Page 9 of The Romance Rivalry

Four age-gap romance

The meeting with my statistics TA runs a little long, so I text Garrett to tell him I’ll meet him off-campus at the restaurant.

“Why do you think a twenty-one-year-old fourth-year who looks like Garrett would even ask someone like me out?” I ask Jeannette

a couple hours earlier while trying on outfits for the date and going through my typical list of crisis points with her before

running to meet my TA. It’s clear after just a week of classes that my brain was not made for statistics. Sadly, I thought

my brain was made for literature, but I’m struggling equally in all my classes.

She’s sitting on her bed, long legs crossed like a pretzel, holding a “yes” sign she’d quickly made in one hand and a “no”

sign in the other.

“Do you have anything a little lower-cut?”

I look down at my nonexistent chest and wonder why she thinks that’s the route I’d want to take for tonight’s outfit.

“I mean, don’t you think it’s weird?”

“I think it’s weird that you want to wear overalls to this date with an older man. Do you mean to play up your youth? Come

on, Irene. I’ve seen your Pinterest boards. You can do better than this.” She’s got her left hand lifted, the “no” sign screaming

at me. “And he asked you out because you’re pretty, you’re successful, you’re fascinating, and you’re a hot commodity. Own

it.”

I unhook the straps of the jumpsuit and let it fall to ground. I grab a black dress out of my closet, the only one I brought

to school with me, and pull it on over my head. Definitely trying too hard.

Jeannette’s right hand immediately lifts into the air.

And this is how I find myself wildly overdressed for a first date with a man who can legally order wine as I sip a Coke. Not

to mention that I’m pretty sure my Stats TA thinks I was trying to seduce my way to a passing grade this semester by wearing

this to our meeting earlier.

I’m not a prude about age, but it’s just one of many things about Garrett I don’t get... the most obvious being, why would

he want to go out with an eighteen-year-old? But also, why would this looker choose me? No matter how glowingly Jeannette

describes me, the fact remains—no one in high school ever looked twice at me.

I try to pull up the most recent age-gap romance book I read and remember that it wasn’t a clear-cut winner for me. For someone as inexperienced as I am, do I want to start with an older guy? Maybe I do. Maybe it’s a sign that he can teach me how to be in a relationship.

Do not think the word “grooming,” Irene. Get that out of your head.

My Uber driver drops me off in front of the restaurant and there’s no sign of Garrett. Should I go inside and see if he’s

there? Or would he just expect me to wait outside? Or maybe I should go inside and tell the hostess I’m here? Should I ask

her to seat me? Will people think I’m here having dinner by myself?? Will they look at me sitting at the table, dressed up,

and wonder if I’m being stood up? Am I being stood up?

My palms start to sweat. It’s a cool evening, the summer heat finally starting to break now that September is coming to a

close. But my anxiety seems to manifest itself in inopportune perspiration.

“Hey.”

I whip my head around at the greeting, trying to keep my smile natural, not strained like the muscles in my face are desperately

fighting to be.

My brows lift as I see Aiden standing there with... a girl. A date? Not that it matters. I don’t care. But wow, weird that

he’d be here on a date at the exact same time and place I’m supposed to be on my date.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss.

“I hear the arrabbiata is amazing,” he says. He stares at me, and I glare back at him. A standoff. Do I return the small talk,

or do I call him out on the odd coincidence and ask him what he’s up to? He hasn’t introduced me to the girl with him, so

I take matters and manners into my own hands.

She’s pretty. Really pretty. And I feel ridiculously out of place in this scene. At this restaurant. Likely in this entire

school. Possibly in the whole town. If I add the whole world to the list, would that be overkill?

“Hi, I’m Irene. Aiden and I are in lit class together,” I say.

“Maddie,” she says back. She barely grabs my hand and lets me shake her limp one. She also doesn’t offer up any additional

information. In fact, she couldn’t be less interested in me.

A part of me feels disappointed that Aiden would date someone like this. He’s a romance reader. He should know better. Why

are men? Why don’t they have higher standards and date the fabulous, interesting, funny, smart ones?

“Where’s Garrett? Did he get so absorbed in a Kerouac novel that he’s running late?” Aiden’s voice, which I would only ever

describe as unbothered, suddenly sounds very... bothered.

Okay, so maybe Garrett did come across as a bit pretentious at the book club meeting, the more I thought it over and replayed the whole night one hundred or so times in my head.

“Irene,” I hear my name called. I look around and see Garrett quickly walking up to me. “Hi, wow, you look great,” he says.

His smile is perfectly straight, very white, and I hear the ping of a bell in my head as the sparkle of one of his teeth almost blinds me.

Garrett turns to Aiden and holds out his hand. “Oh hey, Aaron, right?”

“Yeah, good to see you again, Gary,” Aiden says back.

This entire exchange is making me incredibly uncomfortable, but I cannot look away.

