A Guy Like Him Page 4

  “Yeah,” he said, leaning forward to open the center console.

  “How often does this happen to you?” I said, slightly shocked, unsure exactly if this was a pro or con.

  “I thought you liked being prepared,” he said, kissing me again.

  I nodded, closing my eyes, letting him pull me under, not wanting to think much anymore.

  I hadn’t expected it to be very good. Even though he was an amazing kisser, there were so many factors working against us. We didn’t really know each other, it was cold outside, we were crammed in a backseat, anyone could walk up at any moment, so many things that should have made it lackluster, bad even. So I was shocked when I was moaning his name over and over again, seeing stars, as he pushed me over the edge. He moved to kiss me deeply on the mouth, both of us breathless.

  “Fuuuuck,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut, unable to believe something that good had just happened.

  He laughed at my reaction. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who would say that word.”

  “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who would be that good in a car,” I said, sitting up to tug on my clothes, trying to find my black pants in the dark backseat.

  “I think I seem exactly like the kind of guy who would be good at this in a car,” he said, laughing again and tossing me my pants. He pulled on half of his clothes, stepping out of the car to put on his shirt and jacket, the cold air blasting inside.

  “Where are you parked?” he asked as we moved to the front.

  “Just behind the coffee shop.”

  He laughed. “Then why did we walk all this way?”

  “I’m not going to have sex with a stranger in my car,” I said, flipping down his visor to check my reflection. I smoothed my hair, digging in my purse for some lip gloss.

  He laughed again, shaking his head. “I’m not a total stranger. You seemed to know my name pretty well a few minutes ago.”

  I laughed, closing the mirror on my reflection, as we passed the football stadium. People were pouring out, cheering and laughing, signaling the game was over.

  “Are you able to see the score from here?”

  He read off the points. “Do you actually care about football?”

  “No, but a few people think I’m there right now, so I have to know the score when I see them at tomorrow’s homecoming parade.”

  He nodded, not asking questions, and we stayed silent until he pulled up to my car.

  “Thanks, Dean,” I said, jumping out of his car, grabbing my jacket and throwing it on. I ducked back in the car to smile at him.

  “No problem,” he said with a laugh. “Glad I could go above and beyond as your friendly neighborhood barista.”

  “Yeah, next time I’ll tip you more than fourteen cents,” I said, both of us laughing.

  I closed his door, waving over my shoulder as I walked to my car. I checked my phone, seeing Lindy was on her way back to her place.

  By the time I arrived, she was already in pajamas, ready to hear all about my exploits with Brad. I told her how we’d had a great time at the coffee shop, he’d shown up right on time, how we’d gone back to his place but that his roommate had been there so we ended up just making out on his bed.

  “That’s too bad,” she said. “Do you think you’ll see him again?”

  “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my neck, wondering if it was still red from where Dean had kissed me so hard. “Definitely.”

  ★☽★★☽

  I was grateful for the marching band passing by, trombones playing, drums banging, people shouting and clapping, so I didn’t have to answer Krista when she asked how Lindy’s was. Instead, I just took the hot chocolate she passed me and smiled as Mom adjusted the blue and white knit scarf I’d bought in the campus bookstore minutes ago.

  Our parents were decked out in hats and t-shirts that read ‘Proud Middletown U Parent.’ They were as much in love with their alma mater as they’d been when they attended here, when they’d met, when they’d fallen in love. Krista and Kyle were bleeding blue and white, too. He was wearing a vest and a baseball hat while she wore a ridiculously cute knit beanie with a big puffy pom-pom on the top. In my haste to get away from Krista last night, I’d forgotten my colors, my faded sweatshirt crumpled in my bed somewhere, so I’d bought the first thing I could grab in the bookstore before rushing to meet them at the parade.

  “When does your float come by?” Dad asked over a loud rendition of “Louie, Louie.”

  “Um, I’m not sure,” I said, thinking I should have memorized the order, knowing he would want that information. “It’s not my float, though, remember. Lindy is the one who organized it.”

