The Love Experiment

By Moore Ortiz

As Madison Watson, a skeptic of love, begins her university journey, she commits to three straightforward rules. First: Exercise at least twice a week. Second: Secure an internship. Third: Steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, a random encounter with three guys in the dorm changes her plans, as she's roped into helping a shy, lovesick friend become the ideal boyfriend. What her well-meaning partners don't know is that Madi has her own agenda—she's determined to prove that love is just a concept, and heartache is unavoidable.  This college tale explores the experience of first love and heartbreak, examining the complexities of modern dating in the digital era.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Moore Ortiz
• Release date: Aug 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227686626

Book preview

The Love Experiment

––––––––

Moore Ortiz

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

01 - strangers and hallways

02 - students and mentors

03 - spies and research

04 - baiting and small talk

05 - malls and makeovers

06 - projects and parties

07 - first steps and tipsy tongues

08 - facebook and texting games

09 - lab rats and teacher's pet

10 - burritos and butterflies

11 - white lies and wise guys

12 - old flames and new friends

13 - dates and detectives

14 - the lover and the beloved

15 - sleep ins and science labs

16 - girlfriends and bridesmaids

17 - dancing and boy talk

18 - stolen glances and midnight whispers

19 - makeup and make outs

20 - kissing and questions

21 - birthdays and betrayal

22 - red velvet and rumors

23 - revelations and zoning

24 - dark rooms and wandering eyes

25 - sirens and sailors

26 - lattes and lies

27 - shattered hearts and bitter words

28 - grades and ghosting

29 - exs and ohs

30 - Holmes and Watson

Epilogue

bonus: tricks and treats (James POV)

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01 - strangers and hallways

Preservative chemicals stained my white gloves as I wedged the scalpel deeper into the heart's gaping chambers. It was almost therapeutic—mutilating something that had once been alive, that once stimulated an entire living organism. That once beat with excitement, with fear, but now lay completely still in my hands. Victim to my will.

How could something so small cause so much pain?

I compared its stillness to the way my heart beat within me. Hollow. Broken. Betrayed. I wanted to tear it out and place it alongside the others. Maybe then, I could concentrate.

Oh dear. Professor Locksley chuckled, reaching out to place a calm hand over my shaking arm. "The aim is to dissect the lamb heart, Miss Watson, not mash it as one would a potato."

I stepped out of my head long enough to survey my desk in the lab. Heat blossomed on my cheeks. Yeah. I'd made a mess. A few of the other students in the classroom turned to get a good look as well, making little effort to hide their sneers. Almost as though they'd expected me to screw up.

I was used to people underestimating me. They had my whole life. But normally I'd exceed those expectations. I was usually so careful, so precise. How had I let myself get so distracted?

I ducked my head, moving off the bench to grab some paper towels. I'm so sorry.

My professor threw me a knowing wink. It happens to the best of us. The mind can carry us to odd places. The trick is not to linger there for too long, lest we forget to return.

My very own Dumbledore, perhaps. I sponged up the slimy residue on my bench, apologizing again as I dumped it into the trash. Really, it won't happen again.

Professor Locksley nodded simply. I'm sure, Madison. And from the gleam in his kind gaze, I had a feeling he believed me.

I just wished I could believe it, too.

I trudged to the basin at the end of class, queuing up to rid my hands of the foul smell that had tarnished them. My peers laughed and joked around me, but I felt so far from them. From anything light and fun and golden. My world was just ... gray.

I'd been at college for two weeks, but I was yet to feel at home within the place's impressive buildings and sprawling gardens. It was already easy enough to feel like an outsider in a place as prestigious as Camden, where the classrooms and halls had been graced by politicians, celebrities, and entrepreneurs alike. It certainly didn't help that, in the state I was in, and with the way my life had unraveled like thread from a spool, I didn't want to socialize. I didn't want to meet new people. It was like a flurry of rain clouds had settled over my head, like the blood in my veins had chilled into solid ice. But instead of feeling cold, I felt eerily numb. I was tired. And alone. And I didn't want to move back into the sun; I wanted to wallow in the dark for a while.

Or maybe forever. Theatrics was my specialty.

I gathered my stationery and books, walking out into the crowded corridor and heading back through the quad to my dorm. I had one class later in the afternoon and a bunch of readings to get through, but my entire body was aching for a nap.

