[The Social Experiment 01.0] The Social Experiment

by Addison Moore

  He pulls his coat taut over his back and leans into the night wind before doing a double take in my direction. “Son of a bitch!” His entire face lights up when he sees me. Stan Carmichael and I grew close over the months that I hung out in their living room like a regular piece of furniture. “Rowen Garret! How the hell have you been?”

  “Dad.” Becca pops up from behind, and like a boomerang my eyes flit toward the parking lot for Sophie. I’m not interested in having a conversation with Becca or her father. “Just go already, okay?”

  “But, Becs, it’s Rowen!” He slaps me hard over the arm with an ear-to-ear grin that I used to love invoking in him. “Take care of yourself, son. You’re doing fantastic on that field! You’re a real dominator!” He jogs on out to catch up with his wife, and it’s just Becca and me the way it was for so long. But I don’t miss it.

  I nod for her to step on out, so I can get the hell to my truck and out of this mindfuck I’ve stepped into.

  “Hey.” She bites down on her lower lip. Her hair is lighter with a hard, dark line at the root. Her eyes are overdrawn with kohl, and her perfume attacks me like a sensory takeover. Becca was never one for subtleties. “That was weird, huh?” She shrugs it off, but doesn’t set a foot out the door. Instead, Becca keeps those coffee brown eyes glued to mine, and she’s saying something with them. The way she licks her lips on a loop makes me feel like she’s taking this somewhere she shouldn’t be. “Braden’s getting the car.” She wrinkles her nose as if this were an offense—and in her valet parking world it just might be. “So, anyway, maybe we can catch up sometime? You know, grab a bite or something. I mean, it’s kind of odd that we both ended up here tonight—on my birthday of all nights.” She nods, waiting for me to say the words, but I’m not up for any head games. And that coffee klatch invite is just that, a head game. I should know. Becca is a master at them.

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  Another large party moves toward the exit, and I step away from the entry, allowing someone else the privilege of playing door monitor for the night.

  I make my way past the Carmichaels, past Tanner, and stride out from under the awning just as a body crashes into me—the perfect body.

  Here she is in my arms, bright eyes, beautiful blessed by God face, and those lips. My gut wrenches just looking at them.

  “Good night, Sophie.”

  Her lips twitch, no smile, but those eyes remain wide and telling. “Good night, Rowen.”

  I take off down the parking lot, and a familiar looking SUV comes up, blinding me with its headlights with Braden behind the wheel. He shoots a look my way, sharp enough to slit my throat.

  And deep down, I laugh.

  The joke is on you, Braden.

  It’s always been on you.

  The week drones on with practice, classes, and more practice on a loop. The lab monkeys over at the Social Experiment sent an email, congratulating me on making it to the third week, and I shut the email and delete it before reading on. After that run-in with Sophie, I’m pretty sure neither of us should show up for whatever acrobatics they have planned next. My gut wrenches at the thought of shutting Sophie out. Not that she shouldn’t shut me out. I get it—family solidarity. Braden is her brother, and she should side with him even if he is in the wrong.

  I finish up classes for the day and start back to my dorm to drop off my books before heading for the gym, but as much as I want to focus on free weights, my mind keeps trekking back to Sophie. Yes, those kisses were spectacular, but that hurt look in her eyes that night at the steakhouse—I’ve never felt more like an ass in my life. When I told her that I didn’t think she’d show—that I was just there doing the gentlemanly thing—her features crumbled. I should have known better. No girl—not even Sophie with our checkered history—wants to feel rejected. And that’s what I did. Hell, this crap that’s happened between Braden and me should have always stayed there, between the two of us. I should have fought hard not to let it affect Min and Sophie’s relationship. Nor should it have affected my relationship with Soph either. We were friends, buddies—hell, sometimes we got along better than Braden and me. Half the time when I went over to the Meyer house, it was to hang out with Soph. After they lost their mom, I wanted to be there for them—be whatever they needed me to be just to take the pain away. And that’s when Sophie and I got close. Not creepy close. We weren’t sneaking off and making out in the closet. I was still with Becca, but unlike with Becca, hanging out with Sophie was easy. We had fun. She dished it out, but she could take it, too. And whenever she wanted to raze Braden, I was always Team Soph. Those were good times. I should have never let them end—never landed us in this dark place with our lips conjoined only to toss a rejection in her face that I never intended.

