The Social Experiment Read online

  The Social Experiment

  A Novel

  Addison Moore

  Hollis Thatcher Press, LTD.

  Cover Design: Gaffey Media

  Cover Graphics: Renegade Designs

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  Hollis Thatcher Press, LTD.

  Copyright © 2017 by Addison Moore

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  Smashwords Edition

  http://addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com/

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.

  All Rights Reserved.

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  Copyright © 2017 by Addison Moore

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Books by Addison Moore

  1. In the Dark

  Rowen

  2. Upon Further Analysis

  Rowen

  3. Old Research and New Development

  Rowen

  4. Trial and Error

  Rowen

  5. Speculation Abounds

  Rowen

  6. Obscene Observation

  Rowen

  7. Final Examination

  Rowen

  Books by Addison Moore

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Addison Moore

  For up to the minute pre-order and new release alerts

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  *Be sure to subscribe to Addison’s mailing list for sneak peeks and updates on all upcoming releases!

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  Romance

  3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)

  Winter Kisses (3:AM Kisses 2)

  Sugar Kisses (3:AM Kisses 3)

  Whiskey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 4)

  Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5)

  Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6)

  Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses 7)

  Country Kisses (3:AM Kisses 8)

  Forbidden Kisses (3:AM Kisses 9)

  Dirty Kisses (3:AM Kisses 10)

  Stolen Kisses (3:AM Kisses 11)

  Lucky Kisses (3:AM Kisses 12)

  Tender Kisses (3:AM Kisses 13)

  Revenge Kisses (3:AM Kisses 14)

  Red Hot Kisses (3:AM Kisses 15)

  * * *

  Low Down & Dirty (Low Down & Dirty 1)

  Dirty Disaster (Low Down & Dirty 2)

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  Burning Through Gravity (Burning Through Gravity 1)

  A Thousand Starry Nights (Burning Through Gravity 2)

  Fire in an Amber Sky (Burning Through Gravity 3)

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  Beautiful Oblivion (Beautiful Oblivion 1)

  Beautiful Illusions (Beautiful Oblivion 2)

  Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion 3)

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  The Solitude of Passion

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  Someone to Love (Someone to Love 1)

  Someone Like You (Someone to Love 2)

  Someone For Me (Someone to Love 3)

  Young Adult Romance

  Melt With You (A Totally ’80s Romance 1)

  Tainted Love (A Totally ’80s Romance 2)

  Hold Me Now (A Totally ’80s Romance 3)

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  Paranormal Romance

  (Celestra Book World in Order)

  Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)

  Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)

  Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)

  Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)

  Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)

  Expel (Celestra Series Book 6)

  Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)

  Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 8)

  Elysian (Celestra Series Book 9)

  Perfect Love (A Celestra Novella)

  * * *

  Ethereal Knights (Celestra Knights)

  Season of the Witch (A Celestra Companion)

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  Ephemeral (The Countenance Trilogy 1)

  Evanescent (The Countenance Trilogy 2)

  Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3)

  * * *

  Celestra Forever After (Celestra Forever After 1)

  The Dragon and the Rose (Celestra Forever After 2)

  The Serpentine Butterfly (Celestra Forever After 3)

  Crown of Ashes (Celestra Forever After 4)

  Throne of Fire (Celestra Forever After 5) Soon!

  In the Dark

  Sophie

  Rowen Garret is a sex god, a sex machine, a carousel of carnal fun that the coeds at Leland University have been known to hop on regularly, both in and out of football season. I’ve known this simple fact for years, and now the entire free world is in on this non-secret. His body is far leaner and meaner than I remember it. You could sit down and have dinner on those biceps of his. And forget about eating on those rock-hard, heavily sculpted abs—they’re the only thing you’ll be hungry for once you’re within biting range.

  “You’re staring—scratch that. You’re outright drooling,” Vi trills as she dances with her fruity-colored cocktail in an effort to divert my attention. The two of us have actually managed to herd ourselves to the Underground Tavern—the unofficial-slash-official—university bar situated just a mere hop and sorority skip from campus. Neither Vi nor I are actually interested in the Greek system, seeing that it might require more human interaction than either of us cares to offer. We prefer to stay safely tucked away in our dorm at Canterbury Hall. But tonight, the Leland Cougars brought home their first football victory—correction, Rowen Garret single-handedly commandeered the win—nevertheless, it’s led to the mandatory celebration at our own alcohol-soaked watering hole, and Vi and I have decided to venture out of our dorm to join in on the alcohol-laden fun.

  Vi—Violet Hathaway—is the first person whom I both met and liked once I arrived at Leland University. I’m not a people person by nature. No offense to the entire human race, but I’m more of a connoisseur of fictional characters than I am interested in those of the flesh and blood variety. I’d choose fiction over reality any day, and most days I do.