  “This is the one Krista helped with though, right?” Mom asked as she took a photo of the golden couple with her phone. The photo didn’t do them justice, the sun too bright in the background, washing their classically attractive looks out.

  I nodded as Dad and Krista reminisced about the three floats she’d spearheaded and won. I’d seen them all, attending homecomings here since I was old enough to hold a pom-pom. I remembered every float, especially how Krista looked as she stood on them, waving and smiling to the crowd, her wave perfected from her pageant days, our mom and dad cheering for her, louder than all the other parents.

  “There it is!” Krista shouted, pointing in the distance.

  “Oh, honey, it looks great,” Mom said, putting her arm around my sister and giving her a squeeze. “Just perfect.”

  I waved at Lindy as she passed by, trying to focus on her instead of my parents’ praises.

  “How much of that did you do?” Dad asked, looking right at me.

  “Uh,” I said, not sure what the correct answer was. “Hey, did I tell you I got an A on that stats test?”

  “Oh, speaking of, Mom, Dad, do you think I should invite some of my former professors to my wedding?” Krista asked.

  They weighed the pros and cons of this as I watched the rest of the floats go by. Just like last year, the year before, and every year we’d always stood here, I waited impatiently, counting down the parade participants before I could go home and take off this stupid scarf — the only new thing from this experience.

  “It’s too bad your float didn’t win,” Krista said as we walked in our apartment. “It’s not really your fault. Lindy is the chair, not you.”

  “I know. I’m not upset about it,” I said, walking in my bedroom, closing the door, and grabbing my accounting book.

  Krista followed, opening the door without knocking, and sat on my bed. “Hey, I wanted to get your opinion on something. Kyle asked if I wanted to go to his parents’ lake house with just him, kind of to celebrate our engagement, but it’s during your fall break.”

  She’d usually take off work so we could hang out, watching cheesy movies all day, using our parents’ fire pit at night, and shopping for things we didn’t need with Dad’s credit card.

  “It’s fine. You two should get away for awhile. Really enjoy your engagement,” I said with an exaggerated wink. She laughed, blushing and slapping my arm to shush me. I laughed, pushing her away as I settled against my pillows. “Now get out, I need to study.”

  She stood, picking up my scarf from the floor, folding it, and sitting it gently on my chest of drawers. “Thanks, lil sis. I’m so glad you understand.”

  After she’d shut the door behind her, I sat my textbook aside, picked up my phone to flip through a few profiles I’d matched with, and pulled out my planner, slotting in a few dates for next week. Luke on Monday, Charles on Wednesday.

  I hesitated, hovering over Friday with my pen in one hand, my phone in the other, trying to decide what I wanted. Midterms would be over, fall break beginning. I rolled my eyes at the slim pickings, hating how the break weeded out all the good options. Most of the guys I’d be interested in going on a date with would probably be headed to their parents’ lake houses, just like Kyle and Krista.

  I closed my planner and picked up my accounting book, deciding I wou
ld figure it out later, needing to focus on school, knowing to expect daily check-ins from Dad, morning texts from Mom.

  Good luck!, the first message chimed, two minutes before my alarm went off, the sound bright and cheery the next morning. I groaned, jumping up, quickly getting ready, and walked into the kitchen as Krista sat down blueberry toast.

  “Excited? I loved midterm week,” she said, beaming.

  She looked perfect, wearing a smart navy pantsuit and crisp blazer. I took a mental note of her outfit, wanting to swipe it for my econ presentation later this week.

  “Also I have a couple venues I want to check out this week. Do you think you could come with me to a few? Mom can’t get out of a couple volunteer obligations, and I want your opinion.”

  “Isn’t it early for that?” I asked, pouring coffee in a travel mug, grabbing a piece of toast, not bothering to waste time by sitting.

  “No way,” Krista said, sounding like she couldn’t believe I was even questioning her timeline. “If anything, I’m behind. I want an early October wedding, which means I have less than a year to nail down every single detail. I’m freaking out. You should be stressed about this, too, you know.”

