A Guy Like Him Page 3

  I showed her the shirtless photo. She nodded her approval.

  “If I tell Krista I’m going to the football game with you and then crashing at your place on Friday, will you back me up if she asks?”

  “Only if you finish the float,” she said, taking a bite of my cookie.

  I laughed, agreeing since I’d almost finished my section anyway.

  “So Krista, like, has no idea that you have sex?” Lindy asked after a moment. “How is that possible?”

  “I mean, she knows. I don’t think she wants to think about it.”

  I focused on trying to create the perfect poof against the increasing fall wind, glancing over to where others were assembling their sections. This float looked sloppy, but I knew I couldn’t tell Lindy. As vice chair of the SGA’s Social Outreach committee, it was my job to fix it later. I’d heard Krista complain about her vice chair when she’d been in school enough times to know.

  “But Kyle stays over at your place, so why would she care?”

  I sighed, trying to figure out how to explain it. “Lindy, you know Krista. She’s wouldn’t understand why I would sleep with a guy who isn’t going to end up as my husband.”

  “Oh my god, speaking of, why didn’t you tell me that she got engaged this weekend?” Lindy gasped, grabbing my arm. “Holy cow, her ring looks amazing. Kyle must be loaded.”

  I nodded, thinking of how Dad had said he was so proud of Krista, knowing the size of the diamond and that Kyle could afford something so nice was part of the equation. I glanced back at Brad’s profile, wondering if he’d make the cut. My phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Krista. She had been texting me nonstop from work, sending all kinds of wedding ideas, asking what I thought about these colors, did I like this dress, what kind of hors d’oeuvres did I think she should serve at her reception. I sighed, telling her that I didn’t like purple and blue together.

  The wind blew harder, forcing several sheets to fly away from unfocused freshmen. Lindy stood, placing her hands on her hips, and shouted at them to get it together.

  “I’m organizing a float, not a parking lot clean up,” she snapped, gesturing to the blue and white scattering in the wind. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at what she had to deal with. I laughed, almost glad I’d lost to her. This ordeal was almost worth having to admit to my parents and Krista that I’d only won vice chair.

  “I’ll be back later,” I said, checking my watch. It would take exactly 14 minutes to walk from this parking lot to the other side of campus for class. “I have accounting.”

  As I grabbed my backpack, I glanced at the float again, knowing it needed more work, that I’d have to find some time to fix it tomorrow morning before my 8 a.m. class.

  “So what do you think? Would you want to help out?” I asked Krista over dinner, cringing that I was asking for help, but I knew she loved these kind of things. She’d been the Student Outreach committee chair for three years and every year her group had won the float contest at the homecoming parade.

  “Oh my god, yes,” she exclaimed. “I don’t have to be at work until nine, so we could do it from six to seven. It’ll be perfect. Maybe I’ll even stop by to say hi to Professor Hall. She always loved me, and I haven’t seen her in a while. Does she know that I’m your sister? She might go easy on you, if she knew,” she said with a bright smile.

  I rolled my eyes and set my alarm for 5 a.m. The conversation shifted from Professor Hall to if I thought she should invite her former professors to her wedding to just her wedding in general. Then she pulled up her Pinterest and dug out old wedding magazines, already scouring the pages, asking me what I thought about this and that and what about this too until we were too tired to keep going. I fell asleep fast, dreaming of crepe white dresses, sparkling rings that crumbled into chocolate chip cookies, and bouquets that burst into purple and blue flames.

  “Wake up, sunshine,” Krista said, jumping on my bed.

  I groaned, annoyed that I hadn’t thought to set my alarm earlier than her, that she was already dressed and ready, so excited to work on a stupid float. As we walked across campus, she pointed out all the places she had memories, as if I didn’t already know them, and then pulled on my arm, tugging me in the direction she wanted to go.

  “You need caffeine,” she said, dragging me into the coffee shop. It was early, and the shop was empty. “Oh, wow, when did this place get so hipster,” she whispered, nodding at the counter.

