The 90-Day Experiment (The Expiry Date Diaries #1)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Liam

M y pulse was going crazy as I watched Emerson across our usual table at Bean There, Done That.

The place was barely a two-minute walk from the lab, close enough that the smell of coffee and fresh pastries had become permanently linked in my brain with thoughts of her. But right then, even that familiar comfort wasn't enough to slow my racing heart.

I could barely focus on anything except how the morning light caught her face, highlighting those cheekbones, making her eyes sparkle in a way that sent heat rushing through my whole body.

My fingers twitched against my cup, desperate to reach across the space between us, to trace that jaw, to tangle in her hair, to...

"So, what's your condition?" Her voice snapped me back to reality, but didn't help my concentration one bit. Not when she was looking at me like that, all intense focus and barely contained energy.

The things I wanted to do to her right then would've gotten us kicked out of this coffee shop permanently.

Focus. For fuck's sake, focus.

"If we're doing this," I managed, my voice coming out lower and rougher than I wanted, "we're really doing it. No half-assed attempts. All in, or nothing."

The words hung between us, heavy with everything I wasn't saying. The air felt electric, and I could barely breathe through the tension.

She stared down into her coffee like she was reading tea leaves, and I wanted to reach over and tip her chin up, make her look at me. But I kept my hands wrapped around my mug, waiting.

"All in. Got it." The way she said it, soft but certain, made my chest tight.

I grinned, trying to mask how my heart was practically doing zoomies in my chest. "Okay, so, how do we start this?"

Emerson's fingers were white-knuckled around her cup, and watching her take that deep breath made me want to cover her hands with mine, to steady them, to steady her.

Then those eyes locked onto mine, full of determination and something else that made my stomach roll over, and I knew I was in so much trouble.

“I want to do the 90-day Relationship Challenge for another reason, besides just my family,” she said. “I was thinking it could give us valuable insight into how our research participants feel.”

I took a gulp of my iced cap, curiosity coursing through me. “How do you think it will help?”

“It might offer us a unique perspective on our work, a way to truly understand the emotional and psychological aspects from the inside,” she explained.

All I could think about was how close we’d be, how many chances I’d get to touch her, to see if those lips tasted as good as they looked.

But I just nodded, beginning to see the brilliance of her idea. “So, it’s not just for scientific research, but for our own growth and understanding as researchers?”

“Exactly,” Emerson said. “It would be a temporary thing with a clear end date. A way for us to dive into this relationship dynamic without any long-term strings attached. We just need to set some ground rules to keep things under control.”

I raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer. “Ground rules? What, you want to schedule our dates on a spreadsheet?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she said, with a playful grin that made my pulse race. “But seriously, we need boundaries. Like, no letting this interfere with work. And definitely no romance at the lab.”

I tried to keep my thoughts from spiraling into X-rated territory.

“No romance at the lab. Got it. But outside the lab... all bets are off?”

She blushed, her cheeks turning that delicious shade of pink that made me want to kiss her senseless. “Outside the lab, we’ll have to see where things go.”

Shaking my head, I chuckled. “Come on, Doc. You can’t slap rules on feelings. If we put too many damn restrictions on this, it won’t feel real. We need to leave space for genuine connection.”

She frowned, clearly searching for answers. “Well, we need some guidelines. Otherwise, it’s going to be a mess.”

“And what’s wrong with a little mess?” I asked, my voice tinged with a challenge that mirrored the fire in my eyes as a crash in the kitchen seemed to punctuate my thoughts.

“The whole point is to experience what our participants go through, right? The vulnerability, the uncertainty, all the raw emotions.”

Emerson sighed, her frustration only making her more irresistible. God, she was hot when she was all flustered.

Our eyes locked. Her structured approach was a huge contrast to my more laid-back philosophy on love and relationships. But, underneath our disagreements, there was a spark—an undeniable attraction that neither of us could ignore.

"Fine, but we can't just wing it. We need at least some kind of framework. We can't just dive in with our eyes closed."

"I'm not saying we should," I countered, leaning closer. "But we also can't treat this like a lab experiment. No spreadsheet tracking during dates."

She arched an eyebrow. "And what's wrong with spreadsheets?"

"Nothing, if you're monitoring bacterial growth. Everything, if you're trying to fall in love."

"Who said anything about falling in love?" Her cheeks flushed slightly. "This is about proving a point."

"Right. So how about this—we do normal dating stuff, but you get to keep your little notebook of observations. No electrodes, no blood samples, no brain scans."

