The Dating Experiment Final

by Emma Hart

  “Oooh!” He put down my drink to clap his hands together. “Tell me about them!”

  “Off the top of my head…” I clicked my tongue. “The first guy, Robbie, works downtown at that new gay bar. I can’t remember the name—”

  “Robbie’s.”

  “All right, so he owns it. I knew he worked there. He’s been single for two years, has a pet cat called Rudi, and is looking for something serious.”

  “Good.”

  Another click of my tongue. “Number two… I’m not entirely sure about him, but I think it might work for you. He’s in his late thirties, so a little older than you usually go for, but he owns one of the most popular ghost tour companies in the city.”

  “I can go for that.” Luca nodded. “What about the last guy?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, he’s the cherry on top of everything.”

  Luca clasped a hand to his chest. “Tell me!”

  “Okay.” I paused, watching my friend bounce on the spot. “Leo is thirty-two, been single for five years, lives close to downtown, and… Moonlights as Cleo four times a week.”

  He gasped. He didn’t breathe out for the longest minute, and I was actually a little afraid he might choke.

  “You found me a drag queen?” he finally wheezed. “Oh, honey. You are never paying for another drink ever again.”

  See? This was a relationship I could get behind.

  “Be still my heart,” Luca swooned. “Where did you find him?”

  “He actually emailed me late last night after his best friend got proposed to on stage at the drag club. I think he’d had a little tequila, but I assured him I had the perfect person for him.”

  He swayed a little. Actually swayed.

  Lord help me if he fainted…

  I wasn’t equipped to deal with fainting people.

  “Screw the others. Email him. I’m gonna date the fuck out of him.”

  I licked my lips as I tried to come up with a response to that.

  Thankfully, his phone rang, saving me the need to carry on down that line that didn’t seem to have a light at the end of it.

  Luca sighed. “I have to go. Bachelorette parties are out in force, and we found the first of the night.”

  “First what? Street urinator? Nipple shower? Skirt-tucked-into-panties flasher?”

  “Nope. The first should-have-eaten-before-drinking idiot.” He rolled his eyes so hard they were millimeters from popping out of his head. “Set me up a date with Leo and text me, okay?”

  I picked up my sangria and held it up in agreement that I’d do just that. He left the door to swing shut on its own, and after a sip of the best sangria in the city, I pulled a slice of pizza out of the box.

  The door clicked open.

  “Was that Luca?” Peyton asked, staring at the cup on my desk.

  I nodded, mouth full of pizza.

  “And he didn’t bring me a drink?”

  “D’int know ‘oo were ‘ere,” I said around my dinner.

  “Man. I never would have understood that before Briony, but now… Got every word.” She shook her head in disbelief. “He only ever hand-delivers drinks for a date. What did you pull out of your bag of tricks this time?”

  “I didn’t even have to pay for it. And the date is so good, I get free drinks forever,” I told her, resting my slice back in the box.

  Peyton paused. “You didn’t.”

  I nodded, a solemn look on my face. “I found him a drag queen.”

  “Oh my God. That’s only taken, what? Two years?”

  “Yep. But, I did it. I found him his dream…man? Woman?” I paused. “What’s the correct way to refer to them?”

  She frowned. “I think it’s him when they’re, you know, themselves, and her when they’re…well, dressed up.”

  Where was the real-life Chandler Bing when you needed them?

  “Makes sense.” I nodded again. “Why are you here late?”

  “Late appointments. I’m about to leave. Why are you here?”

  “Warren canceled our second date. He’s stuck at work out of town.” I shrugged a shoulder. “And since Dom is on his second date with Rachael, I figured I could come in and get some stuff done since I’m useless at working from home.”

  Peyt jerked her head in agreement. “It’s hard. But, hey. At least you have, what? Two? Three hours here before he’ll get back?”

  “Enough time to eat and do what I gotta do.”

  “You want me to stay and hang out with you for a while?”

  “It’s okay. We’ll just end up streaming Friends on Netflix which would make my trip here counterproductive.” I grinned. “But, thanks.”

  “Okay. In that case, I’m going home to run a hot bath and order pizza since I didn’t eat yet.” On that, she leaned over the desk and swiped a slice out of my box. “Thanks, love you, bye.” She shoved the slice in her mouth before she’d even opened the office door.

  I glared at her back, but I couldn’t help smiling.

  Hey—I felt like crap, but tonight, I’d made someone happy. And that was what my job was about.

  Making people happy.

  Even if I struggled to find happiness myself sometimes.

  ***

  “Chloe!”

  My name was a faint cry thanks to the headphones in my ears. I pulled one out and looked up, jumping when I saw it was Dom.

  “Jesus, Dom. What are you doing here?” I asked, pressing my hand to my chest.

  “I was going to ask you the same question. It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday night. Are you working?”

  I nodded. “I had nothing else to do, so I thought I’d get some work done.”

  He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I have questions.”

  “I have leftover pizza,” I offered.

  “Leftover pizza? Can’t have that.” He pulled my client chair out so he could sit down and reached for the closed box.

