The sweet experiment, p.1
The Sweet Experiment, page 1
The Sweet Experiment
In The Sweet Experiment, Chelsey Elise Young weaves together realistic characters with a compelling story to perfectly capture the pull between godliness and worldliness that many young adults encounter as they march toward independence. Within this coming-of-age and coming-to-faith story, Chelsey offers up plenty of moments that will make you wince, laugh, and hope, sometimes all in one chapter. The Sweet Experiment is a stellar debut novel. I can’t wait to see what Chelsey writes next.
—Cortney Donelson, owner and ghostwriter at vocem LLC and author of multiple books, including The Billionaire’s List
Payton’s perspective is such a breath of fresh air that will keep pulling you back into the story for more! Entering into her college world full of new thoughts, experiences, and challenges, all while discovering faith, is a journey worth experiencing.
—Danica, of YouTube’s DiabeticDanica
The Sweet Experiment draws readers onto the college campus where Payton and her friends explore identity, meaning, and faith. In her candid and often humorous way, Chelsey invites readers to stumble alongside Payton as she navigates challenging relationships and circumstances, eventually coming to the profound realization that she is being pursued by the Hound of Heaven.
—Lynn Vanderzalm, author and former editor with Zondervan and Tyndale House
The world needs more stories of hope. Chelsey orchestrates a hopeful tale of unique individuals on varied paths, which are not only intersecting, but all ultimately lead to the same final destination—Love Himself.
—Prudence O’Haire, author of Deape Woods and The Sound of Wings
NEW YORK
LONDON • NASHVILLE • MELBOURNE • VANCOUVER
The Sweet Experiment
A Novel
© 2025 Chelsey Elise Young
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in New York, New York, by Morgan James Publishing. Morgan James is a trademark of Morgan James, LLC. www.MorganJamesPublishing.com
Proudly distributed by Publishers Group West®
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Holman Christian Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. Holman Christian Standard Bible®, Holman CSB®, and HCSB® are federally registered trademarks of Holman Bible Publishers.
ISBN 9781636984087 paperback
ISBN 9781636984094 ebook
Library of Congress Control Number: 2024931282
Cover & Interior Design by:
Christopher Kirk
www.GFSstudio.com
Cover Art by:
Alexander Haack
Morgan James is a proud partner of Habitat for Humanity Peninsula and Greater Williamsburg. Partners in building since 2006.
Get involved today! Visit: www.morgan-james-publishing.com/giving-back
Dedication
For all those being pursued by the Hound of Heaven.
Acknowledgments
First, to God be the glory. This story is from Him and for Him.
Second—Timothy. For supporting me in obedience to the Lord when, at first, this novel seemed a wild dream with no clear direction.
Thank you to Aaron and Danica for allowing me to learn from your experiences and knowledge to shape those of my characters. Thank you, Penny, Shirley, Kaili, Dorianne, Natalie, Lori, and Jay—for being the first to read (or listen to) and provide feedback on this labor of love. Thank you, Prudence O’Haire, for recruiting me in your novel-writing endeavors, to learn from and grow with you.
To authors Elle Marr and Cortney Donelson, thank you for answering my many questions—from professional and technical inquiries to personal things like how to manage as an author-mama. Thank you to the team at Morgan James for taking a chance on this new author and partnering with me to bring this novel to readers.
Finally, I want to acknowledge a few of the authors, past and present, who have shaped me as a person and inspired me with their creation of worlds, exploration of challenging topics, and word-composing prowess. I am ever grateful toward Nancy Rue, Lissa Halls Johnson and the team of writers behind the Brio Girls series, Gail Carson Levine, J. R. R. Tolkien, J. K. Rowling—and, especially, Francis Thompson and C. S. Lewis, who paved the way to describe with perfect language the experience of being pursued by the Hound of Heaven.
Chapter 1
“Maybe it’s true . . . Maybe guys and girls really can’t just be friends.” I shoved a handful of popcorn into my mouth and added with a smirk, “Even if the girl is dressed as a dude the whole time she knows the guy.” I snorted, choking on a kernel.
Wyatt grinned and tossed his miniature football in the air. “I don’t know. I mean, that was some crazy love triangle—”
“More like a . . .” I counted on my fingers. “Love pentagon!”
“Okay, but it’s fiction. That doesn’t mean real life is like that.” Wyatt got up off the bed and took the DVD out of his laptop. “You know it’s possible for dudes and chicks to be friends. Look at us.” He snapped the disc into its case and tossed it to me with a grin.
I caught it, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, I mean, that’s different. You’re like a brother to me.” I stood up. “Anyway, this is based on Shakespeare. You can’t argue with that. Monique likes Sebastian and Viola likes Duke and Duke likes Olivia and she likes Sebastian who is really Viola pretending to be her brother—and let’s not forget about Eunice and Toby!”
Wyatt laughed, shaking his head. “Next time, I pick the movie. No more chick flicks.”
I crossed my arms defensively, tucking She’s the Man under my armpit. “Hey, you were laughing the whole time!”