  “Rowen Garret!” an out of breath female voice shouts from behind, and I cringe. I might have Sophie on the brain, but right now I’d like to take some time off from this fucking spree that’s spanned the last three years. I just need to focus on the game—make things right with Soph—end my senior year with some dignity and maybe apply for grad school on the East Coast. Disappearing from Moon Ridge sounds like a good thing, and I would have done it years ago if it wasn’t for Mindy.

  “Rowen! It’s me, Petra!” A panting brunette bustles up beside me with her hair in a wild bun, strands escaping every which way, tortoise shell glasses sitting crooked on her nose, and a crazed look in her eye as if she’s been searching high and low for me, and she might have been. It takes five seconds for me to place her as the chick from the TSE. She’s my personal lab monkey, ready to lock me in another cage with Sophie. No thanks. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You didn’t respond to the email I sent.” Her cheeks pique with color, and I slow down before I induce a cardiac episode in the girl. She nods over to the campus coffee shop. “You mind if we step inside?”

  “Sure.” Why not. This way I can make an official clean break with Dexter and his minions.

  We head into Coffeeology, the most ridiculous name for a coffee shop if you ask me. But as soon as the scent of roasted beans hits me, suddenly everything about this place seems genius. We place our orders, and I pick up the tab. A part of me feels obligated to pay for a girl. Call me old-fashioned, but I want to do it. I’m all for equal rights, for women to crash through every glass ceiling that’s ever existed, but my heart wants nothing more than to pick up the tab no matter how big or small. Contrary to what the world and Sophie Meyer believe, deep down I am most certainly a gentleman at heart. That’s how my mom raised me, and that’s how I intend to be until my dying breath.

  We get our drinks and take seats out front. A part of me has my Sophie antenna up. As much as I can’t stop thinking about her, I keep waiting for her to pop up next to me with that big beautiful smile of hers that hasn’t graced me in years. It’s a big school though, lots of people, which have buffered me from Braden and Becca nicely, and for that alone I’m thankful.

  “So, what’s new?” I ask as I toss my backpack onto the ground. It’s cold out, but fall likes to turn into winter around here real quick, and before you know it, there will be a blanket of snow on the ground for the next seven months.

  “Your next experiment is tomorrow.” She slides her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

  “Wednesday?”

  She nods while sipping her coffee and ends up spilling it down the front of her shirt. “Crap.” She’s quick to mop it up with a napkin. “We’re progressing to twice a week now. A cable network has picked up the show. It’s pretty exciting.”

  “The show?” I’m well aware of the fact that parts of this experimental dating project were scheduled to air somewhere, but the thought of those kisses I shared with Sophie debuting on some cable network ties my stomach in knots.

  “The first few episodes will be just a quick compilation.” She flicks her hand through the air as if assuring me of some nonsensical fact. “Dexter is hoping to key in on a few select couples—the ones with the most obvious
chemistry. It’s all a ratings game.”

  “Did I just hear my name?” a deep voice booms from above.

  We glance up to find a tall sturdy man in a suit with wavy blond hair, dark soulless eyes, and I scowl.

  “What’s up, my man?” I give Dexter Houston five and nod for him to take a seat. I’ve met Dexter on more than a few occasions. The coach’s favorite relative also happens to be a decent Cougars fan.

  He falls into the seat between us, and Petra’s face bleaches white as if Jesus himself just showed up to the party.

  “It’s not just a ratings game. I promise you that.” He glances to Petra and winks before she bothers taking her next breath.