  “Don’t get too excited,” I said, pulling out the other earbud and pausing Shawn Mendes. “There are only two slices left.”

  “Pizza is pizza,” he said, folding one slice in half and shoving it into his mouth like a savage. “Eye ‘oo ‘orkin’? ‘At abou’ date?”

  I assumed that meant, “Why are you working? What about your date?” in the highly challenging language of English.

  “Warren had to cancel yesterday. Got caught up with some work stuff out of town, so we took a raincheck.” I shrugged the same way I had when I’d told Peyton. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on your date? Or are we living parallel lives where we both get canceled on?”

  Dom laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ve already been on it.”

  I blinked at him for a minute. “You said it was nine.”

  “We had dinner. Who eats dinner at nine at night?”

  I waved my hand at him finishing my pizza.

  “No. Not dinner. This is a snack.” He held up the folded slice as if to emphasize his point. “I already had dinner. A snack, Chloe. A very tasty snack.”

  “All right, I get it. It’s a snack. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

  “Do you want a play-by-play of the whole night?”

  Couldn’t think of anything worse, if I was honest. “Not particularly. I just think you’re back early.”

  “We got done with our first date about this time.”

  I rolled my eyes. “First dates are a different story.” I finished the last of my sangria and threw the cup into the trashcan. “They’re supposed to be shorter. You’re getting to know each other. Second dates should just be… longer. I don’t know. Eat dinner and then go dancing—”

  “I don’t dance,” Dom said firmly.

  “Lies. I’ve seen you do the Macarena.”

  “Only because I lost a bet to Peyton when I was fifteen. She deliberately requests that song at all our family get-togethers.”

  It was true. I couldn’t remember the details of the bet, but I remember him being s
tupidly confident that he wouldn’t have to do the Macarena at every party ever, and that he’d be able to revel in smugness as he made his sister do it.

  “Okay, but that’s still funny.” I fought a smile.

  “I don’t dance by choice,” he corrected himself. “Is that good enough?”

  “It’ll do. Still, you could have gone for a walk, grabbed a coffee, a cocktail to walk through the square with…”

  Dom sighed and put down the last slice of pizza. “What are you getting at?”

  “Nothing!”

  “You fish any harder and you’re gonna reel in a goddamn shark,” he grumbled.

  “I’m just saying that you’re home early from your date.” I held out my hands. “If something went wrong, you may as well tell me. You’re going to have to eventually.”

  “It didn’t go wrong. It was just a short date.”

  “No, a short date is coffee in a lunch hour.”

  “You’re really starting to get on my nerves, Chloe.”

  Good. He was getting on my nerves, too. It wasn’t like I hadn’t noticed how well that white shirt hugged his upper body, stretching over his biceps whenever he bent his arms.

  For crying out loud, the material was going to rip if he kept doing it.

  And I wasn’t even going to go there with the rolled sleeves. Nuh-uh. No way, Jose. Not a chance, rain dance.

  Maybe it was the sangria, but I kinda wanted to lick the veins on his forearm.

  Yep. It was the sangria.

  I propped my chin up on my hands. “Am I? I couldn’t tell.”

  Chapter Nine – Dom

  Not all women were sugar and spice and all things nice.

  Some were just spice.

  Or maybe that was just Chloe after sangria.

  “Are you drunk?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

  She shook her head, still keeping it propped up on her hands. “Luca makes a mean sangria, but I’ve been sipping that one so long it was basically lukewarm.” She wrinkled up her face, her make-up free skin showing a light dusting of freckles that she usually kept covered up. “Unless being drunk would make you tell me why you’re here so early…”

  “It was just a short date. What else do you want me to tell you?” I got up and walked toward the kitchen.

  “You’re so full of shit, Australia can smell you.”

  “Well, they’re welcome. I smell good tonight.” I chuckled to myself and turned on the kitchen light.

  “You’re so annoying,” Chloe muttered.

  “Says the one annoying me,” I shot back over my shoulder.

  God, the woman could drive a man to drink himself into a grave. There was nothing about this date I wanted to share with her. I could say that with one hundred percent certainty.

  Not because Rachael and I weren’t compatible, and she’d gotten it wrong, but because I didn’t want her to go and be with Warren if I didn’t have anyone. That was the whole point of this exercise—to get over her. Maybe seeing her with someone else would work, but before it did, it’d fucking hurt.

  “I just want to know what happened. We said we’d check in, so check in.”

  “I don’t want to.” I turned around and met her eyes.

  She stared at me, folding her arms across her chest. She was make-up free aside from a tiny lick of mascara on her eyelashes, and that was a strange sight in itself.

  Not that I didn’t love it.

  I did.

  I thought she was fucking beautiful when she wasn’t hiding all the things that made her, her. The freckles that lightly dusted her nose. The tiny mole at the edge of her left eyebrow. The chicken-pox scar right next to her ear.

  “What went wrong, then?” she demanded. “Do you just not like her? I can find you someone else if that’s—”

  “She’s a great person,” I cut in before she could carry on. “I like her just fine.”

