The Dating Experiment by Briar Prescott
Jamie
A few hours later, we’re both well past the slightly tipsy limit, Connor more so than me. The beer is long forgotten. Instead, we’ve graduated to tequila shots and whiskey.
The bar is nearly empty by now. The bartender has disappeared somewhere. Maybe he forgot us here? Not that I really care that much. All my attention is on Connor anyway.
He’s gotten rid of his tie and unbuttoned his shirt’s collar. One of his arms is casually thrown across the backrest of his seat.
There’s a smile on his face that hasn’t really left for the past few hours we’ve been sitting here, chatting.
I’ve stopped counting his laughs. There have been too many to keep track of. The only important thing to know is that most of those carefree laughs are my doing. It’s a heady feeling. Like I’ve conquered something. Risen to unimaginable heights. But it doesn’t feel like I’ve tamed a beast. More like I’ve set him free. At least for a little while. And maybe the beast isn’t really a beast at all?
I’m not sure why I feel so elated that Connor has loosened up for a few hours. I shouldn’t be so invested in his state of mind, but I can’t help myself. He deserves to relax, and he really doesn’t let himself do that. Ever.
I don’t know if it’s the tequila or the late hour, or maybe it’s the fact that we’re away from home and the well-defined lines of boss and employee have blurred a bit—whatever it is, I just know that I can’t get enough of this moment and seeing Connor like this.
“Closing time.”
The bartender is back. He turns on the much brighter overhead lights, and I have to blink several times until my eyes adjust.
We throw some money on the table and say our goodbyes.
“I’ll get us a cab,” I say, ready to wave one down when Connor grabs my forearm.
“Let’s walk,” he says. “It’s a nice night.”
He lifts his face toward the sky and breathes in deeply. He could pretty much ask anything at this point, and I’d agree. This new side of Connor is making me curious as hell.
It’s just after midnight, and downtown is filled with people. Connor makes a sharp turn on the street corner.
“Hey,” I say as he tugs me along. “The hotel is the other way,” I say.
“Not in the mood yet,” he throws over his shoulder.
I mean, that makes total sense, so I shrug and follow him.
We wander around for a long time, eventually ending up in a park. There are fewer people here. The lights of the park paint everything with a pinkish hue. It’s like a perpetual moment of twilight.
“Whoa,” I say, and then I stumble because pretty lights.
Connor huffs out a laugh and grabs my arm, helping me get my balance back.
“You’re a clumsy drunk. I finally understand what you meant by it being interesting to get to know people.”
“I’m not drunk,” I insist before I lift my chin toward him. “Also, pot, meet kettle.”
“Unlike me, you almost landed on your face.”
“People stumble from time to time. I do that shit every time I walk, doesn’t mean I’m drunk.”
He laughs.
“Prove it.”
I turn around and walk backward for a bit.
“Want me to touch my nose with my eyes closed?”
“Can you?” He quirks his brow.
I dutifully close my eyes and touch my nose. Then I stumble again. Walking backward, eyes closed, with all that alcohol sloshing around my system is hard.
Connor shakes his head.
“For some reason, I’m not convinced.”
I narrow my eyes for a second and look around, trying to find inspiration. My eyes land on the redbrick wall that surrounds a playground. The edge is just above my head, and it’s pretty narrow. Perfect.
Careless, reckless, and drunk. What could possibly go wrong?
Nothing.
I walk to the wall and grab ahold of the edge, hoisting my body up. I admit, I’m not a hundred percent steady on my feet, but it’s enough that I can walk on top of the wall without falling. I strut to the corner and then make my way back to Connor with a grin.
“Drunk, my ass,” I say smugly.
“You made your point. Can you come down before you smash your head in?”
He sounds worried, which is pretty surprising. But I also feel all light and carefree and in the mood to tease, so I shake my head and widen my arms.
“Do you think I could do a pirouette here?”
“Don’t even think about it,” he warns me.
“I’m off the clock, so you’re not the boss of me,” I scoff and go for it. It turns out a narrow ledge might not be the best place to practice your dance moves, though, so point to Connor on that part. I land on my hands and knees. On the wrong side of the wall. Or on the right side because the whole playground is covered in some sort of a rubbery material that cushions my fall.
A moment later, I can see Connor’s head pop up over the wall as he hoists himself up to the top of the wall.
“Oh good. You’re alive,” he says dryly, but there’s an edge to his voice. His eyes travel over me, up and down, side to side, as if he’s trying to x-ray me with his gaze to detect internal injuries.
