The Social Experiment

by Addison Moore

  “What’s up, Soph?” We take a seat, and she waves a seemingly innocent piece of paper at me.

  “We’re up.” She slides what looks like a list over to me. “You can read them. Bark them out real mean. I’ve always wanted to see what it would feel like if I were taken in for questioning.”

  “That about sums up the ambience.” I peruse the list quickly, and my stomach sours.

  “Ambience, huh?” She clicks her electric blue nails over the table, dancing her fingers over to mine before scratching gently at my wrist. “Sounds like lover boy likes to set the mood.” She gives a sly wink. “That’s okay. You don’t have to work so hard with me. Just something quick and dirty to satisfy my itch will do.” Her cheeks pinch bright pink. “And you know, train me for the boy toys to follow.” She clears her throat and taps her finger over the paper in my hand as if to speed things along.

  Like hell I’ll train her for the boys to follow.

  “First question—to the both of us—which one describes you, the here and now, or the best for later?” I touch my hand over hers because I’m greedy to drink down any part of her. “On three?”

  She nods, and we both blurt out our answers, here and now hers, and mine, best for later.

  “The here and now is where it’s going on.” She bites down over her bottom lip seductively, and everything in me screams to agree with her.

  I clear my throat. “Next question—could you forgive someone for cheating?” We both shake our heads without delving too deep into it. I know firsthand I couldn’t because I didn’t, not that my forgiveness was asked for, and come to think of it—I couldn’t care less anymore.

  We burn through a few more, agreeing on each and every point.

  I read the next question to myself, and a dull involuntary laugh escapes me. “How important is sex to you in a relationship?”

  “Finally”—Sophie does that adorable thing with her face that makes it look as if she came this close to telling you off—“something I can sink my vagina into.”

  “Or my dick.” We share a quick laugh. “You go first.”

  “Oh, so now you’re a ladies first kind of guy? I see what you did there.” She shudders for a moment. “I’m not the most qualified person to answer this.” Her lashes flutter at a million miles an hour, and I can feel the wind of her discomfort blowing from them. For a second, I envision myself lying over her, those long legs of hers wrapped around my back, my body buried in hers as far as she’ll allow. “I’m not in a relationship.” She tilts her head while narrowing her gaze on mine.

  “If you were—you know with someone…like Tanner Carmichael.”

  She blinks back in disbelief. “That came out of left field. Okay, if I’m in a relationship with Tanner, then”—she looks to the ceiling as if having her own sexed-up fantasy right here in front of me, and suddenly I’m sorry I brought the bastard up—“never. And when he comes crawling on his Bixby Bear knees, it will also be never. Sex wouldn’t be an important component of our relationship at all.” She gives a satisfied smile. “And you?” The smile fades, and for a second, Sophie looks worried. “I mean, I think I already know the answer. Is that why you haven’t settled down with just one girl after Becca? Because there isn’t a girl out there that can handle you?”

  I bark out a laugh without meaning to because the visual was rather comical. “No. I promise that’s not why.” I rake my fingers through my hair a moment. “I guess I never found the right one.”

  “And if you did? Is she going to have to spend all her free time bent over? On her knees? On all fours?”

  I can’t tell if she’s terrified or turned on by the idea. “Only if she wants to.”

  “I bet you’re a jackhammer in the sack.” Her eyes grow wild with the thought as she burns through me with her stare. “I bet you come in from behind and just pound away until their vagina shoots out their throats.”

  “Sophie.” I plop my hand hard over the table. “Stop. I’m not into tormenting anyone in the bedroom.”

  “I bet you’re not gentle either.” She cocks her head as if calling me out, and I can tell she’s holding back a laugh, but also that a part of her really wants to know.

  “I can be rough when I need to.” Now it’s my eyes spearing hers, and I have no idea why a fire line of heat is tracking up my body. Hell, I know why.

  Her lips part and close as if debating whether to say what comes next. “Would you be rough with me?” The words come out throaty, a little rough around the edges themselves.