After leaving my hometown for college, managing to get a full night's sleep was already shaping up to be a challenge. It was only exacerbated by my living situation; I was staying in one of the on-campus dorms, and to my sheer horror, I'd been assigned a dorm mate who had absolutely no concept of personal space. Almost every morning, at around one AM, she snuck her boyfriend into our room for a bit of ... alone time. Except, of course, they weren't alone.

Not that they seemed to mind as much as I did.

Needless to say, those two hours between biology and Intro to Argumentation had become my saving grace. Truly, it was the only thing keeping those looming dark circles under my eyes at bay.

I cut through the morning frost, rounding back to my dorm as quickly as I could given the sea of students flooding the quad. My building loomed overhead, the solid white bricks adorned with emerald ivy offsetting the dull gray of the overcast sky. It was enormous, its high ceilings and cream walls forever bursting with noise and activity. The kind of activity that I once would have relished, but that now only added to the throbbing pain at the front of my skull.

I wedged myself between my dorm mates and peers, grimacing as I locked shoulders with an unsuspecting passer-by. An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but when I turned to spit it out, my jaw seemed to lock shut.

Eyes the color of ravens scorched mine like fire, narrowed like slits drawn with the blade of a knife. They were framed by dark liner and paired with an even darker mouth, magenta lips curled in something caught between a scowl and smirk.

I recognized the girl instantly from one of my classes. We weren't friends (by any means), but I did find her fascinating. She was older, she was self-assured. She was clearly a captivating presence and a thunderous force. But it was the air she carried herself with that stirred my interest the most. Maybe it even stirred my jealousy. It was like she had a giant sign on her head—don't talk to me—that kept everyone away. I knew without question that no one would ever mess with her.

I couldn't at all say the same thing for myself.

Sorry, I managed to utter. It sounded less like an apology and more like a plea, like I truly believed the outlandish rumors about the bloodcurdling ways in which Camden upperclassmen welcomed their younger peers to campus.

Her searing gaze snaked up my frame. But she didn't address me. Didn't accept my apology or offer one of her own. She turned on the heel of her polished black combat boots, rolling her eyes at the other seniors in her huddle.

She scoffed. Jaffy.

Her friends cackled like a pack of doting hyenas. I fought the urge to rip them a new one; making enemies in my second week of university absolutely did not complement my strategy of flying under the radar. Instead, I channeled the adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream, lifting my feet from the force anchoring them to the floor and slipping past the herd to continue my lonely march.

Despite the unnerving social encounter and the anxiety it stirred, part of me wanted to be out in that hall. Hell—maybe that same part of me wouldn't have minded biting back at that senior, wouldn't have minded releasing the heartache and anger clambering inside of me into the fight that would inevitably come. But another part of me—dejected and confused—simply didn't have the energy. What was the point? Everyone hurts you in the end. Even perfect strangers. Even best friends.

Madi?

I paused mid-step, hovering in place as I stared ahead at my dorm door. It sang out to me like a siren in the sea, teasing me with the promise of blissful, numbing sleep. But I found myself intrigued by the mystery of what waited for me behind.

Because only three people on the planet called me Madi. One was my father, the other my older sister. Neither of them had any reason to be on campus—let alone in the country.

There was only one other person it could be. My hollow heart started beating again, the memory of breakage piercing my chest as I swiveled back around.

Please don't be him.

Hey, Madi! the caller greeted once more, waving his hands in the air to grab my attention over the mass of students between us.

My eyes met his, and relief rippled through my body like a wave.

It wasn't him. Thank the Lord, the Fates, thank the old gods and the new.

But who the hell was it?

Hi. My lips were stretched into a forced smile as I took a step towards the caller, my blue eyes probably an inch too wide given that I was trying not to be awkward. But running into someone who clearly knew me, but who I didn't recognize at all?

Yeah, awkward.

I didn't know you went to Camden, the boy exclaimed. He seemed to be about my age, boasting a head of neat black curls and a toothy grin. He was wearing one of the school's letterman jackets, his broad shoulders clothed in striking black and blue.

I tried to soften my frown. I just started.

His smile, which already took up about half of his face, widened. Me, too.

I nodded thoughtfully, praying for a miracle. For some small clue that would remind me of how I knew the beaming boy in front of me. Though boy was a horrible understatement, what with his tall, toned body and the muscles straining against the tracksuit that offset his brown skin. A college athlete? One who apparently knew me well enough to refer to me by my seldom-used nickname, but who I didn't recognize at all.

Clearly, though, I was no master of deception.

