The ballroom, as this underground dungeon beneath the psych building is loosely called, is filled to the brim with new and old social misfits. It’s decorated like a thirteen-year-old’s birthday party with balloons and streamers, and holds the scent of the obnoxious perfume section of a shopping mall. Since the alumni were invited to the mixer, both Sophie and Violet showed up, and I’ve clung to them all night, save for my one indiscretion with the emcee of the bombastic ball himself.

Sophie leans in with those serious eyes pegged on mine. “Whatever you do, don’t get flustered.”

Violet swats her over the arm. “Have you met her? She’s the one who flusters people, not the other way around.” Vi smirks over at me. “You give them hell, girl. This is your heart on the line, too. If you don’t like whomever that super computer spits out as a match, you simply stamp a big fat rejection right over their forehead. You hear me? Take no prisoners. This is war.”

Sophie chokes on a laugh. “Love is not a battlefield. Hey, isn’t that an eighties song or something?”

The microphone on stage gives off a deafening amount of feedback, inspiring the bubbling conversations to quickly die out, and all eyes feast themselves in that general direction. The room is festooned with red and gold balloons, showing off just the right amount of school spirit, along with dozens of chalkboards strewn around the room welcoming Group C and past alumni alike.

Violet is right. I’m not one to get flustered, but for whatever reason, the fact I’ll be under the microscope for the next six weeks has my insides filled with what feels like rabid bats and my palms sweating out an entire ocean of anxiety.

Dexter Houston takes the stage looking immaculate in his dark suit, gold—Cougar-inspired tie. His hair is slicked back, looking darker than the dirty blond I saw yesterday while he dangled me from my ponytail as I flirted with a certain death. My God, if I splattered over the ground, it would have been my brother Arlo who’d have to show up with a shovel to scrape me into the back of a hearse. And even though the tragedy was averted, I can’t help but glower at the scoundrel taking the stage to a riotous applause.

Sophie and Rowen wanted to lynch him not all that long ago. Same with Violet and Lane. And here I haven’t even left the gate and I’m already feeling the urge to get a rope. Chelle bounces through my mind with that sweet round face, those glowing eyes, those deeply embedded dimples. She is the definition of adorable. How did a rascal like Dexter produce such an amazing little girl? She held a conversation for an hour straight about everything under the sun. Once I left, it actually felt as though I had a nice sit-down with a girlfriend. I start my nanny gig later this week, and already I’m looking forward to it.

I scowl at Dexter. What I’m not looking forward to is dealing with the turkey in front of me any more than I have to. What was up with that little impromptu confessional? Telling me he doesn’t believe in love?

I nudge both Sophie and Vi. “Can you believe this guy? He’s a total fake.”

Sophie groans, “He’s not so bad. Rowen really likes him.”

Vi nods. “Lane says he’s a good guy deep down inside.”

“How deep? I bet you need an icepick just to see the frozen tundra housing his heart.”

Dexter starts in on a spiel, a canned message thanking those present and past participants. Blah, blah, blah. I promptly tune him out.

“How come he’s not throwing his hat in the ring?” It feels rhetorical at this point, but curious minds want to know. “I mean, why go through all the trouble of securing other people’s happily ever afters and not chasing your own?” I’m not sure I buy that whole I-don’t-believe-in-love crap. Not from him anyway. Although it happens to be true as gospel on my end.

Sophie leans in. “It’s probably illegal or something. I mean, he’s quasi-faculty, right?”

Vi shakes her head. “He’s a step down from a professor. He’s a researcher, but still—he’s attached to the university. I’m pretty sure feeling up a coed is considered a breach of contract.”

“Ha!” I bleat it out without meaning to. “He’s felt up a coed or two. I know this firsthand.” And first boob. Left one to be exact. “Anyway, I guess it’d be crossing a boundary or two for him to enter into the experiment, seeing that he’s the puppet master.”

“Yup.” Sophie bounces on her heels. “Besides, he really gives off that player vibe. You know the type, untamable, rogue to the bone. He’s essentially a bad boy in a well-cut suit.”