  “With you I wouldn’t be gentle. I’d come in hard from behind.” I don’t have it in me to echo the rest of her vagina shooting through the throat analogy. “You’re too mouthy to be gentle with.” It’s as much true as it is a lie.

  “Oh, I see.” Her brows rise, amused and her beauty peaks to new heights. Hot damn. Sophie Meyer has lit a grease fire in my boxers that my shower will never be able to extinguish safely. “You’d like to teach me a lesson?” Laughter bubbles from her throat. “Hey, if you take me hard from behind, would I still technically be a virgin? I think I just stumbled upon the Internet’s next big debate.” She snaps up her phone and pretends to get right to the business of presenting her dilemma.

  “Give me that.” I snatch the phone from her and land it in my pocket.

  “These questions are ridiculous.” She takes the paper and sneers at it before crumpling it into a ball. “We’re not even in a relationship.” She cocks her head again as if waiting for me to bring some clarity to the situation. Sophie is gunning for an answer, and for the life of me, I’m not sure which one she’d like to hear.

  There’s a hopefulness in her eyes, and I’d like to believe she’s as into this as I am. But Soph and I are just getting back on track. If I say yes and she just wants a friendship, I could screw things up for life.

  A thought comes to me.

  “Remember when your mom would call the family to the living room for a family meeting?” That was the difference between the Garret house and the Meyer home. My parents informed Mindy and me of the way our lives would go, and the Meyers took everything to a democratic vote.

  “The family meetings where we did our best impressions of pirates about to take over enemy ships? Aye, aye, Matey!” She pretends to stab me through the heart with her invisible sword.

  “Yes, that.” I pull her hands forward and rub circles over her palms without meaning to. “I think there’s something we should take to a vote.”

  “Whether or not you’ll be gentle or rough?” A tiny dimple depresses in her right cheek, and my balls ache to clear the table and take her right here.

  “I’m serious, Soph.” If there’s such a thing as frowning and laughing, I’m doing it. “This is about you and me.” I give her hands a slight tug because I’m begging her to take the reins. “What are we doing?”

  “Making every man in the control room wish they had a wall to rub up against—or a cold shower to take?”

  “Do you want this with me?” I get it. Sophie’s go-to response has always been sarcasm, but I figure if I keep chipping away, the real Sophie Meyer will show up.

  Tears come to her eyes, and low and behold, here she is—so damn beautiful I want nothing more than to hold her, steal her far away from this room, this building.

  “Yes.” Her voice scratches past her throat. “Do you want this with me?” She shakes her head as if answering the question herself.

  “Yes.” I take a seat on the table and pull her onto my lap. “I want this with you.” My lips graze over her cheek before I outline her jaw with my mouth. “For the life of me, I don’t know how we’re going to pull it off, but I really couldn’t care less.”

  Her chest bubbles with a laugh, the sound of relief embedded underneath. “So, we’re in a relationship?”

  “Yes.” I pull back and take in this beautiful girl. “We’re in.”

  “Um”—she does this circular nod with her head as if unsure of what to think—“like a friendly type of rel
ationship?”

  “No. First, I’d hardly call you friendly.” I blink a smile, and she tips her head back with a violent laugh. I knew she’d appreciate the dig. “And second, I’d like to see where things can go. I can’t stop thinking about you, Soph. You’re in my head from eyelids open until I crash back on my bed again. I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated the time we’ve spent together these last few weeks. Something inside me needed this. I need you.”

  A single tear rolls down her cheek, and I lean in and stop it with a kiss.

  Sophie’s legs find their way around my back, and I hold her tight as our mouths find their way to one another. Her fingers dig into my hair as she pulls me closer, our bodies bumping and grinding as if we were about to detonate on the table.

  A quick horn sounds overhead, alerting us to the fact our time is through. We’re free to go, but Sophie and I aren’t in a hurry to leave.

  I know for a fact I don’t ever want this moment to end.