Garrett turns to me and says, “Let’s head inside.” He opens the door and holds it for me. I look over at Aiden and Maddie

and give an awkward smile as I walk by.

“Ask him what he thinks of the romance in A Game of Thrones ,” Aiden says under his breath. And somehow, I know ... I know exactly what he’s trying to say to me. Incest in books is my hard limit. Flowers in the Attic traumatized me as a kid, and I’m still not over it. I’ve made that clear on multiple occasions online, and it’s one of the

very few things Aiden and I have actually agreed about publicly. If Garrett finds Cersei and Jaime’s relationship romantic,

he and I are doomed before we’ve started.

I want to acknowledge that I get it, that I understand the puzzle Aiden threw my way. But I hesitate for a second too long, and when I glance back, he’s put his arm around Maddie and is leading her through the door Garrett’s holding open.

“Coming?” Garrett asks. Perfectly nice, attentive, scorching-hot, older-man, out-of-my-league Garrett.

You’re the main character of your life, Irene , I remind myself. So I put on my romance-reviewer smile and ignore whatever confusion is happening in my head right now.

And with a view of a back I’m becoming way too familiar with, I walk in.

“So, if you trust me, I can order for us both. This is kind of my go-to spot,” Garrett suggests as the hostess takes us to

our table and we sit down.

I could have guessed this was going to happen. Textbook. This is when I tell him my dietary restrictions and he completely

ignores me and orders something that could possibly kill me anyways.

I guess it’s lucky for us both that I don’t have any allergies.

“I don’t particularly like spicy stuff,” I say.

“Noted. Anything else you’d prefer to stay away from?” he asks.

“No, I think that’s it.”

He calls the waitress over and orders us a tossed-tableside Caesar salad to share, the truffle gnocchi for me, and the four-cheese

lasagna for himself. He also orders a glass of wine, and I stick to water.

All this is new to me. Not just the food choices, but someone taking charge. I thought he’d be overbearing, but honestly, he’s been super respectful of any boundaries I’ve mentioned. Too bad he will never know that I have about five hundred other boundaries going through my head right now that I’ll never let onto and will instead suffer in silence.

“In case you were wondering, dinner is on me.” He holds up a hand to silence me before my brain even tells me to protest.

“I’m older and I asked you to dinner.” He smiles a self-satisfied smile, and I can’t help smile back.

“That’s very Korean of you,” I say.

He furrows his brow, but it will take too much energy to explain to him if he doesn’t know what I mean. Aiden would understand.

He probably grew up watching his elders fight for the check all the time.

“Thank you for the offer, but we can split the check. I’m happy to pay for my part of the meal,” I add.

“No, no, I remember how tight it is freshman year. First time away from home, budgeting your own life and finances, it’s not

easy.”

He acts like I still get an allowance.

“I make a decent amount of money from my online job,” I admit.

“You have an online job?”

“I told you about being a book reviewer. Because I have a large enough platform, I get sponsorships and also some financial benefits for engagement and followers.” I rarely tell anyone about this side of the business. I think people expect that only makeup and lifestyle content creators make what they think is the quick and easy cash of influencer life. But I’m not kidding when I say I do really well for myself financially.

“Not tonight, but maybe next time I can pick your brain a little bit about this. I’m thinking of starting a YouTube channel.

I’m not sure about what yet. But I’ve been told I could probably get a pretty decent sized following quickly,” he tells me.

I look at him and know exactly what he means. He’s a guy. He’s incredibly handsome. And he’s charming. He could probably do

live commentary on paint drying and build a following right away. I’ve seen it happen.

I do a quick scan of the restaurant and see Aiden and Maddie sitting at a small table in the corner. She tucks her hair behind

her ear prettily. She jabs her fork at a single piece of lettuce and nibbles on it. She nods and bats her eyelashes as he

talks. She opens her mouth and says one word.

He laughs like she’s Ali Wong or something.

She covers her mouth as she giggles in return.

I roll my eyes and stab an anchovy in my salad and go back to listening to Garrett tell me in detail his ideas about his YouTube

channel, despite having just said we’d talk about it the next time.

I bury any questions, wondering if I even want a next time.

And taking a cue from Maddie, who seems to have this dating thing down pat, I cover my mouth and giggle at something Garrett

says, wondering what my options are going to be for dessert.

When I get back to the dorm, Jeannette is head down studying at her desk. I try not to make any noise, despite the fact she

has her headphones on, as I quietly change into my pajamas and grab my toiletry kit to get washed up.

“You’re back!”

I yelp as I turn around and find Jeannette towering over me. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I’m sorry,” she says, wrapping me in a hug. She releases me. “Now, tell me everything about your date,” she insists, looking

down at me.

I raise my eyes to meet hers. I want to tell her it was great. I want to report that things are going exactly according to

plan. I want to share that the age-gap trope might be the winner already. Instead, I drop down onto my bed.

“I think I’m broken,” I admit.