“More like bad seed,” I mutter under my breath. “And you’re right. He needs a real hellion. Someone who will bring him to his knees and teach him a lesson or two. A dominatrix with a whip and a chair, a ball gag and a chain, and maybe a pistol. I bet if the right girl slapped him a time or two with her pink little panties, he’d sit up and bark like the dog he is. I would love a front row seat to that show.”

Vi’s jaw goes slack. “No offense, but it sounds like you just described yourself.”

“Who me?” My cheeks burn with heat at the thought of immersing myself in his life any more than I have to. “Never. I wouldn’t be caught dead entertaining that hell’s angel in or out of the bedroom.”

Sophie’s lips curl with wicked intent. “Oh, come on. You know you’re not into this six-week setup. Have a little of your own fun. Flip the script. Make the bad boy beg. Vi and I will laugh on the sidelines right along with you. Rowen and Lane might be buddying up to him. But I’m still a little miffed Dex ignored my incessant pleas to edit me out of the show.”

Vi averts her gaze. “I’m still pissed, too. That man thinks he’s God and God’s gift to women. Untouchable, my ass. It would serve him right to have a little comeuppance delivered his way.”

“Comeuppance.” I nod as if I had my own personal vendetta against him. That entire ponytail, spinning scenario floods back to me. All those disparaging sexist remarks, that sharp tongue of his delivering verbal blow after blow as if I were his personal lackey. “Maybe a little ball twisting is exactly what a guy like Mr. Houston needs in his megalomaniac life. And who better to give it to him than me?”

Sophie sucks in a quick breath. That look of glee on her face lets me know she wholeheartedly approves. “And you’re watching his kid, right? That means you have prime access.”

Vi leans in close. “How about we set the same unholy parameters he’s outlined for the masses? Two strangers, six weeks. Dexter Houston says the odds aren’t in his favor”—she laughs as she turns his own verbiage against him.

“But I say they are.” I look up at him, regaling the room as he turns on the charm. At least a dozen girls in the front row look ready to pledge their love and their panties to him. It’s sickening, really.

Dexter looks my way and our eyes latch a moment, causing him to pause, and apparently lose his train of thought.

Soph warms my ear with her mouth. “Looks like you’ve got his attention already. If you bring this home in six weeks, Vi and I will buy your coffee for the next year straight.”

“Deal,” I say without hesitating. “I’ll bring Dexter’s heart home in a body bag. He’ll be professing his love to me by spring break, and I’ll have a hickey or two to prove it.”

The three of us share a cackling laugh as he comes to.

“At this time, I’d like to ask the cast from Group A and B to step over to the foyer and continue to feel free to mingle. Group C”—he hooks me with those dark knowing eyes, and a spear of heat spikes right down my chest, straight through to my toes—“welcome to date one. Your sensory guides will find you shortly.”

A gasp of delight fills the vicinity as the music starts up again and Dexter leaves the stage.

“Oh my God!” Sophie offers me a firm embrace. “Be nice. The poor guy they’ll pair you up with is certain to fall hard by night’s end.”

“Forget nice.” Vi offers a hug of her own as they start to migrate out with the rest of the alumni. “Just be you!” Her laugh reverberates right down to my bones because we both know I’m dangerous at heart.

Seth Bradshaw heads my way. He’s tall, a bit geeky, shaved head, and a superstitious smile. I know for a fact he’s my sensory guide because both Sophie and Vi told me they begged him to take me on.

Take me on. Pfft. I almost want to laugh. Any boy in this room who thinks he’s got a chance taking me anywhere has another thing coming. My eyes flit toward Dexter as if there were a magnetic pull.

“Hello, Ember. I’m Seth.” He offers my hand a warm, secure shake, paired with an affable smile, and already I like him. “I’ll be your sensory guide, and since my girlfriend Petra and I work as a team, she’s headed over now with your prospects.”

“Prospects? As in plural?” I’m more than amused at this randy little plot twist.

He sheds a quick laugh. “That’s right. We’ll narrow it down by the end of the night. Or more to the point, you will. Tonight, it’s ladies’ choice, but if your date opts out of the next round, we’ll ask among the men to see who’d like to take you out for date two.”

“Huh.” I ponder this nefarious point a moment. “I’m used to doing the dumping, so that sounds a little harsh. I’ll be sure to turn up the charm. Bring on as many suitors as you like. I’m ready for ’em.” I think I can hide my fangs long enough to make the entire lot of them fall like dominos just the way that Dexter will.