  “I’m not staring,” I’m swift to inform my bubbly, redheaded roommate. Vi is a walking testament to her Irish gene pool with that pale skin, eyes the color of a four-leaf clover, and all the other Irish, redheaded charm she exudes. We have that whole Irish thing in common, sans the fact my hair is several shades darker, and I’m far less excitable about life than she is in general. “And for sure I’m not drooling. I’m admiring. There’s a difference.”

  I glance down at my equally tutti-frutti drink and swirl its contents in my hands. The drinks are both virgins, as are the girls nursing them. And trust me, Vi and I have no problem with either. She let me know she came close to giving up her V-card last summer just prior to a breakup from hell, and for her sake, I’m glad she didn’t go through with it.

  But tonight isn’t about breakups or tossing all caution and our aforementioned V-cards to the wind. Tonight is about making a small effort to unify with the rest of the Cougar family over our f
irst football victory.

  Along with our first game, it’s our first time at the Underground Tavern. It’s nice, in a cozy, dungeon-like frat house way—or at least the way I envision a frat house—with its dark paneling and almost garish display of school colors in the required cardinal and gold. There’s a house band on a tiny stage near the back, and a bunch of girls have kicked off their heels to swing their hips and fist pump to the rhythm. Much to my relief, the bar also serves food, so that takes all future pressure off hiding the fact I don’t actually imbibe or have the propensity to swing my hips while mildly threatening the house band with physical violence. Not that those fist pumping girls look as if they’re threatening anyone with anything but a good time. It’s just that with my resting bitch face and all around nonconformist attitude, I might look like a one-woman terror threat.

  A waitress breezes by with a heaping plate of nachos that looks as if it has everything mouthwatering under the sun piled on, and it makes my stomach wish I had something in it other than sugar and ice. The waitresses have been hauling out a steady stream of nacho heaven all night, assuring me that I’ll spend many a night for the next four years sitting right here enjoying both cheesy goodness and a cheesy cover band.

  My eyes snag on Rowen and his fresh out of the shower, school-issued polo wearing perfection, and my insides squeeze tight. I’ve seen Rowen around campus, and each and every time my body gives off some biological response, assuring me of the fact it’s still very much interested.

  “Simply admiring?” Vi hitches her thumb at him, and I all but swat her before I block her view of the hero of the night.

  “Let’s not give him any more attention than he deserves. Besides, I know him.” I swallow hard at the admission. It’s been so long since he was removed from the official friends and family list and relegated as nothing more than a mere acquaintance—a turn of events that I would have never believed if someone would have told me all those years ago—but I doubt I really know him anymore at all.

  Those emeralds she calls eyes nearly shoot right through me. “You know him?”

  “Yes, but don’t get excited. I don’t know him in the carnal sense.” I’d tell her to get her head out of the gutter, but, with Rowen, the gutter is the next logical step. Just as I’m about to fill her in on this seeming miracle, Ember pops up and knocks her hips into ours, baptizing both of our sweaters with our matching tutti-frutti drinks. Lucky for us, we opted to wear our matching L.U. sweatshirts in the obligatory shade of cardinal, so it’s not much of an issue.

  “How are my witches and bitches?” Ember—September Sparks—is just as lively as her quasi-curious name suggests. Vi has let me know in the past that if I think Ember is a character, wait until I meet her mother. And since parent day is coming soon to a campus near you, I can attest I’ll be the first in line to meet and greet her. Ember has proven to be ceaseless entertainment these last two weeks. Fall semester is just getting underway, and with Ember and Vi around, it feels as if I’ve been at Leland all my life. Everything about them, about Leland, is familiar, comfortable like a pair of well-worn shoes.

  Ember is also doing time in Canterbury Hall, in the dorm room next to ours to be exact. She doesn’t really care for her persona non-grata roommate, so we’ve sort of adopted Ember as our own. She’s cute and impossibly petite, with a headful of long caramel-colored curls and bright blue eyes that are rimmed with lime green. She’s one of those effortless beauties that makes both men and women alike straighten in her presence.

  Vi hikes her brows, amused. “Sophie, here, was just going to fill me in on her one-night stand with Randy Rowen.”

  “That’s disgusting.” I’m quick to frown at the idea, but my thighs tremble at the prospect. “He’s like a brother to me.” Now that’s a lie. “Actually, he was my brother’s best friend. They sort of drifted apart.” Sort of drifted apart? More like blew apart with the subtlety of a nuclear missile. I take a sip of my drink and try not to avert my eyes at the brevity I just allotted their lifelong tumultuous relationship. “Rowen and my brother, Braden, were pretty tight for years, right up until Rowen broke his girlfriend’s ruby red heart. Soon thereafter, Becca, the ruby red girlfriend in question, ended up with my brother.”

