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“What does a twenty-four-year-old do for fun on the weekend these days?” I cringe at the way I worded that as I step closer to her to help. I could have certainly worded that several different ways that didn’t make me sound like an old man.
“Um, go out, I guess?”
“You do that often? Clubs, you mean?”
She shakes her head. “Not too much at all really. It never really was my thing. My two close friends are several years older than me and they’re out of that stage anyway so it works out well. We go to brunch, sometimes yoga, sometimes shopping.”
“So you’ve always been into older people?” Her head snaps up, her cheeks already pink with embarrassment, and I’m not sure mine aren’t the same. “That’s not what I meant.” I chuckle and it makes her laugh too.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that. I met my best friend Sylvia when she was my TA in undergrad and Taylor I met at the children’s nonprofit I volunteer at. Just so happens they are both older. Guess you could say I have a type.”
I tell myself not to, but I look over at her. She looks up at me, her lip caught between her lower teeth. I swear I can hear the rapid beat of her heart or maybe it’s my own as we’re caught in these tension-filled seconds together. I imagine tossing the papers dramatically to the side, reaching across the table, and dragging her toward me as I have my way with her, but the thought of Jonas Ramsay as my enemy instantly kills that thought.
“What about you? What does a forty-five-year-old man do for fun on the weekend these days?”
“You know how old I am?” I don’t bother looking up at her this time, but I can feel her panicking.
“I, uh, before, er, after the interview, I did some research on the company and I think it was listed on Google somewhere.”
I chuckle. I know it’s fucked up, but I like making her flustered. Maybe it feels like I have a leg up since the rest of the time she’s so poised and calm that it makes me feel like I’m seconds away from losing my composure when I feel the warmth of her body so close to me.
“I’m afraid my weekends are pretty boring. A round or two of golf if I have the free time but mostly I work from my home office.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound very fun. I thought one of the perks of being the boss was you got to have more time and money to do whatever you wanted.”
“Yeah, I thought that too.” I laugh. “Sometimes I’ll take my boat out on the lake if the weather cooperates… and then I’ll work from there.”
She shakes her head as we head back toward my office.
“Sounds like you need to find a work-life balance. Maybe pick up a new hobby or go on a date.”
“A date? What’s that?” I joke.
“Well, I’m going to take off for the night. I hope you have a nice weekend.” She smiles. “Will I see you at the company event tomorrow at Navy Pier?”
I’m not sure why I say it because I’ve told myself a thousand times not to let the flirty moments turn into more, but before I can stop myself, the words are out of my mouth.
“Do you want to see me at the company event tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she answers quickly.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Mr. Archer.”
She spins on her heel and walks out of my office, a bouncy little pep in her step that has me second-guessing my decision to go. Part of me wants to keep the flirty innuendos going, convincing myself they’re harmless. But a bigger part of me wants to warn her that I’m not the older, experienced boy-next-door fantasy.
I’m the wicked man who will destroy her innocence, and most likely break her heart in the process.
* * *
I scan the crowd, attempting to act casual and not like I’m searching through a sea of people for Brontë when I spot her, surrounded by a group of young guys from our investment division. Each one of them dressed more douchey than the one next to him.
“I’ve never seen so many pastel polos,” I mutter to myself, remembering how I looked just like them at their age. Young, eager, and ready to fuck anything that gave me the time of day.
She’s smiling widely, her eyes sparkling as her blond ponytail bounces with the movement of her laughter. She doesn’t notice me so I take the opportunity to watch her. She’s fully engaged with whatever they’re talking about.
“Fuck me.” I glance, around making sure nobody notices me creeping as the men part and I see what she’s wearing.