“Great.” He pulls out a tin of breath mints, and I quickly decline. I distinctly remember Sophie telling me about those hellish mints she was forced to suck down before she and Rowen went after one another’s tonsils. There will be no tonsil hockey going on here tonight—I can assure him of that. Not for all the breath mints in the world. “We’ve curated three top prospects for you based on the questionnaire you filled out.”

A dull groan works its way up my throat. If I remember correctly, it was Vi who did most of the paperwork they sent our way as an I’m sorry to Soph and me for landing us in dating hell to begin with.

A petite brunette with glasses comes over, grinning ear to ear with three tall frat boys in tow. Great. I’ll bet they scoured Alpha Nu high and low to find those keg hungry, can crushing, condom slingers.

“Hello there!” The petite thing sets her hand my way. “Petra Mitchel. It’s my pleasure to introduce you to your three dates this evening. Lenard Brickman”—she holds out her hand as if she were presenting a prize—a booby prize—“he’s a starter for the Cougar basketball team and has maintained his position on the Dean’s List for the last three semesters. He touts himself as an official Trekkie, and he happens to be a junior.”

Lenard is scary tall, at least eight feet. Okay, so that’s a mild exaggeration, but sort of spot-on. He wears a thick blanket of black hair, curly around the edges, is heavily lidded, and wears one of those perennial greasy grins I’m not exactly a fan of.

“Call me Lenny.” He pulls my hand up and kisses the back.

Petra chortles as if the quasi-bodily assault was adorable as hell. “This is Fish”—she points to a square-jawed boy who looks oddly barrel-chested—“he’s on the wrestling team and enjoys long walks along the lake.”

Good Lord, I’ve never felt so embroiled in a cheesy situation in all my life. I’ll have to remember to kick Dexter the next time we’re alone.

“Nice to meet you.” I nod, denying him the chance to slobber on my sleeve.

“Likewise, sweet cheeks.” He clicks his tongue. “I’ve got a few moves I can show you later.”

A choking sound emits from me. The audacity is astounding. “I’ve got a few ball busting moves myself. Watch yourself, buddy, or I’ll find you a new lake to swim in by the end of the night.”

Someone laughs from my left, and it’s only then I notice the cameraman with the one-eyed monster hoisted dutifully on his shoulder. A part of me demands to freeze, to fix my hair, to tug down my dress, but another far more poignant part of me says screw it. I’m about to put the reality in reality TV.

Petra gives a nervous glance to Seth before lifting a finger toward the third, far beefier prospect. Messy blond curls, T-shirt and shorts exposing hairy limbs everywhere you look, and flip-flops. And, my God, is that sand crusting up his feet? “This is Richard. He’s a graduate student studying sports medicine, and he loves a good laugh.” Petra forces one out herself, and the four of us gawk at her as if she sprouted another head.

“Hello, Richard.” I’m slow to tear my eyes from the tittering miniature Scholastic Barbie.

Richard backs up an inch as if cowering as he extends his hand for me to shake. “Full disclosure, I’m sort of seeing someone. I mean, it’s not in the official phases of a relationship just yet, but I’m pretty sure we’re getting there.”

I eye his hand as if it were a cockroach. “A girlfriend.” I smear a wary grin toward the camera. “How wonderful for the happy couple.” I turn back to Richard, and he cowers in my presence once again. “Look, Dick. Petra here says you’re always up for a good laugh. Why don’t you hightail it out of here, buy your GF a dozen roses and a box of chocolates. And if we ever have the privilege of crossing paths again, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and we can share that laugh brewing in our bellies.”

His mouth falls open, and suddenly all eyes, the robotic one included, are pinned on me.

I stomp my foot in Richard’s direction, and he turns and bolts like the sissy he is.

“Thought so.” I bounce on my feet as I look to the camera. “One down, two to go!” I can’t help the fact I’m already wreaking havoc on Dexter’s disaster. This is all too easy. I turn to the other two, Lenny and the Fish, daring them to say something, anything, with just a lift of my brow.

