Page 8 of How to Date a Younger Man
Fuck.
“Hi, I’m Griffin,” he says, reaching out to shake my hand. “Kristen’s brother.”
Oh. Are we pretending we don’t know each other? Is that what’s happening here?
I close my mouth and twist it into a polite smile, returning his handshake and doing my best not to freak out. Suddenly, I’m overjoyed that I didn’t tell Kristen about the massage. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but the last thing I was prepared for was to see him again.
“Griff, this is my friend Layne. She’s a badass lawyer and very stressed. Maybe you could put that massage experience of yours to good use and give her some pointers on how to unwind.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Hey, we just went to happy hour. Isn’t that the definition of unwinding?” I say, praying to whatever god can help me that Griffin doesn’t say anything about the fact we’ve already met. Or that he’s already put his hands all over my naked, oily body.
“Happy hour sounds like a start,” he says, holding my gaze with a look so intense, my insides immediately flip-flop.
Tearing my gaze away, I look back at Kristen and shrug. “See? I’m wound just fine. Now can we please discuss something more important like how much longer do we have to wait until our food arrives?”
“T-minus . . . five minutes,” she replies, checking her phone. “Griff, do you want to join us? As long as you eat like a slightly tipsy thirty-three year-old and not like the twenty-three-year-old frat boy you are, we should have enough lo mein to share.”
Twenty-three? Holy fucking shit, he’s a baby.
And just like that, I’m happier than ever that I turned him down, and a little embarrassed that I had any kind of tingly thoughts about him since. He may be legal, but the combination of being a full decade younger than me and being Kristen’s little brother suddenly makes him even more off-limits. “I’m always down for Chinese,” he says, sitting himself smack dab in the middle of the couch and resting both his arms out across the top of the cushions.
“Gee, Griffin, make yourself comfortable. It’s not like we have a guest or anything.” Kristen rolls her eyes and mouths an apology my way.
I smile and shrug, playing it off like it’s not a big deal. And it isn’t, really. I’m a lawyer. I play the nonverbal game all the time. He has no idea who he’s dealing with.
“What? It’s a big couch. If anything, I’m making her more comfortable.”
Kristen scoffs. “Clearly.”
My mouth turns up into a half smile as I settle into one of the gray armchairs, crossing my legs toward Griffin. He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head at the empty spot next to him in invitation. I only partly meet his gaze in response, tucking my hair behind my ear and turning to Kristen, who’s straightening one of the picture frames by her tall wooden bookcase.
“Kris, do you need any help?”
“Nah, I’m fine. Just as anal as ever.”
“Since birth, actually.” Griffin smirks.
Kristen huffs. “Griff, why don’t you make yourself useful and see if our guest wants anything to drink.”
He turns his turquoise eyes to me, arching a eyebrow and lifting his chin. “Your wish is my command. Layne, can I be of service and get you something to quench your thirst?”
I roll my eyes. “Water would be great.”
“Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger? There’s plenty of room on this couch if you want to crash here tonight,” he says, nodding again to the empty space next to him.
Kristen shoots him a warning glance. “Don’t be gross.”
“What? I’m being hospitable.”
The building intercom buzzes, and my stomach growls happily in response.
“That’s the food. I’ll run down and get it,” Kristen says, grabbing cash out of her purse before leaving the room.
Once the door swings shut behind her, Griffin turns back to me, the look on his face playful and serious at the same time.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, crossing my legs away from him.
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve seen me naked and had your hands on me.”
“But I have seen you naked and I’ve had my hands on you. Believe me, I could never forget that.”
“Not the parts that count.”
“I saw enough. Besides, I have a very active imagination.”
My stomach lurches. He’s been imagining me? My mind spins a little, thinking about the two of us in different parts of the city, having dirty dreams about each other. Before I can think too hard about any of that, I pull myself together, rolling my eyes and letting out an audible scoff.
“I’m going to get a water,” I say, rising to my feet.
Griffin stands up and follows me. In the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water to hand to me. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. The opposite, actually.”
