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

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Emerson

" S o... pizza then?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, my voice wobbling traitorously. Anything to diffuse the tension in my kitchen before I spontaneously caught fire from Liam's proximity.

I was definitely losing my grip on my composure.

Liam's expression shifted from surprise to that smile—God, that smile. The one that made me feel like he could see right through every wall I'd built, every defense mechanism I'd perfected. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to my usually ordered world.

"Perfect," he said, and my heart did this ridiculous little gymnastics routine in my chest.

His grin should have been classified as a controlled substance—that playful wickedness swirled with genuine warmth that turned my knees to water and scattered my thoughts.

We killed time with wine while trying to clear the smoke, my usually pristine kitchen now smelling like a failed chemistry experiment.

The wine wasn't helping my ability to think straight, but at least it gave my hands something to do besides reach for him.

"Since it's such a nice night, do you want to sit by a bonfire once the food gets here?" I heard myself ask.

"Are you sure we want to risk being near a fire after our little smoky mishap?" His eyes sparkled with mischief.

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, and I nudged his arm, trying to ignore how solid he felt even through his shirt.

"Come on, I promise not to let you burn anything else tonight." Except maybe my dignity, but that ship had already sailed, hit an iceberg, and was currently playing "My Heart Will Go On" as it sank into the depths.

"I do need a lot of supervision," he said with a wink that somehow looked completely natural on him. If I'd attempted that move, people would have assumed I was having some kind of neurological event.

But that was Liam—effortlessly smooth, endlessly adaptable. Just like at work, where he could handle any crisis with that same easy grace. My mind wandered to just how... adaptable he might be in other scenarios, and I had to take another sip of wine to hide my blush.

Twenty minutes later, we made our way down to my family's firepit by the lake, pizza box in hand.

The spot was naturally secluded—dense trees creating walls on three sides, the lake spreading out before us like a mirror. It felt like our own private universe, far removed from lab protocols and any professional boundaries.

The night air felt like a blessing after the kitchen debacle, cooling my overheated skin.

Moonlight scattered across the water's surface like thousands of tiny diamonds, and the whole scene felt almost choreographed in its perfection, like nature itself was conspiring to create this moment.

A shiver ran through me when Liam's fingers brushed mine as he passed the wine bottle.

The touch was brief, casual even, but it sent electricity racing through my nervous system like a surge through a circuit. Even this tiny point of contact felt dangerous, like playing with live wires, and I was starting to forget why that was supposed to be a bad thing.

The place was a perfect little hideaway from both prying eyes and the lingering smell of charred lasagna, and as we sat, it felt like we were in our own private world, suspended in time.

“Here’s to surviving kitchen disasters,” he said, lifting his glass in a mock toast, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I laughed, the sound blending with the soft lapping of lake waves.

“And to nights that turn out better than planned,” I added, clinking my glass against his.

His gaze held mine, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us, the light from the fire casting shadows that danced around us like a living thing. The intensity in his eyes made my pulse race and my breath catch in my throat.

I took a long sip of the velvety wine, savoring its rich flavor.

Over the rim of my glass, I caught Liam watching me, his gaze burning with an intensity that made my skin tingle. Emboldened by the wine and the intimate setting, I decided to dig a little deeper.

“Tell me about your past relationships,” I said, leaning forward. “Any epic fails or lessons learned the hard way?”

Liam chuckled, somehow looking more like a regular guy than some untouchable heartthrob, even though any woman in her right mind would probably fight me to be there with him in that moment.

“I’ve got a first date story that could win an award for Disaster of the Year.”

I rested my chin on my hand, already totally hooked. “I’m all ears for a good train wreck.”

He leaned in closer, and I caught a hint of his cologne that made my pulse quicken. "So," he began, his eyes lighting up with the memory, "I took this girl to this really trendy fusion restaurant. You know the type—where they serve these tiny, artistic portions and everything has some kind of foam or smoke?"

I nodded, already sensing where this might go. "Those places where you need a dictionary to understand the menu?"

"Exactly," he said, running a hand through his hair. "So I'm trying to impress her, right? Acting like I'm this sophisticated foodie, pretending I knew exactly what everyone should order. Complete bullshit, by the way—I could barely pronounce half the items."

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. "Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

"You have no idea. So the waiter brings out this beautiful plate with what looks like tuna. There's this little green garnish on top, very artistic, very tiny. I'm still in full pretentious mode, giving this whole speech about the chef's technique, and I decide to pop the whole thing in my mouth at once…”

He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes dancing. "Turns out that tiny green garnish? Pure wasabi. Not the American kind—the real stuff."

I gasp-laughed, torn between horror and amusement.

"My entire sinuses just…” he made an explosive gesture with his hands. "It felt like someone had set off a nuclear bomb in my face. I started choking, tears streaming down my face. I knocked over my water trying to grab it, soaked my date, and in my panic, I started grabbing drinks off other people's tables."

I was laughing so hard now I could barely breathe. "What did your date do?"

"She was trying to help, but I'm literally stumbling around the restaurant like a madman, making these awful gagging noises. The chef comes running out, but I'm so disoriented I run straight into him. We both go down, and there's just…” he gestured expansively, "chaos everywhere."

I was practically crying with laughter now. "Did you ever see her again?"

"Surprisingly, she agreed to a second date," he said, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my laughter fade into something warmer. "But I stuck to burgers after that. Much safer territory."

"Wow," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. "That's definitely award-worthy. I'm kind of impressed you can laugh about it now."

