Page 44 of The Hang Up

But since being with him—since realizing I wanted to be with him—I’d never felt our age difference more.Get used to it. This is what it’s going to be like dating someone in their twenties. Seriously, Mitch. Get out of my head.

I wasn’t in the best of moods when we arrived at Rumors. It was a cool place with your typical bar stuff: dartboard and pool tables. And we weren’t the only May-December couple, so maybe it would be fine.

I ordered the drinks while Brock found us a table since it was already getting crowded. I found him at a corner table. But he wasn’t alone. A cute guy around his age was sitting with him.

“Hey, babe,” Brock said, standing and kissing me. And some of the tension in my body eased. I was the one he wanted, not some pretty boy. He introduced me to his new friend, but I didn’t remember the guy’s name after I heard it. Not that it was easy to hear anything with the jukebox going. It would be even louder when the band played.

I was good at pretending. Hadn’t I been doing that most of my life? I pasted on an interested smile and pretended all the guys flocking to our table to see Brock didn’t bother me. When the band started playing, Brock tried to pull me onto the dance floor. I wasn’t a good dancer. No practice. And I felt awkward. But it only took one guy offering to dance with Brock for me to change my mind. So I danced. The slow songs were easier because I could hold him close and breathe in his citrusy scent. But the rest of the times, I felt like a dinosaur trying to imitate the way they danced. It was a struggle.

Also, I couldn’t believe the way people practically humped each other on the dance floor. Was it old-fashioned not to want to grind into your partner in front of so many people? But I’d never considered myself gay, so I’d never been to a gay bar. It was overwhelming. But probably not as bad as a club in a bigger city. Point Pleasant had a small-time feel.

I wasn’t having a good time, but I was trying. I wanted Brock to be happy. Watching him have fun was bittersweet because this experience was something I never wanted to repeat if I could help it.

Brock plopped down beside me as we took a break from dancing. He was sweaty but glowing, and it made my heart hurt. Drinking would probably help me loosen up, but I wanted to be able to perform tonight. Brock had a lot more stamina than I had.

“What’s your story, cutie?” A blond surfer type sat in one of the empty seats and directed his question at Brock.

“No story.” Brock glanced over at me. I rolled my eyes but smiled to show him it didn’t bother me. He’d never really had a chance to flirt with cute guys. He’d been too focused on working and school. It really didn’t bother me. Not in the way he thought it did.

“How about a name? I’m Tad.”

“Brock,” he said with a small shake of his head.

“What do you do, Brock?”

“I’m a chef.” He had to practically shout to be heard over the music and for once, he didn’t add the in-training part.

“Wow.” Tad’s eyes lit up. “I bet you make a great breakfast.”

Brock laughed. Which turned into giggles. “That’s a terrible pickup line.”

“Is it? I got you to smile. Instead of worrying about your dad over there.”

I sat up straighter. Was this guy going to be a problem? But Brock put his hand on my leg. He had this. Right?

“He’s not my dad.”

“Oh, your Daddy then.” He looked me over. “Nice.”

“You should probably look elsewhere,” Brock said, waving his hand between the two of us. “We’re together.”

“Oh, I like together. How about the three of us—”

“No,” I said, speaking up for the first time. “Not interested.”

“Okay, chill, Daddy. How about you, cutie?”

Brock’s mouth dropped open, and he laughed. “Wow. Sorry. Not interested means not interested. Please go away.”

Tad grinned, showing off perfect white teeth and a dimple in his chin. Then he winked and wandered off.

“Do you want to go?” Brock asked, scratching his fingers through the hair on my arm. He was trying to calm me. It was working. For the moment.

“I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Brock sighed. He looked at me. Looked at the bar. Looked over at Crystal from the coffee shop, who was yelling, “What’s up, motherfuckers!” And then Brock nodded. “Hold on.”

And then he was gone. I noticed him talking to Crystal. She tilted her head and listened and then said something to him. They both nodded. This went on for a few minutes. What was he up to?

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