IT'S FOR RESEARCH PURPOSES

chapter 4

The walk home with him was quiet. I told him I didn't need to be walked, but he insisted. As I got back, I found Coop, so I let him out. I changed clothes and got PJs on, sweatpants and a t-shirt. As I sneak into the hall to return the dress, Julie walks into the bathroom.

She must not have noticed me, Maybe she thinks I just got up to take Coop outside. I silently sprint to her room before she can get back and bury her dress under her dirty clothes to look like she had worn it previously. I walk out of her room and close the door. She sees me and walks past to access her room, too tired to call me out for invading her space. Coop is scratching at the door, and I jog to the back door. I slide it open and let him in knowing that he saw me go in and out of Julie's room. "Shhh" I shush hum with my finger over my mouth. He tilts his head, and- Julie comes out of her room with tired eyes, racoon-ish if you will. "Wait, why were you in my room?" she whispers, groggy sounding. She rubs her tear ducts with the side of her hand. Her hair is up in old fashion curlers, pink and blue. I pet Coop and shut the door. "Um... I was looking for I thought you'd be in there." I lie. She folds her cardigan over its self and claws her bangs out of her face with her eyes half closed. She supports herself on the edge of the door, dependently griping the handle for stability. She looks like she could be sleepwalking. "That checks out, night," she says, she falls into her bed after shutting the door. I lock the front and back doors and, go to bed.