  “Just fine? Are you describing your date or the dessert?”

  “Chloe. Drop it.” I turned back to the coffee machine.

  I didn’t want to tell her that her client had lied on her application. I didn’t want to tell her that she’d omitted a huge part of her life when she’d filled out all the information.

  If she’d put it in, there was no way Chloe would have ever matched her with me.

  “I just want to know. It’s not about you. If I’ve done something wrong in matching you—”

  I spun on the balls of my feet and took one step to close the space between us. She drew in a deep breath, her lips parting with the sharp inhale.

  “I said,” my gaze met hers, “drop it.”

  There was a flash of surly defiance in her eyes. One that closed her lips and made them press into a thin line. Her brows drew together like she was plotting my death within seconds of me speaking.

  She was fierce.

  And it was my favorite thing about her.

  “I won’t drop it,” she said stubbornly. “Not until you tell me what happened.”

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “I clearly made a bad match. It’s my job to match you with the person that’s best for you.”

  Which was something she couldn’t do.

  The bare-faced fact of the fucking matter was that it would never happen.

  None of the people she could ever match me with would be good enough.

  None of them would ever be her.

  I gripped the door frame, one hand either side, and held her gaze steady. “She lied on her application and admitted it to me tonight. Nothing you could have done would have made a difference. On paper, she was perfect. In real life, not so much.”

  Chloe ran her tongue over my bottom lip, and fuck if my eyes didn’t flick to the smooth flick of it.

  “Now, will you drop it?” I asked, dipping my head down to her.

  She swallowed but shook her head just the tiniest amount. “What did she lie about?”

  “Jesus fuck, Chlo.” I pushed off the frame and ran my hands through my hair. “You’re killin’ me over here.”

  “I just want to know! Do I need to do more in-depth research? I mean—”

  “She has a fucking kid!” I threw my arm out to the side.

  She froze, mouth open where I’d interrupted her.

  “Yeah,” I said a lot quieter. “She has a child, and I’m the asshole who told her we couldn’t see each other again because I’m not ready to have a child in my life.”

  I wasn’t my sister. I didn’t have any lingering feelings the way she’d had with Elliott. I wasn’t ready to have a child of my own, never mind anyone else’s.

  “That doesn’t make you an asshole,” Chloe said. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting. “If anything, she’s the asshole.”

  I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow. “How’d you figure that out?”

  With a tiny shrug of her shoulder, she said, “She didn’t tell you she had a child. She deliberately lied on her profile. I mean, come on. She has a child. It’s not like she has five cats and pet llama in the backyard.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t help it. “A pet llama?”

  “Hey, I’ve seen it before. Or maybe it was an alpaca? I don’t know. They look the same.” She waved it off. “Point is, she kept major information from her profile. You’re not a horrible person for not seeing her again when she’s someone you should never have been matched with in the first place.”

  “Yeah? Can you tell her that? She looked at me like I was the physical embodiment of Satan.”

  Chloe perched on the edge of my desk. “That’s probably just because she could see right through you.”

  “He clearly changed his host from you to me, then.”

  She grinned. “Nah, I was just temporary. You were always his favorite.”

  I let out a small laugh. “Whatever. But now you know, so you can leave me alone.”

  “Do you want me to find you another date? I have a couple still from when I—”

  “No.”

  “No?”
She opened and closed her mouth a couple times. “No?”

  “No,” I repeated, just as firmly. “Thank you, but no. I don’t want you to find me another date.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want one.” I held my hands out to my sides. “It’s that simple, Chlo. I’m good for now.”

  She stood up off the desk and walked over to me. “But, how—”

  I let out a heavy sigh and grasped her shoulders. I made sure I met her eyes before I spoke because I wanted her to know that I was being completely serious.

  “Chloe,” I said softly. “I don’t want you to find me another date. Not that Rachael wasn’t great until the whole “I have a daughter” thing, but because I just don’t want one.”

  She dropped her gaze to my left arm briefly before bringing her eyes back up to mine. “Why not?”

  “Because, and I mean this in the nicest way possible when I say this—”

  “I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “—Nobody you match me with will be able to compare to what I really want, all right?”

  Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything.

  “So, it’s just that simple,” I finished. “I don’t want to date anyone right now.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said softly.

  “You don’t need to understand. It’s my issue, not yours.” I dipped my head once again, so our faces were close. “So, leave it now. All right? Focus on the people who need your help to find a date, because I don’t see myself being one of them anytime soon.”

  “I don’t—” she stopped before she presumably repeated herself. “But you were all for this before. What changed your mind?”

  Sitting across from another woman and comparing everything about her to you.

  “I don’t think I was ever really into it,” I admitted. “Not like you are.”

  “Oh.” Her expression dropped slightly. “I guess—okay, fine.”

  “Fine? You’re not going to argue with me?” I dropped my hands from her upper arms and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.” I gave her a quick once-over and stopped.

  She looked different—aside from no make-up.

  Chloe lifted a hand to her face. “What? Is there something on my face? In my hair?” She ran her fingers over her cheeks and then through her hair.