Eduarda Saverin had an older (by about fourteen months) brother she never met and for the first eighteen years of her life that was the most important thing anyone could know about her. He lived about two months (they said it was SIDs, but no one really knew). She inherited his baby clothes (blues and yellows, never pink), his name (in feminine form), and his (her) parents' infinite disappointment. She didn't know if it would have helped if she were the replacement boy they wanted.
Other than the early exposure to blue, they never treated her like a boy, even though (much later) her mother said that must, must, must have been why (she turned out the way she did). She took ballet and piano, like all the daughters of her parents' friends, but was only really good at the first one. She learned French and Latin to go with the English and Portuguese she had natively. She wore make-up and heels when she was supposed to, and the heels were easy after learning to dance en pointe when she was twelve.
She smiled at boys (they did not make her stomach twist like boys in romances did. She thought that might be her not having romance in her bones. She didn't think about the way she watched Elena who sat in front of her in chemistry and the way she bent to pick up her pen). Sometimes they smiled back. Nothing came of it.
(She was good at math, it made her teachers blink at her. In fifth grade, when she was still in Sao Paulo, Miss Lopez said, but aren't fractions scary and giggled, when they never were. Sometimes, when she thought he didn't know she could hear him, her eleventh grade teacher in Miami muttered about her taking up a seat in AP calc when someone else would enjoy it more. She didn't think anyone could. She never said anything.)
Mostly, she kept her head down in high school, smiled like a lady and got the top spot in her class. “We're all so proud of you, Eduarda,” her principal said, smiling at her with shiny, bleached teeth, like he didn't smoke outside the staffroom. “You're going to do great things.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I'm so honored.”
The first person she told was Nomi, her dance teacher, at her lesson that night (all the daughters of her parents' friends had put ballet aside like childish things. Eduarda still went, sometimes five nights a week. Her mother clucked her feet, over her blisters and bunions and the blood that broke through the band-aides and stained her socks, but she kept up her grades, so they still let her go. She liked to get out of the house. She loved Nomi. She loved dancing).
Nomi wrapped both arms around her and held on tight, skinny arms and the powdery smell of her make-up. “That's amazing news, Eduarda,” she said. “Want to hear something else amazing?”
“What?” Eduarda asked, giddy and grinning, bent down to tuck her chin against Nomi's shoulder. “Tell me what else is that amazing?”
“Juilliard auditions are in Miami next month. And you, minha querida, have a slot if you want it.”
For a moment, she let herself feel a pure burst of hope and joy, because, Juilliard, how amazing would that be? The doors it would open-- to be a dancer in a company, on the stage. She could see herself, Giselle, Clara, the Swan Queen. Nomi thought she could do it, maybe she could. Maybe...
She already knew it wouldn't happen-- her applications were in to Harvard and Yale, Stanford and Columbia. It was going to be that.
When she told her parents about her class rank, her mother hugged her, stroked her hair and smiled, but murmured, “But, don't forget that we expect grandchildren. The boys don't like it when a girl is too clever, not when they want a wife.”
Her father laughed, big and booming. “Oh, no one thinks Eduarda is too clever! What a thing to worry about!”
(She didn't have a boyfriend most of high school, but hearing that was when she made up her mind she would before she left. His name was Michael and he was American-American, his mother actually made them sandwiches with cakey wonder bread, mayonnaise and thick slices of neon-orange cheese.
She lost her virginity in the back of his dad's Toyota Avalon on prom night, just like people did in the movies. It looked better in the movies, in real life it was awkward and fast and didn't exactly hurt, but it was definitely uncomfortable. He got all sweaty, dripped his sweat onto her skin. His eyes crossed when he came, which was just about the time it actually started to feel good. Then it was over.
But, he liked her, even though she was the valedictorian, so that counted for something.)
And Her Name Is
Then she came to Harvard, out from under, and that was when everything changed.
That was when she met Natalie. Natalie was majoring in women's studies (Eduarda's parents would not approve). Natalie saved her life (not literally, probably, hopefully).
It was this party. Eduarda never really liked parties in high school, too much noise, too much crush, too hard to break into the small knots of chattering people who never seemed to have any space for someone new to slot into it. College, she told herself, would be different. She would be effervescent and confident, loved and admired. Fake it 'til you make it, just like they said in all the business books her father had on his shelf.
