The Dating Experiment by Briar Prescott
Jamie
I wave to George as I walk into the diner. He lifts his chin in greeting and turns back to his customer. Max is already sitting in the booth at the back, and Anders walks in just as I start toward Max.
“You’re early,” I say with raised brows.
Anders frowns and glances at the huge clock on the far wall.
“I’m on time.”
“Any time you’re not at least fifteen minutes late is early.”
“Sometimes I can’t remember why I like you,” Anders says as he walks past me.
“You’re early,” Max says as soon as Anders has taken his seat.
“I have no friends,” Anders cries dramatically before he buries his face in the menu. Max pries it away from him and tosses it to the side.
“Hey!” Anders protests.
“You’ve been visiting this place every Saturday for five years. You know the menu by heart.”
“My usual won’t do today,” he says. I’ve never seen Anders so glum. He’s usually the one with a smile on his face.
Max and I exchange glances. Anders grabs the menu again, and George appears in front of our table after a minute.
“If it isn’t my favorite clients,” he says.
Max squints his eyes. “You just told the exact same thing to those women over there.”
“Well, of course I did,” George replies. “They’re my favorite, too.”
“If everybody’s your favorite, do you even really have favorites at all?” I muse. “You just cheapened our favorite status.”
“I love all my clients equally,” George says.
“And now you sound just like my mom,” I say. “Just admit you love us the most. I mean, just look at us. It’s a no-brainer to figure out we’re the best. Just like Mom should finally admit Amelia and Eric were practice children, and when it comes to kids, I’m their magnum opus.”
George rolls his eyes.
“You don’t seem to believe me,” I say. “I’ll have you kno—”
“The usual?” he interrupts, stopping my word vomit. He doesn’t even bother waiting for our replies. He just turns around and starts walking again.
“Actually,” Anders calls after him, “can I have the fries, a double burger and all the blueberry pie you have?”
George nods. “Coming right up.”
“You ordered us all pie? What are we celebrating?” Max asks.
“The pie’s for me,” Anders says. “I need food to restore my energy levels. I was at work.”
Max and I exchange glances, but there’s no point in raising the topic of Anders’s work situation. He’s too stubborn for his own good and too determined to keep up his insane schedule, juggling three positions.
George drops off our food, and we dig in.
“How was your date last night?” Anders asks Max.
“Fine,” he replies.
“Just fine?” Anders raises his brow. “Weren’t you all excited about what’s his face?”
“Flynn. He was… nice, I guess.”
“Not the next love of your life?” I ask.
Instead of joking back, Max just sighs.
“I’m sure he’s a nice person, but he’s not looking for anything serious.”
“That’s a death call right there.” I grin as he sends me a sour look.
He shrugs one shoulder, unbothered by my teasing.
“I feel like I’m going in circles,” he says. “I do the same things. I date the same guys. Nothing ever sticks.” He drags his palm through his hair and glowers at the table. “I’m just… tired of hookups. I want something that has potential to turn into something more.”
“Want me to hook you up with a blind date?” I offer.
Max and Anders both stare at me for a second before they roar with laughter.
“What?” I ask as I look between the two of them. “I know people.”
“J, I love you like a brother, but you have abysmal taste in men. Remember the last horror show you sent my way?” Max asks. “The guy was in a cult.”
“He was not.” I wave him off.
“He was trying to recruit me! You would not be laughing right now if I’d actually ended up wherever Oracles of Supreme Awakening is based at, and you would’ve had to swoop in on a rescue helicopter to save me. Of course, I would’ve been brainwashed by then, and you would’ve had your work cut out for you trying to convince me to leave my new cult husband and our future cult babies, Hephzibah and Ezekiel.”
I glance at Anders and shake my head. “Children these days. Such vivid imaginations.” I cock my head to the side. “Horrible taste in names, too. Those little shits would definitely be bullied at school.”
“I blame reality TV,” Anders says as he helps himself to a bite of my lunch.
“Or video games. That’s my go-to scapegoat,” I say.
“Are you two done?” Max asks.
I pat him on the top of his hand.
“Shh. Eat your vegetables and let the grown-ups talk.”
“I hate you both,” Max grumbles, looking at us like he’s ready to cut all ties. I’m not worried, though. We’ve been friends since tenth grade when we three were the only members of chess club. It was before Netflix had popularized the game. In a way, we’d been ahead of our time. Take that, Queen’s Gambit.
“Okay,” I say placatingly. “I admit, some of those dates have not been so spectacular.”
“Not. So. Spectacular.” Max is starting to sound a tiny bit hysterical. “The guy before the cult enthusiast kept his own bees. In his spare bedroom. I got stung and went into anaphylactic shock. My face swelled up to the size of a watermelon, and the dude stabbed an EpiPen into my neck. Then there was your damn neighbor, who was still in love with his damn ex, took me to lunch in the damn restaurant where he worked, and tried to practically give me a fucking hand job every time the guy passed our table. Oh! And let’s not forget the fine gentleman who brought me to a flat-earthers’ demonstration, threw a rock into a shop window, blamed it on me, and got us thrown in jail.”
I wave my hand dismissively.
“We all make mistakes from time to time. Besides, Connor got you out of that, didn’t he? You didn’t even have to pay the fine. Now listen up. I just thought of a good one. He’s a real catch.”
“I’m not interested in—” Max starts, but I ignore him.
“Alfred is very nice.”
“And an octogenarian,” Anders mutters, making Max snicker.
“He’s the new accounting intern at the firm,” I continue. “He’s twenty-seven. And, he’s been engaged three times already, so he’s clearly ready to get serious. So? What do you think? Should I set it up?” I wave my phone in front of him. “I can hook you two up right now.”