You don't remember me. His tone was lower, but his smile was just as bright.

I don't, I admitted. There was no point lying to him. Lying only served to make him feel less awkward. Besides, after only two hours of sleep the night before and an eight AM lecture that morning, my bed was calling me. And I was far too weak to ignore it.

I'm Noah, the boy announced, pointing to himself with his thumb. I played baseball with Elijah in high school.

My blood turned cold. Athlete, indeed. And ...

No. My mind was not going there. It would wander to Eli soon enough, anyway. At least it explained why Noah called me 'Madi'. It also explained why I had no idea who he was. There was only one person I ever paid attention to at Eli's games. Eli.

Is he at Camden, too?

I shifted my weight between my feet, shaking my head from side to side. No.

Oh. How is he?

Good.

Noah mustn't have known Eli that well. If he did, we wouldn't have been having that conversation.

I had to remind myself that he was just being friendly. Making small talk. Even so, it didn't make the topic of our conversation any easier to think about.

It was nice seeing you, I said, motioning to my heavy textbooks as I thought up a convincing lie to get away. I only have half an hour until my next class, so I better get going—

Actually ... Noah trailed off, sparing a glance behind him as he grinned to himself again. Grinning was a personality trait of his, it seemed.

I couldn't relate.

His gentle gaze scanned mine, and it was clear that he was mulling something over in his head. Finally, he motioned behind him. Do you mind helping me with something?

I lifted an eyebrow skeptically. I did mind. Very much. With what?

"Just a question. Since, you know, you're a girl."

A puff of air escaped my lips as I gave into an amused scoff, the ground-breaking accuracy of his observation awakening the smartass within me. One point for Gryffindor.

Actually, he said, smirking, I'm a Hufflepuff.

I cocked my head, evaluating him a little more closely. Matching tracksuit. A Pikachu-yellow scarf. Wide, brown eyes that glimmered with kindness—and mischief. You're right. Definitely a Hufflepuff.

Noah laughed again, taking my approval as acquiescence. He nodded his head back to one of the dorm doorways as he retreated, motioning for me to follow.

And, for the sake of civility, I really had no choice but to comply.

As I approached the door to what I assumed was Noah's room, I noticed that two other guys had been watching our exchange from the entrance. One was tall, with thick tufts of hair—a neat, golden crown—and a jawline so sculpted I was sure it had sliced its fair share of hearts. The other boy was shorter, a little lankier, with tousled brown locks that were almost chestnut and a nervous but kind smile.

I turned to peer at Noah, arching a brow.

Once again, he beamed, making a sweeping gesture to the amused looking blond.

Would you date my friend?

02 - students and mentors

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"What?" I exclaimed.

The tall blond fidgeted nervously. Noah ...

"I don't mean really date him, Noah said. Just hypothetically speaking. Like, if he was the last guy on earth. Or if you had a gun to your head. If the pickings were really, really slim—"

The blonde widened his eyes. Wow. You're really selling it.

"I'm just saying. Noah turned back to me eagerly. Would you go on a date with him? He'd pay. Naturally."

"Naturally," the blond repeated under his breath.

A small part of me wanted to berate Noah for forcing me into such a horrible predicament in the first place. It was a lose-lose situation; whether I said yes or whether I said no, I came out of the exchange looking some type of way. A type of way that wasn't the loner, elusive, don't-talk-to-me vibe that I was going for.

My resting bitch face needed work.

Reluctantly—I may or may not have audibly sighed—I turned to evaluate his friend.

Sure, he was handsome. In a predictable kind of way. He loomed over my pathetic five-foot-five frame, and his broad shoulders and striking smolder made him the perfect candidate for the leading man in almost any cheesy film. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if he was some rising star that I hadn't yet heard of; that sort of thing was to be expected at Camden.

But pretty boys were a nightmare. I knew that better than anyone. The boy's blue eyes twinkled with mischief, his demeanor still cool and self-assured even under my intense stare. Upon seeing a flicker of smugness, too, I decided no. I would never date him.

I'd consider it, I lied.

It was best not to make enemies so early into uni.

Instead of looking flattered, the subject of my evaluation smirked. Actually, confidently, and not at all ironically smirked. His amused gaze pierced mine for a moment longer, then left to meander aimlessly about the hall—as though I was the one being evaluated. It was only when I was out from under his stare that I realized I'd been holding my breath.