Beer really helped. Really a lot. Beer made it easy to smile and talk, to dance when someone asked her to. Beer made her laugh instead of wince when this smarmy looking guy with a too smug smile sidled up next to her and said, “Hey, baby. Tell me about why I should be interested in talking to you?”
She blinked down at him, tilting her chin. He was a good two inches shorter than her. He'd be shorter than her even if she wasn't wearing heels. “What?” she asked.
His smiled stretched out. “You heard me. I'm trying to find a girl who's worth my time. Are you?”
Normally, she'd get flustered if someone-- a guy, but anyone-- talked to her like that. She could sort of feel that place inside herself, red and nervous, stammering something out about how she was, she was here, at Harvard, of course she was worth... she was. But that place was soothed way down by alcohol and determination and she just... just started down at him, and he was ridiculous, like a yappy dog or something.
She laughed. Watched him turn red and laughed some more, loud and bright and it felt so good. Watched him mutter something under his breath that sounded like bitch but she didn't even care. It felt so damned good.
“I thought that the admissions process at Harvard was supposed to weed out the idiots. Guess the evidence demonstrates otherwise,” someone said from behind her, and Eduarda turned around, still grinning, brilliant and powerful, to see a girl looking up at her from the couch. The girl had unstyled curly red hair cut short, skin that looked like she never left the house, a raised eyebrow that had obviously never been tweezed, and a beer in her left hand. But that was not as weird as the laptop resting on her knees, because who brought laptops to parties?
Still. Eduarda just grinned at her and found herself saying something that wasn't even close to nice, even close to ladylike and she didn't even care. “Yeah, even if they did screen them out I'm sure the world would just find a better idiot to slip under the radar. There are just so many of them.”
The corners of laptop girl's mouth tilted up and she raised her beer at Eduarda, as if in salute. “I'll drink to that,” she said, and did, the long line of her throat moving as she swallowed. Then she put the beer down and turned her attention back to her laptop, eyes narrow in concentration and fingers flying, like she'd already forgotten Eduarda was there.
Eduarda grinned, rolled her eyes, and wandered off to get another drink.
The guy manning a makeshift bar mixed her a shot and she took it. Then another. She would never know for sure if what happened was that she just overshot her tolerance by a huge margin or that the asshole she'd laughed off actually slipped her something, she just knew that it was on shot number two that things started to go fuzzy around the edges and she found herself stumbling, hands clutching at the wall. It was too slippery to hold her up, really, and she could feel herself start to panic under the waves of dull unsteadiness.
She didn't even see him until he was right on her, a rough hand on her elbow that gripped a little too hard even as it stopped her from falling. He was smiling when she blinked at him. “Hey, bitch,” he whispered. Then, louder, “You look wasted, baby. How about I see you home?”
She winced, but his fingers just tightened and she was unsteady on her heels, tottering. She never tottered, one part of her brain hissed at her, she never, she was a fucking dancer. “Lemmalone,” she said, but it came out too soft and too slurred. “Leggo.”
“Now, don't be like that, baby. You look too wasted to even get home, but don't worry, my room's just upstairs, come on,” he crooned and he was still smiling, she could see his smile even when the rest of him wavered when she blinked, like he was the Cheshire Cat in human form.
She looked around, but no one was looking at her, or seemed to be, when he put one arm around her waist and pulled her along. Her skin crawled and she made a noise that didn't even sound like herself. There were all these people, hot and close, and-- why wasn't anyone looking? Why wasn't she yelling?
“Stop it,” she hissed, but it was still too quiet, no one was going to hear her and all she could do was panic and then--
“Hey, is she all right?” and there was this girl, tall and beautiful in this perfect red dress, and she wavered in front of Eduarda's blurry vision, her Afro haloing her head like... like an angel's.
“Sure,” smarmy said. “Just a little too much to drink. Freshman chicks, right? I'm going to take her upstairs to sleep it off.”
But the girl had this frowning face and she was shaking her head and looking right at Eduarda. “Hey, are you all right? Do you know this guy? Do you need help?” She offered a hand, outstretched and hey, Eduarda could do that.
She grabbed it. “No,” she said, as comprehensibly as she could. “Dunno. Yes. I need help.”
