How to Date a Younger Man

by Kendall Ryan

  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.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Why do you need space?”

  She’s so pushy. Sometimes I feel like Wren brings the drama onto herself by being so difficult.

  “I want to feel comfortable around you,” I say with a sigh. “But when you’re hanging all over me, it feels . . . I don’t know, weird.”

  “Why is it weird? We’ve always been close.”

  “Okay, but what happens when one of us starts dating someone? Cora hated how entitled you were around me.”

  “I’ve known you forever. I’m allowed to be entitled. Cora was a bitch, anyway. She didn’t deserve you.”

  “She was not a bitch. She was a really good person. I wasn’t.”

  “Why, did you cheat on her?”

  “No,” I say, exasperated with Wren’s prying.

  “Then why did she dump you? Did she cheat on you?”

  “No, Wren.”

  “You never tell me anything anymore.”

  If I wanted to tell you, I would have. “I’m allowed to have a life outside of our friendship, aren’t I?”

  “Of course you are. But I feel like I should still know—”

  “Everything?” I say, interrupting her. Okay, not wise.

  “No, if you hadn’t interrupted me, I would have said the important things.”

  I purse my lips and clasp my hands in front of me, trying to calm myself down.

  “Like right now,” she says. “You’re obviously keeping something from me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, hearing myself apologizing and unsure of what I mean by that.

  “Are you seeing someone new?”

  I don’t speak for a moment. What’s the harm in telling Wren? She wouldn’t tell Kristen or any of our friends . . . I know that much.

  I sigh. “Yeah, I’m seeing someone. I don’t know where it’s going, though.”

  “Is it Layne?”

  I swallow. “Yeah,” I say, meeting Wren’s eyes. “It’s Layne.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “Well . . .” I laugh wryly. “It’s very new.”

  “I’m sure you’re happy,” Wren says, crossing her arms, but she certainly doesn’t seem to be.

  “I am happy. And nervous, and excited,” I say. “I’ve been waiting for this—”

  “For the past few years. I know.”

  Wren and I sit in silence for a while. I watch her pick at her nails and wonder what’s running through her head right now. I’ve never been able to read her.

  “Well, I’d better get going,” she says suddenly, vaulting off of the stairs. “I had a backup date in case you didn’t come home or were busy.”

  “Good,” I say with an encouraging smile, but she doesn’t return it.

  Giving me a serious look, she says, “Don’t ignore me for another month, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  And with that, Wren leaves me on the front steps of my apartment building. I sit there for a while, my mind racing from the precious, fragile thing I have with Layne, to the volatile, stressful thing I have with Wren.

  With a shake of my head, I rise to my feet and turn toward my door. I’m going to need more than pasta and a movie to decompress after that conversation.

  It’s never easy with her.

  16

  * * *

  LAYNE

  By this point, you’d think I’d be sick of engagement parties. Lord knows I’ve attended enough of them.

  But today’s engagement party? It’s different. I won’t have to sit through countless celebrations of a love I’m not sure is going to last, and do my best not to roll my eyes or burst anyone’s bubble. No, this time I’ll be celebrating a love I believe in, the love of my best friend who has truly found the love of her life. I couldn’t be happier for her or more excited to spend today with the happy couple.

  Plus, Griffin will be there, and honestly, things between us just keep getting hotter. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready to spice things up a little.

  After giving my dark curls one last spritz of hair spray, I check my makeup in the mirror, noting the way the classic navy shift dress fits over my curves. I’m not normally one to wander into boutiques and try on dresses at random, but I’ve been feeling more spontaneous than usual these days.

  On the drive over to Kristen’s parents’ house, I’m surprised by the nervous fluttery feeling in my stomach. It’s only been a few days since I’ve seen Griffin, but this will be the first time seeing him with all our friends since we started doing whatever it is we’re doing, and I’m not sure how it’s going to go.

  We haven’t told anyone about it, and I have no plans to. What would we even say? “Hey guys, I know we’ve been friends for years and he’s my best friend’s younger brother, but we’re fucking now. Yes, it’s complicated, and no, we have no idea what we’re doing.”

  My palms sweat at the mere thought of that conversation, so I tuck it away in a far corner of my brain and turn up the music on the radio. That line of questioning is for another day. Right now? All I’m worried about is having fun and making sure Kristen has the best engagement party ever.

  As promised, I arrive twenty minutes early to help set up the drink table and make sure Kristen doesn’t have a panic attack before the other guests arrive. After parking in one of the few spots close to the house, I walk up to the front door, and to my surprise, it swings open before I can even knock.

  Standing in front of me is a familiar turquoise-eyed tall drink of water in dark jeans and a gray sweater with a blue collared shirt underneath. He steps out and closes the door behind him, sweeping me up in his arms before I can say anything, and plants an urgent kiss on my mouth.