That's fair. I flinched at Noah's soft touch as he repositioned me, angling me toward the other boy lingering in the doorway. He was cute, I supposed, in a Seth Cohen kind of way. Not my personal brand of eye candy, but I could see how others would find him endearing. What about him?

His friend groaned. This is stupid. You know what she's going to say.

How do you know? Noah asked.

"Dude—"

Yeah, I said, my interest slightly piqued. "How do you know?"

Noah's friend opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, releasing a nervous puff of air. His eyes darted between me and his friends before he gave in to a pitiful sigh. Isn't it obvious?

I arched a brow. How could it be?

Both Noah and his friends—even the apparently disinterested blond—cocked their heads at me, intrigued.

Noah folded his arms, nodding. Let the lady speak. What were you going to say?

I threw my arms up as if I was confessing to a crime. "I was going to say yes, I told them, I was going to say, sure. Why not? He seems like a nice enough guy." I paused, considering my next words.

"I sense a 'but'," the blond guessed.

My eyes swung to him, and I had no choice but to give in to his sarcastic inference. "But, now I have doubt. Because he doesn't seem to think that I would date him. And that makes me think that I shouldn't."

See! Noah nudged his friend. It's all about confidence, Dex.

"It's not all about confidence! Dex argued. It's about standing next to James your whole life. It's about having every girl you've ever been remotely interested in losing interest in you as soon as they see him."

The blond, James, groaned in a way that made me think that they'd had that exact conversation before, that it was the subject of a never-ending debate between them.

Suddenly, I felt ... sad. Sad for the smaller, less physically—and vertically—blessed Dex. I could relate to his sentiment; I'd grown up with an atrociously beautiful best friend, too. One that always got everything she wanted.

Have you ever thought that maybe it comes down to presentation? I suggested.

Dex nodded. "That's what I'm saying. James has been handcrafted by the gods, while I got stuck with a body made from play-doh—"

"That's not what I meant! I'm not talking about how you look, per se, but how you present yourself. I motioned to his outfit—an oversized grey sweater and loose track pants. You can definitely work with this, but just ... tidy it up a bit. My gaze slid up. And is that paint in your hair?"

Dex's eyes widened. No!

It's either paint or blood.

He groaned in submission, mussing his hair, and mumbled, I'm taking art as an elective.

I smiled sympathetically as I leaned over, helping him remove the crimson splatters cloaking his chestnut strands. Dex gave into my assistance with another sigh, peering up at me through lowered lashes. He looked like a puppy begging for an early supper.

But then he tilted his head sweetly, and I swore I caught something like determination arc through his stare. What should I wear, then?

Wear?

Yeah. My closet is basically a one-stop-shop for oversized sweats and hoodies. What else is there?

I racked my brain. I was a girl of science, not fashion. If my hometown best friend, Lola, could see those three guys standing in front of me, looking at me as though I possessed all of the answers in the universe, she'd laugh her pretty little head off.

What do guys wear, anyway?

Swap the sweater for something more fitted. A crew neck, maybe. And invest in some nice jeans. Or maybe chinos? A denim jacket? That was what Eli wore. And it had worked on me.

Dex's eyes clouded over as he considered my idea. He peered at James curiously. Do I have a denim jacket?

James's grin was a curved flash of pearly-white teeth. No. But I do.

I lingered in front of them as they began to discuss the contents of their wardrobes. I probably could have slipped away if I wanted to. And that introverted part of me really wanted to.

But intrigue was bubbling beneath my usual state of indifference.

What's her name?

Dex turned to me slowly, his face turning a deep shade of crimson.

Whose name? His tone was meek. But defensive.

Bingo.

I laughed gently. The name of the girl that you're trying to impress.

I felt a pang of satisfaction as Noah broke out into another huge smile. That obvious, huh?

I winked. That obvious.

Dex groaned, scuffing his trainer along the ground. After a few seconds of inner deliberation, he mumbled, "She works in the campus coffee shop. I don't know her name, but I just ... I don't know. She's different from other girls."

I gritted my teeth. Please tell me you didn't just say that out loud.

James might have cracked his version of a smirk as Dex rolled his eyes at himself. "I know what it sounds like. She is, though. She just ... doesn't know that I exist."

I smiled. The perennial problem. Although I must say that this one has a glaringly simple solution; go order a coffee. Introduce yourself. Duh.

"I tried. But I panicked. I word-vomited everywhere. Why is talking to women so hard?"

I arched an eyebrow. It can't be that hard. You're doing it right now.

