress” he calls.

The waitress comes over in perfect time. She asks if he wants the check. He pays for the food with a fairly large sum of money. We exit the area, being that the restaurant is outside, and start walking back. As soon as we get out, I turn to him. “Was that fun? Are you satisfied with the results of that?” I ask.

“It was good food.” he says.

“How would you know you barely ate any.” I say.

There's a distanced silence for a short period. His eyes are dim and blurred. His eyelids cloak half the color in his irises. I start to notice some other features. He's wearing a clip-on tie.

“Mmh hmm” he hums back at what I said. Whatever that was.

“You know… usually couples kiss on the first date?” I say

“That’s only when the date goes well.”

I shift my spine towards him apace… We reach a lookout spot with a view of the moon reflecting off of the large body of water. “What? I ask. “I Thought I did well! Was it all the questions I asked? Did that make you uncomfortable? I ask.

“What no? You hardly asked any questions. You barely spoke thirty words to me.” he says.

“Huh? But you got mad when I was speaking. I was trying not to bother you while you were eating your food. I didn’t wanna be such a pest. Trying to annoy you every second. It’s not very polite to talk with food in your mouth.” I say writing another few notes in my notebook.

“Okay, but when you were speaking to me before you only said really rude things.” he says, looking up at the moon. His hands are in his pockets and one falls out. He strokes his hair back.

“Like, all you could say was something really hurtful, but you seemed like you were innocent. I just tried to work past it."

“People are difficult. They have so many feelings, yano?” I say, listing off the details of this scenery in my notes.

“I mean I agree, but that doesn’t mean you should give up.” he argues.

“And what? I'ma listen to you? My science rat? What could you have to say that’s interesting.” I say.

“Look, I don't mind being your little experiment. I agreed to that in the first place. But I know my worth, and I'm not gonna stand to be mistreated.” He says, chiming back at me from the open sky. His fist is balled, like hammers. He grips them onto the railing of the lookout spot. I touch the metal bar with the tips of my fingers. A droplet of moisture curves the contours of his hand and drips into the water. He shifts his gaze from me to the city strip on the other side of the lake.

“Why do you let your friends mistreat you?” I ask. My lisps shiver. Why does that happen basically anytime I try to talk to someone? I pull off my glasses and take them to the top of my bangs. I leave them there, so I can't see very well. I stare into the water.

“They don't… It’s fine we joke around and s**t. That's how people act around each other when they’re friends. Um, I've known those d***s since elementary school.” He responds. His hands loosen from the bar.

“But they laugh at you, make you uncomfortable, mess with you, doubt you.” I list off reasons for them being probably not good friends.

“And what do you know about it? I stole my friend's lady” He rebuttals.

“I know- I’ve witnessed it. Wait what?” I answered with confusion. I put my glasses back to my eyes and try to focus a little harder on what he’s saying. I adjust my dress and push it down for the lower half that had ridden up. I pull up the bodice of the dress to not reveal any more than a couple inches of my neck.

He looks back at me fixing my outfit. “Not that you’re property… Just bro code.” He says.

I reach my heel to my hands from behind. I reach for my left shoe, then my right and unbuckle them. I set them both on the side of me.“What’s 'bro code?'” I ask as I reopen my notebook.

He rubs his other arm, ignoring my questions.

“They’re the only people that. They reached out to be my friends. They’re just assholes. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop being friends with them though. They’re the only friends I have. I need them.” He says with mildew-inspired emotion. Rather depressing what his friends make him believe about himself. The air is cold and is getting a lot colder at least for the way I’m dressed.

“I don’t think it’s healthy the way you’re fine with them saying whatever they want” I start. “You speak out yes, but you don't give them any consequences. Your words are mad, so it looks like they’re just trying to get a reaction from under your skin. And if they’re not, then they have no concept of your boundaries.” I continue.

“Hold on, don't make this about me. We were talking about your problem.” He says, realizing how far the situation has gone. I circle around him and eventually get closer to his body heat subtly.

He rotates following my face. I search in my brain for what we were talking about prior to this one.

“You treat me like a rat.” He reminds me in a stern voice.

“One for science!” I remind him.

He gently taps the ground with his foot… Like a cow. Not in a bratty way, I can tell he’s just frustrated. “I understand. I’ll treat you more like a dog than a rat.” I say trying to make amends with him.

“Treat me like a human! I was always getting treated like I was less than human due to my appearance.” He shouts. His eyebrows curved a few stressed details on his face. He breathes snarling out his nose in something close to blind rage.

