Research On You

Chapter 3 : The Presentation That Went Wrong

"Rule number one of presenting," Professor Celes said on Wednesday morning. "Do not read from your slides. Do not panic. And do not throw up in my classroom."

The entire fourth-year BS Biology class groaned.

"It’s just a progress presentation," she continued. "Ten minutes per pair. Show me what you have so far. Dismissed."

Ten minutes. Per pair. With forty people watching.

I looked at Theodore. He was leaning back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers.

"You look calm," I said.

"I am calm," he said. "Are you calm?"

"No."

"That’s okay," he said. "I’ll be calm for both of us."

"That’s not how that works."

"It is now," he grinned. "Research spouses remember?"

I threw a highlighter at him. He caught it.

Sera leaned over from the row in front of us. "You guys are so dead. I give you three minutes before Ana starts hyperventilating."

"I do not hyperventilate," I said.

"You do," Sera said. "Last semester during Biostats."

"That was different."

"Right," Sera said. "Anyway. You got this. But also if you mess up, I have video evidence."

Eli, from behind his camera: "I have video evidence too."

"You’re all the worst," I said.

Theodore bumped my shoulder. "Hey. We’re fine. We have good data. We practiced."

"We practiced once," I said.

"Once is enough," he said. "We’re geniuses."

"YOU’RE a genius," I corrected. "I’m just stressed."

"Same thing," he said.

---

Our turn was number 7 out of 20.

By number 5, my hands were sweating.

By number 6, I had rewritten our introduction in my head three times.

"Reyes and Alistair," Professor Celes called.

I stood up. Theodore stood up.

We walked to the front.

The projector was already set up. Eli was in the back, camera ready. Sera gave me two thumbs up. Cass gave Theodore a small nod. Rel had texted me earlier : Good luck, kid. Don’t pass out.

The title slide appeared.

"Research on You: Coping Mechanisms and Healing in Young Adults"

"Good morning," I started. My voice came out steady. Thank god. "We are Anastasia Reyes and Theodore Alistair. And this is our thesis progress report."

Theodore clicked to the next slide. "Our research question is: How do college students cope with grief and what factors contribute to healing?"

I took over. "We conducted surveys with 50 students and interviews with 5. Our preliminary data shows that social support and structured routines are the top two coping mechanisms."

Click. Next slide. Graphs. Charts. Color-coded, of course.

"As you can see," I said, pointing, "78 percent of respondents said talking to friends helped the most."

Theodore jumped in. "And 62 percent said having a schedule helped them feel in control. Which makes sense. Control is important when everything else feels messy."

He looked at me when he said that.

I looked away.

"Moving on to challenges," I said. "We found that stigma is a major barrier. Students don’t want to talk about grief because they think it makes them look weak."

Theodore nodded. "So our recommendation is to create more open spaces for discussion. Like support groups or even just... talking more."

He was good at this. Too good. He sounded confident. He made eye contact. He even made a joke about bar graphs that made half the class laugh.

"And that concludes our presentation," I said. "Thank you."

Applause. Actual applause.

I exhaled. We did it.

"Good job," Professor Celes said. "Clear data. Good delivery. One question. Alistair."

Theodore straightened. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You mentioned ‘when everything else feels messy.’ Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?"

The room went quiet.

Theodore paused. Just for a second. Then he smiled. "Just a general observation, ma'am. College is messy. Deadlines. Relationships. Life. People need structure to cope."

Professor Celes stared at him. "Right. Thank you."

"Next pair," she said.

We walked back to our seats.

The moment we sat down, Sera grabbed my arm. "OH MY GOD YOU DID SO GOOD"

"You didn’t die," Cass said to Theodore.

"I’m offended," Theodore said. "I never die."

Eli was already showing me the photos on his camera. Me pointing at a graph. Theodore laughing. Both of us standing close.

"Delete," I said.

"No," Eli said. "For the memories."

---

After class, we were walking to Rel’s Cafe to celebrate. Or to panic. Both.

"You were good up there," I said.

"You were better," Theodore said. "Your graphs were pretty."

"They were color-coded."

"I know," he said. "I’m a fan."

My phone buzzed.

Sera: GROUP DINNER TONIGHT. TO CELEBRATE NOT DYING.

Sera: Rel’s Cafe. 7 PM. BE THERE.

Cass: I’ll be there.

Theo: I’ll be there.

Me: Fine.

At 7 PM, we were all at Rel’s.

Sera, Cass, me, Theodore. Eli showed up with prints of our presentation photos.

"Proof," he said, sliding them across the table. "That you survived."

Rel set down a tray of food. "On the house. For my favorite thesis pair."

"We’re not—" I started.

"Favorite," Rel repeated. "Don’t argue with me."

We ate. We laughed. Theodore told a story about how he once tried to wing a lab report and ended up with a B+.

"That’s not winging," I said. "That’s talent."

"I’m talented," he said. "I’m also humble."

"No you’re not."

"Okay fine," he laughed.

