And worse, it would be over between us.
I have to admit, I’m infatuated with Matt. It’s honestly a little hard to even concentrate on lectures because I get so excited just by the sight of him. I didn’t even know that was possible. I wonder if he feels the same way about me, but I can’t imagine he does. He’s much older and, dork or not, I’m sure he’s had many girlfriends before. This can’t be nearly as special to him.
“How old are you?” I ask him one day as he’s leading me through his house to his bedroom.
He winks at me. “Older than you.”
“No, seriously,” I say. When he doesn’t answer, I add, “I’m twenty-two.”
“I was right,” he says. “I’m definitely older than you are.”
I follow him to his bed, where he sits as he always does—very ungracefully. I’m not about to let this go, though.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
Matt doesn’t answer right away. He pulls off his right shoe then removes the thick plastic ankle brace he wears that goes nearly up to his knee.
“Because I’m really, really old,” he finally says.
“If you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to guess.”
“Do your worst.”
I squint at him, pretending to size him up. I’d already guessed he’s in his late thirties, but I decide to tease him a little. “Fifty-two?”
Matt’s eyes widen. It’s priceless.
“You don’t really think I’m fifty-two…” he says, looking somewhat worried.
“Well,” I say thoughtfully. “My dad is fifty-three, and I figure you’re younger than him, so…”
Matt just shakes his head.
“Older?” I say. “Fifty-four then?”
“Oh, that’s it,” he grumbles.
He picks up a pillow from the bed and smacks me in the shoulder with it. I laugh at him, and then he tackles me onto the bed. As I let out a squeal, it occurs to me that this is a noise I don’t think I’ve ever made before in my entire life.
After a few minutes of making out, Matt says to me, “I’m thirty-eight.”
“Ancient,” I say with a grin.
“I’m sixteen years older than you,” he says. “When you were born, I was a junior in high school. I’m sleeping with a girl who was a toddler when I started college.”
“I was a very sexy toddler,” I say.
“Undoubtedly,” he says. “But it still makes me feel like a creep.”
“Don’t stress about it,” I say. “I could never relate to people my own age. That’s why I don’t have any friends in the class.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Matt says.
It never occurred to me that Matt realized I have no friends. I wonder how long he’d been paying attention to me. Or maybe it’s just that obvious that I’m a total loser. But I don’t want to have a conversation with him about my lack of friends.
“Anyway.” I clear my throat. “I’m okay with you being an old man. Just as long as you can still keep it up.”
“Hell yeah,” he says, and over the next hour, he very much proves it to me.
