Page 11 of How to Date a Younger Man
When we reach the table, I swear I see a hint of pain in Layne’s eyes as she watches the couple interact. It’s not exactly a state secret that Layne wants to be settled down in a serious relationship by now. But as quickly as her teary-eyed expression appears, it’s gone. She plasters on a smile and rises to her feet to give both Kristen and me a hug.
“Well, where is he?” Kristen asks, her voice filled with excitement.
Layne laughs and motions for us to sit down. “Brian’s on his way. He said he was running a little late leaving work tonight.”
So he left her sitting here alone? What a jackass. That’s a one-point deduction for being a tool, Brian.
A waitress comes by to take our drink orders, and I spot my friend Wren. Rising to my feet so she can see me over the crowd, I give her a quick wave. A happy smile spreads across her face as she heads in our direction.
Wren is a classic case of the ugly duckling. We became friends in grade school, where she was the quirky girl who didn’t fit in. I felt bad when I saw her sitting alone at lunch every day, so I started inviting her to eat lunch with me and my group of friends.
Fast forward ten years, and Wren has transformed into a leggy redhead who turns heads wherever we go. My guy friends always want to know why I’m not interested in her, but I’ve always done my best to keep our friendship purely platonic. Not that I’ve always been successful. The trouble is, with our complicated past, she can sometimes get jealous when other women take my attention from her. She’s basically hated all my girlfriends and isn’t afraid to let them know. It’s always caused major tension in my relationships, but I value our friendship too much to just stop talking to her.
Wren says hello to Layne and gives my sister a quick hug before taking a seat next to me. “Is this new?” she asks, running a hand over my chest.
I look down, realizing she’s referring to the black cashmere sweater I’m wearing. “I don’t think so?” I say, wondering if tonight is going to be one of those nights where Wren is going to have a hard time keeping her hands to herself.
When the server comes around, Wren orders a glass of champagne, and another gin and tonic for me. I start to protest, but she puts a hand on my arm.
“It’s on me,” she says quietly.
She lets her hand linger on my arm for a moment, and I look up to see Layne watching us. I place Wren’s hand back in her lap and clear my throat.
Suddenly, I’m not so sure it was a good idea to invite Wren. It’s been five minutes, and she’s already acting possessive with me. Apparently, I’m the fire hydrant she’s trying to piss all over.
“Oh, there he is,” Layne says, biting her lip and waving in the direction of the entrance.
Brian’s here. Oh joy.
Kristen cranes her neck toward the door, and Wren looks bored.
I watch as a guy who looks to be in his late thirties strolls up to the table. His eyes are glued to Layne, and why wouldn’t they be? She’s still dressed from her day at the office in a formfitting black dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and a knee-length hemline. She looks fucking phenomenal. Her dark hair is secured in a low ponytail, and her wide green eyes sparkle as she watches him approach.
After they share a brief hug, introductions are made around the table. Layne takes the time to give Brian the rundown, covering Wren’s business as a party planner, and recounting how she and Kristen met at the yoga studio years ago.
“And this is Griffin, Kristen’s younger brother.”
Is that really all she sees me as? It takes me a moment to recover, and then I reach one hand out, firmly grasping his in a handshake.
Brian nods, smiling at everyone as he takes the seat next to Layne. “And what do you do, Griffin?”
“I’m studying architecture,” I say before polishing off the last of my drink.
“Ah, still in college.” He grins conspiratorially at me. “I remember the days.”
“Grad school, actually, but yeah, it’s great.”
A silence falls around us, and Wren leans over to briefly rest her head on my shoulder.
“You okay?” I ask.
She lifts her head, nodding.
“So, Brian, tell everyone about that case you won last week,” Layne says, obviously hoping to bring him into the conversation.
He gives her a dismissive wave. “It’s not all that interesting a story. My firm found a legal precedent we could use to hold the plaintiff liable.” Brian grabs his beer and takes a swig, and then he rises to his feet. “I need to find the restroom. I’ll be back.”