“Because you look like a cow?” I say. I assume that’s what he means, considering he dresses up nice if he needs to. His hair is messy, but that’s an easy fix. Maybe it’s 'cause he wears make-up. Is he transgender? Maybe he’s another identification of the l***q+ community. It’s perfectly plausible that he could be a cis-man wearing makeup. Women find it attractive, I think, to be so sure of themselves and confident without apology. At least that's what I hear from Julie.

“A cow? What? No, because I'm albino and s**t. It’s not even a big deal. I don't see why everyone makes a big deal about this. I’m not wrong! People only just started to realize that when I matured and apparently got hot, I think. I deserve to be cared for, I think. I deserve to find someone that has the capability of loving me. And since this is an experiment that makes this good practice, I guess.” he says without many pauses. He ends his vast rhetoric with a patient glance at the water.

I say nothing. I have no idea how to respond. Is this alright for the experiment because he has so much baggage? He seems to not be okay. That could harm the results. Bummed. Alright well, I'm already in this and I don't have enough emotional energy for this a second time. Plus, there are not a lot of people that would be willing to work with me on this. For nothing in return, he’s helping me and I should be pretty grateful for that, and I am. I am.

“I like that you’re helping me complete my research for basically nothing in return. That’s very kind of you.” I say. A vague upward lip curve becomes of me; a smile-type thing.

“I'm getting oodles in return though.” He responds abruptly. His eyebrows curve down in a confused expression. He squints with little chunks of sass sprinkled on the core.

“What no? You're just allowed to like to do things to me that most significant others do to each other.” I object. My hand goes up on its own in a stop sign, Or like a ‘your’ sign in ASL.

He sees my hand with quiet eyes. His eyes sparkle in the light. Once again, the moon is present in the viewing pleasures of the date! Is that what couples are constantly thinking about on dates like these? His arms interact with the bar another time. He crosses his arms over the gleaming stars in reflection on the lake. You can almost see a fish below being that the water is so clear. Since it’s night, however, the possibility of that is slim.

"Grass, I wish I was in love. Sigh… They make it look so uncomplicated in media and movies, but once it’s off the screen… damn is it confusing. There’s so much you have to deal with, as you said before. Parents, keeping the relationship ecstatic, restraint. My friends call me a hopeless romantic. Sometimes I believe them that… I am hopeless…” He says, almost rejecting himself. He hunches over himself more than before. His voice progressively gets quieter as his words continue.

“Which is why I wanna do this I want to deal with a somewhat real relationship before I can make someone happy in a relationship. I have no idea what I'm doing, and I want to learn how to survive. But not just survive, I wanna thrive. I’m not planning on becoming a heartbreaker or anything, I’m definitely not a ladies' man. Heh. All my previous crushes said I was a great friend and that I'd be a better girlfriend alternative to a boyfriend. I have a lot of emotions, I just can’t express them to anyone. My friends say I'm a puss. I can’t blame them. I feel like a sissy when I'm crying in my bed over ‘Romeo and Juliet.’” he says.

I chortle a bit, then kinda try to hide it with a cough so as to not appear as I'm laughing at him.

“Sensitive guys are a type. You don’t have anything to worry about.” I say not sure if that’s the truth or not.

“Really?!” He screeches.

Ut oh, he’s far too excited about that information.

“Um! I’m not sure if that’s actually a fact but, that’s what my cousin says.” I tell him.

He gets down from his happy high and gently shakes his head.

“Probably not true then, is that right?”

“Well no--”

“Figures.” he cuts me off.

“No, I mean, no, she's in college. She’s about to get her degree pretty soon.”

“Okay, that’s a little bit of a self-esteem boost. Is she what inspired you to start this experiment with me as the lab rat?” He asks.

“You're no rat.”

“You’re right, I’m a dog” he barks.

“No I mean- thank you...for helping me.” I say with a forced smile.

“As I said, it's good practice. Thanks for giving me this practice opportunity. Since I don't have any feelings for you other than Platonic, it’s difficult to get persuaded by anything to make me want to be a bad person or like- not myself you know?” He rambles. His feet tap the ground continuously as if he needs to piss.

“Yeah that's the good thing, let's keep this professional.” I say as I shove my tiny notebook in my pocket along with my pen- s**t I don't have pockets. I slide the notebook along the side of my dress.

"Zero pressure.” He barks.