Accompanied with a look of longing, that last one hit the nail on the head. How could she not believe I wanted her?

Nothing I’d said had been a lie—I didn’t profess an emotion that I didn’t feel. I’d simply manipulated the truth to appear otherwise. In some unexplainable way, I believed the omission of a lie kept my integrity. It also made the experiment more valid. Lies tainted the sample. Lies were easy.

My attempt to woo didn’t rely only on words. I’d learned in earlier experiments that touch was an easy way to get closer to a subject. With Celia, I’d ignored the boundaries of personal space, brushing against her at every opportunity, casually stroking her skin whenever possible.

My actions had an effect on her. Her gaze lingered on me longer and longer, and soon she made her own excuses to touch me. Finally, after two months had passed, I made my big move. On the doorstep of the Werner’s Hampton home, I’d leaned in for a kiss. She lifted her chin to meet me, wetting her lips as I slowly made my descent.

Half an inch from her mouth, I’d pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” I had said with as much heaviness as I could lay in my words. “This is wrong. I’m sorry.” I’d hurried to my car and raced off, her voice chasing after me to stop. I’d left her wanting. I’d left her yearning. For me.

Then I didn’t call or see her for two weeks. The distance had an air of douche about it, but with the event of a broken kiss preceding it, I believed my behavior would seem understandable. Gallant, even. I hadn’t wanted to destroy her relationship with Dirk, so I’d removed myself from her presence. Or, that was the scenario I’d attempted to create anyway.

Celia had tried to contact me, despite my withdrawal. But I’d refused every call and managed to avoid her visits to the house. Tonight would be the end of our “break.” It was seemingly forced—both of us were expected at the party—but I had carefully planned my pursuit to escalate to this very evening. I felt confident about the set-up, yet there were still variables. Would she be angry with me? Relieved to see me again? Would she pretend our last encounter never happened? The variables didn’t concern me. Their unpredictability was what made the experiment fun.

Approaching footsteps sounded over the stone walk to the pool. Here comes Sophia. Right on time.

I removed my sunglasses and sat up to face my mother’s wrath.

But it wasn’t Sophia. It was Celia. Even better.

I stood to meet her.

She balled her dainty fists and propped them on her hips. “Don’t you think about going anywhere, Hudson Pierce. You’re trapped tonight. You have to talk to me whether you want to or not.”

Her tone said frustrated. Heated, for sure, but not angry.

Interesting.

I decided I’d be the one to play that nothing happened. “I’m not going anywhere, Ceeley,” I said, purposefully using my childhood nickname for her. “I was merely standing to greet you.”

She frowned, disbelief on her face. “Next you’re going to pretend you haven’t been avoiding me for two weeks.”

I shook my head and shrugged, my gaze drifting behind her to nothing specific. It was a posture I’d perfected—dramatic and aloof. “Nah, I’m not going to do that.” Then I pinned her with my eyes. “I can’t pretend with you, Ceeley. Not anymore.”

It hadn’t been what I’d planned to say—it was a blatant lie. I’d planned on pretending with her as long as necessary, but as soon as I’d said it, I knew it was what the moment needed.

Celia’s expression confirmed that it was the right thing to say. Her frustration melted off her features and she was left looking soft and off-kilter. “Then let’s not pretend. Let’s talk about this.”

I wasn’t ready for that. If she made a declaration of love or an intention to end things with her boyfriend, I’d be stuck for the rest of the evening playing that I welcomed those things. It was my parents’ fucking garden party. I wouldn’t be able to dump her and leave. And I certainly wasn’t going as far as that would require me to go. I wasn’t planning to even kiss her.

So I deflected. “How about we not talk tonight? Instead we just enjoy one of the last days of summer. We can talk tomorrow. Are you going to the Brookes’ shindig?” I already knew her answer. The Brookes were our age. Twins—Thomas and Christina. Christina was one of Celia’s friends. An entire house full of spoiled rich kids. No supervision. That was the more appropriate setting for the end of my project.

Celia’s mouth turned up in an eager grin. “Of course I’m going. Christina would kick my ass if I didn’t.” She’d been hoping that the reason behind my asking was because I wanted to be alone with her instead.

It wasn’t. “I’m going too. I’ll meet you there. We can slip away when we don’t have our parents breathing down our necks.” I glanced toward the house, indicating how close our parents were at that very moment. “It will give us a chance to…” I hesitated, letting her mind jump to whatever conclusion she preferred before I finished with, “talk.”

“Right.” Her cheeks flushed and I was sure her thoughts had been dirty. “We’ll…talk…then.”

“Good.” I let a brighter than usual smile cross my lips. “I see swimsuit straps under that dress. If you want to get in, I will too.”

We played in the pool for quite a while. Soon other guests arrived and more of our peers joined us. Christina Brooke flirted with me, as she often did, though I refrained from returning the attention the way I normally would. There were several other attractive girls there as well—some that I’d even fucked on occasion. On any other night, I would have picked one and banged her behind the poolhouse.

But tonight Celia was there. Tonight the experiment was more important. So I ignored the eyes the other girls gave me, and I made sure to keep my focus on The Subject throughout the night. I wanted to be sure that she noticed I was looking, that she assumed I was attracted to her physically, though I wasn’t. It wasn’t that Celia wasn’t pretty. Quite the contrary. She’d been a beautiful girl that had grown into an even more beautiful woman over the year we’d been apart. Her curves had filled out—her hips were full, her waist slight. Her breasts were on the small side, but firm under her bikini top. Her nipples beaded through the thin material under my frequent glances. Any other man would have been hard staring at her as often as I did.

But I wasn’t just any man. Despite her beauty, Celia had never turned me on. I knew her too well. I cared for her as much as I was able. For me, emotions didn’t go with sex. They were completely separate. Emotional attachment was for people you wanted to spend time with—there were few of those people in my life. So few I could count them on one hand.

Sex was something else entirely. It was for pleasure. For getting off. For releasing pent-up aggression. I’d explored the possibility that it was anything else very thoroughly. I’d fucked frequently. I’d learned how to please and how I liked to be pleased. I’d perfected technique, shaped myself into a skilled lover. Yet with all the encounters I’d had, I’d never discovered the association others had with emotion and sex. My findings only solidified my original hypothesis—they were separate things entirely.

Or I’d proven another hypothesis altogether—that I was incapable of that type of emotion. That I was incapable of love. That certainly wasn’t a conclusion that I’d ruled out.

It was after ten when a bunch of us commandeered a lounging area set up specifically for the party. I sat on the loveseat, Celia at my side. Christina Brooke half sat, half fell at my feet. I imagined she’d gone past tipsy to drunk, but most of it was an act. She was looking for an excuse to lean against my leg. I didn’t mind. I liked the way her hand held onto my thigh as her breast pushed through her tank against my bare shin. My view of her was fantastic. I could see down her shirt with ease. She was an extremely sexy girl with plump lips that I couldn’t help imagining wrapped around my cock. I had a semi just thinking about it.