The Dating Experiment (The Experiment, #2)(46)

How was I supposed to tell Dom the truth? After what I’d said to him last night… Jesus, I was going to look like I had a split personality. It damn well felt like it for the most part. I’d been living a lie with him for years.

Our entire relationship had changed, and I didn’t know if it was for the better.

I was afraid. I was afraid that if I made the choice to try something between us, it’d go wrong. Then, I wouldn’t just lose the person I’d loved forever—I’d lose my business partner and my friend.

Even if our friendship was wildly fucked up. Then again, all the best friendships were fucked up. God knew the one I shared with Peyton and Mellie was at times.

Hell.

I sat at my desk, dumping my purse on the floor and my coffee on my llama coaster. My PC screen came to life with the nudge of my mouse, and I typed my password—that Dom apparently now knew—to get into it.

I didn’t know why. I wasn’t in the mind to work yet, but it was weirdly comforting. Mostly because I immediately went to my Amazon and clicked to stream another episode of Friends.

It was like a comfort blanket, and the familiarity of the episodes and the characters helped me not freak out as I waited.

Who knew it was so hard to tell someone you were in love with them?

Granted, I expected this moment would be when I was in a relationship and happy and knew the outcome. Instead, I was torn, confused, and had no idea about what would happen when I admitted to Dom exactly how I felt about him.

Our relationship was weird. So fucking weird. It didn’t make sense, and I wasn’t sure it ever would, no matter what happened. And I was okay with that—at least, I was pretty sure I was.

Either way, I didn’t have a choice. I had to be okay. Whether I made the choice to put this part of my life to bed or keep it alive, I had to be okay with the outcome in order to make that choice.

I sipped my coffee and watched my screen. I really needed a way out. Could I get a tunnel? Could someone smuggle me out of New Orleans?

I’d spent too much time with Peyton. I was being a regular little drama queen.

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

Couldn’t I write a love letter? Or was that too eighteen-hundreds? Was that a thing then? Was that still a thing now? I got them in elementary school. Awkward, hand-scribbled notes stuffed into my backpack…

And to think, I thought they were bad.

Nothing compared to adulthood.

Can I take back all the times I ever wanted to be a grown-up?

No?

Well, that sucked.

The door to the offices opened, and my head jerked up in enough time to see Dom still in the doorway.

My eyes met his. Did he see in mine what I saw in his? Confusion and uncertainty? Raw emotion and worry?

A part of me hoped he did.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi. I didn’t expect you to be here so early.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“Oh. I’m not working,” I said, right as Monica Geller screamed, “I know!” on the screen.

Dom’s lips twitched to one side. “You’re watching that stupid TV show.”

“You’re not allowed to call it that. I’ve never called your favorite TV shows stupid.”

“I’m pretty sure you spent the entirety of high school complaining about football.”

“I didn’t call it stupid, though.”

“Probably somewhere along the line.”

“Nobody keeps track of that.” I sniffed and paused the streaming. “How was your night with New Orleans’ hottest couple?”

He wrinkled his face up. “How did you—never mind.” He shook his head and hit me with a darker look than before. “How was your date with Baton Rouge’s most eligible bachelor?” He stormed out of view before I could respond.

I swallowed back a ball of nerves that ultimately exploded in my stomach. “Dunno. You’ll have to ask him. He’s the only one who went,” I called.

Silence.

Then, he walked backward into my office, one eyebrow quirked questioningly. “You stood him up?”

“No.” I shifted. “He just happened to already be on his way when I canceled.”

Dom moved, leaning against the wall. His arms tensed as he folded them across his chest. He didn’t say anything—he merely looked at me, waiting.

“I was drunk when I texted him.” I glanced down. “I didn’t even know until I saw his text asking if we were still on for the date when I woke up yesterday.”

Still, he didn’t speak. Just stared at me, his dark eyes piercing my soul.

I fidgeted with a small stack of Post-It sticky notes. “Mellie came over instead. She talked me down from a lot of stuff. I think.”

“What did she say?”

I let go of a heavy breath and said, “That it’s still okay if I’m ready to get over you.”

Dom took a deep breath, then shrugged one shoulder. “She’s right. It is. If that’s what you really want to do.”

“I don’t know.” I put my foot on the edge of the chair and hugged my thigh to my chest. “See, Dom, here’s the thing. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

His jaw twitched.

“Not a silly crush that I could get over in a heartbeat as soon as the next hot guy came along. I can’t remember not being in love with you, and I finally—finally—accepted that you would never feel that way about me. And you know what drove that point home?”