The Social Experiment

by Addison Moore

  Rowen touches his nose to mine a moment, and my heart nearly jumps out to greet him. “Remember that time we took Braden’s deodorant and dipped it in white pepper?”

  “Yeah”—a quick laugh bucks through me as the icy wind licks my tear-slicked face—“that was weird. By the way, I’m the one that voted for dog shit.”

  “That’s because you’re twisted.” His heavy breathing warms my neck, and as close to death as we might be, I couldn’t feel giddier, more alive than ever before. Sadly, it’s a testament to my own ridiculousness that I can feel as giddy as a teen while dangling hundreds of feet from safety. His lips pull taut, but there’s something somber layered in his eyes.

  “Do you still have Cake?” The question blurts from me before I can fully process it. But judging by that look in his eyes, I was terrified he was about to take us someplace dark and scary that only the past can provide.

  Cake is the German Shepherd I practically grew up with while visiting the Garret household. Mindy was given the honor of naming the family pet since it was technically delivered on her birthday and since cake was basically the best thing in her world at that point in her short life, she decided on German Chocolate Cake as his yummy formal name—Cake for short. Of course, her eager-to-please parents let her get away with it. In all honesty, I think Cake was my first true love right up until my crush for Rowen came into full bloom.

  “Yes.” His teeth flash like a camera. “Cake is still very much ticking. He’s slower now. He stopped chasing the girls and spends more time chasing his tail and taking long afternoon naps.” That smile of his expands. His fingers dig deep into my ribs, and my body swims with greed for more.

  “And you picked up the slack,” I say as a gust of wind presses the two of us into the ice-cold granite. Rowen shields me with his goliath frame, and for a brief rather pornographic moment, I envision the two of us naked with him in this exact same position.

  His chest rumbles over mine, sending a ripple of electrical jolts all the way down to my toes. “I guess you could say that. How about you? You break any hearts yet?”

  “Not as fast as you’re breaking open the condoms.” God, again? What the hell am I doing having a conversation with Rowen about how often he dips his wick? “Never mind that. I just want to get back to planet Earth where I can run straight to Leland and hide under my sheets for the next sixty years.”

  “They’ll kick you out of the dorm in about five.” His thumping laughter echoes through my ribcage as his feet steady against the rock ready to take us down another level. “On three.” I can feel the words strum through me as he breathes them warm in my hair.

  “Three!” we both shout in unison and laugh as we coast down like a couple of lead-lined balloons. Shockingly, the ground looks as if it’s getting closer, not farther this time, and I’m thankful for small illusions.

  “You want to do it again?” he pants the words heavily into my ear, and my entire body quivers with orgasmic delight. Hell, I’m probably the only person who has experienced the most coveted bodily function while filled with terror at the very same time.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  We share a quick laugh before the wind picks up and we lose footing from the cliff side only to swing like a pendulum for five hellish seconds.

  “You’re safe,” he pants with an undercurrent of uncertainty as if I’m not. His finger lifts my chin until I’m forced to look up at him. And there they are—Rowen’s eyes. In eighth grade, I wrote a love poem to them entitled “Earl Grey”. I had to read it out loud. Everyone thought I had a morbid and slightly sexual fascination with an English breakfast tea, but it was code for Rowen Garret’s eyes.

  I grab ahold of his hand and move it from my face. “Why are you doing that?” I’m suddenly irritated by his need to control me, make me look into his eyes like he’s about to sexually hypnotize me. He did that years ago. He doesn’t have to try.

  “I want to see you.” His lips pull back as he quickly wipes the steady stream of tears from my eyes. “I don’t want you to be afraid, Soph. I don’t want you to cry.”

  “Yeah?” I’m almost amused by this. “You should have seen me when you took off like a thief in the night three years ago. I cried buckets. Too bad you weren’t around to wipe my tears back then. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Make us suffer?”

  His eyes widen, but his features harden like flint as if my words had the power to infuriate him. “I’m sorry. But I promise, I didn’t take off like a thief.”

