Bitter Exes: The Social Experiment 2

by Addison Moore

  I shake my head, unwilling to answer. “I don’t remember.” Three. I slept with three different girls in the last year, and I was drunk that last time I tried my hardest to pretend it was Vi.

  “You remember,” she accuses. “Say it.”

  “Three.” My voice leaves my lips like a traitor. But in my defense, I could never deny Vi anything, not even the truth.

  Her tears dry up as the air hardens between us.

  “And you?” I ask as if I had the right. In truth, a part of me has been curious. Hell, the curiosity has kept me up at night.

  Vi glances away a moment, as if unable to meet my gaze, but her eyes eventually settle back on mine where I’d like to believe they belong. “I’ve been with people.” She nods as if defending herself.

  My heart thuds as if coming to a conclusion. I hate the dude, the dudes she’s been with, and suddenly I’m moved to kill.

  “In fact”—she takes a deep breath and gives the audience a sideways glance before leaning in, her gaze dead set on mine—“I didn’t wait until we were over to do it.”

  The audience reacts as if they were given a collective sock to the gut, but it’s me who’s had the wind knocked out of him.

  “It’s true.” She pins me down with those evergreen eyes. “I did it. I cheated on you long before you ever cheated on me.”

  Statistics Don’t Cry

  Violet

  “It ends on Valentine’s Day,” I groan at the thought. “How perfect is that?” I lift my superbly creamy latte—thick and sweet with a perfect tulip sketched into the foam upon delivery—up toward Sophie and Ember as we huddle together in the back of Coffeeology. We’ve managed to get a window seat where we can watch as the snow is softly falling across Leland University, giving the entire campus a fairy-tale appeal. Somehow, I survived Wednesday night’s debacle and still manage to keep breathing. And here we are on Saturday, with my heart still beating and my head still firmly attached. “I haven’t seen nor heard a peep from Lane since that magnificent kiss-off I gifted him.”

  Sophie grunts, and my stomach tenses into a knot because I know her well enough by now to decode that snorting sound for what it really is: a mild level of aggression.

  “First of all, the V-Day big reveal is more than purposeful,” Sophie is quick to inform, and is that a smidge of sarcasm I detect? Sophie is the queen of snarky comebacks. That’s probably why I love her so much. “The program is designed to make you fall in love. Trust me, they are scientists at heart, and they had a ninety-nine percent success rate in their last go-round.”

  Em nods while wagging a finger my way. “The only reason Paulette and Nekimi didn’t make it is because he was a winter grad and his semester abroad was over. Rumor has it, she’s already signed up for an internship in Spain next summer.” She and Sophie exchange an awkward fist bump.

  “Nevertheless, word on campus is that I emerged the victor. I know this because I read the recap in The Cougar Report. According to public opinion, I’m affable, and Lane is a cad.”

  Ember gags. “Who writes that crap? Is my grandmother on campus? I don’t think the word cad has been used in fifty years.”

  “Never mind that word.” Sophie glowers at me. “Let’s discuss another word—say the word cheater? Or how about another word—liar.”

  I suck in a quick breath and bat her down with my hand. “I told you that you weren’t to breathe a word of that in public,” I grit through clenched teeth.

  “Ah.” Em gives Sophie a knowing look. “We’ll just refer to it as the truth.”

  The truth as in I didn’t really cheat on Lane Cooper—ever. “The only reason I made that entire grand finale up on the spot was because he confessed to sleeping with three damn women,” I hiss lower than a whisper. “THREE! Whores, every one of them.” I take a sip of my coffee, and the heat pricks my tongue.

  Sophie winces. “It was a bit awkward to witness.”

  Ember gives a husky laugh. “The entire spring semester is starting to feel awkward.”

  “Ha!” I balk at their meager attempt at discomfort. “You think that’s awkward. Try fielding phone calls from both your mother and your brother the day after. Believe me, that was treachery in a nutshell. And it will be treachery all over again once my big brother walks in. He asked where I was, and I confessed my locale. Be warned and be on guard. I’m pretty sure he’s making his way to campus in hopes of running Lane over with his car. A total irony if you knew our history.”