“Ah, shit.” Fish kicks at the floor. “She’s a freaking ball buster.” He looks to Petra and shakes his head. “I’m out.” He gets in close to the camera, and for a moment, I think he’s about to gift the lens a kiss. “Sorry, Coach! I gave it my best shot. You saw her, man. I can’t have my balls sliced off before a match.” He does a disappearing act just like his predecessor, and I’m secretly pleased with the results.

“What’s going on?” a deep voice thunders from behind, and I turn to find Dexter Houston with his forehead wrinkled with anxiety. It takes everything in me to bite down a smile. If it all ended for me now, I’d call it a success.

Seth and Petra start in unison and somehow garble out the truth.

Dexter’s mouth falls open as he looks to me, and just as quick, he shuts it. He offers a vexing grin, and for whatever reason, he’s using this opportunity to crawl further under my skin. “Ember Sparks. You are proving to be every bit the wildfire your name suggests.” He offers a sideways glance to Lanky Lenny, and even Dexter doesn’t seem to have much faith in him. “How you holding up, man?” He pats him over the shoulder as if he just endured a trauma. The nerve.

“I’m good.” Lenny shakes it off. “Don’t worry, dude. I’m all in.” Those dark wells he sees the world through narrow over me as he bleeds a black smile. “I will never back away from a challenge.” He folds his enormous arms over his chest and offers up a demented grin. “I’m staying put.”

I fold my own arms over my chest as I look to the basketball wielding Nephilim they’ve paired me with. “And so am I.”

Dexter flexes a tight smile, his pensive gaze still locked to mine. “Very well. It looks as if the two of you have found a match.” He looks to Lenny with his features suddenly depleted of emotion. “Good luck to you.” He takes off, and so do Petrified Petra and Stymied Seth. Lenny and I catch up with one another as if we were old friends—a little too touchy-feely on Lenny’s part, but I must admit I’m a bit mesmerized by his tenacity. The night finally comes crashing to an end, and the alumni flood the room once again just before the cameras go dark.

Sophie and Violet come over and help navigate me toward the exit.

“What in the heck was that?” Sophie yelps as if she were sorry for me.

Vi huffs at the idea. “She was doing what she does best—giving them hell. Well done, Ember. Was Dexter giving you the old heave-ho?” Her jaw drops in anticipation of my early exit.

“Nope. He tried comforting the gentle giant he’s paired me with.” I wrinkle my nose in said giant’s direction where he’s currently entertaining a blonde in sky-high FMs with his barely-there biceps. “It’s a little early to comfort anyone, but I’m guessing it’ll be necessary in exactly five weeks. There’s no way I’m plucking my heart out and gifting it to the Leaning Tower of Lenard.”

“How about the deceptive douche running this scam?” Vi cocks her head as she awaits an answer, but Sophie elbows her hard in the rib before I can give it.

“Do not call him that,” Sophie hisses. “I think we’re being a little hard on him. He may not be the singular reason we’re with the loves of our lives, but he sure as hell accelerated the process.” She hooks her arm through Vi’s. “We’ll wait for you outside, Em.”

I head back to Seth who removes the mic pack from my back and assures me he’ll send out details of my next date soon.

“Sounds like a threat,” I tease as I head toward the exit.

I spot Dexter heading into an office to the right and decide to follow suit. Just as he’s about to close the door—and more than likely cry into his whiskey—I push my way inside and seal us in with my body.

Dexter turns around, wild-eyed for a brief moment before his lids hang low, that vexingly delicious bad boy smile twitching ever so slightly on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” He tips his head back, his suspicions aroused, and seeing that he’s exorbitantly egotistical, I’m betting other things are aroused as well.

“Just offering up a quick goodnight kiss.” I take a bold step forward and do just that. My lips connect with his in an almost chaste manner. A flicker of emotion goes off in my chest, something viral and dangerous as if I just set my lips to a livewire and an electrical current were rushing through me. I pull away, and his dark eyes open slowly as they pierce into mine. I’m not up for more. After all, I’m just here to whet his appetite, stroke his ego. I step away and give a devilish grin of my own before I dart out of the building.

Forget The Social Experiment and their wily ways to cultivate love in a petri dish.

I’m conducting an experiment of my own, and I’m taking Dexter Houston and his Texas-sized ego down along with it.