  I swallowed a bite of toast, feeling like it was caught in my throat.

  “Why?”

  She stood, putting her hands on her hips, just like she had when we were kids when she’d asked why I wasn’t happy for her.

  “Because you’re my maid of honor, silly. I need you by my side for everything,” she said, wrapping her arm around me, making me splash a bit of coffee on my sweater.

  “Oh,” I said, nodding.

  I didn’t know why I felt surprised. Of course I would be her maid of honor. I’d been by her side ever since I was born. My parents loved to tell the story of a two-year-old Krista throwing a tantrum when they’d told her she was going to be a big sister. Through her tears, her face pouty and red, she’d said she would run away if she had a brother. Then I was born, and she’d grabbed my teeny tiny hand, saying she was never going to let go.

  “Yeah, I’d love to be your maid of honor, Krista.”

  She rolled her eyes at how emotional my words had come out, moving to blot my sweater with a paper towel, and ruffled my hair.

  “I wasn’t asking you,” she said with a laugh. “You can’t say no. I’m your favorite sister.”

  I laughed, lightly pushing her away. “You’re my only sister. And I have to go, I’m going to be late,” I said, checking my watch.

  “You’re never late,” she called after me as I rushed out.

  She was right. I was early to my accounting midterm, finishing it before everyone else, moving to the library to practice my econ presentation, stopping by the SGA office to catch up with Lindy, calling my mom to discuss her upcoming pumpkin carving social she’d signed me up for, booking a manicure for next week, running so efficiently and ahead of schedule that I even booked my next teeth cleaning for two months from now. So I had a hard time understanding why Luke was late to our date. But he was cute, funny, and mentioned his parents had a lake house, so I decided he would get at least 45 minutes.

  “I had fun tonight,” he said as a barista I didn’t recognize started wiping down tables.

  I thought I’d seen Dean when I walked in, but maybe I had been mistaken, not really looking up from my phone as I’d sat down.

  Luke smiled at me, a perfect smile. “Maybe we could get dinner sometime next week?”

  I nodded. “That sounds great.”

  He glanced around the shop and leaned in. “I kind of don’t want this date to end, but I think this place is closing.”

  I laughed, telling him next week would come soon enough. He stood, holding my jacket open so I could easily step inside.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling at him over my shoulder. We walked to the door, and he opened it. He was doing so well, gently placing his hand on the small of my back as he walked me to my car.

  And as he leaned in to kiss me, I was already mentally filling in his pro list and trying to think of conversation topics for our next date. He was a history major, so I could brush up on that, I thought, as his lips touched mine. He’d said he wanted to be a professor, so I tried to think of the most inspiring things professors had shared with me as he kissed me harder, his tongue touching my lips, the corner of my lips, my chin.

  I jerked away as he smiled, unaware he was a terrible kisser.

  “Oh, sorry, are my hands cold?” he asked, and I realized that his left hand was on my arm. He had been touching me so lightly that I’d thought my jacket was just brushing me in a weird way.

  I shook my head, unable to form a sentence, and he kissed me again, his tongue back to licking my closed lips. I parted my lips some, wondering if maybe he’d know what to do once he got in, but it got worse, sloppier, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I glanced at my watch. That might have been the worst 60 seconds of my life.

  “I have to go,” I said, fumbling for my keys, turning away from him. He wished me goodnight and walked away, smiling as if that had gone great, having no idea there was no chance we’d go on another date now.

  I shook my head, trying to get that awful kiss out of my mind, and grabbed a napkin out of my glove compartment to wipe off my face. I sighed, shaking my head again, and turned on my dome light.

  BAD KISSER, I wrote in the cons column in my notebook, underlining it twice, even though this wasn’t something I would easily forget. That con outweighed the long list of pros I scribbled down. I snapped my notebook shut and looked up as Dean walked by, headed to his car. He glanced at me and held up his hand in a wave, not breaking his step.

  I rolled down my window two inches.

  “Hey,” I said as he unlocked his car. “I just thought you should know that you’re a good kisser.”

