A Guy Like Him Read online

  “You are so embarrassing,” I said, not waiting to unwrap the burger. “And in case you were wondering, this doesn’t break our no-date Rule 3 because you didn’t get anything.”

  “And you literally lunged over me to give that guy your credit card,” he said with a laugh.

  I ignored him, biting into the hamburger, the champagne making everything taste 100 percent better.

  “My god, this is the best hamburger I’ve ever eaten. Dean, you have to taste this.”

  “I’m good.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” I said, offering it to him. “Just one bite. You should experience this, too.”

  He laughed, lightly pushing it away from him. “Really, I’m fine.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not breaking the rule if you have one bite.”

  He laughed again. “I’m not worried about breaking rules. I just don’t eat meat. I’m vegan.”

  “Oh,” I said, the fact that at every family dinner we ate pot roast popping into my mind. “Like, full time?”

  “Yeah,” he said, giving me a weird look. “What is a part-time vegan?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  He smiled, amused. “Good thing it doesn’t matter, right? No annoying dinner dates where I don’t eat most of what’s on the menu, you know,” he said, pulling into the gravel driveway, passing the farmhouse, his headlights on the carriage house. He turned off the car, everything going dark.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I can have my cake and eat yours, too. Literally. Most cakes have eggs.”

  He laughed, rolling his eyes at me.

  And then I stopped thinking about family dinners as we ended up making out on the couch. His place was frigid, and we buried under blankets, taking our time to get warm, focused on kissing and touching. He told me how beautiful I was, and I couldn’t stop myself from saying how attractive he was, too.

  As we stood, I glanced around to find a clock. Without my watch, I had no idea what time it was. But as we fell to the bed, I realized I didn’t have to care tonight.

  ★☽★★☽

  We were going to break Rule 4. We both knew it, but neither one of us was doing much to stop it yet.

  He laid next to me under the blankets, not touching me, but close enough where I could feel the warmth from his skin.

  “Do you have to leave soon?” he asked after a moment. “It feels like it’s probably past 10.”

  I had no idea, and I didn’t want to look for my phone to double-check. In this moment, I liked his method of feeling the time instead of knowing it exactly.

  I turned on my side, facing him. “I can stay for a while longer.”

  “Yeah,” he said, turning his head on the pillow and smiling at me. “Stay. Just for a while.”

  I brushed my fingers against the inside of his wrist, picturing the tattooed pattern on it.

  “I don’t have anything to do,” I said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, turning on his side, facing me so my fingers just slightly interlocked with his, where both of us could brush it off as an accident.

  “I didn’t bring my backpack. I don’t have homework or anything else to do during this downtime.”

  “Oh,” he said, thinking about this. “Well, we could just lay here. We don’t always have to be doing something.”

  “I don’t know how to not do something.”

  He kind of laughed, shifting so our hands fell away from each other. I turned on my side to face the easel. The canvas was gone.

  “What happened to that painting?” I asked, closing my eyes.

  “I finished it,” he said, his voice quiet.

  I nodded, staying silent though I had so many more questions.

  He moved, placing a hand on my hip, sliding it to my waist.

  “Where were you tonight? Whose house was that?”

  I sighed, shifting so he could pull me closer. I opened my eyes, looking at the contrast of his colorful, patterned tatted arm against my bare skin. “My aunt’s. Tonight was my sister’s engagement party. I’m her maid of honor.”

  He didn’t respond, and I was grateful, wanting to keep my worlds separate. I shifted again, my back against his chest, his arms around me, his lips against my neck, my fingers twisted with his. I knew we shouldn’t be doing this, getting this close. It would just make things complicated. But I closed my eyes, allowing myself to just feel this, just this once, until our breathing slowed, becoming heavy, falling asleep.

  ★☽★★☽

  We woke at the same time, having no idea if 20 minutes had passed or several hours. I shifted so he could move on top of me, both of us kissing the other urgently, deeply. We didn’t have to speak, knowing this part of being together well, in sync. As Dean reached for a condom, a ringing phone broke our breathless silence, making both of us jump.

