The Hook-Up Experiment

by Emma Hart

I pulled a Barbie-pink pair of heels from the shelf—my treasured Louboutins—and set them at the end of my bed.

  Three t-shirt and eight underwear choices later, I had the perfect combination.

  I put the underwear on, then did my make-up before letting my hair free of the towel. It was only just damp, and a glance at the clock told I had more than enough time to dry and loosely curl it.

  Thank God for that.

  ***

  I slid into the back of the taxi ten minutes before I was due to get to the restaurant. So, I’d be fashionably late. It being post-Mardi Gras only worked in my favor. Sure, there’d be the typical New Orleans traffic, but not enough that I’d be drastically, oh-shit-she-stood-me-up late.

  Although, standing up wasn’t a bad idea.

  Shit, no, Peyton. We aren’t doing this.

  It was too late, anyway. I was in the back of this cab and on my way, and that was the end of that. I was going to see this date through, sex or no sex. Blind date or not, I wasn’t going to have sex with someone I wasn’t even remotely attracted to just to prove my brother wrong.

  Aside from the satisfaction of being right yet again, I wanted a few orgasms out of this stupid little experiment.

  The cab driver glanced at me in the mirror. “Blind date?” she asked, pushing a dark braid out of her eyes.

  I nodded. “My best friends are assholes.”

  She laughed, pulling away as the light changed green. “Ain’t everyone’s?” She turned down the road to get as close to Billie’s as she could and gave me the total.

  I handed her the cash.

  “Good luck,” she said as she took it.

  “Thanks. You keep the change.” I smiled and, clutching my purse tightly to me, got out of her car. The humid air hit me immediately, and I blew a breath out as I walked onto the street.

  The city was alive as usual. I sidestepped groping hands and overzealous drinkers with the expert skill of someone who lived here. Sure, it was early by the standards of most places, but it was practically twenty-four seven here.

  I was sure that only Vegas or New York rivaled my city.

  I stepped into the restaurant and sighed as the air con hit me.

  The hostess greeted me with a grin. “A little birdie tells me you’re here on a blind date.”

  I held up a finger. “Marie, don’t you start. I’m stressed as it is.”

  She crossed something out on the paper in front of her. “Well, don’t be. I saw him to y’all’s table around twenty minutes ago.” She rounded her station and leaned into me. “Girl, he is fine.”

  “So is my new rug,” I drawled.

  “No. I mean he’s so hot I think the chef just served him up on a goddamn platter for you.”

  All right. Now we were talking.

  “Then why are standing here?”

  She snorted and touched my arm. “That’s my girl. Come on. I messed around with the tables and gave you your favorite.”

  “You’re a girl after my heart, Marie.”

  She threw a wink over her shoulder as we took to the stairs. I followed behind her as she dragged herself up them, three menus in hand. One drinks, two food.

  Butterflies erupted in my tummy as we reached the small hall at the top of the stairs. I was mere feet from the person my friends wanted me to screw and not fall in love with. From the person who’d help me prove my brother wrong.

  I was…

  Excited.

  And it was weird.

  Marie pushed the door open. The sound of conversation bustling through the air hit me instantly, before I’d even looked up. The dim light of the upstairs seating area made it tough to see past the next tables and people and staff moving around, but the scent of the food hit me instantly.

  “You’re right there, Peyt.” She pointed to the corner, moving off toward the guy with his head dipped, his face invisible to me.

  I followed her through the restaurant. My fingers twitched against my purse straps, and my stomach was doing treble-flips with nerves.

  I was not a blind date girl if it wasn’t already +evident.

  Please be perfect for this. I didn’t want to do it all over again. My delicate sensibilities couldn’t handle it.

  I almost snorted at myself.

  The only thing delicate about me was my panties.

  “Here we go,” Marie said, setting the menus on the plate. “Mr. Sloane, your date for the evening is here. Fashionably late, as always.”

  “Thanks so much.” He looked up.

  Our eyes met.

  I drew in a sharp breath. Everything froze, and I swear to fucking God, my world stopped spinning on its goddamn axis.

  No.

  No.

  They wouldn’t have done this to me.

  Time was a funny thing, wasn’t it? The last time I saw the man in front of me, we were eighteen. It was our high school graduation. He’d held eye contact a fraction of a second too long, and in that fraction, I’d plotted his murder no less than seven times.

  I couldn’t be looking at Elliott Sloane, the one person who’d once broken my heart without ever knowing it.

  No. There was no way. Chloe and Mellie knew what he’d done to me. There was no way they’d do this to me.

  Yet, here I was, standing in front of him, on a blind date those bitches had set up for me.

  I was going to kill them.

  “No. Elliott?” I breathed.

  “Shit. Peyton.” His chair scratched against the floor as he stood up too quickly.

  “What the…” I couldn’t breathe. What the hell was happening?

  Marie looked at us both and slowly set the menus on the table in front of us. “My name is Marie, and I’ll be your server this evening. Let me know if you need anything.”

  With that, she turned.

  I wanted to scream at her. Tell her there was no way he was my blind date. That she’d made a mistake. That she couldn’t leave me here alone with him.

  How could this be?

