Bitter Exes: The Social Experiment 2

by Addison Moore

I gasp at the thought. Lane and I haven’t done anything in public without going through hair and makeup first. Maybe it’s time. I think it is.

  I text him back. You bet. See you at six?

  He shoots one right back. It’s a date. Don’t tell your fiancé, and neither will I.

  A soft laugh bubbles from me.

  Sorry, Mom, but I’m in love with Lane Cooper all over again.

  * * *

  Several hours later, and a few too many outfit changes later as well, Sophie and Ember walk down to the Underground with me.

  “This is monumental.” Sophie fluffs my hair as we step into the bar-slash-eatery, and the scent of something fresh off the grill lights up our senses. The band is crooning away at ear-splitting decibels, and the backbeat of the music vibrates through my chest. “A public outing? You and Lane are really together now and in l-o-v-e.”

  “Please.” Ember rolls her eyes. “No offense to the two of you, but scientists have just discovered what most people believe is love is simply confused with lust in a relationship’s beginning stages. And once her need to lust, and his need to thrust, are no longer in the picture, what you’re left with is a beautiful friendship—or a beautiful divorce.” Her shoulders give a perky bounce. “I see about ten hot guys at the bar. I think it’s time to belly up. Smell you girls later!” Her fingers flutter in the air as she waves.

  Sophie grunts as we watch Em dance her way to a group of frat boys, each nursing a beer. “One day Ember Sparks is going to fall head over stiletto heels in love, and we’ll be the first to reiterate what science has to say on the topic.”

  “I hope she’s slammed hard in the lust department, and he slams hard with those thrusts for her sake.” We share a quick laugh. “Love is so complicated. I honestly think it might be best if Em sits it out for a while.” I love both Sophie and Ember as if they were my sisters, and I wouldn’t want to see either of them dealing with half the issues Lane and I are saddled with.

  “Hey”—Sophie slings an arm over my shoulders—“you and I are doing great. So what if it was rough in the beginning? Most things worth having usually are.”

  We spot Lane and Rowen sitting as far away from the band as possible.

  “Look at this,” I marvel as we come upon our men, and they both stand to greet us. “We’re about to have our second double date.”

  Rowen pulls Sophie in close and seemingly takes a bite out of her neck. “No way.” He waves me over into the seat he just vacated. “Tonight is all about you guys.”

  They start to take off and Sophie shouts, “Enjoy your first night out as a couple!”

  I’m about to laugh or cry or shout back some snarky, yet lewd, comment when a couple emerges from behind them, and I bite down on my tongue instead.

  Wen and Carrie each hold the look of surprise as they head this way. My brother also looks moved to kill, thus deflating any hopes of a nice, relaxing evening out with my ex. Not that there’s anything ex about Lane and me anymore. We’re on again, and all of that off again bullshit is far behind us.

  My brother’s features harden, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was ready to throw fists and vomit simultaneously. “What’s this? A public display of affection? It can’t be.” Wen gives a bitter laugh as he glances around. “So, where are the cameras?” He takes a seat across from us, and Carrie does the same.

  Her tiny peach lips curl into a bow. “I can’t believe this! We’re going to be on TV! I’m going to have to call my mom! And then, of course, she’s going to have to call her mom.” She looks to Lane as if he cared. “My grandmother was in a movie herself when she was a baby, so I guess you could say my family has been in showbiz for generations. And I guess that makes me a showbiz kid.” She thrusts her hand his way. “I’m Carrie Rhodes. I think you’re adorable. The girls at Alpha Omega think so, too. If you ever want to swing by and say hello, I know my sorority sisters would die on the spot. And if you have any merch you can sign, even better, but if not, I’m sure there will be many a body part waiting for your strong capable hands to autograph away.” Her lashes flutter a mile a minute as she picks up a menu and begins to fan herself.

  I look to Wen with a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin that I can’t help but display. “Does this model blow-up doll come with a shut-off valve, or do you have to manually deflate her at night?”