  I looked up, seeing Dean, his back to us, opening a bag of beans, talking to another barista, laughing at whatever he was saying.

  The other barista turned and greeted us.

  “Can I get a nonfat caramel latte?” Krista said, glancing at the menu. “Actually, do you guys have pumpkin-flavored stuff yet?”

  I glanced at Dean who didn’t seem to be paying attention, busy dumping coffee beans in the grinder. I hadn’t seen him since the kiss, and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything to give it away in front of Krista.

  “No, we don’t get that until closer to Halloween,” the barista said in a sleepy drawl.

  Krista looked disappointed. “Oh, well, the latte is fine. I don’t remember having to wait for pumpkin so long when I was a student here,” she said as if she didn’t believe the guy. “Skylar, what do you want? My treat.”

  “Um, just a regular coffee is fine,” I said, stepping away from the counter as Dean turned to reach for a cup.

  He glanced at me, his expression not changing at all, making me wonder if he even realized I was the same person he’d made out with the other night. The other barista worked on the latte, and Krista and I moved to wait.

  “Seriously, this place is so different now,” she said lowly. “When I was here, I’m pretty sure it was just, like, a Starbucks. And there were certainly not guys like that working here,” she said, nodding to Dean.

  I hadn’t had a chance to properly look at him, either distracted by my dates or the streetlight didn’t do him justice, but seeing him now, really focusing, I knew there was no way I was going to admit I’d kissed him to her, not even for the shock factor I would have normally found amusing.

  Because as I looked at Dean through my sister’s eyes, I could already hear how she would have gasped at the colorful, full-sleeve tattoo on his left arm, questioning how in the world did he think he could get a real job with that. How she would have sucked in a breath, clicking her tongue, judging when she noticed, as he turned to reach for a sleeve for my cup, that he also had a tattoo on his collarbone, unable to be covered up by any shirt unless it was a collared shirt with a tie or a turtleneck. And he didn’t seem to be the type to wear either. Because guys with piercings in both ears and an eyebrow piercing — one I hadn’t noticed when we’d been making out — don’t wear collared shirts, she would’ve said with an eye roll.

  “I mean, if you have that many tattoos, you can kind of only work at a local coffee shop though, I guess, right?” I whispered, careful to match my tone to hers. “So maybe it’s a good thing this isn’t a Starbucks anymore.”

  Krista laughed, louder than she should have. “Okay, so tell me about your homecoming float,” she said as Dean walked over to us.

  “Black coffee for Skyelur,” he said, enunciating just so that Krista didn’t notice but I did, and slid the cup across the counter. He also had tattoos on his right fingers. The same hand that had been twisted in my hair less than 36 hours ago. I quickly grabbed my cup as he turned and walked to the register to take a new patron’s order.

  “The float is fine,” I said, focusing on Krista, almost forgetting she’d asked a question. “But it’s just not right. It’s not perfect.”

  She nodded. “Don’t worry, baby sis, I’ll fix it.” The other barista called out her order, and we walked to the door.

  “Have a good day,” Dean said, a familiar autopilot goodbye I’d been tuning out for a half a semester, maybe longer.

  “Thanks, you too,” we said in unison, not looking back wi
th second glance. I breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind us, knowing there was no way I could have explained why I’d kissed a guy, as Krista had put it, like that.

  ★☽★★☽

  Friday was always date night for Krista and Kyle, which meant she was distracted, spending extra time getting ready before Kyle picked her up. It was the perfect time for me to leave with a flimsy excuse, knowing she wouldn’t ask too many questions, too focused on herself.

  “I’m going to spend the night at Lindy’s after the football game,” I said, tugging on black skinny jeans and a shirt I knew she thought showed too much cleavage, quickly zipping up my jacket as she walked in my bedroom.

  “Can I borrow your brown braided belt?” she asked, already walking to my closet. “Are you coming to the parade tomorrow from Lindy’s then? Mom and Dad will want to stand together, you know.”

