Page 46 of How to Date a Younger Man
“Well, Max did drop a hint the other day . . .”
“Okay . . . what sort of hint?”
“I think he’s going to propose this week.” Her voice is a whisper, but I hear the squeal of sheer joy perched in the back of her throat.
“Oh shit,” I say, a dumb grin spreading across my face. “Are you sure?”
Max is a good dude, and clearly head over heels for Kristen. I didn’t realize how much I approved of their relationship until this very moment. I’m excited for her.
“I mean, he asked for my ring size last month, and told me to clear my schedule this weekend for a surprise getaway? Like, it would be annoying that he’s being so obvious about it, but he’s so darn cute!”
As Kristen spills the details on the last few weeks of their relationship, I find my mind wandering to Layne.
Will Layne be this happy when she’s proposed to? Will she have this giddy teenager reaction, when the man she loves asks her to spend the rest of her life with him? My heart flops back and forth between desire and dread . . . I want her to be this happy. But not with another man.
By the time I get off the train, Kristen and I say our good-byes, and I walk the rest of the way to my apartment with a newfound lightness in my step. I’m about to get a killer job, the job of my dreams, and my sister is about to marry the love of her life. Life is good.
So, when I see Wren sitting on the steps waiting for me, I can’t help the sinking feeling, deep in my gut. Why is she here?
“Hey, Griff,” she says with a smile, extending her long legs across the stairs. There’s no way I can get into my apartment without talking to her.
I sigh. “Hey, Birdie.”
She practically glows with happiness when I use the old nickname I gave her back when we were still in school. Maybe this won’t turn into a fight after all?
“I missed you,” she says sadly, her big eyes meeting mine. “Come here.”
She beckons me to sit with her, and so I do. There’s never really a good way to tell Wren no . . . not unless you plan to leave with your eardrums intact. Angry Wren is a loud Wren.
When I sit down, she spreads her legs across mine, knotting our limbs together.
“Did you miss me?” she asks, fishing.
“Of course,” I say, and it’s not entirely false.
I love this girl like a sister. We’ve been through everything together. We were even each other’s firsts. Awkward and fumbling and completely unsatisfying firsts. And I would continue to love this girl if she would agree to some boundaries.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, training my voice to sound more curious than accusatory.
“I’ve been lonely,” she says, using one bangled wrist to toss her long red hair over a pale shoulder. “It’s like I don’t have any friends other than you, sometimes.”
Do you have other friends?
“Come on . . .” I scoff, unsure of what response she’s looking for.
Suddenly, Wren attacks me with an embrace. She wraps her thin arms around me, nestling her head against my cheek.
Goddammit.
“Is this okay?” she asks, after the deed is already done.
I tentatively put my hand on her back, careful not to touch any exposed flesh beneath the crop top she’s wearing. “Yeah,” I say, not entirely agreeing with myself.
I’ve never been okay with how comfortable Wren makes herself around me. If she’s not draped over me every moment that we’re together, then something is terribly wrong.
Well, at least she isn’t mad at me.
I squeeze her slightly, returning the embrace, and Wren sighs happily. She’s such a loyal friend, even if some of her tendencies make me antsy.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asks, poking me in the chest.
“I don’t know . . . I’m pretty tired.” On my way home, I was looking forward to making myself dinner and then calling it an early night. But Wren’s presence puts a monkey wrench in that plan.
“We can just watch TV,” she says with a pout.
This woman is in her late twenties now and still pouts like a child. I think back to Layne, pouting because we didn’t have a condom. Why was that so cute, and this so annoying?
“If we watch a movie, you’re just going to lay on me the whole time, and I won’t actually rest,” I say bluntly, giving her another squeeze as if to say, We’re still friends. I just need space.
Wren detaches herself from me abruptly, putting several inches of space between us. “What’s going on?” She’s frowning, which is exactly what I wanted to avoid.
“I just need some space,” I say, gesturing between us. “Like this? This is good.”
