“Two people know?!”
Our food arrives, and it’s the distraction I needed. This has somehow gone from bad to worse. Two people know our secret. Either could tell, or both could remain silent. It’s such a gamble that my hand trembles when reaching for my fork to dive into my chicken dish.
Diego watches me, his hands pressed flat against the table rather than picking up his burger to eat.
“I . . . I feel like I keep apologizing and am only spinning my wheels into a deeper hole. I’m new to all this. New to dating someone older and certainly out of my league.”
I glance at him, desperation coating his handsome features. I’ve never dated younger or crossed the line of being with a student. Both of us are out of our league.
“It’s new to me too, but I didn’t go around town blabbering it up about us.”
Letting him off the hook isn’t what this is about. It’s still about trust.
“Are you mad at me because I talked to my friends about you or because it’s out of your control?”
His accusation stings. I recoil, lowering my fork to the edge of my plate. He’s striking at the core of who I am. Control, planning, and perfect execution are my constants and safety zones. It feels like not only a criticism but an attack.
“I’m not trying to make this worse. However, I’m trying to understand what’s at the root of all this so I can fix it. To do better in the future with you. Izzy, you have to know, it’s not because I didn’t care. It’s because I cared too much. I didn’t know how to handle any of this. Us, you, and what you made me feel.”
I scoff lightly, but it’s more to mask the ache in my chest than out of disbelief.
“Diego, feelings aren’t excuses. They don’t fix things or make them better.”
He nods, jaw clenching.
“You’re right. They don’t. But actions do. And I’m here, sitting in this run-down diner, telling you everything because I want to fix it. I want to show you I can be better. That I want to be better, for you.”
He is here. Handing over his bike. His time. Basically, all sense of control to trust me. Am I unwilling to do the same or, at the least, hear him out?
“What did you tell this Dominic guy?”
“He’s a fan of your dad’s, having heard the legend of him at his time at Princeton before he transferred to Harvard. I told him his daughter is my professor and how hot she is.”
I scoff and push my hair out of my face, not feeling hot or attractive.
“He warned me not to mess with you. I don’t know much, but he has experience with older women and basically said I wasn’t mature enough for you.”
I arch a brow.
“You sure know how to pick your friends.”
Diego’s lips twitch into a faint smirk, though there’s steel in his eyes.
“Yeah, I guess they don’t sound so great, but they really are. Fun fact. We saw you once. It was the Saturday before school started. You blew past us, and we sort of chased you.”
His carefree smile eases the stress lines around his eyes and across his forehead. My lips twitch, and the memory floods back in vivid detail. Rarely, if ever, do bikers chase me. That night, I enjoyed the pursuit, having something to prove to myself about steadying my first-week new job jitters.
“That was you and your friends?” I say, narrowing my eyes in disbelief. “You were chasing me.”
He grins, leaning back in the booth.
“Hell yeah, we were. You blew past us like we were standing still. I’d never seen someone handle a bike like that. It was impressive.”
I can’t help smiling at the pride in his voice.
“Impressive, huh? You guys didn’t stand a chance.”
He laughs, lighting up his face in an unfairly charming way.