  “Yeah,” I said, standing on my tiptoes behind her, making sure she didn’t notice the small basket I kept on my top shelf was slightly off kilter from where I’d hastily shoved it back the first time she’d come into my room. “I’ll meet you all there. Get me a hot chocolate when you get there?”

  “Sure,” she said, glancing at herself in my mirror, smoothing her hair. “Oh, and make sure you wear something school spirited.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know. This isn’t my first homecoming.”

  She smiled at me, not really listening. “Have fun at Lindy’s,” she said, walking back to her room.

  I grabbed my purse and dashed out of the apartment before the conversation could continue. After I parked at the coffee shop, I unzipped my purse, making sure the condoms I’d grabbed out my basket hadn’t somehow fallen out between my room and the living room for Krista to see. I breathed a sigh of relief, the shiny packaging glimmering under the streetlight.

  At my usual table, I realized Brad had texted he was running late while I’d been driving. I sighed, glancing behind the counter. The other barista was here, flirting with a pretty redhead at the counter. He didn’t seem like he would care if I sat here without a drink even though it killed me to be breaking the rules like this. After 20 minutes, I bought a bottle of water despite knowing I could get a cup for free.

  The door opened in a hurry, and I heard a voice saying, “Sorry I’m so late, I got caught up with, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Sorry though, for real.”

  I looked up, smiling, expecting Brad, appreciating how apologetic he seemed. Instead, Dean walked in, rolling his eyes at the barista.

  “It’s cool, dude. I’m just chilling. Happy to get an extra two hours of pay. This place isn’t popping on a Friday night anyway,” the barista said with a laugh.

  “I owe you one, seriously. You should see the stadium. There’s one-lane traffic because of this stupid football game. These people only care about floats and field goals.” He paused, glancing around the shop and noticing me. He smiled. “Sorry, not your float. I’m sure yours is great.”

  I opened my mouth, not sure what to say, so I just shrugged and glanced at my phone again. Brad was 30 minutes late, which meant he’d officially cut into his courtesy date time. He better be cute in person, I thought, as I waited around. I sat there for 20 more minutes, thinking of him in that shirtless picture, wondering if he was stuck in football traffic or if, for the first time in my life, I was being stood up. I glanced at Dean, wondering if he’d somehow cursed me, but he was leaning against the counter, reading something on a clipboard.

  Finally, Brad messaged me: Sorry can’t make it. Rain check?

  I was shocked. Definitely not, I texted back, dropping my phone on the table with a loud clatter. I couldn’t believe I was being stood up, and he didn’t even have the decency to form complete sentences.

  I stood, pissed that I had planned for this: a date, for sex, to go to Lindy’s after she was done cheering at the football game. I hadn’t even brought my backpack, no backup plan, nothing else to do. It was 9:47. The game wasn’t over, so Lindy wouldn’t be home yet.

  “Are you leaving?”

  I turned. “What?”

  “Are you leaving,” Dean repeated. “Cause if so, I’m just going to lock up this place now and go. But if you aren’t, then I’ll actually sweep for the last ten minutes.”

  I looked around, realizing the coffee shop was empty.

  “Oh, have you been waiting on me?” I asked, slightly guilty.

  “No, I’ve been waiting for 10 p.m. to roll around,” he said, pushing back his hair with his tatted hand, revealing a black stud earring and a thin silver hoop on his cartilage.

  I couldn’t tell if his hair would be considered short or long since he wore it pushed back, messy and sleek at the same time. Not being able to catalog it properly kind of annoyed me.

  “Well, I am leaving, so I guess you’re free,” I said, grabbing my empty water bottle and tossing it in the recycling. I missed and it bounced on the floor, rolling back to me. “Just so you know, you had thirteen minutes to sweep. Not ten. But I guess time isn’t your forte, is it, considering how late you were today.”

  He laughed and walked around the counter. “Damn, you’re so feisty. And the reason I should sweep, I guess,” he said, scooping up my bottle from the floor.

  I walked out of the shop, still not sure what my plan was, as he followed, flicking off the lights and pausing to lock the door. He glanced over his shoulder at me.