“Come on. I’ll help you back to the other side.” He reaches out his palm.
There’s a swing set!
I could go for a swing.
“Jamie,” Connor says, voice full of warning.
I squeeze myself onto the swing and push myself to move with my toe.
“When was the last time you were on one of these things?” I ask.
“I don’t remember. Have I ever mentioned that I’ve never been arrested, and I’d like to keep it that way?”
“I’m pretty sure cops have bigger fish to fry.”
“This place is for kids,” Connor says insistently. “Let’s go.”
“Try it with me.”
“No.” I bet he’d like to cross his arms over his chest to really get the point across.
“It’s good to keep your inner child alive,” I say.
“I don’t have an inner child. Even as an actual child, I had an inner adult.”
“Everybody has an inner child. We just need to find yours. Come on. It’s fun.”
“I heartily disagree.”
“I won’t leave until you try.”
He stares at me for the longest time before he lets out a resigned sigh and drops over the edge of the wall.
I do my best to hide my smile as he stomps toward the swing set. His wide shoulders barely fit between the chains.
“You look very cute,” I say.
He’s anything but happy as he hesitantly pushes himself to move.
“This thing will collapse underneath us,” he grumbles.
“It’ll be fine,” I assure him.
For a little while, we swing in silence. I have no clue what it’s about, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes away from Connor. Every few seconds, my gaze finds him.
He’s fascinating. The way he’s relaxing slowly. Eventually, he lets his head drop back as he breathes in the cool night air.
I arch a brow at him and push the swing to move faster, throwing a wordless challenge Connor’s way. He quirks his brow before he rolls his eyes, but he swings faster. He’s right next to me, flying higher and higher until we’re both laughing like two absolute lunatics. Until we’re two blurry whirls in the night.
I whoop because I’m full of joy, and if I don’t let it out, I’ll explode. Connor laughs next to me, loud and wild and free. He’s all at once familiar and new, and I have no idea what to make of him and this night. Everything feels like a dream. The good kind. Not the nightmare I once had about him burying me under a stack of files.
It might not be real. Maybe I’m conked out behind my desk, but if so, I’m sure as hell not going to pinch myself. This feels too good.
“So?” I ask when we’ve both stopped moving.
Connor glances toward me.
“It’s nice,” he says, echoing my thoughts.
I rotate my swing so that I’m turned toward him. He does the same, facing me.
His eyes are black in the darkness of the night, the orange glow of the lamplights playing catch with the shadows on his body.
“I haven’t laughed this much in forever,” he says quietly. His eyes roam my face, looking for something. I’m not sure what. “Thank you, Jamie.”
“You never call me Jamie.” My voice echoes from the walls. It feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
“Aren’t nicknames usually reserved for friends and people you actually like?”
“My point is you could call me Jamie. I mean, I like you just fine. But you never do. It’s always James.”
He drags the flat of his shoe against the rubber surface of whatever the hell this material is that’s covering the playground.
“It’s easier this way. James is my assistant. That’s it. No confusion. No hazy boundaries.”
“But you called me Jamie just now. Twice.” I lift two fingers in the air as if to prove my words.
Connor looks at me for the longest time.
“It was a slip.”
I don’t know why I’m so stuck on this, but when he starts to turn away from me, I stop him by wrapping my fingers around his wrist.
“Well, I’m hereby granting you the right to call me Jamie. I mean, I can’t force you, but, yeah, you can.”
He shakes his head, eyes locked on where I’m still holding onto his wrist. His skin is warm underneath my palm, and the longer he looks at the point of contact between us, the quicker my heartbeat gets. My breathing becomes shallower as all my focus narrows on that one point of contact between me and Connor.
“Jamie,” he says quietly as if testing out the word. “Jamie,” he repeats and slides the tips of his fingers over the back of my hand that is still holding onto his wrist.
Our gazes collide in the quiet summer night. This feels big. Momentous. Unmanageable.
“I shouldn’t like you.” His gaze is still fixed on the back of my hand, and the inside of my palm is burning with brand-new awareness.
“You’re chaos, Jamie,” Connor says, and it feels like he’s saying those words more to himself than me.
I don’t know what to say to that.
He keeps sliding the tips of his fingers over the back of my hand, looking dazed. Like he can’t help himself.
I clutch the chain of my swing in my other palm. Afraid to move. Terrified to stay still.
His eyes are huge when he finds my gaze again.
