The Dating Experiment (The Experiment, #2)(13)

Dom’s jaw twitched, but he was quickly blocked from view by Warren returning. My attention was instantly drawn up to his face, and he smiled down at me.

“Are you ready to leave?”

I tucked my phone back into my purse, picked it up from where it sat by my feet, and stood. “Yep. Are we going in the same direction?”

He offered his address as he touched a hand to my lower back and led me out of the restaurant.

“Not the same,” I said, shaking my head.

“Separate Ubers it is,” he replied, unperturbed. “Why don’t we order, then you can give me your number, and we can plan to meet this week? How about Wednesday night?”

I nodded. “That sounds good to me.” I pulled up the app on my phone, ordered my car, and opened my contacts. “Here. Type in your number.”

Warren took my phone and typed it in. “What’s yours?”

With a grin, I hit dial. His screen lit up with my incoming call, and I hit ‘End’ after a second, and his screen dimmed.

“Smart,” he acknowledged. “So, Wednesday? Do you have any preferences?”

“Well, this is my favorite place,” I said, gesturing to the restaurant behind us. “So, why don’t you pick?”

“Sounds good to me.” His eyes sparkled as a black car pulled up against the side of the road. “Is that you or me?”

I checked my phone. It looked like it was mine, but I leaned down just in case.

“Chloe?” The driver with long, bright-blond dreadlocks asked.

I nodded. “Would you give me a second?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” I straightened and turned back to Warren, feeling a little awkward. “Well, thank you. I had a great night tonight.”

“Me, too, Chloe.” He stepped toward me and, pushing my hair from my eyes, bent his head and gently pressed his lips to mine.

It was warm and comfortable and…nice.

Just nice.

Perfectly, sweetly, nice.

“Yo, lady? Do you want me or not?” The Uber guy knocked on the dashboard, making me jump back from the perfectly nice kiss I’d just shared with Warren.

“Yes,” I said, turning to look at my impatient driver. “I’m coming. Now. I’m sorry.” I turned to Warren. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

“It’s okay.” His lips pulled to one side. “I think this is mine coming now anyway. I’ll call you.”

“Okay, sure.” I pulled open the back door of my Uber and, when Warren moved toward his, waving goodbye before he turned his back on me, my eyes once again collided with Dom’s.

I held his gaze for a second too long before I slipped into the backseat and closed the door behind me.

Surely it had to be the lights of the restaurant glinting off his irises awkwardly, because there was no way Dom was annoyed, was there?

Definitely not at me kissing Warren. He had no reason to be annoyed about that.

Ah, shit.

Had I fucked up? Had I matched him wrong? Was his date bad? Had he had a bad night while I’d had a good time?

And why had that kiss with Warren been nothing more than “nice?”

Was it a learning curve? That happened with new people, didn’t it? Like, sex and stuff. It took a while to get used to each other.

Would the kissing get better as we got to know each other more?

Get better.

That was the wrong phrase. He wasn’t a bad kisser. In fact, he was a very good kisser. He had lovely, soft lips and applied just the right amount of pressure for a first kiss—one with an audience, too.

It was a lovely kiss, but I just didn’t… tingle.

I didn’t tingle. There you go. There was no tingle, no fizz, no buzz. No zing of delight as his lips touched mine.

What was wrong with me? Any other single woman would have loved to have had the date I did.

And I had. Loved it. I’d had the best freaking time. He was sweet and funny and hot and someone I could see myself spending a lot of time with.

But what if I never got that zing?

I sighed and leaned back in the seat. There was nothing worse than a great date that had a sour undertone because of no specific reason.

In fact, if anything, having Dom there had been the sour tone. I should have known he’d pick my favorite restaurant for my date. The biggest problem was that it was his, too, and since we operated so similarly when it came to matching people, we’d picked the same place without bothering to talk to each other.

Jesus.

The sooner I was over him, the better.

Let’s face it.

The only thing that could make this night worse was getting out of this car and stepping in a pile of dog shit.

Which was, of course, exactly what I did as we pulled up outside my house, I thanked him and got out.

Boom. The heel of my Jimmy Choo went smack in the middle of a pile of dog shit.

Awesome.

***

“He was nice,” I said, shrugging and brushing powder off my skirt. Fluffy donut filled my mouth.

Mellie stared at me. “Oh, well, your night went well.”

Peyton just tore a bite off her donut and put down her coffee.

“It was good,” I said around my food. I quickly swallowed and put down my half-eaten donut. “Look, it was a great first date. It wasn’t really awkward or uncomfortable. He was really hot. He’s sweet and funny and kind. He has a great career. He lives within forty-five minutes of my place, and I can really see myself spending time with him.”