Pursued by the Club Owner: An Age Gap Romance

Before I can realize what’s happening, the guy snatches my clutch out of my hand. Am I getting mugged? And by a guy who looks like he’s wearing a designer suit? That suit probably cost more than buying all of my textbooks in new condition. A smirk breaks out across his face when he opens my clutch. “You’re 24…Angelina?” A big wave of nausea comes over me. Is he a cop? “Yep, turned 24 in March,” I say, hoping that I sound chill and not like I’M ABSOLUTELY FREAKING OUT. “What is the capital of Wyoming?” he asks. I nearly say, Are we doing an impromptu trivia night? when I recall that my fake ID is supposed to be a Wyoming driver’s license. I’m screwed. “Gillette,” I say with every bit of confidence I can muster (which isn’t much). He clicks his tongue. “Wrong.” He shakes his head. “A fake ID, for shame.” The jig is up. “What’s your real name?” he asks. Dread fills me as he wraps his hand around my wrist. “Are you a cop?” Am I going to leave this club in handcuffs? “No. I’m Jackson Hirayama, the owner of this club.”