  “You were a thief.” My voice shakes with anger without meaning to. For God’s sake, it’s ancient history at this point. And I seriously doubt I would even bother bringing it up if we weren’t suspended from both the earth and reality all at once. “I don’t want to talk about this. They’re probably going to air this, you know.”

  He shakes his head just enough. “I spoke to Dexter. I asked him to cut us.”

  And just like that, the wound in my heart tears a little deeper. A childish part of me wanted to show the world that I could be with someone like Rowen Garret.

  Rowen rubs his thumb over my cheek, soft and warm. His gaze locks onto mine. I’ve never realized how intimidating it is to look someone in the eye this close. He’s bearing into me, pouring out his soul with this wordless endeavor.

  “I’m sorry, Sophie. I wish I could take back the hurt and pain I caused all those years ago.”

  “But you don’t think it was your fault.” I’m not sure why I felt the need to toss in a barb. It’s obvious he’s trying to apologize. He even threw in an I’m sorry. What more do I want from the guy—other than his body, heart, and soul?

  Rowen bears into me with that determined gaze. It’s telling me something, shouting into the depths of my being. I can feel the frustration exuding off him and don’t have any clue what to do with it.

  “I know it wasn’t my fault, Soph.” He closes his eyes a moment. “On three.”

  Rowen and I bounce down another flight of terror, this time with a little less conviction that this nightmare is going to land me with a breathing tube and an electric wheelchair.

  “Only one more drop.” Rowen rests his chin on my shoulder, his heavy panting feels like an old friend at this point. “You ready to take this baby home?”

  Actually, I’m not. All of a sudden I want nothing else but to hang midair forever with Rowen’s arms around my waist, his legs straddling mine because this will most likely be the last time we enjoy this tangle of limbs unless I can somehow trick him into a game of Twister like in the good old days. I used to live for the moment when Rowen collapsed on top of me. I’d laugh right along with him, but, deep down, I couldn’t wait to get to my room and whip out my diary so I could document the fact Rowen Garret jumped my bones. Yeah, I was being literal. So what? Right now, I literally want to hang here forever.

  I turn to face him once again, his enormous body blocking the sky just enough for me to believe we were already on solid ground.

  I sniff back the snot trying to make its way to lips. So awesome. Melted mascara, runny nose, tomato red eyes—and don’t get me started on the ponytail that went sideways and quickly morphed into a bird’s nest. I’m so glad Rowen gets to see my impression of a crack whore.

  “Hey—remember that time you, Mindy, and I all drove down to Rail Road Plaza because we wanted to get froyo?”

  His face flinches because it was also the day he crashed his father’s brand new BMW and we never had a bite of frozen yogurt. We were all fine. It was a fender bender—only instead of the fender getting bent, the rear crunched up like an accordion. It wasn’t Rowen’s fault, though.

  “How can I forget? And believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “I have one last midair confession to make.” God, stop. Don’t do this, Sophie, I plead with myself. You are going to regret this for the rest of your unnatural life. You’ll wake up in the morning and hate yourself so much that you’ll drive right back and rappel sans the proper gear and helmet. Tha
t’s how badly opening this wound is going to hurt. “I wasn’t really hungry for froyo that day.” I swallow hard as he takes me in, his expression as sober as my own. “Min and I were luring you out of your bat cave because I was going to ask you to prom.” The air vacates my lungs, and I’m stunned into paralysis by the words that just flew from my lips.

  Rowen’s eyes widen a notch, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.

  “But then you forgot to go when the light turned green and the idiot in the Mercedes behind you forgot to look up from his phone. You know the rest.”

  Rowen tilts his eyes ever so slightly, his eyes still stuck on mine. “And the next day…”

  He wants me to finish it, and so I do. We both know the horrible end to this heartbreaking tale. “The next day you left us, and I never saw you again. You might as well have shouted I hate you as you ran out the door that night.”

  His eyes close as his chest depresses with defeat. “I don’t hate you, Sophie. I could never hate you.”

  “But you hate Braden, and, by sibling proxy, that might as well be me.” I spin around and press my feet into solid stone. “On three.”