  I sat up, confused and jostled, searching around in the bed for my phone. The screen was dark. “I think it’s yours.”

  “Oh,” he said, reaching to the floor for his jeans, pulling his lit up phone from the pocket. As he glanced at the screen, I expected him to silence it, but instead he sat up, saying he needed to take this, pulling on some clothes and moving to the couch.

  I rubbed my face with my hands, feeling like I’d been transported to another world. I clicked my phone, trying to bring myself back to reality. It was just past midnight. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad I hadn’t somehow accidentally stayed over, breaking the never-cited-but-still-present Rule 5.

  After several minutes, Dean finally spoke, “So is he okay?”

  One beat of silence, and then he sighed ever so slightly, maybe not even enough for the person on the other line to hear.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  He hung up and came back to the bed. He didn’t look stressed, but since he was always so carefree and light, the tension he carried was apparent.

  “…is everything okay?” I asked, hovering my hand over my dress, not sure what my next move should be.

  He picked up his shirt, and I grabbed my dress, realizing this night was over.

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Sorry. I just have to go take care of something.”

  “And I guess I can’t ask what.”

  He buttoned his shirt and sighed. “It’s not a big deal. My dad is just sick. And my mom isn’t around, so I need to go to his place and make sure he’s okay. I can drive you home first. Or call you a Lyft?”

  “Oh,” I said, slipping on my heels, trying to remember where he’d taken off my gold belt. “Sorry, that sucks. I hope he feels better.”

  He kind of laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

  I had several questions, but I stopped myself from asking them, feeling like we’d already broken too many rules tonight. So I stood, straightening and smoothing my dress, trying to bring some normalcy back into this night. I still felt like I was floating on air, slightly confused by how I was standing here in his place so late, all the lights off, how his arms had felt so good around me.

  “Oh, and Lyft is fine. I can call it myself. That probably makes things easier anyway,” I said, thinking him dropping me off at my apartment felt too serious.

  He walked over to the couch and picked up my belt from the floor. “Yeah, cool. I can wait with you though,” he said, smiling at me as he handed me my belt, our fingers brushing.

  “Thanks,” I said, slipping it on and smiling back at him.

  There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of us used to this sort of interaction. Dean reached out, placing his hands on my shoulders, running his palms down the velvet on my arms. I suddenly craved a hug, that kind of embrace we’d had after he’d finished Krista’s envelopes.

  As I stepped forward, he dropped his hands.

  “Were you not wearing a coat?”

  “Oh,” I said, looking down at my dress. In my haste to leave my aunt’s so she wouldn’t see Dean in his car, I’d forgotten my simple black peacoat folded neatly over the back of h
er couch. It was a coat I’d been wearing for years, a hand-me-down from Krista I’d never taken the time to replace. “I forgot mine.”

  I lifted my face back to him, obsessed with that dimpled half-smile of his, as he stepped back.

  “Here, borrow this,” he said, picking up his slightly crumpled jacket off the floor from where I’d pushed it off of him earlier. “It’s probably freezing outside.”

  I took the jacket, but shook my head. “I’m not wearing this.”

  “Why not? You’ll be cold. It’s literally the least I can do since I’m kicking you out and sending you home in a car that you’re paying for,” he said with a laugh.

  I laughed. “To clarify, you aren’t kicking me out. I was going to leave anyway. And I can’t wear this because it’s a long black and white leopard print jacket. I would never wear something that looks like this.”

  He laughed and took it out of my hands, opening it so I could step inside. “Just try it on. You might like it.”

  I glanced at my phone. The Lyft was two minutes away. I rolled my eyes and stepped inside, turning to look at Dean.

  “Happy?”

  He smiled. “You tell me,” he said, opening his closet so I could look at the mirror hanging inside.

