Seb watched me expectantly while I processed everything. With a sigh, I replaced my glasses and wondered how to let him down easy.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’ve thrown me for a bit of a loop. I’m flattered, of course—I mean, look at you.” I waved a hand to encompass the entirety of him, from his lithe, jean-clad legs to the top of his carelessly mussed hair that looked like he’d just emerged from an early morning delight.
I cleared my throat to cover up my discomfort over the disturbing images that accompanied that thought. Just because Seb had indicated he was interested in a romantic relationship with me was no reason for my mind to dive-bomb straight into the gutter.
“What do you mean, look at me?” Seb frowned, so I banished the unwelcome thoughts and continued.
“I mean, you’re a good twenty years younger than me. I’m an old fuddy-duddy, as you yourself like to tease me about all the time. I’m set in my ways, while you practically ooze young hipster vibe.”
Seb scoffed. “Forty-five isn’t old. Haven’t you heard? Fifty is the new thirty.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “See? I don’t even know what that gibberish means.”
From the gleam in his blue eyes and the way he leaned onto the table, I knew Seb was fired up. And from experience, I’d learned Seb could be as stubborn as a donkey when he got an idea rooted in that bed head of his. I needed to nip this outlandish notion in the bud, and fast. “Look, Seb, the bottom line is, I value our friendship and our working relationship too much to jeopardize either of them, especially over some transient whimsy. I can’t see how it would ever work. I’m conservative, and like to maintain that persona on campus. And you, well…are quite forcefully the opposite.” I gestured to his outfit of skinny jeans, burgundy Converse, and black t-shirt that proclaimed him a REBEL. I fixed a friendly smile on my face, while my nerves unraveled beneath my skin.
Seb’s mouth tightened and I braced myself to withstand another challenge. Then, his features relaxed into a smile. “Okay, then. I understand. I had an opportunity come up and I just thought I owed it to both of us to check before….anyway, so let’s dive into my editorial suggestions.”
The lead leached out of my own shoulders and with a grateful sigh, I allowed Seb to steer our conversation back to safe waters. For the remainder of our meeting, everything was normal. No more talk of dating. Merely Seb’s typically brilliant suggestions of where my setting needed beefing up, and a few ideas for added plot twists. Seb never brought the topic up again, and we ended our meet-up with our typical handshake and a tentative plan to get coffee the following week.
So why then, when I watched Seb walk away this time, with his hands shoved into his pockets and his dark head dipped like he was deep in thought, did I experience an odd twinge beneath my ribs? Almost as if I’d lost something crucial?
I straightened my sport coat and snorted at my fanciful thoughts. Rubbish.
Everyone knew that you couldn’t lose something you’d never had in the first place.
On my short walk back to my house, which sat in a prime location on a tree-lined residential street just blocks from campus, everything seemed fine.
As the hours passed though, the doubts returned, flitting around my brain like a swarm of unruly gnats. Had I been too hasty in my decision to turn Seb down? I looped my keys around the hook I’d installed for that purpose, tucked my leather bookbag away on its designated shelf in my office, and headed to the kitchen to make myself some chamomile tea. As the kettle warmed, I examined all of our recent interactions, searching for answers to unknown questions. I hadn’t ever regarded Seb in a romantic light before because I’d never allowed myself the luxury. Prior to our meet-up, I would have said I’d never once thought of him in a carnal sense, and that would have been God’s honest truth. Now that he’d opened Pandora’s box, though, I couldn’t seem to dam the illicit thoughts that raced around and taunted me.
The kettle shrieked, so I removed it and poured the steaming water into a mug, filling the kitchen with the fragrant scent of my chamomile tea. Did I find Seb attractive? Certainly. Beddable? Without a doubt.
And yes, I supposed we did already possess many of the elements that made for suitable partners: we genuinely liked and cared about one another and we enjoyed spending time together.
I grabbed my mug and headed for the leather couch. Enough with these ridiculous thoughts. I had reading to do.
Fifteen minutes later, I tossed aside the tome on Egyptian civilizations I’d been attempting to read without success, taking satisfaction in the way the thick book thumped against the wood floor. None of my ruminating changed the fact that Seb was young enough to be my offspring—the flipside of which, meant I was old enough to be his dad.
I walked to the kitchen to refresh my tea. As I waited for the cup to cool, I took comfort in making a mental list of all the reasons why Seb and I as a couple were a terrible idea, and then ticked them off. One by one.
One: the twenty-year age gap. Who knew if I’d have the stamina to keep up with such a young pup? Oh, I kept fit enough, between biking and walking and visits to the campus gym. Still, my closing-in-on-fifty, years-of-paper-grading legs were nowhere near the toned perfection that I knew Seb’s to be in.
Two: I was a professor at the same university where Seb was a grad student. Since he wasn’t my student, I didn’t think there were hard and fast rules about that type of dating. All the same, I wouldn’t relish the speculative looks from other faculty if I showed up with Seb on my arm at a university function. I took pride in my work and in being a respected professor on campus. I especially enjoyed the way the students looked up to me. The idea of losing that regard over some transient flight of fancy? Inconceivable.
Three: showing up with Seb on my arm at a university function in the first place would be virtually begging the powers-that-be to find some legal way to revoke my tenure. Temperance Christian might try to play the open-minded angle when recruiting, but deep down, the school was rooted in traditional conservative and Christian values. I couldn’t image what kind of hoopla parading my same-sex partner around might unleash, and frankly, I didn’t want find out.
I sipped my tea with a satisfied sigh. Three valid reasons not to pursue a relationship were more than enough. Hopefully the chamomile would be enough to soothe away any lingering doubts.
I picked up the book I’d discarded earlier and settled into the comfortable, overstuffed Queen Anne style chair that I’d picked up at an estate sale. I enjoyed my library area, furnished the way I liked it with leather and antique wood and bookcases teaming with books. Stuffy middle-aged professor style, just like the rest of my home.
Just like me. And I was perfectly content that way. Or at least, I had been, up until Seb had broadsided me with his outlandish proposition.
3
Seb
Ten days later, the Uber dropped me off in front of a sleek, modern skyscraper, its metallic and glass walls reflecting sunlight and reaching for the sky like something out of a sci-fi movie. Waiting up at the top—the penthouse level, of course—was the Billionaire Club.
After David rejected me, in his annoyingly civilized and prim way, I’d decided there was nothing stopping me from taking the plunge. Alex had spent the next several days vetting me, and once my application had been approved, I’d been presented with an invitation to the singles cocktail party tonight.