“Whaddaya mean?” she asks.

“You’ve seen Garrett. He’s gorgeous. And despite being a tiny bit ego-forward, he’s pretty nice. And semi-interesting. And

decently good at listening.”

“Wow, what a resounding endorsement. You’re clearly head over heels for this guy.”

I’ve never heard Jeannette’s voice so flat and sarcastic. I start laughing. I stop. I start again. I can’t stop.

Jeannette drops down on the bed next to me and joins in. We both laugh until we’re grabbing our sides and tears are building

in our eyes, threatening to spill over.

We’re both lying down on my tiny twin bed, legs hanging over the side, feet on the ground. Well, her feet actually reach the

ground, mine just dangle there. She turns to face me. “Irene, there’s something I gotta say.”

“Okayyyy...” I turn my head toward hers.

“For being such a huge fan of romance novels, you really seem to hate romance.”

I groan, because she just hit the nail on the head.

“I know,” I whine. “I’m realizing that all the things I love in books feel so off to me in real life. I cringe at romantic

words or gestures. I shrink from any thought of physical touch. I try to find anything and everything wrong with any person

who shows interest in me. Like I said, I’m broken.”

“Look, this is all new to you, right? Give it some time. You’ve never been out there and dated like this. And I’m not saying

that as a judgment. I’m just saying, well, I won’t lie, it doesn’t get easier. But it gets less hard.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But relationships don’t tend to make sense. And what do I know? The longest I’ve ever dated someone was three weeks,” she admits.

“Three weeks? Damn, you were basically almost married.”

We both smile and she grabs for my hand. I freeze just for a second, realize I don’t hate having her in my space like I often

did with my sister or my friends from high school, and squeeze her hand back.

“It’s still early. I’m all for your plan, but don’t rush it. Now that you’ve told the universe you’re open to finding someone,

it’ll work its magic and he’ll come,” she says.

I let out a breath. “You’re right. It’s still early. I gotta give it some time. And I can’t just slam every door shut if I’m

not feeling it right away. Maybe I will go out with Garrett again. That is, if he asks me. Hey, what about you? We never talk

about if you’re interested in anyone?”

“I’m a slow-burn kinda gal,” Jeannette says.

“Way to go! You’re picking up on the romance stuff fast,” I say. It warms my heart.

“Yeah, I’m getting into it. My roommate is kind of a big deal in the genre,” she says. “Anyways, I honestly have to focus

on my schoolwork right now. This is way harder than high school, and I’m here on scholarship. Gotta keep the grades up.”

I sense the tension in her, so I squeeze her hand one more time before I jackknife up to standing. I don’t want to even think about classes and grades right now. It’s only been a couple weeks. I have time to get caught up.

“I’m gonna go get washed up,” I say, grabbing my stuff and heading toward the door to the communal bathroom.

“Yeah, I’ve got to get back to studying,” Jeannette says.

“Hey, roomie?” I call out.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for always being there while I go through this bonkers plan of mine. I know I can be... a lot,” I say. I worry

that Jeannette will come to realize that I’m actually too much, that the things that go through my head are too overwhelming

even for her.

“We’re in this college life together,” she says.

We.

I smile.

“Oh, and I downloaded one of the books you recommended on your list and noticed a brother’s-best-friend trope. We don’t have

that on the list,” Jeannette points out.

“My brother’s thirteen,” I point back.

The corners of her mouth drop, and I have to laugh at the disappointment on her face.

“But hey, there’s also best friend’s brother,” I suggest, waggling my eyebrows. In fact, I recall that one of Jeannette’s

brothers is only a year younger than us.

Her eyes widen.

Oh shit, did I offend her?

Or is she already planning my wedding to her brother?

“I’m...” She stops and clasps her hands in front of her heart. “I’m your... best friend?” She says the last two words

in a reverent whisper.

I’m suddenly very aware that maybe I too easily shared too much. I didn’t even consider how seriously Jeannette would cling

to the words.

“Um, well, you’re definitely the actual best. Period. And you’re a better friend to me in this short amount of time than anyone

I’ve known for all the years leading up to now. So, yeah, I consider you my best friend. Too soon?” My anxiety does one of

those spikes in the EKG I see in my head. God, she must think I’m too overbearing. Too needy. Too much.

I drop my eyes and beg my feet to move and run away to the bathroom. But two arms throw themselves around me and I’m lifted

up off the ground and spun around.

“We’re best friends. We’re roomies. And besties. We’ll get an apartment together as upperclassmen. We’ll be in each other’s

weddings. We’ll have Sunday brunch every week.”

I don’t know why I ever thought I was too much.

I laugh and let out a squeal as she spins me one more time before putting me down.

I shake my head and laugh some more. What a nut.

“Now get out of here and get washed up, bestie,” she says.

So I do. I turn and head to the bathroom.

But I’ve got a smile on my face.

And I don’t once think about how broken I am along the way.