Wyatt wrapped me in a bear hug, and my armor melted. As he stood six inches taller than me, my head fit perfectly under his chin. “Hey, thanks for keeping things lighthearted around here.” He ran his hand over his short blond hair and grabbed his cell phone off his desk, glancing at a text notification. “I have a meeting with a resident in a few minutes. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
I shook off the tingly feeling left over from the hug and slapped him a high five. “Yeah. Okay. Man, however you got to be an RA still baffles me.”
Wyatt shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Okay, P-Town. Now get outta here! I gotta clean up a little.”
I kicked our empty bag of popcorn with my toe. “Yeah, seriously, this place is a pigpen. How have you managed to make such an epic mess after being back on campus only two days? Have you seen my shoes?”
My red Toms came flying toward me. “Actually, I have been here for two weeks, thank you very much.” He scowled, but his blue eyes laughed.
“Right.” I slipped my feet into my shoes then picked up the popcorn bag and what used to be a package of OREO cookies. I raised my eyebrows in my best impression of a proper British lady. “The Resident Assistants must be present before all of the rest of us common folk.” I tossed the trash, picked his blanket and pillow up off the floor, and noticed a tiny cowboy boot sticking out from under the bed. This was too good to be true. I threw the bedding onto his standard-college-dorm-twin bed and picked up the treasure.
“Woody went to college with Wy-Wy, huh?”
Wyatt looked up from his collection of stray objects, and his eyes widened. “Payton. Give that to me right now.”
I basked in his embarrassment, dangling the cowboy doll from his skinny arms. “I knew you were just as nerdy as I am. This is just too good. Do your new residents know about this?”
Wyatt swiped Woody from my hands as I fell back onto the bed laughing. “Toy Story was a classic movie. Every nineties kid loves it. You know, it’s like, memorabilia.” He tucked the doll under his pillow and nudged me aside to straighten his comforter. “Keep my secret, and I won’t tell any cute boys about the stuffed elephant you still sleep with.” He wiggled his eyebrows, inviting me to take the deal.
“I’m pretty sure Tembo is common knowledge; and I know I’m not the only twenty-year-old girl who has stuffed animals on her bed.” I edged toward the door. “But, okay. Your secret is safe.” I opened the door and stepped backward into the hall. “For now—”
“Oof!”
I slammed into a gangly freshman, knocking his orientation materials out of his hand.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” I bent to help the dazed redhead collect his papers.
He smiled awkwardly at me, eyes wide. “Thanks, m’lady.”
I blushed. I could hear Wyatt laughing from inside his room.
“You’re welcome, sir. You have a great RA. Welcome to PHU!” I pivoted and walked briskly to the stairwell. I trotted down the stairs and pushed the door open, breathing in the fresh air, happy to exit the freshman dorm.
On my way up the paved path to Jefferson Hall, I plucked a couple of kumquats from the bushes. I squeezed my eyes shut at the burst of sour in my mouth and tucked the second small fruit into the pocket of my linen cargo shorts. Scanning my keycard at the front door, I ran up the stairs, two by two, toward room 233. I unlocked it and swung it open.
“Hey, Laila.”
My roommate was sitting at her desk, organizing her supplies. She looked up and smiled. “Hey, Payton. What have you been up to?”
I closed the door and sat on my bed. “Watched a movie with Wyatt. Want a kumquat?” I tossed the little orange oval to Laila. She reached up too late. It landed in her jar of paperclips.
“These things are so weird.” She set it aside gingerly then turned back to me with interest. “Wyatt Vanderzanden?”
I dumped the contents of my duffel bag onto my bed and started sorting. “Yep. One and only.”
Laila leaned forward. “So you guys are pretty close, huh?”
I could practically feel the fingernails digging into the underside of her desk chair. I continued to fold clothes, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah. He’s a bud. You guys are in the same major, right? Health Promotions?”
Laila leaned back and pulled at a strand of her dark hair. “Yes. We haven’t really talked much though. He seems really smart. And nice. And cute.”
I bit the inside of my cheek then mustered a smile. “Yeah, he’s really awesome.” I stood to place my stack of clothes on my closet shelf. “When are you getting dinner?”
Laila fiddled with a stack of multicolored sticky notes. “Oh, I was thinking about going pretty soon. Have you seen the new DC yet? I heard they made some changes over the summer.”
I hung up some sweaters, glad to have something new to talk about. “Oh, no, I haven’t been down there yet. Wanna go in fifteen minutes or so?”
Putting the rest of her pens and pencils into a pink glass jar, Laila answered, “Sure, that sounds good. We can get to know each other better.” She smiled.
I smiled back with uncertainty, hoping she really wanted to get to know me better, and not just drill me for data about my special friend.
Laila and I had taken a few General Education classes together. At the end of sophomore year, we had found that we were both in need of a roommate. So, preferring a friendly acquaintance over a total stranger, we buddied up.
As we walked down to the Dining Commons, we discussed the basic getting-to-know-you topics. Laila liked dogs. I wasn’t an animal person. Laila was a cheerleader in high school. I was a band geek. She was studying Health. I was a Communication Studies major. She was from Seattle, though her mother was originally from South Korea. I was born and raised in Northern California.