The next morning was Saturday. I arise from my bed unwillingly. The warmth of my blanket makes me lie there for a bit more time, and soon I've been lying in bed for at least another half hour. However, I have no guilt it was a long day yesterday, the amount of social interaction and speaking I had to do was criminal. I think I deserve a few more minutes, or hours of rest considering the number of notes I took on the 'date.' It was a struggle collecting it, but I'm glad I did because now I can continue working on my book's first draft with confidence. But before I do, am I supposed to talk to Ari again? Do I have to inform him about the progress of the research? I should, so he knows the stupid date wasn't all bad. No, I take that back. There was good food, it was really useful of him to invite me to study the situation. The moonlight was a key point in the date. I saw that come up at least around three times. It was gorgeous though I'll definitely add it in my book about Moonlight glowing on a character's eyes. It'll give a more in-depth look at the romantic aspect of it. I can see that, people often look into each other's eyes when they find each other attractive. I saw that in a movie once. Julie says that the eyes are the window to the soul and whatever. I'm not sure if that's a philosophical fact or not but if it's true it runs the line between emotional intimacy and that nonsense. I get out of my bed once lying there becomes uncomfortable. As I get up all of my joints c***k simultaneously. I tilt my chin up diagonally and c***k my neck, and squeeze the pillow I'm getting off of. I unweave the blankets suffocating me. "Time to write." The sunshine intrudes into my room from the window on the wall at the head of my bed. I shut the curtains to deepen the anti-light in my room. Great! I clear my desk chain from miscellaneous books and sit down. The air is humid, my fingertips are cold and still pretty sleepy. I open my document with my before-started book, and instantly get blank page syndrome. I write a random sentence to get anything down, after I'm about four sentences in I realize that it's hot mushroom paste-inspired garbage. I usually don't just destroy something before I'm done with it because of course you should trust the process, But... It was so bad I was cringing just writing another word. That's not gonna inspire me to continue writing. If anything it's like an anti-inspiration. I sit there at the once again blank page cracking my nukes as if that's going to help my thought process become less dry... Once again blank page syndrome beginning to start up. This is because I just sit here brainless for what feels like hours. Writer's block. After sitting there I get myself distracted, and I begin the cycle of procrastination. Suddenly the buzzing of birds outside my window starts to seem more interesting to stare at the weather than writing. My leg shakes and jitters under my desk. I realize my opposite leg has fallen asleep, and I get those chills that make me not wanna move. I should wait till that goes away before I start writing, obviously. I run my fingers along the spine of my books I just sat down before I sat. Attempting to become productive by placing back on my shelf next to my set-up. Once I'm up I go and check on Coop and get him fed. I'm not gonna be able to write today, not willingly. I'm probably just gonna keep procrastinating today until something gets done, I can feel it. There's no point of trying- Oh that's writing on days I don't think there's any point of writing, there's always plotting and planning I can do. Lucky a lot of information was found last night, such as the moonlight thing. I can write a moonlight scene! That will work. But where should I put it? In a fantasy location? No? Yes? No? Yes? I always wanted to write a fantastical world. Maybe... I should just start writing something. I only have about one hundred words, so I could start a short story about some great effect of moonlight that makes people pine over each other. They could dance? I constantly hear 'dancing in the moonlight' as something so poetic. I could try to add poetic meaning to this short story. Maybe it can be like 'don't let pride 'eff' you up. 'Cause, it will' maybe a King who is looking for a bride and can't find one, so he holds a party for only the rich and beautiful thinking he'll find someone. The moonlight aspect thought. I don't know what to do with that. Maybe a poor chick will be like, "Aw s**t gotta get in that party dawg sounds like there'll be hella... job opportunities?" I don't know... It's a possibility. I do fancy the thought of writing a short story instead of a big book that way I don't need to develop the world, and government or anything like that. At least not just yet. There are a lot of notes for the moon I can reference. Everything from how it feels to look at someone's eyes with it reflecting when you're not interested in them in a romantic way. Wait but if I'm not interested in Ari romantically then how am I supposed to get proper research? Do I need to have feelings for him to write like that? I'm doing pretty decent at keeping my thoughts on him right, 'Cause he's a big part of my work project. I can refer him to help me write the book- or now, short story. I can make sticky notes for each aspect of the date that went well and didn't go well. Such as the questions, didn't go well, although I can't tell if I asked too many or if they were just bad questions. Most likely the latter. I get back to my room after petting cooper on the back and playing with his ears. By the time I get there, Julie's awake as it is going on eleven 'o'clock. She walks towards the kitchen and I shut myself in my room. I grab a stack of sticky notes from my backpack and my travel-sized notebook from when I threw it onto my bed last night. I flip through the little pages and rip them out one by one. Once they're all lying flat on my desk I make a sticky note for each note. I bolded the ones that have to do with moonlight and set them in their own little section. I run out of room on my desk. The clutter is claustrophobic, so I move all the stickies to my wall over my monitor. Around one hundred little pastes, are now filling the space. Next step is connecting them. What do they all have in common? The moonlight ones are something in common, but then would that mean the important factor is night? Like the time depicts whether or not the date would be good? Well, I think food tastes better at night. Cause the notorious midnight snack. I make a new sticky note, and try to find a spot for it. I do find one half overlapping with three more. Maybe I should get a corkboard. The obvious thing to do is put it in documents on the computer, but I can't comprehend brainstorming like that. I'm not very good at getting the writing programs like that to function the right way. Well, okay the big thing that puts all of these together would have to be Ari. But I can't write Ari into my book... At least not without his permission, and who would agree to that? Regardless if he's helping me as a reference or not. What aspects of him make the moments of the date so powerful? It's not like I would have gone on the date again if it wasn't for research, so what can be said about him if I was writing from the perspective of a feminine chick that was head over heels for him? 'Oh, how the day has started for the sole purpose to let me see you!' Hmm, If It was me in love with him, I still don't think I would worship him like that. I'll google it I guess. On my phone with 'private browsing mode' that way, I don't have to worry about someone thinking I was genuinely curious about it. If they ask me why I was in private browsing I can simply tell them, 'It's for research purposes.' I type into the Google search bar on my phone, 'how to tell if you're in love?'

'You can't help but stare at them whenever you get the chance.' No, that doesn't apply to me, I haven't looked at him much the entire date.

'You stop your usual routine' Hell no, I'm working very hard on my book. And it does help that he's a key part of creating the book/short story.