  Speculation Abounds

  Sophie

  Autumn crashes down over Moon Ridge full throttle, spilling fat maples and oak leaves in every hue of crimson. The sky is a spooky shade of lavender, and everywhere you look pumpkins dot the landscape. It’s a magical season in a magical town. You can count Leland University in on that wizardry. Rowen walked me back to my room last night. Of course, it was dark. The student population wasn’t exactly bustling. Vi was at a study group, and Em was nowhere to be found, so I thought I’d break my relationship status update to them this morning over pumpkin spiced lattes and a couple of cranberry scones, the way such announcements should always be done.

  I’m early, so I pick up my drink and confection and scoot to the back where we usually congregate. I’ve been walking on air ever since last night. I’ve never actually had a boyfriend before, let alone a clandestine relationship that I’m pretty sure I’ll want to keep from Braden forever. Not to mention—

  “Becca?” My eyes widen with fright, and I nearly spill hot coffee down the front of my jeans. I swallow hard, trying to sidestep around the blonde glamazon that my brother is currently dating. But let’s face it—she’s been on my mind almost as much as Rowen was last night. What would Becca think of Rowen and me together?

  Her dark eyes blink to life. She’s bundled in an expensive looking suede coat with an adorable knit cap and fur-lined boots. Becca is always impeccably dressed no matter what the occasion. “Funny, I was just about to call you.” She pulls me down to the nearest table and forces me into a seat.

  “Hello to you, too.” If Becca and I were close, and she didn’t have a sexual history with my newly minted boyfriend, I might have indulged her with the giddy details regarding Rowen and me. I mean, it’s not like I’d lie to her face if confronted with the facts, but still, I’m not asking her whether he likes to have his balls scratched or licked—not that I plan on doing either. The topic of Rowen’s coin purse is strictly off-limits.

  “Is this about my dad’s fiftieth?” I give a quick glance over my shoulder in the event Vi and Ember happen to stumble in giggling out Rowen’s name like a pair of horny hyenas. They would be mimicking me, of course, but that’s beside the point.

  “No, actually”—she whips out her phone and points the screen my way—“it’s about this.”

  Staring me in the face is a picture of myself at the mixer last Saturday night in my little black dress, cute as can be skyscraper heels, but I’m guessing the fashionista in front of me isn’t as interested in the way I’ve paired my outfit with my sexy stilettos as she is the boy who has his hand tucked in the small of my back.

  Whoever snapped that picture is a bastard—and I’m an idiot for thinking it couldn’t happen. But Rowen and I were once friends. Who’s to say we couldn’t bump into one another at a mixer?

  I lean back in my seat and meet up with the fury in Becca’s eyes. She probably feels just as betrayed as Braden would if he knew. God—Braden!

  “That was nothing.” I try to force a laugh, but it comes out more of a whimper. “I bumped into him at—”

  “Save it.” She averts her eyes to the ceiling. “I know for a fact the two of you were walking around some party.”

  Some party? So, she doesn’t have all the Dexter-based dirty little details?

  “I did bump into him. I tried to ignore him, but he insisted on playing the part of a perfect little gentleman.” I’m guessing there’s nothing little about Rowen, judging by the way his package keeps settling between us like a pug. Wait—did I just liken Rowen’s man parts to a dog that technically belongs to the toy family? So not right.

  Becca huffs at the thought, and I can’t tell whether or not she’s agreeing with me. She tosses her phone into her purse, scowling at me a moment. “I get it. He’s just trying to be friendly with you. I mean, he was practically your older brother.”

  The memory of his tongue roving in my mouth like he was trying to teach it a lesson—in a show of force of penile things to come—washes through me.

  “Right. Older brother.” I clear my throat. “Anyway, I couldn’t shake him for about fifteen minutes, but I kept trying. I spoke to every guy there, hoping he’d get the hint that I was a very busy girl.” I shudder because I can’t stand the thought of lying right to her face just after I professed it would be an impossible feat. “But please don’t tell Braden. That might actually kill him.”