  My phone rings, and I flip it over to reveal an all too familiar face that sends a mild shock through my system. “Dear God, my dad wants to FaceTime. I can’t talk to my dad about what happened Wednesday night. He’ll know I’m not a virgin. And to think I thought I actually might have gotten away with it.”

  “And you would have, too,” Sophie smirks, “if it wasn’t for those meddling kids at the TSE.”

  “Ha-ha. I’m not laughing.”

  Ember pulls my wrist toward her and takes a better look at my dad. “Wow, would you look at that? The man is seriously hot.”

  “Give me that.” I pull my wrist free and bury my father and his burning desire to lecture me on all things penile deep into my purse. No, thank you. Not today. Dear God, if I can help it, not any day.

  Ember bites down on those juicy red lips of hers, a gloss massacre occurs hourly on those smackers. “You wouldn’t happen to need a stepmom, would you?”

  I kick her under the table for even thinking of my father in a sexual light. Yes, he’s gorgeous in a mature, tan, fit, highly testosteronized way. I frown at the thought. My parents split apart about two years ago. In fact, they had their breakup about six months before Lane and I had ours.

  “Please don’t talk about my father ever again.” I make a face at my coffee. “I guess it’s official. Not one person in my family has any luck in the romance department.”

  Sophie lifts a brow. “What about your brother? Didn’t you say he had a long-time ditz by his side?”

  “I did. And case in point, I was right to call her a ditz. Carrie Rhodes is a ditz personified, from her frizzy blonde hair right down to her pointy stilettos. There’s just something about her that has never sat well with me. I don’t know if it’s that plastered on smile, or the fact she’s always super snarky to Wendell.” I look to Ember and Soph. “It’s actually Wen. Nobody really calls him by his full name other than me when I’m pissed at him. He’s at Greer University just up the road. Anyway, Wen and Lane are best friends.”

  “What?” Sophie and Ember bark out in unison. So unnerving.

  “You know, buddies.” I try to shrug off the idea. “They grew up together, went to the movies, played basketball. Half the court skills Lane has he learned from my big bro.” A flashback of all those long nights in our driveway watching them play skips through my mind. How I miss those hazy, fun-filled days where we laughed for hours. Lane and I kept our relationship hidden from Wen for as long as we could, but once he saw how in love we were, and after a few fists were thrown, he got over it. “Anyway, Wen chose Lane in the breakup. He sided with him. He thought I was being irrational.”

  Ember’s giant doe eyes triple in size. “Wow, was he aware that Lane cheated on you?”

  I give a quick nod. “Wen knew everything.” Maybe too much. “Anyway, what’s going on with you guys?”

  Sophie strums her electric blue nails over the table. “Rowen’s taking me to dinner and a movie later. I may or may not come home tonight.” She leans in and offers up a cheesy wink. “Don’t wait up, sweetheart.”

  Ember smirks at her. “And to think, just a few months ago you were poking fun at his colossal package with the rest of us at the Underground. My, how a few sheets on the calendar and a social experiment or two can turn a world upside down.”

  Sophie shoots her with her finger. “Right side up!” She looks to me. “You think your world will shift once this experiment is over?”

  “Are you kidding?” I glance to the ceiling, exasperated at the thought.
“My world is already upside down because of that ridiculous social experiment, and I’ve only had one encounter. As soon as I meet up with Dexter Houston again, I’m going to wrap my hands around his neck.”

  “Rumor has it, he’s a hottie.” Ember giggles. “Hey, wouldn’t it be ironic if you didn’t get back together with Lane and you ended up with Dexter instead?”

  “First, you think everyone is a hottie,” I scold her with the truth. “And second, I’m pretty sure that would ruin his reputation in the faux scientific community he’s trying to make strides in. Besides, we can’t dismantle the program just yet. I do believe you’re up in the spring. And yes, I can’t help but gloat a little over that one. Both Sophie and I have been burned for the sake of public entertainment, and soon it will be your turn, Ember, to have your feet to the flames. Oh, what a fitting name your mother gave you after all. Ha!”

  “No way.” She takes a quick sip of her coffee as she gathers her purse to her shoulder. “None of that experimentation crap will mean a thing to me. I’m immune to the L word in general. Believe me, I love my family and friends, but that’s the extent of it. I’m not falling for any relationship hocus-pocus. I’m pretty sure I’ll be that one percent that refuses to be shot with Cupid’s arrow.” She straightens abruptly. “Hey, I’m a one percenter!”