'You only want them to feel joy around you and nothing else.' Mhh... If I was a good person I would lie and say this one's true. I mean I'm not a bad person per say. I just think the study is more important than the feelings that play into it. It's the most important thing about the study, him being a boyfriend and me examining that. Who cares if he's happy about being in the relationship beyond the basic consent regimens. I sound like a selfish prick, but he doesn't care if I'm happy either, he's pretty much also doing this for research purposes. In a different way, I'll be, but still, he's using me as a practice pony. I'm fine with that, like I said, I wanna keep this professional. I'm not trying to lose a good acquaintance at the end of this test. That would suck because I doubt he's gonna wanna stay mutual when things finish over. Maybe I could ask Julie for help, but then she'd help with the tests and research. I don't get along too well with her ideas of testing. She says they're humane and all that jazz, but because of something like this, I doubt I'll get through the experiment without tragically scaring him for the rest of his life to ever get another girlfriend real or fake. And he might tell people that I'm insane or something and everyone would whisper things about me again. In the defining room, I bet it would be even colder. I pretty much don't know anything about Ari, so he could be one of those sweet ones- Or one of the guys that act sweet but end up backstabbing you in the end. Besides, he doesn't deserve to have his life shift for him again. His life has been hard enough. I don't care, but it seems somewhat appealing to have a brute boyfriend. Not for me, but I can see it for a book character. A sweet boy with a bad backstory. Of course, it can't be the same as Ari's backstory. I'll have to make something up. I do kinda wish I had some help organizing the notes so they more even a whisker of sense. I hear a doorbell, and before I can run to greet the person, I see their shadow flee in a blink. I approach the door slower expecting it to be the first and only ding-dong ditch I'll ever participate in. I unlock the big lock, the door handle lock and then the chain divider on the top of the door. There's truly no point in them running off so quickly, they could have leisurely crab-walked away, and I'd never catch them. I told mom that was the problem with getting so many locks installed on the door. If there is a burglary, we wouldn't get out of the house in time to see the license plate. By the time I eventually get through to the outdoors. They've probably made themself a ham and cheese sandwich and toasted it, along with veggies in their portable air fryer as an appetizer. I stare eye level and don't see anything. My cardigan starts to infest my brain, so I smirk and mutter "crazy kids, those whippersnappers" under my breath. I peer to the side as if I'd be able to catch the kid. Afterwards, I look down. A little box wrapped sloppily with a bow tapped on it. The box is red, and the bow is an orange color, a pretty basic combination. The wrapping paper is shiny and loose. I'm about to yell for Julie and ask her if she gets a poorly packaged in the mail until I see my name written on one of those Christmas stickers that say 'to' and 'from' on them. The 'from' left blank. I close the door and notice Coop sitting behind me curiously waiting to find out what might be in the box. As curious as I. I re-lock all the locks on the door. The present is pretty light. I wonder who could've brought me a gift. Maybe mom? That's my first assumption, considering I lack friends. I toss the ribbon off and study every wall of the box to make sure there's not some kind of note I missed or anything. I'm thinking this could be a snowy gift due to open later. Or maybe thanksgiving? Possibly at least that's a bit sooner than Christmas, I suppose. When I don't see anything restraining me from opening it, I tear the wrapping paper apart easily, considering it's poorly wrapped. Not that I mind, I'm just making an observation. A gift is a gift. I don't need special for anything like this. Another observation is that the handwriting is really sloppy, actually. Not mom's penmanship. More like stereotypical males. Oh, Will could be looking to buy me, or apologize for being so damn rude to me when he asked me to go about with him. I don't care too much about him touching my hand. I mean I do, but I'm not gonna give him the chance to make me sweat it. I'm just a bit more pissed about him objectifying my body, being that I'm 'thick' as he said it. I open the cardboard box that's annoyingly taped shut. Coop and I get more and more curious about the contents of the box. He walks over and starts whining and scratching the box. It reminds me of Christmas when I shake the box instinctively. The object thumps around inside. I stop shaking when I realize there very well might be something fragile inside. I try to stick my uneven nails into the tape in hopes of ripping it apart. I let Coop try to take a stab at opening the box himself. When we make no progress, I get a butter knife from the kitchen. I make three stabs at the tape and attempt to drive it along the tape to connect the tree holes. Dropping the butter knife far away from Coop, I claw at the box and tug on the tape, stretching it out and building up tension for my arms to eventually shoot open on either end of my wingspan. The tingling sense of relief starts from my torso to my neck. The box is open.