  Petra pushes her glasses up the ridge of her nose once again in an effort to compose herself. “I was about to fill him on the deal you inked.”

  “But she doesn’t have to.” I put the poor girl out of her misery. It’s clear she’s a nervous wreck around this guy, and I get it. She likes her job. She probably wants to keep it. “Petra is great,” I assure Dexter, much to her relief. “But I’m thinking of bowing out.”

  His brows hike with what looks to be mild alarm. “You sure about that? The dates are doubling up from here on out. The sky’s the limit on where things might lead. What’s wrong? You’re not digging the girl we’ve paired you with?” He squints over at me as if he were doubtful of this before I ever opened my mouth.

  “It’s not that.”

  Petra hits the air brakes with her hands, stopping me from saying another word. “It’s an outdoor date. No more lock-offs in the dark, I promise. And no more physical requirements either. If you want to kiss, hug it out, or hold her hand—it’s entirely up to you.”

  Dexter nods. “The first phase was a forced chemical reaction. You’ve been intimate so to speak with a total stranger. And if you liked it—the next phase is letting your mind catch up with your hormones. You did like the girl, right?”

  “Yes, I like her.” Letting my mind catch up with my hormones? A part of me wants to laugh. I’ve known Sophie forever. That little catch-up session happened in a nanosecond the minute the lights went on the very first time. “Outdoor date?” For a second, I can’t believe the words as they sail from my lips. I’m not actually entertaining this, am I? But it might be just what I need to prove to Sophie that I’m not an ass. Who knows, maybe this silly experiment might be the catalyst to restoring something we lost all those years ago? Maybe Mindy and Soph can repair what they lost, too. “Where’s this outdoor date taking place?”

  Petra’s eyes bulge with delight as if I’ve just made her whole year. “So, you’ll do it?”

  Dexter swallows a dark laugh. “Of course, he’ll do it. He’s interested, and it’s not some outdoor event that has him begging for more.” He gives a sly wink.

  Petra bounces in her seat as if she were the one going on the date. “You’ll be rappelling down Windy Peak. Of course, if you want, we can change it. We have hundreds of options, but we thought that might be a great way for the two of you to get to know one another.”

  A dangerous way. Not that there’s anything too dangerous about rappelling down Windy Peak. I’ve always wanted to do it. Hell, if it were just me, I’d be all in.

  “Will she be there?”

  Petra and Dexter exchange a quick glance before she clears her throat. “There’s always the off chance someone won’t show, but”—she refers to her phone—“according to her sensory guide, she’s undecided.”

  Undecided. I can’t help but frown. “I’ll do it. But if she doesn’t show, I’m still rappelling down that cliff.” I may as well cross an item off my bucket list while I’m at it.

  Petra livens up with a schoolgirl giggle as she collects her things. “You bet! I’ll email you the details and see you tomorrow!” She jumps up, nearly knocking the table over with her, and I pick up my drink before I end up dousing my balls with hot coffee.

  “Sorry!” She jumps backward and trips, nearly landing on her nose. “I’m a bit of a klutz! See you soon!”

  I growl as she shrinks out of sight. “Dude, what are you doing with this mess?”

  I know for a fact Dex had his balls handed to him by Scarlett Stafford, a country gone pop singer who makes more in five minutes in interest than most people will ever see in a lifetime. She’s beautiful as hell, but notorious for dating men, then busting their balls in her next hit single. And that’s exactly what happened to poor Dexter here. I believe the song that’s encapsulated their relationship is entitled, “You Weren’t Worth a Horse’s Ass”.

  “It’s not a mess.” He grimaces a moment as if it might be.

  “It will be,” I assure him as I take a quick sip. “Do me a favor. When you air this disaster, keep my girl and me out of it.”

  “My girl?” That cheesy grin of his comes back wide and proud. “It has a nice ring to it.” He scowls at me a moment. “And, yeah, sure. If it keeps you around, I’ll make sure you end up on the cutting room floor.” He slaps me five and stands to leave. “You think this girl has a chance to steal your heart?” He needles me with a discriminatory stare as if he had harnessed the power to crawl into my skull and check out the inner workings.