  My first instinct is to panic, to resist—what if someone sees us?!—but Griffin’s kiss drowns out all rational thought for a moment. I give in, looping my arms around his neck and softening into the kiss. But all at once, I regain my senses, pulling away and taking a few steps back, wildly looking around us to make sure no one saw what just happened.

  What the hell did just happen?

  “You look incredible,” he says, a stupid smile on his face as he looks me over from head to toe.

  “Stop that. You need to
get it together. We’re in public.” My tone is terse, but on the inside, I’m melting.

  I’d be lying if I said this new dress wasn’t for him, and the fact that he appreciates it makes the extra half hour of primping and pruning worth it. Plus, that sweater is doing his chest all kinds of favors—not that he needs any help. I know that from firsthand experience now.

  “Everyone’s out back. Don’t worry.” He shrugs, that stupid smile still glued to his face, sending electric pulses straight through me.

  “Look, we have to be careful. Obviously, whatever’s going on right now is still very new and fragile, and I don’t think I’m ready for anyone to know about it yet.” I have to avoid his eyes as I speak, not only because we haven’t talked about this yet, but also because the longer we make eye contact, the less I care about anything other than letting him take me right here and now.

  “You should have thought about that before showing up here looking like a fucking smoke show, babe.”

  Heat rises from my core, spreading over my chest and cheeks. It’s all I can do to roll my eyes, doing my best to tamp down the arousal I so obviously and clearly feel in his presence. Taking a deep breath, I meet his eyes, my heartbeat going into immediate overdrive.

  “Behave,” I murmur, opening the door behind him and walking inside, my skin practically lighting on fire where our arms brush.

  We walk through the entryway into the living room, where Griffin’s parents’ massive backyard is perfectly showcased by white French doors, left open to let the afternoon breeze move through the house. I knew Kristen’s party would be impeccably decorated, but this is even more beautiful than what I envisioned.

  White ceramic pitchers holding fresh flowers of all kinds are scattered throughout the house, and on the tall cocktail tables draped in white lace tablecloths in the backyard. Little touches of Kristen are everywhere—from the antiqued gold cutlery to the burlap runners. It makes my heart happy to see that she’s truly able to give herself the engagement party of her dreams.

  “You must be Layne!” a woman’s voice calls to us from the other side of the yard.

  I turn to find what looks like an older version of Kristen smiling by the drink table and waving me over. She’s about Kristen’s height and with her same auburn curls, only hers are cut short, framing her angular face, and her eyes are a warm, doe-eyed brown.

  “And you must be Donna,” I say, extending a hand when I reach the table. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  But when I turn to nod to Griffin, who I assumed was right behind me, he’s nowhere to be found. Apparently, the whole my new secret hookup meeting my mom thing isn’t something he’s ready to deal with quite yet. Fine by me.

  “The kids didn’t warn you? I’m a hugger.” Donna pulls me in for a warm, slightly awkward embrace.

  I hug her back with half the strength she’s holding me, forcing a normal-looking smile onto my face when she lets me go. “Your house is beautiful, and the decorations are absolutely stunning. It was so kind of you to open up your home like this.”

  “It’s not like Krissy could have had a party this size in that apartment of hers. Could you imagine? We’d all be packed in there like sardines.”

  “Well, I know she appreciates it. Speaking of, where is the blushing bride-to-be?”

  “In my bathroom, still getting ready. You know how she is. Actually, why don’t you go check on her? Down the hallway and to the left.”

  “Sure, I’ll check on her, but I’m sure she looks amazing. When I get back, I expect you to put me to work.”

  I leave Donna aligning champagne flutes to wander through their massive Spanish-style home, the kind of place I used to gawk at while I was still dreaming of my own place years ago. All the warm tones and beautiful tile are making my home-crazy brain light on fire, but I tell myself it’s time to focus. Time to make sure Kristen is okay, and not, like, about to pull her eyelashes out from nerves or something.

  “Knock, knock,” I say when I reach the bathroom.

  I poke my head through the doorway to find Kristen leaning over the sink to see herself better in the mirror as she applies mascara. Even with her version of the silly mascara face we all make, she looks gorgeous in her cream-colored lace dress with delicate off-the-shoulder sleeves and mid-calf hemline.

  “Oh, Layne, thank God. This is a disaster. Help me,” she says, turning to reveal a gray streak running down one side of her face, presumably from the dreaded mascara tears she cried earlier.

  “Okay, first things first. You look amazing. And second, this is totally manageable. You know I have firsthand experience at dealing with mascara tears.”

  She gives me a halfhearted smile as I join her in front of the mirror, using a tissue to gently dab at the streak until the color is gone. Then I get to work, using her foundation to lightly cover over it, and within minutes, Kristen is back to her gorgeous self.

