The Dating Experiment (Better With You #2)

by Briar Prescott

I guess there’s James Bond, but nobody who looks at me would make that connection. I’m about as deadly as a cheese sandwich, in that I could choke you, but it would definitely happen by accident. All in all, I used to really like my name. Not anymore.

J: No, just pickles and cheese. Do your magic. We can role-play Gordon Ramsay and an incompetent restaurant owner? You can yell at me and call me an idiot sandwich. Seb: You just went right ahead and tapped into what I find hot.

“I compliment you,” he says after a little bit. “Really? I wasn’t aware you calling me and asking me if I had died in the copy room or if I had just gotten lost was meant to be a compliment. Nor is it a compliment to loudly wonder if you should wait until the body has been discovered to post the job ad.”

“This is not a fork-and-knife burger. You have to eat it with your hands.” “Why would they give me a fork and knife in that case?” “To laugh at you behind your back when you actually use them. I saved you the embarrassment. You can thank me with a raise.” “I already pay you more than any reasonable person would an assistant,” he says. “Yes, well, I need to fund my lavish lifestyle somehow. Now eat.”

“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.”

Do not even think about it, Connor. You need two letters. N and o. Now get them out of your mouth. “You’re on.” Wrong order, you fucking idiot.

That’s the thing with Jamie. When I’m with him, I feel good. When I’m with him, I don’t feel out of place. When I’m with him, I feel comfortable in my own skin. He takes me the way I am, and I do the same.

Real romance is made up of everyday moments. It’s laughing together at inside jokes only the two of you understand. It’s hugs after a shitty day and having somebody in your corner even when you screw up. It’s talking about your day over dinner and creating traditions for the two of you. It’s arguing and making up. It’s being together through thick and thin, glorious days and boring moments because your life is better with him.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says hoarsely. I shake my head and thread my fingers through the hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer until our foreheads are pressed together. His hot breath tickles over my lips as I lock eyes with him. “No. I’m going to be the life of you.”

“I’ll be lying in my lonely, cold bed every night. Bored. Sad. Did I already say horny? Well, it bears repeating. I will jerk off so much that the skin of my dick will get all raw. And then I’ll get an infection and die.” He blinks as he stares at me. For the longest time, he doesn’t say anything at all. “That’s… What the ever-loving fuck?” he finally says. I nod. “A tragic story. But you can prevent that from happening. Use your powers for good and save me from the clutches of an untimely, excessive masturbation-related death.”

The guy’s a dick. No, not dick. I like dicks. The guy’s an empty bottle of lube. Useless and frustrating.