  My heart was thundering. It was pounding so hard the echo of its beat in my ears was deafening, drowning out everything else.

  What. The. Fuck?

  Elliott looked around. “We should sit down.”

  I shook my head. “No. This is ridiculous.”

  He slid into his seat. “Then, by all means, be the center of attention. Nothing much has changed.”

  I wanted to snap his handsome little head off his neck.

  I threw my purse onto the other chair and sat down opposite him. Without replying to him, I schooled my expression into one of extreme annoyance—eyebrows set, jaw tight, lips pursed—and threw my hand up for Marie’s attention.

  I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of responding to him.

  God, I hated him. I couldn’t believe I was here. I couldn’t believe he was here.

  This was the boy who’d stood me up at junior prom. Who’d egged my car when I’d told him to go fuck himself when he asked me to senior homecoming, then who proceeded to shamelessly convince my date to ghost me.

  He’d humiliated me.

  And, because I’d mistakenly allowed my stupid little self to crush on him to the point of no return, he’d had a crush, too.

  Except his crush had been my heart in the palm of his hand.

  And now, I wanted to crush his neck between my own.

  “Are y’all ready to order drinks?” Marie asked, doing her best to look disinterested in our situation.

  “Wine. Large. Very large.” I slammed the drinks menu down in front of her. I hadn’t looked at it—I hadn’t needed to. “We’re done.”

  She hesitated, and that gave Elliott just enough time to order.

  “I’ll have a Coors. Thank you.” He handed her his menu, shooting her a smile before looking at me. “You’re ruder than I remember.”

  I stared at him.

  I didn’t want to talk to him. I wanted to punch him the face.

  Hmm. Maybe getting alcohol wasn’t the smartest idea, a
fter all.

  I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him. I had nothing to say to him.

  Actually, that was a lie. I had plenty to say to Elliott Sloane, and every single thing started with, “Why?”

  But nothing I wanted to say right now.

  Right now, I wanted to ask him how he dared be so handsome. How he dared show up here with that perfectly coiffed brown hair. How he dared look at me with those captivating eyes the color of rich chocolate.

  How he dared speak my name from between those full, pink lips. How he dared to be anywhere near me with all of that plus a stubbled jaw that was prime for stroking. Or those arms that, with one flex, could surely put a girl’s eye out.

  I wanted to ask him how he dared sit across this goddamn table and the first word out of his mouth be anything but a fucking apology.

  But, I didn’t. I swallowed the words. Ate them, along with my anger.

  Well, most of it.

  I let a little of it simmer below the surface. Let it slowly bubble away right down low.

  Marie brought our drinks over and set them down on the table in front of us. “Are y’all ready to order?”

  “No, thank you,” Elliott answered. “Could we have another ten minutes?”

  Marie looked at me. I shrugged a shoulder non-committally. I didn’t care. I was stuck here anyway.

  Walking out would only cause a scene, and despite my high school reputation for being a drama queen, that was the last thing I wanted.

  “You got it.” Marie tucked her pad back into her pocket and left us to it.

  Elliott looked at me. “So, you’re not going to say anything?”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” I replied simply.

  “Not even about how we ended up here?”

  I curled my fingers around the stem of my wine glass. “For that,” I said, lifting it, “You can thank Mellie Rogers and Chloe Collins.”

  His lips slowly curved up into an amused smile. “The Three Musketeers are still together?”

  “Some loves last forever.” I sipped my wine. “Mine for them has just run its course.”

  “I’m confused.” Elliott sat back, tilting his head to the side. “Why is this their fault?”

  I put the glass down and tugged at the collar of my blazer. “Between them and my brother, this is all their fault.”

  “You’ve lost me, Peyt.”

  “Peyton.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Peyton,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “And you damn well know that.”

  I couldn’t decide if the glint in his eye was amused or annoyed.

  “You’ve lost me. Peyton.” He almost added my name as an afterthought.

  “Let’s order food first. Apparently, I’m here for the evening.” I caught Marie’s eye and nodded for her to come over.

  Elliott opened his menu and looked at it. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything.” That was my standard answer. “Depends what you want.”

  “Y’all ready to order?” Marie asked.

  I folded my menu and handed it to her. “I’ll have the catfish po’boy, please.”

  “You got it, Peyt. And for you, sir?” She turned to Elliott.

  “I’ll have the same. Thanks.” He passed her the menu, and when she’d gone, looked back at me. “Well? How is this date the fault of your sidekicks?”

  I bristled, sitting upright. “They’re not my sidekicks.”

  “Funny. Wasn’t that always the case in high school?”

  “You really don’t want to flash back to sharing high school opinions.” My voice held the edge of the taste of anger I’d kept hold of. “Mine won’t be popular.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You look older and you sound older, but you don’t act like it.”

  I pushed my napkin away. “Screw this. I’m not doing this. I didn’t want to be here in the first place. Sitting here opposite you just solidifies this as a giant crock of shit.”

  “Hey, hey!” Elliott held out his hands. “Sit down, Peyton. I’m sorry. I just…You make me feel like I’m eighteen again.”