Dex sighed again, deep and desperate. He really was like a puppy that had lost its owner. "No, it's different with her. She's like ... like magic."

I feigned offense, placing a hand over my heart.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that you're not ... ah! See? I can't speak. I'm an English major, for goodness sake, but as soon as there's a girl around, the right words just escape my stupid brain."

How about this? I supposed. Really, what was all the fuss about? Were all men so broody behind closed doors? "Start going to the coffee shop. Regularly. Don't be a pest; go, order coffee, hang out. Wait for her to feel comfortable enough to speak to you."

But what if she doesn't speak to me?

I waved a hand dismissively. If she doesn't, she doesn't. Respect that. But you don't know that she won't. Because you're going to be confident. And well-presented. And you're going to keep to yourself. I folded my arms smugly. "Trust me, nothing piques a girl's interest like a guy who keeps to himself."

Behind him, still plastered by the door, James frowned. That doesn't make sense.

Of course it does. I scoffed. "You guys are thinking like men. Men want women to be upfront, to lay their cards on the table. That's why they're so forceful, so ... full on. They think that's what we want, too. I shook my head, amused at the thought. But that couldn't be further from what we want. It's ... icky."

"Icky?" James asked.

"So, what do you want?" Dex asked eagerly, as though he were ready to take notes.

Decency, I thought bitterly.

I paused, chewing on my lip to gather my thoughts. "Every girl's different. But if you ask me ... Which they were. Mystery. A chase. The best thing about the start of any relationship for me is the chase. The longing. The questions of does he like me, does he want me? The late-night phone calls with my best friend, dissecting everything he says and does. It's the rush of it. The thrill. You see, the more that you make a woman question whether or not you want her, the more that she wants you. I lifted a shoulder again. Or I do, at least."

There was a pause as the guys took my words in, as they tried to register what I was telling them; a philosophy that undid however many years of what they thought they knew about the opposite sex. I didn't know whether to take their silence as polite disagreement or reluctant acquiescence, but I shrugged it off confidently.

"If your tactic isn't working, change it. Why not? Make her come to you. I turned away, drifting back down the hall. Make her work for you. It might just work."

I should know.

Wait! You have to come with me!

I spun on my heel to face an eagle-eyed Dex, my own eyes wide with disbelief. "Come?"

To the coffee shop, he clarified matter-of-factly. You have to show me what to do. Because clearly, I've been doing it wrong.

I flittered my eyes back to his friends—to Noah, who looked just as eager, then to James, who looked even more skeptical than before.

I began to turn away. I think your friends have it covered.

"They don't! Noah's as gay as a Mariah Carey singalong, and James has never worked for a woman's attention in his life."

Noah threw his hands up in the air, while James suppressed another eye roll.

Please, Madison, Dex begged. Help a guy out. You're my only chance at true love.

I wanted to burst out into a fit of laughter then and there. Love?  True love? A myth. There was only convenience.

Evidently, I didn't know anything about that, either.

I looked down at my textbooks pointedly. I have a huge day of classes tomorrow. Sorry.

But Dex was just as insistent as Noah had been earlier, if not a tad more dramatic. He fell to his knees, clasped his hands together desperately, and threw me his most convincing baby-face. "Please, Madison. Please, please, please ..."

If the other students in the hall hadn't been paying attention to us before, they surely were after his theatrical display. I tried to step back from the scene. After weeks of lurking in the shadows, avoiding attention, the effect of being the center of it was jarring. But Dex latched onto my leg like he was a toddler throwing a tantrum, begging his mother for a piece of candy.

Whether it was because of the way that Dex gripped me (as though he would truly never let go) or because of how James smirked to himself (like he just knew that I was going to say no), I nodded.

Dex jumped to his feet to pull me into a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I'll meet you tomorrow morning, I told him as I backed out of his awkward display of thanks. Nine AM. I have class at nine-thirty, so don't be late.

We'll be there. Noah beamed, retrieving his friend. Well, they will. I have a lecture. But maybe next time I could—

Let's not get ahead of ourselves, I warned. "One lesson."

Lesson? Dex asked. Should I take notes?

I closed my eyes, suppressing a laugh as I walked away. Nine AM, I repeated over my shoulder.

C'mon, I heard Dex urge his friends. Let's see if your denim jacket fits me.

The sound of the hall dulled as I closed my dorm room door. To my relief, the space was empty; no nymphomaniac roommate in sight. I threw myself onto the bed, curling up atop my sheets. Gosh, it felt good to be on my own after another long morning of pretending to be okay.