Before I can do anything, though, my phone beeps. My hand freezes. I scrunch my face and close my eyes, not daring to look at the screen.
“Somebody look at it and tell me if it’s Connor so I can chuck the phone out of the window and initiate escape plan B.” I thrust the screen toward Max and Anders. “I’ll escape to Alaska and live off the land. Unfortunately, that means you’ll never see me again since everybody will have to presume I’m dead. We had a nice run. Tell my parents I love them. Also, make sure that Amelia and Eric know that by dying, I’ll forever cement my status as the favorite child.” I jump to my feet and lift my fist in the air. “George! My emergency escape pack, please.”
George ignores me, and after a few seconds, the other patrons stop staring and return to their meals.
Max rolls his eyes and takes the phone from my hand.
“You’d probably poison yourself by eating something you shouldn’t in Alaska, city boy.”
He doesn’t look that devastated about my certain demise, for some reason. I have to admit, it takes some of the wind out of my sails, so I drop back into my seat.
“What’s escape plan A?” Anders asks, still demolishing my food.
“Cry in the corner in the fetal position,” I reply.
“I’ll go in for you, if it’s Connor,” Anders offers. “But you’ll have to go to the movie theatre and cover my shift tonight.”
“You’re lucky I like you, otherwise, I’d agree in a heartbeat.”
“Sure you would,” Anders says with a slow, mocking nod. They both snicker.
“I would!”
“Sure,” Anders repeats. “It’s a no-brainer. Either go to my job where I have to army crawl back and forth like a freaking maggot in the back row of the theatre to stop seventeen-year-olds from making babies during the eleventy bazillionth Fast and Furious movie, or go to your office where you can stare at Connor McSexyface.”
I just look at him in disbelief. Betrayed by my best friend. That stab wound will never heal.
“Come on,” Anders says. “It’s like God took a paintbrush and went, ‘Hmm. What’s sexy?’ And then he drew up Connor Quinn.”
I roll my eyes, but Anders sends me a knowing look.
“You can’t actually tell me it comes as a shock to you that we’ve all noticed how hot boss man looks?”
Max nods his head next to Anders.
“It doesn’t come as a shock. I’m just marveling at what a difference perspective makes. You think he’s hot, but then again, you don’t have to listen to him speak. See, every time he opens his mouth, he’ll chip away some of that hotness, and after three years, we’re really in negative digits already. I only see a gargoyle when I look at him. Christ on a bike, is it Connor or not?” I turn toward Max.
“It’s not,” he says.
“I should ask for a raise to afford all those dye jobs once I’ve gone gray from the sheer amount of stress this job causes,” I mutter. “At this rate, I’ll have the white locks of Santa by this time next year.”
“Although,” I say thoughtfully after a second. “That’s an alternative career path right there. Gimme one of those pie slices. I have to start working on my belly like a bowl full of jelly.”
Anders slides the plate over, and I reach my hand out to get my phone back. Max holds it out of my reach.
“Who’s Seb?” he asks.
“Seb?” I don’t really care to analyze the quick flash of excitement that goes through me. Or the way that I scramble across the surface of the table to get to my phone. I’d be tackling Max if it wasn’t for the table between us. The NFL truly lost a talent the day my local pee-wee league rejected me.
“Hand it over,” I say, but Max is holding on to the phone with the firm grip of a pair of pliers.
“No.”
“It’s my phone!”
“Yeah, well, I’m curious now. Deal with it,” Max shoots back.
With lightning-quick moves, Anders reaches out his hands and twists the skin just a bit left of my nipple.
“Ouch,” I snap just as Max lets out a very undignified yelp.
We both glare at Anders, who looks unbelievably smug as he twirls my phone between the tips of his fingers.
“Purple nurple,” he says. “Works every time like a charm.”
“You were nowhere near my nipple,” Max complains as he rubs the lower part of his chest. “I might have actually enjoyed that if you’d managed to hit the target.”
Anders shrugs. “You try to aim when you two are acting like a pair of hyperactive monkeys.”
“Well, I, for one, think it was an effective move. Perfectly executed,” I say. “Thank you for saving my phone.” I put on a pleasant smile and reach out my palm. You catch more flies with honey, after all.
I should have known Anders wasn’t twisting nipples because he was trying to act gentlemanly, so he just scoffs at me.
“Spill the beans.”
“It’s nothing,” I grumble.
“You looked mighty excited for nothing,” Anders remarks, still fondling my phone in his palm.
“It’s just this guy I got talking to last night,” I say. “We played Words With Friends. You know how competitive I get. I was trying to see if he’d made his move already.”
I try my best to look casual.
“Words With Friends,” Max repeats.
“You just took all the excitement away,” Anders adds. “I was looking forward to details of a torrid love affair. At the very least, a hot hookup story. I was going to live vicariously through you. I can’t do that while you’re conducting whatever nerd experiment you’ve got going on.”
He looks genuinely disappointed.
“Sorry.” I grab my phone and try to be as surreptitious as possible as I casually slide my thumb over the screen to read Seb’s message. We’ve been playing for the last four days. We even made it official. And by that, I mean I sent him a friend request from my own phone and my own profile.
Seb: Rematch?
Warmth pools in my belly.
Another message pops up as if Seb has sensed I’m online.
Seb: I figure I should give you a chance to win at least once. So, how about it? Another game?
I can’t type fast enough.
J: Absolutely!
When I look up, I find Anders and Max staring at me.
I put the phone away and shrug.
“I’ve got good letters.”
My smile stays put for the rest of the day.