Somewhere, like buzzing, she could hear smarmy saying something, thick and condescending and rude, but this girl had the darkest eyes and she didn't let go of Eduarda's hands. Eduarda closed her eyes and let herself relax, fall forward, let go.
Somebody caught her. That was Natalie.
She woke up in the morning in a strange room, hung over, with a pounding head and a mouth like cotton and rotting meat. There was a girl, asleep in the chair next to the bed. Even in the daylight, when Eduarda had the biggest headache and the girl was sleep mashed and had the imprint of the chair fabric on the skin of her cheek, she was beautiful.
Eduarda just stared at her for a few minutes or maybe longer, until she woke up. Blinked and smiled, slow and smooth as honey. “Good morning, sunshine,” she said. “You ran into some trouble last night. Do you know where you are?”
Eduarda would have shaken her head, but, ow. Instead she just said, “Somewhere safe?” Because that much was obvious. The girl's smile got even bigger, which was apparently possible.
“Yeah, I've got that going for me. I'm Natalie Jones,” she said and offered a hand.
Eduarda winced a little when she took it, since that meant moving, but what could she do? “Eduarda Saverin,” she croaked out.
“That's a pretty name, Eduarda Saverin. Now let me get you some water.” And she did, cool and sweet and wonderful even if it did come in a plastic Dasani bottle. Eduarda gulped it down gratefully.
“You're an angel,” Eduarda blurted out and then she could feel herself blush, hot and red, but Natalie smiled at her, like she didn't mind at all.
She whispers to me and I take the big plunge
The whole experience of college was looking up even before Eduarda found out that kissing could actually be meaningful and... and nice, instead of slimy and weird, but that was the crowning moment. It happened like this:
She was in Natalie's room, pulling together her macro notes for the midterm. She spent a lot of time in Natalie's room, probably more than any of Natalie's other friends, but Natalie never seemed to mind. She just smiled, warm as honey, and shifted over on her couch or on her bed and said, “Come and sit by me, Edi.”
That was nice. That was so nice, sitting on the couch, Natalie reading Simone de Beauvoir in translation and Eduarda reading about the Quantitative Theory of Money. It felt warm, when Natalie budged over and made room for Eduarda to fold up her long knees. “You've got legs like a ballerina, Edi,” Natalie murmured, like she admired that and Eduarda grinned.
“I am,” she said. “I mean... I dance, not professionally or anything, just for fun. Danced. All the time growing up.” It felt weird to put in the past tense, even if she'd always known she'd have to. Her parents thought it was past time to put away childish things and they'd read her transcript if she signed up for any classes.
Natalie frowned at her, like she thought something was weird about what Eduarda had just said. “But you don't anymore?” she asked. “You look like you miss it.”
Eduarda shook her head. “Who has the time?” she asked. She wanted to tell Natalie, all of the sudden. About Nomi and Juilliard and all the maybes that were gone. Dancing Giselle, forever and ever. Maybe it showed in her eyes.
“Well,” Natalie said, slowly and carefully like she was choosing her words. “They have drop in classes at Cambridge Adult Ed down in Central Square, if you want. Some of my friends took Flamenco classes there, but they do ballet too. I bet you could find the time for that.”
“I don't know—” Eduarda began, already shaking her head even though her brain was spinning, because, even amateur classes would have space she couldn't get in her tiny closet of a dorm room. A mirror and a barre and, like this, her father would never--
“Edi, I think you do know. Come on, I'll take you by there now if you want, you look like you're on the last page of the chapter.” Natalie was already shifting to stand up, smiling and sure, and always beautiful and she was going to take Eduarda dancing.
It was pure, fervent instinct. Eduarda didn't even see herself coming, not until the next moment, between smiles, when she had one palm curled around the nape of Natalie's neck and she was pulling her back down, eager and ardent and ready. She was kissing her.
Natalie. Barely a moment, no time to even get nervous and Natalie was kissing her back. Natalie's mouth was warm and firm, but her skin was soft, and she tasted sweet as anything. She had a gentle tongue.
When the kiss broke, she was smiling so wide and Eduarda could feel herself smiling back. “Okay,” Natalie said. “Let's go to Central Square tomorrow.”
If being naked in company counted as a cherry, Eduarda lost that one that night. With Mike, it hadn't even occurred to her to do much more than pull up her skirt and tug down her stockings and panties, or maybe it hadn't occurred to him. Natalie wanted to see.