  As I looked at my reflection, I expected to feel surprised, even totally transformed. But instead, it just looked right, as if I was supposed to be wearing this jacket the whole time.

  I smiled at Dean in the mirror. “Okay, maybe this isn’t completely the worst.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said with a laugh, slipping on an oversized denim jacket with a back print and beading from his closet. I followed him to the door, glancing over my shoulder to look at my reflection one last time.

  Outside, we stood next to each other as my Lyft pulled up, not touching, and I felt certain that we’d broken Rule 4 earlier by total accident, a post-hookup haze, a total fluke.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said, walking to the car, my heels crunching on the gravel. “I hope your dad is okay,” I added, not glancing over my shoulder.

  “Hey, Skye,” he called out as my hand touched the car door.

  I turned, the jacket collar brushing against my cheek.

  “Can you just text me when you get home?” he said, already opening his car door. “You know, it’s late and stuff, so,” he said, shrugging, not finishing his sentence.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, sliding inside the Lyft that would take me back to reality. As the car pulled away, I glanced back, unable to make him out in the darkness.

  ★☽★★☽

  I looked around Sun Meadows’ game room, wondering if I should have spent more time planning the winter gift drive at the assisted living center.

  “Do you think it’s wrong they have to earn their presents?” I whispered to Lindy, chewing on my fingernail. I hadn’t questioned the idea — that a simple gift drive had morphed into a game of bingo where the prizes were gifts — when I’d been planning it, just following the blueprint that Krista had created years ago.

  She glanced at me, barely looking up from the card she was sharing with the woman she’d been paired with. My partner had disappeared, saying she wanted more oatmeal cookies, so I was stuck alone, overthinking this scenario.

  “No, I think it’s fun,” Lindy whispered. “Everyone is enjoying themselves.”

  I nodded, looking around. She was right, everyone else did seem happy. Each resident was paired with an SGA member, focused on their shared bingo cards, and the mountain of pre-approved gifts, knick knacks, candles, cozy socks, blankets, and more, was displayed on a table behind us. I wondered when I would be like everyone else and really truly enjoy pumpkin carving socials and bingo gift drives.

  “Maybe you’d enjoy this more if you had a partner,” Lindy said, looking up as the SGA member working the bingo spinner called out a number. “Where did your person go?”

  She was in the back near the cookies, lemon squares, and cranberry punch I’d made since no one else volunteered to, talking to a Sun Meadows employee. I sighed, feeling like I’d let her down, hoping she at least liked the cookies.

  “Wait, what was that number?” I asked, glancing at Lindy’s card. I picked up my marker, hurriedly dotting B14.

  I was pressing down the marker to make a big dot over I27, accidentally smearing blue ink on my hand, as Lindy spoke, “So how are things going with Brad?”

  “Shit,” I said, rubbing my hand against my scratchy Christmas sweater. In addition to the bingo festivities, we’re all wearing tacky holiday sweaters, a carried-over idea from when Krista had planned this same event years ago. “Now is not the time to talk about Brad.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re being so secretive about him,” she said, rolling her eyes, tapping G56 on her card for her partner.

  I’d missed that being called, sighing, marking my card again, trying to avoid the ink this time, already feeling like a mess.

  “I’m not being secretive,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder, trying to find my partner again. She was totally not into this game, and I could relate. “Can we focus on the game, Lindy? I keep missing what’s being called.”

  I ducked my head and closed my eyes, trying to focus and stop comparing this event to all the previous years.

  “And the last stop is the game room, a popular spot for residents,” I heard an employee say. This was the third tour that had stopped by during this game, almost background noise now. “Right now, some members from Middletown University’s SGA is hosting a winter …” I tuned her out and kept my eyes closed, focusing on the next number being called.

  Lindy nudged me. “I think you have bingo,” she said, her elbow digging into my side.

  “Oh,” I said, opening my eyes to study my card. After I replayed all the numbers that had been called in my head, I raised my hand.