  Sophie leans in to her. “Aw! I always knew you’d make it, sweetheart.”

  A shadow darkens the table. “Is this a private party? Or can anybody join?”

  I look up to find a tall, dark, and handsome version of myself minus the fact his hair is actually the same crimson shade as my own.

  “Wen!” I hop up to gift him a quick embrace and then remember the fact I just confessed losing my virginity to the world at large, and my face heats with the power of a thousand hellish suns.

  He makes a face before pulling me in. “Man, you know how to rip the balls right off a dude.” He closes his eyes a moment, and I don’t know if he’s talking about himself or Lane, probably both.

  “Wen, this is Sophie, my roommate, and Ember, our adopted roommate.” I do the proper introductions, and Wen is a perfect gentleman while shaking their hands.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you both.”

  “It’s great to finally meet you!” Ember’s eyes remain the size of hard-boiled eggs. “But I’ve got to run and try to pick up that ever elusive abnormal psych book. The girl at the bookstore let me know she’d hold a copy for me this morning.” She gives a friendly wave and takes off.

  “I’d better go, too.” Sophie stands and collects her things. “My own brother is headed down to buy me a quick lunch. I guess it’s siblings’ day at Leland. Super nice to meet you!” She makes crazy eyes at me before taking off. I doubt she’s meeting up with Braden. The only reason Sophie didn’t want to stick around is because she knows how lethal big brothers can be. Braden almost killed Rowen last fall when he found out they were serious. But Wen’s not like that. I glower at him a moment for not being like that.

  “What?” He pulls my coffee over and takes a sip. “Too sweet.”

  “That’s because it’s not yours. Now, go ahead and say whatever it is you feel you need to say to me.”

  “Vi.” He closes his eyes a moment too long, something he does that reminds me of our father. When caught in a fit of frustration, it would look as if my father were meditating. “Why did you do it? Why did you have to get up on stage and say those things? More importantly, why in the hell did you put yourself in that position to begin with?”

  My mouth opens and closes like a marionette and not a sound comes out. “I got fifty percent off at the student store and I bought a scarf.” I drop my head in my hands a moment and groan. “Oh, Wen, I don’t know what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. I thought it would be fun.” I look up at him through my fingers before coming up for air. “I thought, I don’t know, that I’d meet Mr. Right. But I ended up with Mr. Wrong. And the worst part is I knew Lane was wrong for me one year ago. It’s like some haunted lesson the universe insists on teaching me again and again. How was I supposed to know they sifted through their ex-files and pulled out all the horrible breakups just to feature them in a series? I feel like a fool. Like my life has been hijacked and taken for a ride. And to top off this nightmare, there’s no way out of this. I’m stuck—cemented into my own personal hell for the next five weeks.” A tiny bit of relief pulses through me at that thought of already having one week under my belt. I clear my throat because I feel exactly one inch tall. “Did you talk to him?” I hold my breath because there is no room for breathing until my brother answers the question.

  Wen stares long and hard at me. “No. He texted me after it was done and apologized, but I didn’t answer him.” He leans back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest as if he were pissed. “I didn’t need to hear those things, Vi. And in case you’re wondering, I didn’t see it live. Carrie recorded it for me. And live TV, Vi? Really? You’ve got to be nuts to continue with this. If you want to hash things out with Lane, why couldn’t you do it in private?”

  “I didn’t know he signed on, and once they said he wanted to do it, I wasn’t going to back down. You know that’s not me. And FYI, the live event was a one-off. They said the rest of the show would go to edits first. It was more or less a publicity stunt.” And that in a nutshell sadly sums up my life at the moment. “My handler for the show, Seth, said Lane is showing up for the next date. It’s a sure thing. So, unfortunately, I have to be there.”

  His lips twitch, and I hate the fact he’s holding back that obnoxious smile. “Okay, if that’s what you believe, then I want you to go. Just tell me this.” He leans in and hardens his gaze over mine as if he means business. “Who did you cheat on him with?”