  I hit him with a steady gaze. “Does that include being unable to hide a boner or make it last longer than thirty seconds?”

  “Just the hiding thing. The boner has been there since I saw you walk in here.”

  If I were a blusher like Mellie, I’d be a goner.

  Luckily for me, it took a lot more than cock talk to make me blush.

  “And it can stay there,” I said slowly. “Now, are you gonna put your inner asshole away long enough for me to tell you how we ended up on this godforsaken date?”

  “When you put it like that…” He leaned back in his chair and looked at me, fingers clasped around the base of his beer bottle.

  Great. This was going well.

  I sighed and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Dominic decided to challenge me to find out if you could sleep with someone three times and not fall in love with them.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “And I’m assuming you’re the test subject.”

  “At your service,” I said dryly. “So, because I simply can’t lose—”

  “I’m shocked.”

  “—Here I am.” I sat back, too. Did I?

  Did I tell him I owned PAD? And that was how we got here?

  Fuck it. I did. I was going to tell him.

  “And you got roped into this, because, well.” I twirled the stem of my glass between my finger and thumb. “I own Pick-A-Dick.”

  He choked on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. The glass bottle made a thundering clunk as he slammed it down on the table so he could smack his chest.

  Shit. That felt good.

  I leaned back with a smug smile curling my lips. Surprise, asshole.

  “You own the hook-up website?” he finally said after a moment of staring at me like I had two heads.

  I nodded. “Dom and Chloe own the sister dating site. We all went into business together.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean you saw my submission?”

  A derogatory snort escaped me before I could stop it. “If I’d seen your submission, I’d have printed it off and burned it in my kitchen sink.”

  “Does that mean Chloe and Mellie saw it?”

  “Oh, yeah. They saw it. And it’ll be the last submission the bitches ever see,” I muttered, bringing my wine glass to my mouth.

  Elliott’s eyes sparkled as he fought back a laugh. “I would agree, but how likely are they to help you win this dare?”

  “I don’t care. I’m about to find another person to carry out this absurdity with. I’d rather die than sleep with you.”

  “You wound me,” he replied dryly. “Which is all the more reason to sleep with me.”

  “Because I hurt your feelings?”

  “No, because you hate my guts, so there’s zero chance of you ever falling in love with me. Hell, I’d die before I let you.”

  I paused. He did have a point. Having sex with somebody I already held a grudge against would work in my favor, especially if that somebody was Elliott Sloane.

  Before I could answer, our food was brought over. After assuring Marie we didn’t need anything, she left us to it.

  I picked up a super-long fry and chewed down it.

  Was I seriously considering this?

  I glanced over at him. He was handsome. Devastatingly so, but then, he always had been. If his personality matched his looks…

  Every female in the world would be fucked. Ovaries would explode from just being in his presence.

  I was seriously considering this.

  In a weird way, it made sense. I was attracted to him, and since I already hated him, there really was no chance I’d ever have feelings for him.

  I clicked my tongue and reached for my wine. Elliott looked over at me as he bit into his sandwich. He definitely had a point…

  Was I really going to do this? With him?

  I was. Jesus, I was.


  “Fine.” I put my wine glass down and looked at him. “I’ll bite my tongue and have no-strings sex with you three times to prove my brother wrong.”

  He held up his hands. “Whoa, I never said I’d do it.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really? You make a point, then try to tell me you aren’t going to do this?”

  “I said you had a reason to sleep with me. I never said I had one to sleep with you.”

  “I see you’re just as much of an insufferable asshole as you were in high school.”

  “And you’re as painfully frustrating as you were.”

  “I’m not going to offer it again. You’re either in, or I’m leaving right now and going to shower six times to rinse the memory of the worst date ever from my mind.”

  Elliott sighed. “Well, who knows when the next time I’ll be able to have a date will be? And I guess there are worse people I could have sex with than you.”

  “Wow. Talk dirty to me.”

  His lips tugged up. “There’s only one condition,” he said.

  “I don’t know if I want to hear this.”

  “I’m not going to ask to tie you up or do anything hugely kinky, Peyton. If I wanted kink, I’d tape your mouth shut.”

  I was regretting this already.

  I glared at him and tapped my fingernails against the bottom of my wine glass impatiently.

  He glanced at my rhythmic tapping before meeting my eyes. “We’re going to your place. I don’t want to explain to my babysitter why I’m bringing a random woman home.”

  I paused.

  Babysitter?

  “Your babysitter?” I blinked at him.

  One of his eyebrows quirked up. “You don’t know I have a daughter?”

  “You have a daughter?” My own eyebrows disappeared into my hairline.

  “I have a daughter,” he confirmed. “She’s three, and currently sleeping. And since my babysitter is my mom and they’re at my house because my dad is sick, I’d really rather not take you there.”

  “How do you have a daughter?” I asked. I felt like my head was going to explode. “And why are you out with me when she’s at your house?”

  “Well,” he started, “I have a daughter because I had this little thing called—”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  He choked back a laugh. “She lives with me, full-time. I’m only here because my mother made me start dating, but I’d rather not date, and just hook-up. Even though the last time I did that I ended up with seven pounds of a tiny human to be responsible for.”