My phone buzzed from the bedside table where I'd left it, the screen illuminating as message upon message came pouring through. I reached out to retrieve it, to see if I'd missed anything of importance. But the calls, the texts ... they were all from the same person. The one person I really didn't want to talk to ever again in my entire pathetic life. A person who didn't seem to understand that—even after I'd blocked every single number they'd attempted to contact me from.

We need to talk, the latest one read.

I threw the phone across the room where it landed safely on my dorm mate's bed. I honestly wouldn't have cared if it had smashed into tiny little pieces, so long as it shut the hell up.

Without a second thought, I rolled onto the other side of my bed and tried to drift off into beautiful, numbing sleep.

03 - spies and research

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If there was one thing that I hated more than selfish, narcissistic, think-they're-God's-gift-to-women men, it was waiting. And waiting for men?

Well. That was just salt in the wound.

I tapped the toe of my boots against the floorboards as I watched the hands tick on my brand new leather watch. It was faux, of course, and a gift from my mother, who 'really would have preferred to have bought the diamond one! It's just so much more feminine, Madison dear ...'

Will that be all?

The sugary sweet voice of a cute barista drifted over from the counter, her bubble-gum pink nails tapping the computer screen as she took an order. Her curly black hair spilled out of a high ponytail, revealing soft brown features and vibrant almond eyes. I could see the source of Dex's adoration, if that was in fact the barista in question.

I wouldn't know whether it was, of course, since it was already ten past nine and neither Dex nor his blond friend had cared to show up.

Typical. My college resolutions—a stack of rules I'd created to guide me through my first year of adulthood—flashed through my mind. Number three, especially, taunted me like an annoying younger sibling.

Stay away from men.

Madison!

I quirked a brow as Dex and James appeared beside my booth.

Finally. I motioned to my watch. I have class in twenty, remember?

Sorry, they said in unison, though their small smiles hinted at some level of shared amusement.

I guess it was only the second week of classes. I could probably turn down the teacher's-pet vibe a touch.

Dex spun on the spot theatrically, landing in a hands-on-the-hips pose as James slunk into the seat opposite me. How do I look?

I ran my eyes over his unruly auburn curls, which had been slicked back in a style not exactly becoming with far too much gel. He'd paired a dark denim jacket that swam across his shoulders with black ripped jeans that looked like they'd been hemmed by Levi Strauss himself. In 1853.

It wasn't quite what I'd had in mind, but I couldn't let fragile Dex know that.

I nodded. Great. Really great.

His hopeful smile fell. You hate it.

I don't hate it! I laughed, but even I heard how strained it was. How could I? You did exactly what I suggested.

Dex grinned, but the confidence in his glittering green eyes had wavered. Unfortunately for me, lying had never been my best quality. It had never really been a quality of mine at all, and I was going to have to work a little harder if I wanted to boost the frail ego of the boy standing in front of me.

I clapped my hands, rubbing them together in an attempt to fight off the sharp chill that drifted in from the ever-opening coffee shop door. Alright. It's getting late, so let's get this show on the road. I jerked my head toward the counter. Is that her?

Dex followed my gaze to the petite barista I'd been watching earlier.

And then collapsed into the booth.

I had my answer.

Holy smokes, he repeated over and over, his face as white as James' crisp shirt. "She's so pretty."

I couldn't help but shake my head at Dex's infatuation, wondering for the second time in twenty seconds what exactly I'd gotten myself into. Why did I care whether a complete stranger got the girl of his dreams? I knew very well how it was going to end. The way that all relationships end. In pain.

Okay, here's what's going to happen. I pulled my eyes from my watch—fourteen minutes until class—and leveled them at Dex. You're going to order our coffee. Lactose-free latte for me, and ... James?

Double shot espresso.

Bleh.

Double shot espresso for James, I repeated. "Then, once you've given your name for the order, you're going to come straight back and sit down. The goal is to be normal. Do you hear me? No weird small-talk, no word-vomit, no creepy compliments. Up, order, sit. Got it?"

Dex looked confused as he blinked back at me, but after a nod of encouragement from James, he conceded.

Up, order, sit. He paused. And when do I propose?

I covered my face with my hands, hiding an exasperated groan. Not very well.

I'm kidding! Dex held up his hands, rising from our booth. Just joking.

She's on a schedule, Dex, James reminded him curtly.

I removed my hands from my eyes