  Wen closes his eyes a minute, because deep down, he knows I’m right. “What’s going on here? Is this for real?” There’s a sadness in his eyes that’s unmistakable. Once when we were little, Wen had a turtle that he just loved, and after an unfortunate accident with a coyote, I had never seen my big brother so very upset. Something in his heavy gaze brings me right back to the sorrowful day. I guess that would make me the turtle and Lane the big bad coyote.

  “Yes.” Lane has that look on his face that says get over it. “This is real. Vi and I are real. And we also happen to be adults about to have dinner. Why does that eat at you so much?”

  A breath hitches in my throat. Lane was doing so well up until that last line. Those sounded an awful lot like fighting words to me.

  Wen tips his chin down as those heavy brows take center stage. He has always had the most expressive brows. Those fuzzy caterpillars can run an entire rainbow of emotion, and right about now, they’re saying buckle up, this is going to be a bumpy ride.

  “Why does this eat at me so much?” Wen parrots back to him. Another indication things are falling to shit quickly.

  Carrie and I exchange a nervous glance, and that’s when I know trouble is afoot. Anytime Carrie Rhodes and I are on the same page, there is something rotten in the streets of Moon Ridge. My apologies to Shakespeare for butchering his famous line.

  Wen leans in toward Lane. “First, I didn’t come here tonight to start shit. I came because I wanted to tell my sister that our parents have news they’re wanting to share.”

  My insides freeze solid. The last time my parents had news they wanted to share with us, they turned my world upside down with their split. And I’m still dealing with the very real, very visceral ramifications. I look to both Lane and Wen. I don’t dare ask my brother to extrapolate nor will I.

  Wen growls at Lane as if he were about to pounce. “I have warned both of you to stay away from one another. Dude, you’re the one who told me last year at this very same time that it was a good thing the two of you broke it off when you did. You didn’t want to drag it out another minute, and yet here you are, coming back for seconds.”

  My stomach clenches as I shoot a quick look to Lane.

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Lane glances to me, his expression still very much set on anger. “I didn’t want to drag out the fighting. I wanted you back the minute we were over—before we were over—when it was clear I already lost you.”

  Wen’s chest bucks with a laugh. “You know you’re like a brother to me, but that’s my blood.” He points hard in my direction. “Did you want my sister back when you slept with three different girls within a span of six months?”

  Lane glowers at Wen as if he wants to kill him. “We weren’t together,” he says it low as if fully ashamed of the facts.

  “Wen”—I pull his arm off the table in an attempt to make him stand—“I think you’d better leave.”

  He jerks his hand in the air and nearly decapitates me in the process. “I’m not going anywhere,” he thunders. His full attention, his molten rage still pinned on Lane.

  “Dude”—Lane stands, his chest puffed out—“you almost knocked her out.”

  “I’ll show you who I’m going to knock out.” Wen dives over the table and takes Lane to the floor as both Carrie and I scream our vocal cords raw.

  Lane and Wen tumble and throw a steady stream of punches as Rowen and a couple of guys I recognize from the football team do their best to pull them apart. The staff from the Underground congregates around us and swiftly orders the entire bunch of us outside.

  “Nice going!” I shout into my brother’s face. His lip i
s contorted and bleeding from the corner. Lane’s left eye is shut, and judging by my brother’s mighty left hook, it will be a miracle if he ever opens it again. “Would it kill you, just once, to give us your blessing?”

  Carrie tries to dab his mouth with a tissue, and Wen winces as he turns away. “I did, Vi.” He staggers forward, and those sad dark eyes of his meet with mine. “I gave you my blessing the first time around. And after the two of you landed in the wood chipper, I knew there was no way I wanted either one of you to go through that again.” He shoots a lethal look to Lane. “I sided with you once, but not this time. And I’m certainly not going to stand around and watch the two of you implode again. You’re not happening.” He takes off, and Carrie traipses right along with him. Her blonde head turns my way before they disappear into the parking lot, and she sticks her tongue out at the two of us.