At one point, Sera asked, "So. What’s next for Research on You?"

Theodore looked at me. "More interviews. More data. More late nights in the library."

"More coffee," I added.

"More coffee," he agreed.

Our eyes met for a second too long.

Cass cleared his throat. "Anyway."

Eli took a photo. "This one’s for later."

---

The next week was a blur.

Library at 9 PM. Again.

Coffee. Again.

Interview transcripts. Again.

At 10:30 PM on Thursday, Theodore said, "Reyes."

"What?"

"Can we do a practice run? For the next presentation?"

"We have a month."

"I know," he said. "But I like being prepared."

"Since when?"

"Since I got a partner who color-codes everything," he said. "Come on. You be the professor. Ask me questions."

I sighed and sat up straight. "Fine. Mr. Alistair. Explain your data."

He stood up. "Right. As you can see from this graph—"

"Too fast," I interrupted. "Slow down."

He slowed down. "As. You. Can. See."

"Better," I said. "Now make eye contact."

He looked at me. "Like this?"

"Like that," I said. "Good."

"Am I doing okay, Professor Reyes?"

"Don’t call me that."

"Why not?" he grinned. "You like being in charge."

"I do not—"

"You do," he said. "And it’s hot."

I dropped my pen. "Did you just—"

"What?" he said, all innocent. "Say hot? I meant your feedback. Your feedback is hot."

"Liar."

"Maybe," he said. "But I’m your liar."

We both went quiet.

"Anyway," I said quickly. "Next question."

We practiced for an hour.

At 11:45 PM, he said, "You’re really good at this."

"What?"

"Teaching," he said. "You’re patient. And smart. And you care."

I didn’t know where to look. "Thanks."

"Don’t mention it," he said. "Research spouses support each other."

---

Friday. 3 PM. Professor Celes’ office. Progress check number 2.

We were sitting across from her desk.

"I’ve read your interview transcripts," Professor Celes said. "They’re good. Thoughtful."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said.

She looked at Theodore. "And you, Alistair. You’ve been showing up."

"I have," he said.

"Every meeting. On time," she said.

"I try," he said.

Professor Celes nodded slowly. "Keep it up. Both of you. You’re doing good work."

Outside, Theodore let out a breath. "I thought she was gonna yell at us."

"She likes us," I said.

"She likes you," he corrected. "I’m just the plus one."

"You’re not—"

"I am," he said. "But it’s fine. I like being your plus one."

My heart did something stupid.

Sera was waiting outside. "How’d it go?"

"Good," I said.

"She said we’re doing good work," Theodore added.

"See?" Sera said. "Power couple."

"We are NOT—" I started.

"Research spouses," Theodore and Sera said at the same time.

I gave up.

---

That night, I got another mail.

From: Theodore Alistair

Subject: Presentation Debrief

Things we did well:

1. Didn’t throw up

2. Made people laugh

3. Made Professor Celes nod

Things to improve:

1. You talk too fast when nervous

2. I stare at you too much

Overall grade: A-

P.S. The A- is for you. I get an A+ for moral support.

- T

I replied:

To: Theodore Alistair

Subject: Re: Presentation Debrief

1. I do not talk too fast

2. You do stare too much

3. A- is generous

See you Monday. 9 PM. Library.

Don’t be late.

- A

He replied in 2 minutes:

From: Theodore Alistair

Subject: Re: Re: Presentation Debrief

_I’ll be early.

For you.

- T

I closed my laptop and stared at the ceiling.

Research spouses. Right.

---

The next Saturday, Eli asked us to do a "photo documentation" for the thesis.

"Just normal stuff," he said. "You working. You talking. You existing."

We ended up at the campus garden again.

Eli had us sit on a bench. "Pretend I’m not here."

"We can’t," I said.

"Try," he said.

So we tried.

Theodore was explaining something about data analysis. I was nodding, taking notes.

Click.

"Got it," Eli said. "You two look really natural."

"That’s because we are natural," Theodore said. "Natural partners."

"Natural research spouses," I muttered.

"Exactly," he said.

Eli showed us the photo. Me mid-sentence. Theodore looking at me, not the notebook.

"Delete it," I said.

"Never," Eli said. "This is going in the final presentation."

---

Sunday night. 11 PM.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown: Hey. It’s Theo.

Unknown: Just wanted to say you did good this week.

Unknown: Also, I saved you a seat for Monday. In the library.

Unknown: The one by the window. Your favorite.

Unknown: Good night, research spouse.

I read it three times.

Then I typed back:

Me: Thank you.

Me: I’ll be there.

Me: Good night, Theo.

I stared at the last word. Theo. Not Theodore.

I didn’t delete it.

Monday. 8:55 PM. Library.

He was already there. By the window. Two coffees on the table.

"Took you long enough," he said when I sat down.

"You’re early," I said.

"I told you I would be," he said. "For you."

We opened our laptops.

"Partners?" he asked.

"Partners," I said.

And we got to work.

END OF CHAPTER 3