  “Are you waiting on me?”

  “No. I’m just not sure where I’m going.”

  He squinted as he pulled on his jacket. “What does that mean?”

  I rolled my eyes, still annoyed that Brad had canceled on me.

  “I just … I actually had a date tonight. And,” I said, already laughing as he grinned, knowing what I was going to say, “I’ve never been stood up until you said something the other day.”

  “Dang, sorry, I feel slightly personally responsible for that one. Better luck next time, Skye,” he said with a laugh, turning to walk the opposite direction of the coffee shop parking lot.

  “My name isn’t Skye,” I called after him. “Do you normally make out with girls and not even know their names?”

  He turned on his heel, smiling at me. “I was wondering when you were going to bring that up.”

  “Bring what up?”

  “Making out,” he replied with a shrug. “I figured girls like you would need to have some sort of discussion about it.”

  “Girls like me?”

  He nodded, stepping back, still trying to walk to wherever his car was parked. “Yeah, pumpkin-spice-loving, homecoming-float-building girls.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, girls like me definitely have no interest in having a what-did-this-kiss-mean discussion with guys like you.”

  He laughed. “Glad we’re on the same page then.” He paused, no longer walking backward. “In that case, did you want to do it again?”

  I smiled. “Where are you parked?”

  By the time we reached his car, we’d already stopped three times to make out. First against the coffee shop door, then the poli sci building, and then on the sidewalk, not even against anything, just grabbing each other, tempted to fall down right there on the concrete.

  “Wow, you’re parked really far,” I said, shivering in the cold as we approached his car. It was parallel parked on a side street across from the farthest parking lot on campus. My jacket had come unzipped during one of our make-out sessions, but I didn’t bother to zip it back up, knowing it was coming off anyway.

  “Yeah, I know. The football game really threw off the whole parking lot situation,” he said, unlocking his car and turning to face me. “Backseat or just drop one of the front seats?”

  I considered it. He was tall and broad, so I wasn’t sure how comfortable the backseat would be. But I also wasn’t sure how easily I could get off my jeans in the front. As I thought about it, he kissed me again, making it harder for me to clearly weigh the pros and cons.

  “Uh, I guess back
seat,” I said after a moment, feeling lightheaded from the way his lips felt against mine. “Well, wait,” I said as he reached for the door handle. “I’m not sure. What are we going to be doing?”

  He gave me a weird look. “Have you never fooled around before? Cause I don’t think this is the right time to explain it.”

  “Yeah, I know how things work, but what does ‘fool around’ mean exactly? Are we just making out or oral or fully hooking up? I can’t really make a decision if I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  He stared at me. “This is so bizarre.”

  I laughed, shrugging. “Well, do you just want to drive me to my car then? We don’t have to do anything.”

  “Why don’t we just make out and see what happens,” he said, pulling my hand, walking to the passenger side, opening the door.

  “You don’t understand that, like, doesn’t compute for me,” I said as he sat in the seat.

  “I thought you said you didn’t need to have a discussion,” he said, looking up at me, pushing off his jacket, pulling his apron off over his head, tossing both in the backseat.

  I rolled my eyes and let him pull me inside, shutting the door behind me as he dropped the seat. As I fell on top of him, he kissed me hard again, almost making me not think about if this position made sense for what I wanted. We made out for a while, the windows steaming up, losing my jacket and shirt, tugging off his shirt, revealing even more tattoos scattered across his chest and abs.

  “Man, you’re covered in ink,” I said, tossing his shirt aside, kissing his collarbone tattoo as he twisted his fingers in my hair with one hand, undoing my bra clasp with his other. After a few moments, I pushed his head away. “I think we should move to the backseat.”

  He nodded and stepped out of his car, not seeming to care that he was half-undressed in the street, as I climbed over the seat to lay in the backseat.

  “Do you have protection?” I asked as he moved on top of me, working my jeans button and zipper. We could use what I had brought, but I was curious if he’d get a pro or con in this instance.