  “God.” I wrap my arms around poor injured Lane. “Ignore them both. They are equally ridiculous.” I look up and meet with those vibrant eyes of his that I’m so in love with. I love every last part of Lane Cooper. “Are you hurt? Wait, don’t say a word. Let me get you home and I’ll make sure to kiss every last inch of you and make it better.” I wince. “I’m sorry my brother is such a nut job.”

  “Don’t apologize.” Lane presses a warm kiss over the top of my head. “He loves you. He doesn’t want to see you hurt.”

  I shake my head. “You would never hurt me, Lane. And I would never hurt you.” The word again is distinctly missing in that last sentence. Lane was never to blame for anything that happened. It was me all along.

  Lane studies me with a somber heartbreak, his left eye swelling painfully fast. “I know.” His mouth lands softly over mine.

  I pull back as we start toward his apartment. “We’d better get to your place. It looks like I’ve got a lot of territory to cover with my mouth.”

  “Miles.” He gives my hip a light pinch. “And I was hoping to hear more about your date with the dentist.”

  “Sorry, sweetie. He’s off the roster for the foreseeable future. Tonight’s just about you and me.”

  “That sounds like a perfect combination.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  * * *

  Wednesday night finally rolls around, the first date of the week, which will be held where it all began in Finley Hall. During hair and makeup, I meet Denise, a tired looking sophomore who swears she hates her ex more than ever. Baily, a perky brunette with an unimaginable amount of energy, who claims she’s still on the fence, but has slept with her ex three times during the last five weeks. I’m up on her on that one. And Arizona, a petite-framed girl with hair the color of an ominous sky, a mixture of blue and gray. She’s madly in love with her ex once again, but has prophesized on three different occasions in the last twenty minutes that they will never make it to spring. Such hatred, such passion, such a downer. That about sums the three of them up in a nutshell.

  Seth comes over and offers us a group pep talk as we’re miked up by a swarm of interns. He flicks his finger my way as the rest of the breakup brigade heads onto the stage, and the audience goes wild.

  “Everything okay with you and Lane?” His forehead creases with worry, and I think the last time Seth looked this way I was being thrust into a waiting ambulance.

  “Everything is more than great. Why? Did he say something?”

  “No, never mind. It’s not important.” He shuttles me out the door, and the cool air of the auditorium hits me.

  Finley has always held a slight musty odor. I swear I will forever associate that scent with public humiliation. Not that I plan on humiliating myself tonight. Nope. I have a feeling Lane and I will be the only boring old normal couple on stage, and I rather like it that way.

  A thought comes to me just before I step out in front of the world, and I spin back toward Seth.

  “It was the black eye!” I let out a short-lived laugh. “I only beat him when he’s naughty.” I’m about to give a quick wink when my voice comes back to me in triplicate, and I cringe as Seth points to the mic. He spins me around and gives me a light shove until my feet carry me to the remaining empty sofa, smack in the middle of the other three.

  “And last but never least”—the ominous voice booms from above—“Violet Hathaway.”

  The room breaks out into a deafening applause, save for a small handful of boos from somewhere in the back on the left-hand side. Most likely from Carrie and her snotty sorority sisters. I’ve seen two Free Lane sweatshirts on campus this week, and I’m tempted to give the entire left side of the room the finger.

  A bevy of cameramen are pointed at us, and the blinding white lights coming from the back have turned the entire audience into a gentle haze of darkened faces.

  “Now, please join me in welcoming our brave men.” Oz chortles like the sexist pig he obviously is.

  Why are these men so brave? Aren’t we brave for putting up with them? I’m suddenly moved to gift Oz the finger, too, only I wouldn’t know where to point it.

  The crowd cheers as if the entire football, basketball, and volleyball teams just walked onto the stage in the nude.

  A smile springs to my lips for the first time as Lane lands next to me and we share a quick peck. The others must have done it, too, because the audience has taken over with their whoops and whistles. Lane wraps his arm around me, and we relax against one another, galvanizing ourselves as one. Whatever this evening brings, we’re ready.