  “Thanks,” he said with a laugh, opening his car door.

  I waited for a moment and then rolled my eyes. “Well?” I said, cracking my window more, not really wanting to let any more cold air inside my car.

  “‘Well’ what?” he said, turning to squint at me in the darkness.

  “Am I good kisser?”

  He grinned, making me wait. I rolled my eyes again, making a motion for him to hurry up. He laughed, nodding. “Yes, Skye, you’re a good kisser. But I think you already knew that.”

  “Well, come kiss me,” I said, unlocking my car.

  “Why do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, sliding in my passenger seat. “I mean, I’m going to, but I’m just curious.”

  I shrugged. “Do you really care about the details?”

  He looked at me, considering this. “Yeah, I guess not,” he said, leaning in, pulling me toward him, kissing me how Luke should have. We made out for a while until my phone rang, and I knew Krista was wondering how my date went. I pulled away, and Dean winked at me over his shoulder as he stepped out.

  I drove away and answered, telling Krista I was already on the way with fries, she wasn’t going to believe this one. Once I got home, I told her all about Luke, ending the story at the bad kiss as she howled with laughter. She said she couldn’t wait to hear about my next date, wondering out loud if it could possibly get worse.

  “What was this dude’s name again?” Dean asked that Wednesday, undoing my bra clasp as he kissed my neck. “Charlie? Charles? Decaf latte with extra foam, right?”

  “Shut up,” I moaned, taking my shirt off as he pushed off my bra.

  “What an awful drink,” he said, shifting so I could toss his belt aside. He reached down, dropping his seat lower. “It’s barely coffee at that point. It’s just warm milk.”

  I laughed. “You should only use these for kissing,” I said, biting his lips as he pushed up my skirt. “Not talking.”

  Afterward, my whole body still feeling electric, my phone rang. It was Krista, probably wondering why it was 10:23 and she still hadn’t heard from me. I moved, pressing the phone against my ear, halfway falling into the driver’s seat as Dean zipped his jeans.<
br />
  “Hey, I just pulled up to order, I’ll call you right back,” I said quickly, knowing if I hadn’t answered she would get suspicious.

  “Okay, talk soon! Don’t forget the lemonade,” she said brightly.

  I dropped my phone in the cupholder, trading him his belt for my shirt. “Sorry,” I said, not really sounding sorry as I grasped around in the dark backseat for my jacket. “Can you hand me my phone? I need a flashlight,” I said, twisting around as he passed it to me.

  I glanced at the screen. He had put his name in my contacts.

  I sat down correctly in the seat and faced him. “What is this?”

  “My number,” he said casually. “That way you can text me when you want to do this.”

  “I don’t think you understand,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to text you. I don’t want to, like, have conversations with you.”

  He laughed. “Chill, Skye. I don’t want to stay up till dawn trading sweet nothings either. This just makes things easier. What if I hadn’t walked out at the same time as you tonight? Or, on Monday, I was doing inventory in the back. I had no idea you were even in the shop until you yelled at me from your car to kiss you.”

  I looked down at my phone again. We had the same area code. Briefly, I wondered if he grew up here like me, if somehow we’d passed each other before, if somehow our worlds had overlapped. But instantly, I knew there was no way that was possible.

  “I didn’t yell at you. But yeah, I guess this does make the most logical sense. So, I just text you if I want to make out or do this…”

  “Yeah,” he said, getting out of the car to walk around to the driver’s seat. He opened my door, waiting for me to get out. “And if I’m around and down, we can hook up.”

  I stepped out of his car, and we traded places. “Cool. I mean, I don’t think this should be a regular thing or anything, though.”

  He shrugged, turning on his car, and smiled. “Yeah, it’s whatever. Don’t overthink it. I’ll see you later.”

  “Don’t overthink it,” I said to Krista, trying out the expression, as we stood in front of the altar the next day.

  She scowled. “Don’t be silly, Skylar. Why would I not overthink my wedding? This is the day I’ve been waiting for my whole life. So, please, answer the question, would a floral archway clash with this altar?”