“God, look at you, pretty baby,” she said. “My beautiful ballerina.” And Eduarda laughed, naked and ridiculous in Natalie's dorm room, with just enough space to lift up her arms and execute a half-assed pirouette. She felt beautiful.
The bed squeaked a little under their weight and Eduarda couldn't bring herself to even get embarrassed, to care if someone heard, because Natalie's hands were on her knees, steady and sure, and Natalie's tongue was so clever, like she'd been practicing for years and she knew what Eduarda's clit was for a lot better than Eduarda herself. “That's it, honey, I want to make you feel as good as you look,” Natalie crooned, and her fingers slipped inside of Eduarda's slippery body, one and then two, moving in time to the flicks of her tongue.
If coming in company counted as a cherry then... yeah... that.
I look up into the big tower clock and say, "oh my God it's midnight!"
The rest of the semester, Eduarda had schoolwork, dancing and Natalie. And Natalie's friends, who smiled at her and called her name and made room at the caf when she looked like she might sit down and eat alone.
Natalie's friends who'd hook their arms through hers and walk with her when some drunk boy tried to follow her down the yard and it was amazing how close the assholes wouldn't come when Eduarda wasn't alone. She felt warm all the time even during exams.
Winter break felt like a storm cloud up ahead, because she'd be going home, and this... all of this would be over. Only for a while, though, she told herself, and then she'd come back and it would all be perfect and golden again. It was a storm that she could see coming a long way off, the other thing wasn't.
Not Natalie, straddling a chair and smiling at her and saying, like it was good news. “Hey, Edi, guess what? You'll never guess! My transfer application to Stanford is a go. I am ditching this freezing cold land of assholes come January.”
Eduarda just found herself staring. “You,” she managed. “You're leaving?”
“Hell to the yes,” Natalie crowed, eyes gleaming and her whole posture almost as bright with joy as when Eduarda put her fingers between her legs and just...
“But. But what about--” she began, but Natalie talked right over her.
“You'll be the only thing I miss, pretty Edi,” she said. “My very last and very, very best Harvard fling.”
And Eduarda swallowed and... and she just smiled. She smiled and said. “Oh. Um. That's great! You're my very first Harvard fling, I guess.”
Natalie grinned at her, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. If she noticed that Eduarda was a little stiff she didn't say a word about it. Eduarda told herself she was glad that Natalie was helping her not make a fool of herself about this.
In retrospect, she should have known, right? How could she not have known?
There were three things she did after leaving Natalie that night. The first was that she went to a party at the GSA and got drunk, very drunk. The second was that she was in fact so drunk that she fucked a lacrosse player named Carin Kelley on somebody's bare mattress with a sparkly red dildo that may or may not have been a party favor. It was not good. It wasn't as bad as Michael in High School, because Carin was actually hot, but Eduarda didn't exactly come either. Mostly because this smugly amused blond gay kid who she thought might be named Chris popped in through the door that she thought was locked and said, “Hey, everyone can hear that you girls are having fun, but could we keep the lesbian sex in our own dorms? Or at least at low volume?”
Eduarda may have given him the finger, but Carin had mumbled something and started to put her clothes back on, so that was horrible.
The third and final thing was... well, Eduarda Saverin, who had never been in trouble a single day in her life, would later maintain that she was very provoked and very drunk on her way home when she went a jammed her one inch heel into the instep of a frat boy who wolf-whistled at her. And, possibly broke his foot doing it. The Ad Board was not as convinced. Neither were her parents when they found out about the month of academic probation.
“You could have been expelled for this!” her father hissed when she was in his office, eyes firmly fixed on the rug. “You are damned lucky you are too old for the belt, Eduarda. What the hell would my friends say if my daughter was known to have been expelled for assaulting a boy.”
“What kind of reputation will you have now, on campus?” her mother asked, and wiped away a tear that may have had something to do with the onions the maid was chopping. “You need to leave school married or at least engaged, or what will have been the point?”
So, mostly, Eduarda spent winter break hiding in her room, watching the weather channel. It was weird and soothing and better than ice cream, for her waist line at least. She didn't really pay attention to what was actually being said until about the second week in and that's when she had this thought...