  “You look really pretty,” she says, her gaze flitting over my dress. “I haven’t seen this before. Is it new?”

  I shrug, dusting a soft layer of blush over the apples of her cheeks. “Picked it up last week. Just felt like refreshing my look a little.”

  “Well, I love it. What sparked the revamp? Anyone new I should know about?”

  Damn, I wish I were a little less predictable. I didn’t expect to have to tell a bald-face lie to Kristen anytime soon, but I guess this is how life just has to go today.

  “It’s not every day your best friend has an engagement party. I had to look good for my Krissy,” I reply with a wink, a little surprised with how easily the lie slips out.

  “Oh God. Please tell me my mother didn’t hug you. I’ve been trying to teach her about boundaries with strangers.”

  “She definitely hugged me, but it was sweet. Besides, even if this is the first time we met, I’d hardly consider the mother of my best friend a stranger.”

  “Okay, if you keep that up, I’m going to cry for real this time,” Kristen says, her brows scrunching together and her eyes threatening to well up again.

  “Fine, fine. I hate you, and this friendship means nothing to me,” I tease, throwing my hands in the air.

  We laugh, and Kristen checks her reflection in the mirror one last time before making her grand entrance.

  “You really think I look okay?”

  “You look incredible,” I assure her, slipping my arm around her waist as we walk out of the bathroom. “Max won’t know what hit him. And this party? It’s going to be the best engagement party anyone’s been to in years.”

  I wasn’t wrong. By the time all the rest of the guests arrive, Kristen’s parents’ house is as packed and lively as LA’s most popular brunch spot at eleven a.m. on a Sunday. But, if you ask me, the champagne here is even better.

  After putting out a couple of small fires with the caterers, I convince Kristen and her mom to relax and have a good time—which means I can finally have a good time too. While chatting with a few friends I haven’t seen in a while, I find myself scanning the backyard for any sign of Griffin. I find him by the drink table, chatting with some people I’ve never seen before.

  As if by instinct, he glances over at me, his eyes meeting mine with the kind of knowing intensity that makes my stomach do somersaults. After holding his gaze for a few seconds, I have to look away, doing my best to look normal and casual in front of my friends. Even though, deep down, I’m totally freaking out like a high school girl on prom night, waiting for her crush to ask her to dance.

  “So, Layne, I heard you bought your own place last year. That’s amazing! And so brave of you to do it all on your own.”

  Liza Friedman and I have always been more frenemies than friends, and comments like that are exactly why. She’s one of the women from the spin class where Kristen and I became friends, and while she wasn’t always this outwardly catty, I’ve always had a feeling she wasn’t quite as sweet as she first seemed. Luckily for Liza, Kristen’s a more forgiving friend than I am at times. Plus, Li
za’s husband, Tom, is one of Max’s best friends, so it doesn’t look like we’ll be getting rid of Liza anytime soon.

  “Well, when the home of my dreams finally went on the market, I knew I had to jump on the opportunity. And it’s not like I needed a partner to help offset the down payment,” I reply, forcing a casual smile on my lips. I’m not about to pick a fight with this woman, but her passive-aggressive comments about my life choices make my blood boil.

  “I can’t imagine having all that space to myself. Although, I guess with the hours you work, you wouldn’t really have the time to relax and enjoy it like we do,” Liza says, wrapping her hand around Tom’s arm and beaming a sugary-sweet smile up at him.

  I’m about to ready to snap when a hand lightly touches my lower back, and Griffin’s tall, strong body appears beside me.

  “You know, that’s a common stereotype about lawyers, especially women who have the balls to take on high-powered positions,” he says, standing close enough to me that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “But you’d be surprised how easily Layne manages her schedule. What’s that saying? Work smarter, not harder? She’s an absolute beast, and a damn good lawyer. I think we can all learn something from the way she leads her life.” He flashes one of his charming smiles Liza’s way.

  Good God, I could rip his clothes off right here.

  He clinks his glass to mine with a wink, and this time my stomach does a freaking round-off back handspring.

  Liza doesn’t respond. She simply smiles and changes the subject, but I can tell from the look in her eyes that she’s been defeated. For now, at least.

  “Thanks for that,” I murmur, sidestepping away from Liza and her cronies. “Really. It means a lot.”

  “It’s true,” he says.

  He’s still standing close enough that my elbow tingles where it makes contact with his arm. I have a feeling that if I were to look him in the eye right now, I might actually burst into flames.

  “I should probably go make sure we’re not running low on canapés,” I say halfheartedly, not wanting to leave, but wary of the two of us being seen together alone for too long. I make a move to turn to leave, but his fingers graze my arm, stopping me in my tracks.