As for family—she was an only child, and I had a seven-year-old sister. (A surprise for Mom and her new husband.) Laila’s birth parents were still married. I didn’t remember my birth dad. He had been an abusive drunk, and Mom divorced him before I had learned to count. Apparently, he hadn’t cared to utilize his government-granted parental rights of supervised visitation, because I never heard from him again. Mom had met Don when I was eleven, and when they found out they were expecting two years later, they decided to make it official. Being the Maid of Honor in my pregnant mom’s wedding wasn’t the highlight of my seventh-grade year—but Henzlee was. From the moment she was born, she had become my new favorite person. I had made it my mission in life to keep her safe and happy and teach her everything I knew.
“I could go on forever about my sister. Sorry,” I said, taking a bite of pizza.
She pushed some lettuce around with her fork. Another thing we didn’t seem to have in common. She seemed like someone who cared a lot about her figure. In her cardigan and skinny jeans, she definitely looked like she put a lot of effort into her appearance.
She smiled, making me feel guilty for thinking negatively about her. “I wish I had a sibling. That’s really cool.”
I swallowed and took a swig of root beer. “Yeah, Henzy really is the best. So, your mom used to live in Korea? Can I ask what brought your family here to the States?”
She patted her mouth daintily with a napkin. “Yeah, my grandpa moved his family to the Pacific Northwest for his job when Mom was five. She doesn’t really remember much about South Korea, honestly. My grandparents still live nearby, and I’m blessed to be able to see them a lot. I go back home to Seattle for Christmas and the summer and everything. But I love the beach and the sun; I had to get out to So Cal for school!”
I nodded and nibbled some of the olives that had fallen off my pizza. That was a vegetable, right? “So, you like the beach; what else do you do for fun? Any clubs or hobbies or anything?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yeah, I’m into acting and singing. I’ve done a bit of theater here and there. And sometimes I teach in my church’s kids’ classes on Sundays.”
And here it was. She was one of those. Well, at least that would probably make her a good roommate. Those holy type folks had pretty strict rules, right? About treating people nicely and stuff? But then again, maybe I was right on the nose about her thinking she’s better than everyone else. I looked up at her, and the expression on her face was so kind that I immediately regretted my thoughts.
I mean, she really didn’t act stuck up at all. Maybe I was just feeling lame because I was comparing myself to her.
“How about you?” she asked, just before the next bite of salad.
“Oh, yeah. I’m into music, and I work for the newspaper. I like to hike. There are some really pretty trails up here.”
“Yeah! I like hiking too.” The first thing we seemed to have in common. “I fractured my ankle last year during the school musical, so I didn’t get out much. Maybe we can explore together some.” She smiled and grabbed my empty plate, stacking it atop her own.
Who was this person?
“Yeah. Thanks,” I smiled back, grabbing my half-full cup and standing.
She stood too and looked around the Dining Commons. “Well, I like the new booth-style seating. Those bar stools at the bistro tables are pretty cool, too.”
We walked toward the front of the building, turned in our empty dishes, and headed back toward Jefferson.
“So, I guess they not only updated the DC, but they also did the gym, and they finally built that new hall—Barnes?” Laila chirped as we took long strides up the steep hill.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen it yet, but I have a friend who lives there.”
I couldn’t wait to see Alyssa. We had been best friends since freshman year, when we had been randomly paired together as roommates, and we had immediately hit it off. She was my polar opposite in most ways, but we had fun together. She was girly, athletic, extroverted, easygoing, and a straight-A student—and I wasn’t. And I liked that. She was all those things so I didn’t have to be.
Since I had arrived on campus, Alyssa had been tied up with volleyball practice and team-building activities. Laila was nice enough, but Alyssa was the only person I felt like I could really be myself around. Aside from Wyatt. The topic of which we had managed to avoid during dinner, to my relief.
“You’ll have to tell me how it is when you go see it. It sounded pretty cool from the email updates.”
“Sure thing.”
We reached Jefferson Hall and climbed the stairs to our floor in silence.
As Laila pulled out her key to unlock our door, she spoke. “So, how do you and Wyatt know each other?”
I blinked. This was what they called ironic, right?
“Oh, uh, yeah . . . ” We walked into the room, and I sat on the edge of my bed. “Wyatt was in my brother dorm freshman year, and we had pretty much all of our General Education classes together, so we hung out a lot.” I pulled at a loose strand of hair and traced it over my lips, remembering. “Actually, I guess when we really connected was after this bowling event for the dorms. I’m infamously clumsy, and I flung a ball way too heavy for me, and I somehow injured my elbow and also dropped the ball on his foot. So we were both injured for a few weeks. That excluded us from the kayaking, roller skating, and whatever else they did after that. My RA joked that we should keep each other company while the rest of our friends were out having fun. I saw him in the DC the morning after the bowling incident. He was reading The Hobbit. I pulled up a chair. We didn’t realize how long we sat there talking until the lunch crowd came in.” I laughed and realized I had been staring off into space. I looked up at Laila, embarrassed.
