The Dating Experiment (The Experiment, #2)(15)

Her and Mellie shared a look before Peyton shook her head. “No. But I haven’t spoken to him, really. Maybe he had a bad date?”

“That’s what I thought, but—” I paused, then gave myself a shake. “Hey, we all make mistakes. Maybe I got it wrong for him. It wouldn’t be the first time I was slightly off the mark.”

“That’s probably it,” Mellie said. “Not everyone is who they claim on the internet. For instance—our new bar girl? She claims she’s a size four with natural blonde hair. Not that I’m judging, but she’s a beautiful size twelve with not-so-blonde hair, so maybe his date wasn’t all she was cracked up to be.”

She was right about that. It wasn’t the first time I’d come across a profile from someone who was less than honest.

“It makes sense,” I said. “Well, we have a meeting today to talk about it, so I’ll ask him.”

Another glance passed between my best friends.

“Good idea,” Peyton said.

“Yep. Good idea,” Mellie echoed.





Chapter Six – Dom


Turns out, you’re not always the fucking saint you think you are.

Even if your idea of being a saint is deluded.

Taptaptap.

Taptaptap.

Taptaptap.

That was the sound of my fingers as they beat rhythmically against the solid wood top of my desk. Chloe was coming—I knew she was. I knew she was across the hall with my sister and Mellie, inevitably talking about her date last night.

The date that had gone well.

The date she’d smiled through. The date she’d laughed through. The date she’d enjoyed until the very last second when he’d had to pull away from that goodnight kiss, and she met my eyes.

I’d never loved an Uber driver more than in that moment. I hadn’t even meant it. I hadn’t meant to be so angry—so furious and agitated, but I hadn’t been prepared for it.

Sure. I could take her bright smiles and her melodic laughter as he’d wooed and swooned her. As he’d wined and dined her.

I had to. I had to accept it. I had to push it aside to give my date—what the hell was her name again?—the attention she’d deserved.

That didn’t stop the fucking punch in the gut when we’d walked outside, and I’d seen them kissing. Seen him with his hand in her damn blonde hair and her ever-red nails against the blue of his shirt.

Seen his fucking lips on hers.

I had no claim to her. No claim to those glossy, red lips she sported on a daily basis. No claim to her nails creasing my shirt or her eyes roving my body the way hers did to him as he walked to the bathroom.

Fuck.

I shoved myself away from my desk and walked into the kitchen. I wasn’t going to get anything remotely productive done while I was this frustrated, so there was no point even trying.

Besides, Chloe was due to get here any second, and I needed to calm down before she got here.

I also needed to remember that she wasn’t mine. That Peyton was right. Unless I was willing to be honest and tell her that I had feelings for her, I had no right to feel this way.

I also couldn’t tell her. I had to keep reminding myself of that. It was a giant loop of fucking reminders that never seemed to stop.

Why did I have to fall in love with my sister’s best friend? The only person in this world I couldn’t get along with to save my life?

At this point, I could have a gun to my head, and I still wouldn’t be able to get along with her.

I yanked the drip tray from the coffee machine and threw it into the sink to wash out. It clattered, splashing the chrome sides with yesterday’s coffee, but I shrugged it off to change out the coffee pod and get the water tank out.

After refilling the water, I gave the drip tray the wash it badly needed and put the machine back together.

Why was I doing this? What did it fucking matter if Chloe hated me? Why didn’t I just tell her how I felt? It was blowing up in my face either way, so what did it really matter?

Nothing would change, except her knowledge of my feelings. Feelings I was going to lock away and move on from anyway.

I put my mug under the machine and hit the button. It whirred to life, filling the kitchen with its noise.

I bent forward and grabbed the edge of the counter, dropping my head down. My lips parted as I blew out a long breath, and I briefly closed my eyes.

This was why my sister didn’t date until Elliott.

Dating was bullshit. More trouble than it was worth.

“Dominic!” Chloe’s yell cut through the final sputter of the coffee machine.

Here we go.

“What did I do this time?” I asked, straightening.

“Why isn’t the internet working?”

I turned to see her in the doorway. She stood, leaning against one side, arms folded across her chest. She wore her usual leather jacket, and today it was partnered with light-blue jeans and heeled boots.

And her expression? Well, I’d seen it a million times before.

Wide, angry eyes. A hard-set jaw. Red lips in a firm line.

The hint that she was contemplating my murder.

“Oh. I didn’t pay the bill yet.” I stirred milk into my coffee and glanced back at her. “Relax. I was going to do it today.”

“Why didn’t you pay the bill? It’s an automatic charge.”