Page 1 of The Forever Experiment

Easton

Valentine's Day - 10 Years Ago

“Smack your gum alittle louder, pretty boy.”

A smile teases my lips as the nickname echoes off the walls of the otherwise silent library. I lift my head from behind my laptop to find two almond-shaped, brown and gold flecked eyes looking back at me. They smolder with amusement despite her full lips screwed into a vexed frown.

“Not gum. Candy.” I grin at her, holding up the box of Tart Hearts before I go back to chewing—louder this time.

She scoffs, gaze falling to her screen as she shakes her head. Her nails tap against the keys in a way that spells her annoyance. I know we’re working on the same term paper for our Business Law 101 course. Most of our other classmates will procrastinate until Sunday night to get it done, opting to spend their Valentine’s Day in more enticing ways, but I knew Mayawould come down to the North Library to study tonight, and it’s no surprise I ended up doing the same.

If I were going to ask anyone out on the most romantic of holidays, it’d be her.

She’d say no, though. So instead, I spend my evening actually getting ahead of my coursework for once while stealing glances at her from the table across the room, searching for the courage I know I won’t find to speak to her.

I mean, I do speak to Maya often. We take many of the same courses, and that’s not because I’m stalking her. We’re both pre-law. Last term, we formed a study group with a few other students and we often meet up, though everyone else had plans tonight.

I met Maya last fall in an Introduction to Law and Literature course. She caught my eye the first day when she was the only student in the room with the gall to ask our professor for clarification on the syllabus, establishing herself as the most ambitious, outspoken, and driven woman I’ve ever met. And that’s generous, considering my sister, Penelope, just got admitted to fucking Oxford.

I’ve lusted after her ever since, and sometimes, I swear I can see a matching passion in Maya’s eyes, but whatever may be brewing beneath the surface, she sure as hell won’t act upon it.

She’s focused on school, her career, and her future one-hundred percent of the time. She’s convinced men are nothing more than a waste of time, a deterrent to her success. Honestly, I can’t say I disagree. I don’t have much to offer besides an above-average cock and an eager tongue, but I’d be more than willing to slip her an orgasm or two between classes if it allowed me even a few moments alone with her.

There’s something about Maya—her energy, her aura, her smile. It’s the triumph I feel when I’m actually capable of pulling a laugh from that pretty mouth of hers. I’m addicted to her.

How do I go about telling her that, though?

Hey, I know you’re way out of my league, but would you ever consider making me your personal boy toy because I’d rather be that to you than nothing at all?

I’m a fucking lunatic.

“If you want a piece, Maya baby, all you’ve got to do is walk those pretty legs over here and ask me nicely.”

Those eyes lift to me over her screen, flaring with just a hint of allure. The first time she called me “pretty boy” was after I offered to take the lead witness freshman year on our university’s Mock Trial team and she promptly told me to sit down before taking the lead herself. Which was to be expected, I’m not the most motivated student. I’m applying for law school because my dad is a doctor and my sister is going to discover lost cities someday, and I’m determined not to be the family fuck-up.

Regardless, the nickname stuck, just like I got stuck on her, and “Maya baby” followed not long after. She pretends to hate it, but the only thing she seemed to hate more was the three month period when I had stopped calling her that, because I thought she didn’t like it.

She’s complicated, but I’d spend a lifetime unraveling her nuances if I could.

“Shouldn’t you be out getting yourself into trouble tonight?” Her voice is a purr, her movements like silk as she closes her laptop and stands from her chair. She strides toward me before planting her sweet, thick thighs on the edge of my table and holding out her palm.

I pull a heart out of the box, making sure I grab a blue one that reads “B Mine” before setting it in her hand and leaning back in my chair, crossing my arms behind my head. “Had better things to do.”

“Like stalking me?” she asks, tossing the candy into her mouth without even looking at what it says.

“I do not stalk you,” I scoff.

“Right. Of course you don’t,” she says, tossing her sleek, straight hair over her shoulder. “That’s why you’re at the North Library tonight when it’s so much farther from your apartment than the Main Library on campus.”

I raise my brow. “Now who’s the stalker?”

She rolls her eyes, glancing away, though I catch the blush creeping up her cheeks.

It emboldens me. “Why aren’t you out on a date tonight?”

“The only thing I’m dating is my coursework.” She huffs a laugh. “Just like someday, I’ll be married to my career.” She shrugs. “I like it that way.”

“We could always do that thing where if we reach forty and we’re not married, we marry each other,” I offer with a wink.

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