"Define 'normal dating stuff,'" she said, making air quotes with her fingers.

"Dinner. Movies. Walks in the park. You know, the activities that regular humans do when they're attracted to each other."

"And I suppose you have extensive research experience in this area?" Her tone was teasing, but I caught the hint of genuine curiosity.

"Let's just say I've done my own field studies." I grinned. "Though none of my previous subjects were quite as... academically rigorous as you."

She rolled her eyes but was fighting a smile. "Fine. But I want baseline measurements. And weekly check-ins to discuss our findings."

"You mean our feelings?"

"Okay, Dr. Grant. But I have conditions too. No clinical terminology during dates. No referring to me as 'the subject.' And absolutely no stopping mid-kiss to take notes."

"Mid-kiss?" Her eyebrows shot up. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Dr. Larson."

"Just establishing parameters. I thought you'd appreciate the thoroughness."

Emerson, ever the diligent researcher, scribbled down ideas in her notebook, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Her pen moved rapidly, capturing her thoughts with a fervor that was hypnotic.

She was a force of nature when she was in the zone, and damn, did it make me want her even more.

“I just think we need to be thorough,” I said, leaning closer, my eyes locking onto hers. “For the sake of science, of course.”

She rolled her eyes, but her blush deepened. “For science,” she muttered, jotting something down in her notebook a bit harder than necessary.

I couldn’t help but smirk. “So, what’s on your list, Doc? Dinner at that fancy Italian place downtown? A weekend getaway to the mountains? Maybe a night in with a movie and... other activities?”

Her eyes flashed with annoyance and something else—something that made my heart rate spike.

“We need to cover a range of experiences,” she said, ignoring my suggestive tone. “Different settings, different types of interactions. It has to be comprehensive.”

“Comprehensive, huh?” I leaned back, stretching my arms behind my head, my shirt pulling tight across my chest. I saw her eyes flicker there, just for a second, before she looked away.

“I can think of a few things we haven’t covered yet. But let’s start with the basics.”

She nodded, still scribbling. “We need to track our emotions, our physical reactions, everything. And we need to be honest with each other. No holding back.”

“Honesty I can do,” I said, my voice dropping an octave. “So, what about physical stuff? Kissing, touching—where do we draw the line?”

Emerson’s hand paused, her eyes meeting mine. “We should set boundaries, at least to start,” she said, her voice steady despite the flush creeping up her neck. “But we can... adjust as we go.”

“Adjust as we go,” I repeated, my mind racing with possibilities.

I could see her trying to maintain her professional demeanor, but I knew she felt the same pull I did. Frankly, all I wanted was to break through that calm exterior, to see her lose control. Maybe hear her moan my name. Was that so much to ask?

“So, we start slow,” I said, leaning in. “But we don’t hold back. If things progress, we let them. Agreed?”

She swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving mine. “Agreed.”

The air between us was electric, the attraction we’d been ignoring now impossible to deny. I wanted to reach out, to touch her, to see if her lips were as soft as they looked. But I held back.

For now.

“Alright, so we have our terms,” she said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “Date nights, emotional check-ins, physical intimacy within reason?—”

“And who gets to decide what’s reasonable?” I interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

She fidgeted adorably, biting her lower lip again. Damn, that lip. It was all I could do not to lean over and nip at it myself.

“Well, I figure we can both make judgment calls.”

I nodded with a smirk. “Except I have a feeling our definitions of ‘reasonable’ might be a bit different.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re going to push boundaries?” she asked, an almost teasing note in her voice that sent a thrill through me.

“Only if you push back,” I said, grinning. “Besides, what’s research without a little risk?”

She shook her head like she was utterly exasperated with me, but the smile on her face told me she just might be in.

We finalized the details of our 90-day relationship experiment, both of us buzzing with nerves.

When it was time to leave the coffee shop, I helped Emerson with her chair, my fingers brushing against her arms. The warmth of her skin through the fabric was a reminder of just how thin the barrier between us was.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide and filled with something I couldn’t quite read. There was curiosity, sure, but also something deeper that made my heart race—a vulnerability that mirrored my own.

On impulse, I leaned in close, my breath warm against her ear.

“There’s one thing we haven’t discussed.”

“What?” she asked, her voice barely audible, her breath hitching as I closed the distance between us.

It was like the whole world took a beat, pausing to let the weight of what we were about to embark upon sink in.

“What happens if we actually fall in love?” I whispered.