Hey. You know what goes with weather? Heating costs. You know what goes with heating costs? Oil costs. Predict the weather, predict... oil futures. She still had the account her Baba put away for her when she was a baby and now that she was over eighteen, she could use it. Seed money.
So, that was how Eduarda made $300,000 sitting in her bedroom with her break-up angst, betting oil futures. It was definitely better than ice cream.
Ooh I'll put my spell on her
Back at campus, it turned out Eduarda's mother had nothing to worry about. The boy had done whatever and her dad had done whatever and the whole thing never made the Crimson (it being the tail end of finals probably helped).
Drunk guys had not learned not to wolf-whistle, it was more like Eduarda had learned not to break their feet in retaliation.
Natalie's friends still made room for her at the dining hall, which Eduarda actually hadn't expected, and it was... it was... nice. She had thought it wouldn't be, but it was. They knew about the boy and the Ad Board and they thought it was awesome, so at least some good had come out of it.
Also, laptop girl from the party all those months ago was the first person Eduarda recognized in her Linear Algebra class. She came in late, always seemed to be wearing the same pair of flip-flops along with an assortment of hoodies that looked like she'd picked them up in the men's department.
Other than Eduarda, she was the only person in the class who always knew the answer when she raised her hand, and possibly Eduarda liked to look at her, maybe a lot. And doodle sketches of her face in the margins of her class notes. Then one day laptop girl was actually in early, already seated before Eduarda got to class. She didn't know what possessed her to take the empty seat right next to her when the classroom was full of other empty seats, but, well, she did.
The old Eduarda, pre-Natalie, pre-Harvard, would never have done this, not until she had some reason to think that the girl would maybe, possible want to talk to her back, but that girl was gone. This Eduarda smiled, stuck out her hand and said, “Hey. I'm Eduarda Saverin.”
Laptop girl looked up at her with obvious surprise in her very blue eyes. Her eyebrows were still untweezed and she was still... well, it was interesting, her sartorial choices. “I know who you are,” laptop girl said. “We met at a party last semester.”
Eduarda found herself grinning. “Right. You remember that?”
“Yeah,” laptop girl said. She still hadn't taken Eduarda's hand, so Eduarda let it drop down on the desk. “You're also the one who broke Bill Addison's foot right after finals. He might not be rowing this spring.”
Eduarda shrugged and tried not to look embarrassed. “I didn't actually mean to... I mean, I'm not as scary as I look, so don't worry.”
Laptop girl blinked at her. “What? You don't look scary, you look like a girly-girl who might start talking about her boyfriend for twenty minutes if someone asked one question. But, I know you're actually not, so I don't mind. Who knew that heels could kill rowing careers? Anyway, it doesn't matter, you're basically the only person other than me in this whole class who doesn't behave like a brain damaged moron, so I don't mind talking to you.”
Eduarda found herself staring. Laptop girl stared back, like she didn't know someone wasn't supposed to. She raised her eyebrows like she was asking a question.
“You're kind of, um, amazing,” Eduarda said, and she was grinning again, she couldn't help it. “Now, you're supposed to tell me your name.”
“Oh,” laptop girl frowned and then shrugged. “Okay! I thought you might know. It's Mark. Mark Zuckerberg. That is my actual name as far as you're concerned, so don't ask if it's short for Marcia, it's not. Anyway... amazing? Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Eduarda said.
Mark made a face. Eduarda was half tempted to tell her it will stick like that, but she didn't want to sound like someone's mom. “That's not the reaction I normally get from girls.”
Eduarda tilted her chin. “You know a lot of girls?” she asked.
“No, because they usually hate me by this point in the conversation,” Mark said easily, but she was actually smiling now, not just doing the lip tilt thing from before.
“Huh, no way,” Edurada found herself smiling back. “You want to get some coffee after class?”
Mark shook her head. “I'm working on a problem set for my systems class and I've got this little side project, that...well, so I'll be too busy.” She frowned. “Well, maybe, if it's not a very big coffee.”
“Okay, a small coffee.” Eduarda didn't have the chance to say much more before the professor finally made it in and started talking, settling his briefcase on the desk.
After class, Eduarda settled into step beside Mark, who frowned up at her, but allowed it. “So, you're not a CS major, I'd have seen you in more of my classes if you were.”
“No, I'm Econ,” Eduarda said. “Why?”