  “Nope—not like that. At most I’d like for us to be friends.” I leave it there before I say too much.

  “Just friends, huh?” His affect flattens out. Gone is the shit-eating grin. That haughty look in his eyes rounds out as if I’ve put the fear of the friendship god in him. “You’ll think different soon enough.”

  I bark out a laugh and raise my cup as if toasting him. “Dude, relax. It’s not like your life depends on this.”

  “It kind of does.” His hardened gaze wanders past me before he takes off without so much as a goodbye.

  Dexter might have a lot riding on his social experiment as a whole, but he doesn’t have anything riding on Sophie and me.

  Sophie and me. My girl. I frown at the woods just past campus. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be rappelling down Windy Peak either with Sophie or all alone. I’m sort of hoping for the former. Maybe Soph and I can start all over again even if her brother and I can’t.

  Something warms in me at the idea. I’d love to have Sophie in my life again as a friend. But my gut churns as if calling me out on the lie. If Sophie and I end up as just friends, then I can forget all about experiencing any more of those heated kisses. I’ve had my fair share of face sucking exchanges, and nothing has ever come close to that electrifying experience. Something about it was sweet, sensual, startlingly hot as fuck. Just knowing that it will never happen again has me mourning the loss of something Sophie and I never had. And we never will have.

  Nope, come tomorrow, if Sophie bothers to show up, I’ll do my best to renew our friendship. That’s all I want with Soph.

  But my insides grind as if maybe it’s not.

  Old Research and New Development

  Sophie

  “What kind of shenanigans do you think they’ll have for us at Windy Peak?” I ask Vi and Ember as we stuff our faces with sweet potato fries at the Underground.

  Vi shudders as if reliving her own shenanigans at the aforementioned windy retreat. “Windy Peak is just a step away from the Wild Rose Trail.” Her crimson hair frames her petite facial features and sets her eyes off like twin green lanterns. Honestly, if I were as drop-dead gorgeous as Vi, I’d run around taking selfies all day long. She’s got every guy in the bar craning his neck to get a better look at her. Ember is her blonde Barbie counterpart. I wonder what Rowen would have done if he were paired up with either of them. I wonder if my heart could have taken it. Just the thought makes the pit of my stomach boil like a cauldron. I guess in that respect I’d rather it be me, but in truth, Rowen has spiked his man parts into so many of Leland’s beautiful female offerings, that at this point if it had been Vi or Ember, they would have been just another notch in his busy belt. A heated anger spikes through me at the thought of Rowen turning his crotch into a weapon to impale the masses with. Who the hell doe
s he think he is? Other than the star quarterback with the face of a god that is. And what the hell did he do with my childhood friend? For sure he’s not the Rowen I used to know. And I really do miss the Rowen I used to know.

  Ember points her fry at Vi. “What about the Wild Rose Trail?” Ember grew up down south, so she’s not as familiar with the landscape in our neck of the raunchy woods.

  “It leads to Paradise Falls.” Violet nods as if Em should somehow surmise the rest.

  I groan at the thought. “Its waters are laden with semen, and there are enough lace panties washing up on shore they could rival the inventory of any Victoria’s Secret.”

  Ember pretends to gag. “So, you’re saying that’s the new hotspot to take my next date?”

  “Very funny.” I wash my fries down with a Coke and smile. “It’s too cold to skinny-dip this time of year.” For a moment, I envision Rowen stripping off his shirt, those rippling abs, those beefy arms, those wing-like lats. I’ve paid careful attention to Rowen’s body on the field. He’s built like an oak, sure and strong. And I’ve had the pleasure of running my hands over those marble-like muscles that line his chest and back. Even over his cotton T-shirt, they felt intoxicatingly hard as granite.

  “Earth to Sophie.” Vi runs her hand over my face. “Where the hell did you just go?”