  My heart thumps as an entire Rolodex of prospective guys runs through my head, but I don’t dare tell my brother a thing.

  “We both know you’re far more loyal to the enemy than you are me.” I lean in as far as the table will allow. “I’m not telling.”

  Wen huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re not telling because there’s not a thread of truth to it.” His features harden. “Don’t worry, Vi. I know you’re pissed and, believe me, I’m pissed for you. I know he hurt you, and that’s exactly why I’m going to make it explicitly clear that he expects nothing to come from this social situation you’ve gotten yourself into. He had his chance, and he blew it. If you want to give him a little hell, go right ahead. I’ll be cheering from the sidelines. Stay in it if you want, but know this—you and Lane Cooper are never happening again.”

  Wen and I stare at one another for far longer than should ever be considered normal before he offers me a quick hug and takes off.

  Of all the things that have rattled me this week, the fact Wen has stripped his perennial blessing off any reconciliation that might have been brewing with Lane is the real blow. Not that I want Lane back. God, no. It just feels so final this way. Wen had been Switzerland for so long. It really does underscore the fact I just jumped into bed with the devil.

  What in the living hell have I gotten myself into?

  * * *

  Seth sent a message letting me know that this week’s date would be taking place bright and early Friday morning. Leland doesn’t have classes on Fridays, so it totally makes sense. And this way, I’m assured of the fact I won’t suffer PTMD, posttraumatic mortification disorder, the next day in class. Basically, all of last week sucked because of it. And life at the dorm isn’t exactly peachy either. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the clusters of girls whispering amongst themselves as I pass by. According to Ember, I had them in the bag until I declared my faux indiscretion. Evidently, that tiny white lie cost me some serious street cred where my dorm sisters are concerned.

  Seth offered me a ride to the secret locale, so I meet him in front of Coffeeology and we pick up a cup of steaming fresh brew before heading to his Honda. And in the spirit of full disclosure, he fills me in on the fact our entire conversation will be recorded and
is eligible to be used against me in a court of social experimentation law.

  We chitchat about his calling into the public execution of former couples, and he justifies his foray into the black arts of love by way of a paycheck. I also discover that Seth is seeing Petra, another sensory guide, who is coincidentally Lane’s sensory guide. It turns out, Seth and Petra make a dynamic duo, and they like to be the yin to the other’s yang as far as Dexter’s social nightmare is concerned. They’re both grad students and are working in something along the lines of mixed social martial arts for their thesis.

  “Hey”—I sit up a little straighter as the scenery around us grows increasingly familiar—“that sign just read Welcome to Snow Valley. You’re taking me home, aren’t you?” A mild sense of alarm fills me.

  “Yup. Home court advantage. Nothing like it.”

  “Yes, technically, I’ll have the home court advantage, but so will Lane for that matter. You do realize he’s a Snow Valley kid himself?”

  “Yup. We are well aware.” His eyes sparkle with devious intent, and I’m all out of polite conversation. The only thing I want to do is soak in every last nuance of the town that I will forever call home. Snow Valley is populated with just as many evergreens as it is people. It’s small and quaint and holds the requisite Main Street, where a majority of commerce is committed. I give an opened-mouth smile as we bypass the Cut ’n Curl, my mother’s shop, but I don’t dare fill Seth in on that tresses-based tidbit lest Dexter get wind of it and force both Lane and me to do something stupid, like get matching perms. The imagery alone has me squirming. Come to think of it, I’d pay good cash money to see Lane getting humiliated by way of color-coded curlers. But Seth drives on, and then I see it right up ahead, rising from the ground like a powdered sugar phoenix.

  “Are we going skiing?” My heart soars at the prospect of donning a set of waxed sticks to my feet and gliding down that mountain. I can’t wait to show up Lane on the slopes. I’ll make him eat my paper white dust as I zigzag circles around him. “Neither Lane nor I are masters on the slope, but it’s an exercise we’ve enjoyed together several times before. When you grow up in Snow Valley, you practically own the slopes. Have I mentioned I’m competitive to a fault? I’m going to take pleasure in making Lane my bitch on that hill today.” Not entirely true. Lane really is a master on the slopes, but I can’t have me on record singing his praises. If I was taking myself down a notch, he was surely coming with me.