  We sail down one last time, hitting the ground with an echoing thump, and the crew comes out to free us. Bodies pull and tug at our limbs until we’re separated by at least ten feet, and it feels as if everything we’ve just experienced, all those damning words we exchanged were simply just a dream.

  Seth comes out to speak with me as I’m untangled from my puppet strings, and I can’t help but note that Rowen’s sensory guide, Petra, is busy whispering into his ear as well.

  “You did fantastic up there! Do you have Saturday night free?” Seth beams like a proud parent, and for a second, I think he’s asking me out. “The two of you have chemistry that’s off the charts. Why didn’t you tell us you knew one another?”

  “You heard all that?”

  “You’re wired to the hilt, kid. Everyone heard all that. It was wonderful. Dexter came out and said you were dynamite.”

  “We’re dynamite, all right.” Little does Seth or Dexter realize how close to imploding we really are. It did feel good to have it out with Rowen, though, if only in tiny little sound bites just seconds before each descent.

  “I’ll send you the details Friday afternoon.”

  “What’s with all the secrecy? I’d much prefer a syllabus so I can pick and choose my poison. If there are any more aerial gymnastics involved, you can forget it. I think you’ve just aggravated a cardiac condition I’ve had since childhood.”

  “Really?” He looks horrified.

  “No, not really, but imagine the lawsuit you’d have on your hands.”

  He belts out a laugh. “Try as you might, you can’t sue us. That contract you signed was ironclad.”

  “Good to know. Anything else you’d like to laugh in my face about before I fall to the ground and make out with Mother Earth?”

  He frowns as he frees me from the wires strapped to my body like a bomb. “You didn’t”—he hesitates a moment—“you know, kiss. We thought it was imminent the way you two went at it. Why the holdout?”

  “Holdout? I’m no holdout.” I glance back at Rowen who’s busy stripping himself of his own mic. “I don’t know. I think Ro and I are just sort of destined to be friends.” An hour ago I wouldn’t have said that with confidence, but something about that jaunt through hell solidified the fact I’d probably wave to him if I saw him on campus and not just with a select finger.

  “Friends?” Seth balks at the idea. “You left the friend zone right along with that puddle of drool we had to mop up that first day you made out with him. Trust me, no one else kissed like that, Sophie.”

  “That’s because you loaded us up with that roofie laced breath mint,” I say as he hands me my purse and laughs.

  “Look for my email. I think you’ll like what we have planned for Saturday.”

  “Let me guess. Diving into a pool filled with leeches? Better yet, tandem enemas? The couple that sprays together, stays together. Now there’s a visual that might actually garner some ratings.”

  His face lights up with a grimace. “You have a sick sense of humor. That’s why you’re my favorite subject.” He gives a quick wink before stepping in. “Oh, and hey, you and what’s his face should probably limit public interaction for a bit. The team wants to make sure to catch all the sparks you two are setting off. Don’t go diving underneath the sheets just yet. Save the hot stuff for the camera, would you?”

  “Right.” I avert my eyes, but deep down, my dirty little mind is diving over Rowen’s naked body, heating up the sheets like a disco inferno with all our hip grinding night moves. “I’ll catch you later.” I can’t believe I’m even entertaining placing my life in the hands of these psychotics handpicked by Dexter Houston. No wonder Scarlett Stafford dumped him. The dude is batshit. There’s no way I should show up this Saturday. And if Rowen covets his burgeoning football career, neither should he. One wrong move this afternoon and he would have gone from hero quarterback to uncelebrated water boy who rides the short bus. Dexter Houston is the mad hatter, and I think it’s time we all crawled out of the rabbit hole while we still have our heads attached.

  I make my way to my old beat-up Honda with its crooked bumper and dimpled doors, and I’ve never been so glad to see Gertrude. Yes, she’s an old and ugly turd mobile, but she’s my old and ugly turd mobile.

