Page 41 of The True Love Experiment

I get it together enough to frown in feigned offense. “Hey, what aboutme? Ticket hookup, hello?”

Her response is a sleepy grunt as she’s carried down the hall to her room.

With Juno situated and Stevie asleep in the back seat, Connor jogs down a couple of front steps, and then looks back at me expectantly. “Ready?”

I start to follow, propelled like there’s a silken rope connecting us, but hesitate. I think about the warmth of the car and the soothing mood of the music. I think about Connor’s big hands wrapped around the steering wheel, gripping it like it was a vine tethering him to the top of a cliff. I think about his forearms that are corded with veins and muscle, and how when he’s two steps below me we’re finally at eye level. I think about how his eyes lit up with joy tonight watching his daughter in her element, and I think about how his shoulders felt beneath my legs earlier when he lifted me. I think about the defeated growl of hisMy new best friendand I think about being in the front seat beside him for one second longer and I’m not sure I can do it. I am but a mortal woman after all, and once againI want Connor Prince III to crush me beneath him like a delicate flower under a fallen tree.

But sexily.

“I think I’ll crash here tonight,” I tell him.

“It’s not out of my way,” he assures me. “Really.”

“It’s not that.”

His eyes narrow. He gets it: I am very specifically not going with him because it’s not the kind of ride I want him to offer.

Instead, I am going to go inside and tell my best friend all about this suffocating chemistry between us.

“If you’re sure…” he says, smirking.

“Oh,” I say, “I’m sure.”

With the smirk still in his eyes, he says good night to Jess and then jogs his hot body back down the front steps.

We watch him, rapt, like it’s the final few moments ofSquid Game, and then I exhale fifteen metric tons of air from my lungs. “Jesus.”

“You’re doomed.”

I follow her inside, kicking off my shoes. “I am not doomed. I’m awakened. I’m revitalized.”

“Sure.”

“Jessica, hear my words: Connor is a catalyst. A spark. An amuse-bouche for the libido. Aren’t you glad? I’ve been an emotional robot. That doesn’t make for interesting television.”

Jess collapses on the couch. “Do you remember when I fake-dated River?”

“Of course I remember. Every time he walked into Twiggs you looked like you were going to eat his face.”

“And still, I swore I wasn’t into him.”

I see where this is going, but I disagree with the parallel. “Yes, but you were delusional. You were already halfway in love with him.”

“Like you right now with Connor.”

“Absolutely not,” I reply. “You were falling for River. I just want to ride the hot producer’s dick.”

Having just entered the room to join us, River makes a quick U-turn at this, disappearing back into the hall. “Good night,” he calls.

“Come back! I value your opinion!” The only response I get is the sound of his footsteps echoing away. I grin over at Jess. “Whoops.”

She shakes her head in exasperation. “Why do you always insist everything is just casual sex?”

“Because my last relationship was with a dirtbag, and for the past three years I’d rather eat a literal bag of dirt than risk breaking up someone’s marriage again?”

“You say it like you’re joking, but it’s true. Robwasa dirtbag. He was the monster. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It is true. I know it, intellectually, even if it took all this time to really feel the truth of it in my gut. I’m finally over the fatal sting of his duplicity (even if there will always be a fiery asterisk beside his name). I sit down beside her on the sofa. “I know.”

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