Page 56 of How to Date a Younger Man
I don’t know what to say to that. The words sting in that way that the truth often can.
“I’ll let you know what I decide,” I say firmly. “Thanks for stopping by.”
And just like that, I close the door.
Am I closing the door on this friendship, one that’s gotten me through some of the hardest years of my life? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I feel like I’m floating through space, untethered and limbs flailing. Which way is up, and which way is down?
With a clammy hand, I pull my phone out of my back pocket. Time to face the inevitable. I dial Layne.
“Hello, you’re on speaker.”
I smile. It’s an involuntary reaction whenever I hear her voice. “Hi, Layne.”
At first, there’s a pause on the other end. “What, no jokes? No, oh, I’m sorry, wrong number. I thought this was the STD clinic,” she drawls, mocking my low voice.
I chuckle. I’ll admit, that was a good one.
“Not today.” How do I tell her this?
“Oh, is this a booty call?” She lets out a disappointed sigh. “Because I’m drowning in client portfolios at the moment, and it’s not a good time, Griffin.” I can hear the click-clack of her nails against her keyboard.
“It’s not a booty call. I have something to tell you.”
“Oh,” she says in a chirpy surprised tone, then her voice lowers. “Oh no, do you actually have an STD?”
“No.” I laugh, but it feels forced. “I’m clean. I, um . . . I’ve got a job opportunity.”
I hear her fingers still against the keys. “A job? What job?”
“With Milos International, the group I interviewed with a few weeks ago.”
“Oh my God, Griff! That’s big!” The excitement in her voice would be contagious if only I didn’t know the caveat.
“It’s a great opportunity. Benefits, a student loan supplement program, new digs . . .”
“New digs?”
“Yeah.” My voice gets tighter by the second. “That’s why I’m calling. The job is in New York City.”
She’s quiet for a second. “Oh. Wow, that’s a big move.”
“I know. I’m not sure if I should do it.”
“You absolutely should.”
What? I feel like a trap door beneath me opens, and I’m falling.
“You think so?” I ask, but I don’t recognize my own voice. My heart is pounding, audible in my ears.
“Yes, it’s a good move for you. I wouldn’t necessarily pick New York City for you, because the culture there is much less laid back, and their expectations are going to be . . .”
As she continues, rambling on about the New York mentality and rent increases and x, y, and z, my head is spinning.
Does Layne truly want me to go? Is this thing we have—this indescribable, kinetic thing we have—really that disposable to her? I focus back in.
“But on the upside,” she says, “this will be a perfect way to pay back your student loans, and right out of grad school. You’ll be surrounded by young people your age too. There are too many reasons to count.”
“Right. Lots of reasons.” My chest is tight, and I realize I’m clutching the phone so hard my knuckles are white.
What I want is a real shot with Layne, rather than be used like some boy toy. But if I move to New York, that’ll never happen. And then there’s Wren, who’s all too happy to make the move with me. Wren, who I’m pretty sure would also like to take a ride on my cock.
Here’s a twisted thought. Why does no one want my heart? It can mess with a man’s head.
There’s another pause on the other end of the line. It’s so deadly quiet, I can’t even hear her typing.
“Well, was that it? I have some work to get back to, so . . .”
I laugh again, but this time it’s hollow and detached. I can’t manage anything else. “’Bye, Layne.”
“’Bye, Griffin.”
I hang up and whip the phone across the room. It smashes against the wall and then drops to the floor, its screen probably shattered, but I don’t care. I bury my face in my hands, releasing a shaky breath into my palms. Dragging my fingers down my cheeks, I stare blankly ahead into my unknown future.
I guess I’m moving to New York.
19
* * *
LAYNE
“Do you think you could elaborate on that a little?” Dr. Benson asks.
More like I’ll elaborate on your face if you keep asking me that stupid question.
I’ve only been at my therapist appointment for fifteen minutes now, but I swear to God, after the first five minutes, it started to feel like an interrogation. I’ve never gotten upset or annoyed with Dr. Benson before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“Honestly, I don’t know what else to say about it.” I sigh, crossing one leg over the other on her green velvet couch and fixing my gaze on the bookshelf across from me. “What Griffin and I have is fun. It’s casual and sexy and makes me feel like a teenager again. Those things don’t exactly add up to let’s get married and raise lots of babies together.”