“I don’t do chaos,” he says, his voice barely a murmur now. I don’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or me.
He’s not successful on either account.
I don’t know what makes me so chaotic in Connor’s mind, but I definitely live up to the reputation right this second as I lean forward, pushed toward him by some unseen forces. Sanity has left the building. I ignore the faint alarm bells somewhere in the back of my mind.
The distance between us narrows to almost nothing. My lips are inches away from his. Connor’s fingers are digging into the back of my hand almost painfully, but I welcome the reminder that this is not a dream. Unless dreams leave fingerprints on your skin and make shivers of excitement run over your whole body.
His thumb moves over my lower lip. My tongue peeks out. I take a swipe over the tip. A quick taste that makes me suck in my breath loudly. His eyes lift to meet mine. Words that don’t need to be said out loud hover between us.
It’s not too late to back down. To listen to common sense and pull away. Write this moment off on a long day and alcohol.
Connor doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
He’s so close I can taste his breaths. Beer. Tequila. Connor. Anticipation courses through my body, wave after wave.
Then there’s a loud clank.
A bright flash of light hits my face, and I instinctively raise my hand to cover my eyes.
“All right, out you two!” a loud voice barks, tearing the moment to pieces with harsh reality.
“The park is closed. If you’re not out of here in five seconds, I’ll give you a fine for trespassing.”
The next thing I know, Connor is hauling me up from the swing, and we make our way to the gate, the cop holding it open for us sending us suspicious glares the whole time.
The trek back to the hotel is quick and silent. Neither of us says anything. The moment of insanity has passed, leaving only awkwardness and confusion behind.
It only gets worse when we reach the hallway that leads to our rooms, and my eyes land on Castor Bradbury, who’s lounging against the wall next to Connor’s door.
What the hell is he doing here?
He straightens himself when he sees us approaching.
“Connor. Glad I ran into you again. That was one long phone call,” he says and sends me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen cross somebody’s face.
Too bad my head is a mess from the happenings of the evening, so I can’t really enjoy the moment.
“Castor,” Connor says with a stiff nod.
“Can we talk for a moment?” Bradbury asks.
“It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” Connor pats down his pockets and retrieves his key card.
Bradbury’s brows rise.
“Are you sure?” He leans closer, voice pitching lower. “You haven’t minded a late night before.”
There’s a sweeping motion of arctic wind inside me as I look at the two of them, realization hitting like a ton of bricks.
No fucking way.
“Tomorrow,” Connor repeats, gaze flying toward me and leaving as soon as our eyes meet.
“Suit yourself,” Bradbury says. He sounds casual enough, but I can tell he’s pissed by the rigid set of his shoulders.
I don’t want to concentrate too hard on the relief I’m feeling at seeing his back disappear down the hallway.
Or the sick feeling swirling in the bottom of my belly at Connor’s mention of tomorrow. What’s going to happen tomorrow? I don’t want to know.
Connor turns around to look at me. The laughter and heat are gone, replaced by his usual unreadable expression. The warm hand that I can still feel on my wrist is stuffed into his pocket. His posture is perfectly stiff. The usual.
I’m not sure if I was actually expecting us to continue where we left off once we were back in the hotel.
Or if I already knew it was never going to happen.
Connor meets my gaze head-on. But where there was heat and excitement before, now there’s only distance and coolness. It’s such a harsh change. Connor has hit the brakes, but my brain hasn’t processed the message yet and is still going full speed in fantasy land where Connor and I are skipping through a field of wildflowers hand in hand.
I need some kind of a sign that I didn’t cook everything that happened in the last half an hour up in my brain.
I get nothing.
Connor might as well be a Swiss bank vault. His impenetrable surface is back in place, smiles and laughs hidden behind it.
“I apologize,” he says stiffly. “I was out of line earlier. I think it’s best if we forget tonight ever happened.”
And just like that, he turns around and disappears into his room, leaving me standing there, more confused than ever. As if it’s so easy to swipe everything under a rug. Out of sight, out of mind.
It’s anything but easy, though.
I spent an evening with Connor without actively wanting to kill him. And not even just that. We had fun. Laughing was involved, for crying out loud.
I didn’t even know Connor knew how to laugh!
And what the hell was that moment on the swings? I refuse to dub it a near kiss. As far as I’m concerned it was long-distance mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. And the patient survived. Hooray!
I sigh as I lean against the door once I’m inside the room.
This night went from good to crap in a spectacular way.