  “No way.” Her eyes widen a notch as she secures her purse to her shoulder. “That’s why I brought it to you first.” She squints over at me in a peculiar way as if she were appraising me in a new light. “I mean, it’s not like the two of you would ever be anything more than friends. You’ll always be Braden’s kid sister to Rowen. Besides, Ro’s not into your type.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m not sure why I’m suddenly affronted, but Bimbo Barbie here has about five seconds flat to pony up a reason why Ro wouldn’t be interested.

  “You know.” She wrinkles her nose while glancing at my hair. “You’re just not his type, that’s all. And be glad. He’s a master manipulator. God, if he ever did try anything with you, run.” She waves her hand at the idea dismissively. “God knows he’d only be trying to get back at your brother.” Becca hops up and touches a finger to my nose. “Looks like my work here is done.” She gives a little wink before flying out the door.

  A familiar pair of bodies crop up in her place.

  “Hello?” Vi and Ember take the seats in front of me before Becca’s chair has the chance to cool. “That looked pretty intense.”

  “It was nothing.” I wrap my arms around my shoulders in an effort to comfort myself from the verbal assault.

  Ember ticks her head to the side, and her blonde curls spill like milk over her back. “Well? What’s the big news? Judging by your irresponsible abuse of emojis, you sounded pretty psyched.”

  “I was psyched up until a minute ago.” I start in slow about where I left things off with Rowen last night. About how much I’m looking forward to our date on Saturday. Between practice and the game, it’s literally the only night that works for us, and coincidentally, the only night that works for the TSE.

  “Oh my God!” Vi slaps her hand over the table with such violent force our cups dance to the left. “This is getting serious.” Her eyes water as if it were her own heart on the line. “You’re not going to sleep with him—are you?” She leans in, shocked as if she just asked if I was about to conduct a bank heist with him.

  “No.” I slouch in my seat. “Yes,” I whimper out the confession. “Hell yes. This isn’t some random guy I’m meeting for the first time. This is—” I look to Ember for help.

  “Oh my gosh, you think you love him, don’t you?” She looks incredulous at the thought.

  “Well—I…” I do love Rowen, but I’m terrified to admit to it because according to their collective expression this could lead to disastrous things. God knows Rowen and I have been through enough disastrous things already. “This can work,” I offer with
no real details to back this up.

  “Wow.” Ember marvels. “I’ll be honest, I really didn’t have all that much faith in this whole social experiment thing.”

  “This has nothing to do with any social experimentation,” Vi is quick to defend me. “It’s clear these are latent childhood feelings combined with her hypersexual hormones driving them to home plate. In other words, she’s not in her right mind.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Suddenly, I’m regretting this little precoital powwow. “And I might sleep with him, only because I’m a lemming and I need to see for myself what drove all of you others off the cliff.”

  Vi closes her eyes and gives a depleted sigh. It’s as if that were the last straw and she’s giving up on me.

  “I have something to tell you guys.” She glances to the exit as if expecting someone. “I may have told you both a teeny tiny fib when we first met, but only because I’ve never really waved this banner before and I didn’t know what you’d think of me.”

  God, she’s into girls. I’m going to have to rethink that whole nude in the morning routine that she swears she doesn’t have a problem with, and now I know why.

  “I slept with Lane.”

  Never mind.

  “When? Was this in our room? On my bed?” I can feel the bile creeping up in the back of my throat at the thought of Vi and her ex rutting freely over my sheets. God, I’m going to need to get updated on all of my vaccinations because of this. It’s clear her ex is a dirty dog.

  “No.” She flaps her hands like a fish. “It was years ago—plenty of times. I told you I was a virgin because—well, I didn’t expect an inquiry as to my vaginal standing in the first five minutes we met.”

  It’s true. Ember totally used that as an icebreaker on move-in day. She conducted a rather spontaneous yet thorough pop quiz of our sexual knowledge and neither of us wanted to cop to anything. Not that there was anything to cop to on my part.