  She nudged me again. “You have to shout.”

  I sighed. “Bingo,” I said in a normal voice.

  “Louder,” Lindy said, annoyed that I wasn’t listening to her.

  “Bingo,” I said, a tiny bit louder, turning in my seat, trying to find my partner. The caller didn’t hear me.

  “Oh my god, Skylar, you have to speak up,” Lindy said, nudging me harder.

  I groaned — frustrated at her and my partner who could just up and leave but I still had to be here — and looked up from my card.

  I gasped when I saw him. “Bingo!” I accidentally shouted, unable to control the volume or surprise in my voice.

  Dean looked at me, an amused look on his face.

  “All right, everyone, it sounds like Skylar has a bingo,” the caller said, pausing the game to come check my card. The room tittered with giggles at my exaggerated outburst.

  “Sounds like this game room gets pretty intense. Bingo must bring out the worst in people,” Dean said in a laughing tone to his tour guide, not taking his sparkling eyes off of me.

  I blushed, looking away, so confused. We hadn’t seen each other in days, and this was the last place I thought I’d run into him.

  Lindy nudged me again. “Who is that?” she asked, nodding to Dean. “He looks familiar.”

  I glanced at him. There was no way she’d recognize him as the barista that always handed her lattes. She never paid attention, and he looked so different when he wasn’t abiding the shop’s all-black dress code. He was wearing a velvet maroon button-up under an oversized olive green army jacket, black cuffed skinny jeans, wheat-colored workman boots, several gold and beaded necklaces, turquoise rings, and black earrings.

  My face burned at his appearance, not used to seeing him outside of the shop or his place. In the real world, he looked even more different from us — poised SGA members in silly sweaters.

  “I have no idea who that is,” I said to Lindy.

  The tour guide kept talking, listing the different game room activities, and Dean leaned against the doorway, listening to her but facing me, that smirk on his face not going away. />
  “Yep, that’s a bingo,” the caller said. “Your partner can get a gift.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hurriedly moving to the back of the room as Dean raised an eyebrow, turning to walk out with the tour guide.

  I waited until the game resumed and Lindy wasn’t paying attention before ducking out into the hallway. Dean was standing near the entrance alone, leaning against the wall, his gaze on the gently falling snow outside.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered, touching my face, annoyed I was still blushing.

  “Rule 1,” he said with a grin.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head, crossing my arms over the gaudy Santa face on my chest.

  “Yes,” he said, pushing off the wall and coming to stand in front of me. “Sorry, Skye. I like this sweater,” he said, looking me up and down.

  I shifted, giving up on trying to make myself stop blushing. “Shut up, I know I look stupid. We had to wear them, okay? This isn’t even mine. I had to borrow it.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t realize you liked bingo so much. I always figured you were more of a Monopoly kind of girl.”

  “Why are you here, Dean?”

  Before he could respond, the tour guide reappeared, surprised to see me. “Oh, do you two know each other?” she asked.

  “No,” we said in unison, stepping away from the other.

  She looked at us, confused, not sure what to say to that. “Okay, well,” she said brightly, looking at Dean. “Here is a folder with some information. Let us know if you have additional questions.”

  He took the folder, thanked her, and after she left, he moved back to where I was standing. The hallway was empty, and I leaned against the wall as he stepped forward, his free hand against the wall next to me, leaning in, our bodies much closer than they should have been between two strangers.

  “What are you doing later?” he asked, his voice low. “I want to check out this sweater more.”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I have a lot of questions right now, and none of them involve our outfits.”

  He grinned. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

  I shook my head, checking him out, still totally unable to explain why I found his eccentricity attractive. He stepped slightly closer, our bodies not touching but hyperaware of the other. I wanted to ditch bingo and go to his car right now, and he knew it. He leaned in closer, and I lifted my face, our lips almost touching, as my phone buzzed in my pocket, making me jerk away. It was Lindy, having finally noticed I’d disappeared.