  Oz starts in on a snooze-fest of questions to which we all answer amicably in turn. He focuses on Denise and her ex, Richard, and their shared hatred for one another has the audience rolling from the nonstop string of snarky barbs they’re freely lobbing.

  Up next, Baily and her beau, Stanford, regale the room with one too many explicit details regarding their on-campus romps. Tower? Check. Library stacks? Double check. Coffeeology restroom? Triple orgasmic check. It’s safe to say I will never be using the facilities in that java-based establishment again, and I’m betting neither will seven hundred of my closest peers.

  Arizona and her ex, Pete, both admit to dabbling in the bedroom but don’t quite feel the heat they once had.

  “Violet and Lane,” Oz booms, and the room grows quiet awaiting his milquetoast line of questioning. “You have by far exceeded the expectations of the program.” A mild applause breaks out in our honor. “Your success has been an inspiration to others.”

  I glance over and catch Denise nodding wildly in agreement, Baily looks disinterested in general, and Arizona is rolling her eyes.

  “Your breakup was a harsh one, and yet you were able to overcome extreme obstacles. Outline for us what happened to elicit the initial breakup and how you overcame these great difficulties to be the exemplary couple you are today.”

  I swallow hard, and I can feel Lane’s body tense against mine. Our breakup was hard, it was epic, and it wasn’t for public consumption.

  “We, um”—my voice wavers as I clear my throat—“were having a tough time for about six months before the actual breakup.” My face heats by ten degrees, and my body breaks out into an instant sweat. Whitewash it. Whitewash it for God’s sake. Do not show off your dirty laundry in exchange for ratings.

  Lane gives my side a light tap as if to say he’s got this. “Vi and I were struggling, and it was those struggles that brought upon our demise.”

  I shoot him a look that says good one. Way to wash the past white as snow.

  “What exactly were you struggling with, Lane?”

  Since when did Oz morph into an asshole? I’m pretty sure digging into the briar patch of the past will only leave us cut and bleeding.

  Lane shifts in his seat as his body heats wildly next to mine. If this keeps up, we’ll erupt in flames, and that might be an easier out than digging up old skeletons who have their flesh still rotting on their carcasses. The past smells far too foul to ever revisit, and yet the room has quieted to a hush in eager anticipation of it.

  Lane looks to me and shr
ugs. “You want to do this?”

  If he had worded it any other way, if he hadn’t thrown the ball in my court, I would have been able to get us out of this somehow. But I can’t say no. It’s just one of those things you know you can’t say in a situation like this.

  “We have nothing to hide,” I say, piercing him with all of my being as I shout the words hide it from them over and over again in my mind.

  “Bullshit!” someone shouts from deep in the crowd, and the audience gives a quiet titter.

  Are they laughing at us? Wait a minute. Less than a moment ago, we were the unofficial homecoming king and queen of this ragtag brood, and all of a sudden they want blood. I knew this was going to end in disaster. I shoot Arizona and her Debbie Downer attitude a quick nod because, face it, I bet she knew it, too. Kudos to her for beating me to the punch.

  Lane clears his throat. “Vi and I had several disagreements that slowly eroded our relationship.”

  Oz’s mic pops, letting me know he’s about to pipe up. I’d like to pop him. I’m going to make it my life’s mission to discover his identity and do just that. “Did these disagreements have anything to do with your propensity to wander?”

  The room lights up in a choir of oohs, and suddenly, it feels as if I’ve been transported to seventh grade.

  My body ignites with a full-on blaze, and I hold my breath in anticipation of his answer.

  “Yes.” Lane blinks a dry smile my way. “Violet had a lot going on at home. Her parents were—”

  “Please don’t drag my parents into this.” It’s one thing to own up to it in private, but the last thing I want is for my parents to feel bad for the carnage I caused. I lift my hands with annoyance, and half the crowd claps and cheers. I’ll admit, it feels good to have someone on my side. The very reason I never wanted to bring any of this bullshit up was because I was tired of the same old arguments.

  “Violet”—Lane’s voice is a touch more curt than it has been these last few weeks—“I have never even looked at another girl. Your insecurities—”