  The brand new shiny white truck next to me burps to life as I spot Rowen heading over with his dark hair slicked back, those sirens he calls eyes pinning me down without even trying. God, less than ten minutes ago those enormous arms of his were wrapped around my whole body. I can still smell his cologne in my hair.

  “Where you off to?” He folds his arms over the back of his truck and leans my way, looking like the epitome of every song ever sang by a country girl.

  “Back to Canterbury. I plan on stitching myself inside my sheets so I don’t ever pull another dumb stunt like that.”

  He belts out a quick laugh, and his dimples dig in, framing his happy face with a lewd level of sexiness that should be outlawed in all fifty dimple-loving states. “No, you’re not. You’re coming to dinner with me.”

  I don’t say yes or no. I just follow Rowen’s car out past Laurel Lake, over the covered bridge that leads into town. He hits the drive-through at Hot and Big Burgers, and I file in behind him placing my own order. When I come to the window, the cashier lets me know the truck in front paid for my order. I can’t help but smile. I can’t help but feel special as I follow Rowen to wherever it is he’s leading me.

  I’m having dinner with Rowen Garret without another soul around. Seth asked me to save the hot stuff for the camera. As if. As if there will be any hot stuff.

  Rowen drives us deep into the woods, away from civilization, away from reality, from Braden and Becca, and Dexter and his team of mad scientists.

  Rowen and I are going to be all alone in the woods.

  Whatever will we do?

  Rowen

  There have been two times in my life where I was truly afraid for my neck. The first time was when I was twelve and fell out of a tree, landing me with a compound break to my arm. There are some things in life you were never meant to see, and your bones sticking out of your flesh is one of them. I passed out twice on the way to the hospital—my mother just once. The second time was when I hauled my ass over the side of Windy Peak less than an hour ago. At first thought, rappelling sounded like a damn good time. But when push came to shove off that cliff, my heart was creeping up my throat. As hard as I tried not to, I kept picturing Sophie and me piled over one another at the bottom of that cliff, bones protruding from flesh and all. As soon as I wrapped my arms around her, I knew I wasn’t letting go. I would have given my life ten times over to make sure Sophie landed on solid ground in one piece.

  A dull smile comes to my lips as I glance in the rearview mirror and spot her tailing me in that beat-up Honda she’s had forever. I remember th
e day she got it—Gertrude. She drove Mindy everywhere that year, took that monkey off my back until our worlds turned upside down.

  Fox Woods is the place I would come to after all of that shit went down. This wild and wooly forest has a clearing in the pit of it where an entire grove of aspens show off their fall colors in bright oranges, rich golds, and flaming reds. It’s still my favorite place to visit in the fall. I’ve never brought a girl here before—never brought a single person.

  We park and Sophie bursts out of her car laughing, holding out her arms and spinning, doing the Wonder Woman thing with a bag from Hot and Big in her right hand.

  “All right.” I head on out. “Time to nourish your superpowers.” I collapse the tailgate on the back of the truck and help pull Sophie in. Her tiny hand grips mine for dear life, twice in one day.

  Sophie lands against me, and we do a little dance before I steady her. My hands accidentally slide up her soft sweater. It’s amazing that she looks exactly the way I remember, but those blowup doll lips, those glowing doe eyes make her hot as fuck.

  “Rules,” I say it as sweetly as possible, and she tips her head back, her chest bubbling with laughter. Back in the day whenever Mindy and Sophie entered my room, I would bark that word out with the ferocity of a drill sergeant. “We don’t talk about Fight Club.” Sophie rolls her eyes as I say it. “Clearly you’re unimpressed with my sarcastic superpowers. I’m not being sarcastic by the way.”

  “I’m super impressed. Please go on.” Her hands slide up and down my flannel before her eyes grow wild and she takes a step away. “Sorry.” Her voice grows small as she heads to the back of the truck bed, and I join her as we take a seat next to one another, thighs touching, her body warm against mine. There’s enough space to spread out, but I’m not fighting her on any space issues. The truth is, I like being close to Soph. Hell, I loved having her in my arms, my tongue buried in her mouth, but I’m not about to go there again.