"Well," he said, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in slightly, "sometimes the most embarrassing moments make the best stories. Honestly, I think she found my complete disaster kind of charming. And besides…” His eyes held mine, and I felt my breath catch. "I'd like to think I've gotten better at first dates since then."

The air between us suddenly felt charged with possibility, and I found myself very aware of how close we were sitting, how his knee was almost touching mine, how his smile had shifted from playful to something more intimate.

“I have to say, I’m pretty charmed by tonight’s catastrophe too,” I said, giving him a playful look. “Is that your move? To cause a disaster? Because it definitely makes an impression.”

“A man never reveals his secrets.” He shot me a wry smile, his eyes locking onto mine.

“But what about you, Doc? Any skeletons in your relationship closet?”

His voice was soft but serious, like he was peeling back my layers with each word.

I hesitated, my logical brain screaming at me to deflect with some clinical analysis of attraction and neurochemistry. But there was something about Liam’s open, non-judgmental expression that made me want to share more. He was like a magnet, pulling the truth out of me.

“Honestly, I’ve always been more focused on my research than romance,” I admitted, fidgeting with the stem of my wine glass. “Relationships just seemed like an unnecessary complication. Too… messy and unpredictable.”

Liam nodded, his gaze never wavering. “It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes, I think,” he said softly, his voice soothing against the rawness of my confession. “Emotions may be complex, but they’re also what make us human.”

His words struck something in me, and before I knew it, I was spilling my heart out about my decidedly less-than-normal upbringing.

“I don’t know if you know this,” I began, my voice shaky but determined, “but all my sisters and I have different fathers. And it’s not just us—my cousins too. Different dads all around.”

I laughed a little, though I’m not sure it quite reached my eyes. “From what we can gather, our moms had this weird little baby pact or something. I don’t think any of our dads even know we exist. So, there wasn’t a whole lot of fatherly advice or stability in that sense.”

Liam was looking at me with those stupid beautiful eyes, all soft and understanding, like I'd just told him I rescued orphaned puppies instead of admitting my family makes "Modern Family" look traditional. And somehow, that made it even worse—or better? I couldn't tell anymore. My emotional GPS was officially recalculating.

“Growing up, the pressure to be self-reliant was intense,” I continued, my words tumbling out faster now. “Especially for me and my cousin Avery since we’re the oldest. We had to figure things out on our own because there wasn’t anyone to guide us. Our moms are great, don’t get me wrong, and we always had everything we needed, but they can be a little… self-involved?”

Liam tilted his head in a way that was almost like… pity?

I shook my head. “It’s not their fault. They just never quite, I don’t know, grew up, I guess.”

He nodded.

“So anyway, because of all that, the gnawing fear of becoming emotionally dependent on someone? That’s something I still struggle with every day.”

As I spoke, I became increasingly aware of how close we were. His eyes held mine with an intensity that made me fight not to squirm under the scrutiny. I’d never been good with attention. Usually, I was hiding behind a notebook or a computer screen analyzing data, not baring my soul in the moonlight.

Liam gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s a lot to carry. But you’ve clearly done an amazing job. There’s just one thing I wish someone would have told you a long time ago.”

“What?” I asked, not sure if I’d ever anticipated an answer this much before.

“Just that sometimes? It’s okay to let someone help carry the load.”

Well, that hit me right in the feelings—the ones I usually pretended were just minor statistical anomalies in my emotional data set.

Sensing that things were getting a bit heavy, Liam smoothly shifted gears. He started telling me funny stories about his small but loving family, painting a picture of crazy family dinners, holiday mishaps, and only child issues that ended in laughter. It was clear he adored his family, and that warmth was contagious.

I tried to focus on what he was saying, but my gaze kept betraying me, drifting to his lips, remembering that electric kiss at the carnival.

God, that kiss. It was seared into my mind, a delicious torment I couldn’t shake. The way his mouth had moved against mine, the taste of him, left me wanting so much more.

As the night wore on, the wine and conversation flowed, and my defenses crumbled more and more as I got lost in our connection. We just clicked.

Our banter felt natural, like we’d known each other forever. Each joke, each shared smile pulled us closer, weaving an invisible thread between us that grew stronger every minute.

And somehow, our chairs had gotten closer to each other too.

Then, without warning, Liam suddenly leaned in over the arm of his chair, close, like he was about to tell me a secret, his breath against my cheek.

“I think we’re breaking all your rules tonight,” he said, his voice low and intimate. His words were filled with challenge and promise.

The way he said it—half bedroom voice, half 'what are you gonna do about it?'—made my usually razor-sharp brain turn into jello, a thrill rushing through me at his words. His gaze locked onto mine, dark and intense, making me feel weak.

Before I could respond, he closed the remaining distance, capturing my lips in a kiss.

For a moment, I lost myself in the sensations—the firm pressure of his mouth, the teasing slide of his tongue, the way his fingers tangled in my hair, sending sparks through me.

All I could think about was how his mouth was basically rewriting my entire understanding of chemistry and how I desperately needed to peer-review this research. Extensively. Possibly with multiple trials.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, I stared at him in stunned silence, my mind reeling from the intensity of the moment.

A wild thought occurred to me. Maybe it was time to do something crazy, like actually enjoy the moment without documenting it in triplicate or running a cost-benefit analysis. And the data was pretty clear: kissing Liam was approximately 127% more fun than science. And that's the kind of math I could get behind.

Because maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop analyzing every little detail and start living in the moment.