Mark blue stare was momentarily unblinking and then she shrugged and looked away. “I was just wondering. I mean, if you want me to help you with homework or something, I probably won't so don't bother. But I don't see why you would if you're Econ. This is our only class together and you don't need help in it.”
Eduarda paused. Ran that speech back through her head forwards and then backwards. Oh. “Oh. No. I mean, I can do my own homework. I just wanted to talk to you. I've been... you seemed interesting in class, that's all.”
“Oh. That's fine then.” Mark didn't say anything most of the rest of the way and then she paused when this skinny-ish guy in shorts started to wave at them and walk in their direction. Eduarda winced inwardly, expecting some kind of... she didn't know, but Mark said, “That's Dustin, he's my roommate.”
“He's a guy,” Eduarda said without thinking about it. “You can't have a male roommate.”
Mark shrugged, like that didn't matter. “Yeah, student housing pitched a fit about it, but my roommate first semester had a nervous thing induced by keyboards at midnight or something and she got her girly make-up crap all over my stuff. I don't know, I just wanted to room with my friends like everyone else. I just kept talking until they gave in. Dustin!” She waved at the boy.
He was cute for a boy, a bright smile on his mouth, like a taller, slightly less red headed Mark. It took him an extra ten seconds longer than normal for a guy like that to start staring at Eduarda. And staring. Eduarda shifted on her feet and forced a smile back. He bits his lip and looked like he was going to say something, but nothing came out.
“Dustin,” Mark said. Mark was frowning, looking from Dustin to Eduarda and back again. “He's not usually like a gaping fish, I'm not sure what's wrong. Dustin! Do you need me to give you Heimlich or something?”
Eduarda sighed and shook her head. She offered her hand. “Hi, Dustin, I'm Eduarda, It's nice to meet you.”
He stared at her hand blankly and took it for just a second. His grip was loose and his palm was a little damp. “Hi, you're talking to me. You're really beautiful,” Dustin stammered. The tips of his ears turned a soft shade of pink. “Um. Sorry. Sorry, that was inept of me. Wow. Hi.”
Eduarda tried to suppress a laugh and couldn't quite manage it. “Yeah, hi,” she said.
He grinned back at her suddenly and it made his whole face change, turn brighter. Like he wasn't offended at all by the half stifled laugh. “So, um, I apologize in advance, but I have to get this out of the way. I just want you to know this is a one time deal, because, once you shoot me down and destroy my hopes forever, we can be friends. So. Do you have a boyfriend? Do you think there is any way in the universe you would ever go out with me?”
“You should apologize in advance for idiocy, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mark hissed from one side, but Eduarda found that she was still smiling.
This was not how she normally started conversations, but... eh. Eh. “I don't really like boys that way, sorry.”
Usually, a guy who heard that acted like it was either annoying or an opening for him to suggest a threesome starring himself. “Oh? Oh! No, that's okay. I don't like boys that way either, so we have that in common! Excellent start. Let's do this again, but better. I'm Dustin, and you're Eduarda. Hi!” He thrust out a hand with a huge, warm looking grin.
She took it. This time it wasn't limp at all and he held her grip for just the right amount of time. “Yeah, Mark just mentioned.”
His jaw dropped again and he peered over at Mark, who looked furiously irritated. Then he grinned again. “Mark? Our Mark? And you? I mean, I didn't know Mark liked humans in that way! Wow.”
“I'm going to infect all of your computers with viruses,” Mark muttered. “Do not turn your back on me.” She paused. Frowned. Stared at Eduarda. “Wait. Wait, is this coffee thing a date?”
Eduarda found that she was the one blinking. “Uh. I didn't mean--” she started, but Mark ran right over her.
“Because, I told you I'm working on a problem set for my systems class and... I don't have time for a date this very second. Can we have a date tomorrow?” she said.
“Tomorrow? You're an idiot,” Dustin observed from the sidelines. “What the hell is wrong with you, Mark?”
Mark's eyes went wide and she spun around, hands on her hips. Eduarda could feel herself smiling, feel it stretch on her mouth. “What's wrong with me? You just hit on my date, you asshole. Even I know you don't do that!”
“A date tomorrow would be fine,” Eduarda said, still grinning, hands stuffed into her pockets and watching Dustin yell back. They may have been too busy yelling at each other to notice, but that was okay. Everything was.