  I try to shrug it off as if we had long since mended from the trauma, but, the truth is, that laceration is still split wide open and bleeding. I guess some wounds never really heal.

  “That sort of killed their budding bromance,” I continue. “Rowen hasn’t come around in years. Becca is still there, though. She and my brother are sort of a fixture now.” Becca is okay, but it’s been three years, and we’re not really all that much closer than we started when she and my brother first got together. I always imagined that once Braden was finally snapped off the market, his new girlfriend would become the sister I never had—shopping, braiding each other’s hair, I wanted the whole nine girly yards, so I sort of feel gypped in that respect. Those are the very things I once had with Mindy, Rowen’s little sister. She was my best friend right up until we fell into that fissure our brothers created. We chose sides, and they weren’t with each other.

  The breakup happened three years ago, and it still feels like a fresh trauma. That violent lamps-knocked-to-the-floor-windows-shattering fistfight Rowen and Braden had bounces through my mind, and I bounce it right back out. I hurt just as much as Braden did during that terrible time in our lives. He lost Rowen, and I lost Mindy. Braden and I are three years apart, and Rowen and Mindy are exactly that. I always felt our families fit neatly together. Our parents all got along great, too. Our mothers would buy Mindy and me matching Christmas sweaters each year and the four of us would go caroling through our snowy neighborhood. I miss those happy days. I miss my mother’s twinkling smile.

  Braden and I lost our mom to cancer when I was fourteen and he was eighteen. Rowen was the first to hug me after the funeral. I’ll never forget the words he whispered into my ear, I promise you’ll never be alone. I’ll make sure of it. And then a few years and a rotten breakup later, he was gone. That simple promise evaporated right along with him. That’s when I realized people don’t really mean what they say, especially not in times of tragedy. It’s just word vomit to get them out of an uncomfortable situation. If my life were a book, the words Rowen whispered would have meant something. They would have resonated like some sort of anthem and been the cornerstone of some ridiculous happily ever after.

  Instead, Rowen is the star quarterback of the Leland Cougars and the self-appointed one-night stand king in all of Moon Ridge—all of Colorado, for that matter. His mattress moves have been vetted by just about everyone with ovaries, west of the continental divide. Which is probably why the blonde, breasty masses are encircling him at the moment as if some naughty nightly ritual is about to take place. It most likely is.

  “So?” Vi nods over to the swelling crowd of estrogen overtaking Leland’s crowned carnal king. “Why don’t we head over and you can introduce us?” She bites down over her strawberry-stained lip as a strangled purr emits from her. Even though Violet went through a horrible breakup last summer, she claims she’s over it and ready to hunt and trap with the best of us. Only I’m not particularly in either hunting or trapping mode these days, so she’ll have to set her traps solo.

  My eyes flit toward that tribal circle quickly forming around Leland’s prized quarterback as the girls start in on some sexual chant I’m loath to decipher. I’ve had a mean crush on Rowen Garret for as long as I can remember. Just being in the same room with him makes my body heat spike, my cheeks catch fire as if I’ve just tripped and fallen into the hottest part of my own sexual sun.

  The thought of introducing my new friends to a boy I hardly know anymore is the last sober thing on the planet I’m willing to do.

  “No,” I flatline, turning my back to the baller in question. He’s good at sacking them by the dozens. I’ll give him that. “No way, no how. He’s practically a stranger to me now. Besides, I’m horrified at the thought
of how many girls he’s twirled over his man parts over the last few years. He’s a walking venereal disease. Trust me, none of us are vaccinated enough to be in a ten-foot radius of him or that harem of hussies that follows him around.”

  “Speaking of man parts.” Ember twitches her blonde head toward the epicenter of what I’m sure is panning out to be a whole new strain of viral herpes. “Kendra Pierson let me in on a not-so little tidbit during the game. Turns out, Rowen Garret’s boy toy actually has a rather crude and rude moniker all of its own.”

  My heat index hits critical mass at the mere mention of Rowen Garret’s boy toy. Way back when, Rowen was a nice guy, one of the best, and I would have bet good money that I would never be embroiled in such a rude and crude conversation regarding my friend’s manhood just a few years down the road. But then my mother died and the world turned itself inside out, and now it seems the rabbit hole I’ve fallen into is a never-ending carnal cluster of surprises—Rowen’s need to impale an entire bevy of girls with his flesh-covered sword being the biggest of them. No pun intended.

  “Well? I can hardly stand the heat—I mean suspense.”

  Ember twitches those sparkly pink lips. “The Colossus.”

  Vi shakes her head. “As in the roller coaster?”

  “Yes.” Ember glances back at our amusement park hero. “Word on the heavily trafficked walk of shame is that his woody is one wild ride that takes you to heights only someone of his—colossal size—for lack of a better word, can take you.”