Page 63 of How to Date a Younger Man
“Like a drunk asshole.” He chuckles, running a hand over his face. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry you had to see me like that.”
I smile and shake my head. “You would have done the same for me.”
A smirk floats over his lips. “Oh, I have done the same for you.”
“Shut up.” I swat his arm with the back of my hand, but we both laugh because what he said was true. He has seen me countless times in all of my hot mess glory.
Things feel good between us—natural, even—but the weight of our upcoming conversation still hangs heavy between us. My gut is churning, making me think the anticipation is starting to eat through my stomach lining.
“Did I say anything weird during my bender?”
I snuggled closer, glancing up at him. “You might have mentioned whiskey dick.”
“Oh fuck, I did, didn’t I?” He shakes his head, covering his eyes with one hand. “I need to stop drinking.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Pretty embarrassing for you, not going to lie.” I smirk, poking him in the ribs.
He squirms, then pokes me back, and soon we’re in a full-on tickle fight, rolling across the bed in fits of laughter, trying to dodge each other’s reach. Eventually, we land with him on his back, pinned beneath me as I straddle his hips. We pause, our chests heaving as we catch our breath, and he brings his hand to my face.
“This is a nice change,” he says softly. “I’m glad you stayed over.”
“I’m glad you stayed too.”
He pauses, a serious look passing over his face. Then he looks away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re resolute. Hopeful, even. God, he’s so handsome.
“I stayed for you. You know that, right?” His voice is soft, and something inside me clenches. “I canceled my flight, and gave up New York, because of you.”
“Griff . . .”
He shakes his head, quieting me. “I want a real shot with you, to see if what we have—this crazy, wonderful, mind-blowing thing—is as real as it feels to me because Layne, you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone but you. Today, tomorrow and forever if you’ll have me.”
Even as the words are leaving his mouth, I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. After everything that’s happened between us, after Dr. Benson’s encouragement that I should give Griffin a chance, after Wren insisting that he’s in love with me, after spending countless hours sneaking around and hiding from our friends, in this moment, my mind goes blank.
For the first time in a long time—maybe ever, if I’m being honest—I have no idea what to say.
22
* * *
GRIFFIN
My words hang in the air between us like a frozen speech bubble in one of those superhero comic books I read as a kid. Except there’s nothing particularly epic about this moment. Just a grown man pinned beneath the woman he loves, in his bed, waiting for her to say something.
Anything.
Layne’s mouth opens and closes without a word.
“You don’t have to say anything.” I whisper, reaching with one hand to smooth the hair back from her face as my heart begins to sink. I mean, I would love for her to say something, particularly that she doesn’t think I’m delusional, and that she also wants to be with me. That would be nice.
“N-no,” she sputters. “Wait.”
I love the look on her face when she’s thinking about what she wants to say. As a lawyer, she’s extremely careful with her words, and that care most certainly bleeds over into her personal life. I’m only half-nervous that whatever words she ultimately chooses could potentially destroy me or could change my life forever.
“I’m trying to say this in a way that won’t offend you.”
Fuck.
“Just say it,” I murmur, my throat tight with the anticipation of an impossible-to-swallow pill.
“Okay,” she says, her lips turning down in that resolute way they often do.
God, I love her lips.
“Being with you these past few months has been . . . honestly, incredible. I’ve felt like I’m in my twenties again, but also older than I’ve ever been before. Does that make sense?” she asks, and I nod. “I guess what I mean to say is . . . being with you is fun, and exciting, and comforting, and shockingly normal despite all the years we were just friends. There’s a kind of balance between us that I never thought possible. You wouldn’t believe how many hours I spent in therapy unpacking all of this shit.”
My eyes meet hers. “You talk about me in therapy?”
I nod. “Let me finish.”
I close my mouth obediently.
“Since you came to my office and gave me that unreal massage, and then I found out you were Kristen’s brother . . . I had trained my brain to see you as a kid. An irresponsible, infuriating little flirt who was too concerned with casual sex and would never be ready to settle into something serious. I repeatedly reminded myself of our ten year age difference every chance I got. But then you went and proved me wrong, you made me question everything I believed and the more time I spend with you, I see you for the man you actually are.”
