A Guy Like Him

by Amanda Gambill

  I opened the front door, and he paused, confused.

  “I’m not kicking you out yet,” I teased. “Just come on.”

  He followed me until I stopped in front of my car in the middle of the parking lot. The weather outside felt perfect, just warm enough, a slight spring breeze in the air.

  I pointed up.

  “Look. It’s a full moon. I’m sure you already noticed it,” I said with a shrug. “But I thought we could look at it together.”

  He looked up, taking in the sky, how the moon seemed closer here than at his place, not overshadowed by the stars.

  “It’s perfect,” he said, leaning against my car.

  “Yeah,” I said, watching him. “It is.”

  He set his gaze on me and smiled.

  “I’ve always loved looking at the sky,” I said, leaning next to him and interlocking my fingers with his. “I know there’s all this science and stuff about the moon and the stars, and I know I’m supposed to be all about facts, but I love the idea that it’s just this big unknown up there and that feels so freeing, you know? We can plan the world as much as we want, but we can’t organize the stars. We can’t make the moon shine bright just cause we want it to look pretty that night. You just have to trust they’ll do what they’re supposed to, that they’re there, even if you sometimes can’t see them, every night, no matter what, and you have absolutely no control over them.”

  Dean squeezed my hand, and we stood side by side, taking in the view for several minutes in silence.

  “You know that feeling when you know you’ve just experienced something you’ll never forget?” he said quietly. “That you’ll commit it to memory for the rest of your life?”

  I nodded, standing in front of him, dropping my arms around his shoulders.

  “That’s this,” he said, pulling me closer. “This moment.”

  ★☽★★☽

  “Is it technically breaking Rule 5 if we never slept?” Dean asked, yawning and putting his head down on the table in front of us.

  I laughed. “I think we’re in the clear.”

  He groaned, not lifting his head. “How are you so peppy?”

  “Because I chose to drink the amazing coffee I made this morning,” I said, holding up my to-go cup with a smile as he made a face at me.

  After we’d kissed soft and slow in the parking lot last night, we’d ended up in my bedroom, somehow distracted by conversation, forgetting we still hadn’t had sex until we realized it was 3:14 a.m.

  “Oh, wow, I should probably go,” Dean had said, shifting from where we’d been sitting against the wall on my bed.

  “Well … you could stay over? Amendment 5.3, you can sleep over if it’s your birthday.”

  “What about my toothbrush?” he’d asked in mock horror.

  I’d stood and tossed him a grocery bag that held a travel toothbrush I had bought earlier that day. “You know I’m always prepared.”

  “This,” he’d said, holding up the toothbrush with a smile, “is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.”

  By 7:01 a.m., it was clear we weren’t going to have sex or sleep.

  So after I’d made coffee as Dean studied the poster boards in amusement, he’d casually asked if there were breakfast spots around, and I’d casually suggested we grab food together before he left.

  “It’s the least I can do,” I’d said with a shrug. “I mean, you didn’t even get birthday sex, you should at least get a post-birthday breakfast. That’s almost as good, right?”

  “Uh, no, but I’ll take what I can get,” he’d said with a laugh, wrapping his arms around my waist, refusing to take a to-go coffee as we left, ending up at a breakfast place between my apartment and campus.

  “So what do you have going on this week?” I asked over my traditional plate of bacon, eggs, and toast, a stark contrast to his coconutmilk yogurt and gluten-free bread with sunbutter.

  “Well, since you bailed on me for the next five days,” he said, recalling how I’d rescheduled our plans to hook up later in the week because Krista had scheduled bridesmaid dress appointments, “I guess work, paint, see my dad, workout, see what some friends are up to. I don’t know. I don’t really plan things in advance,” he said with a laugh. “Are you sure you’re totally unavailable this week?”

  I nodded, groaning. “Sorry. You saw that poster board with all my wedding obligations. I’m slammed— oh my god,” I said, ducking in my seat. “Shit, Dean, I know that person who just walked in.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, that’s your loud friend, right? Nonfat half caff white mocha no whip except she always adds whip at the last second.”

  I shushed him in a panic, and like a bad cliche, grabbed a menu to hide behind, begging Lindy and Brandon didn’t see us.

  “What’s the big deal?” Dean asked.

  “Rule 7,” I said hurriedly, sinking lower in my seat. “Lindy knows Krista. If she ever found out that I was with—” I stopped myself short.

  “Your barista?” he finished for me with a smirk.

  I sighed, glancing to where they were standing in line to order.

  “You don’t understand, this isn’t like when I met your friends,” I said, unable to explain exactly how it was different. The fact that he didn’t care what his friends thought and I cared a lot what my sister thought didn’t seem like a solid enough argument in the daylight.

  “I think she saw you,” he said casually as Lindy gasped, nudging Brandon with her elbow, nothing about her reaction subtle.

  “Shit, shit,” I said, straightening up as she bounded over.

  “Oh my god, Skylar!” she exclaimed, her voice too high-pitched and loud, making almost everyone here stare.

  “Hey, Lindy,” I said, my voice sounding too upbeat, so fake, not like myself. “Hi, Brandon. How are you? What are you doing here?”

  “We always get breakfast here before church,” she responded before glancing at Dean, her bright smile slipping just slightly. “What are you doing here? Who’s this?”

  “Um, this is,” I said, panicking, trying to think of anything to say, running through all the scenarios where Krista was going to hear about this, wondering if there was any way I could explain without my whole world imploding. “Uh…”

  “She’s my tutor,” Dean said easily. “Photography class.”

  “Ugh, Skylar, you’re so smart to tutor someone,” she said, rolling her eyes, annoyed she hadn’t thought of it herself. “That’ll look so good on your resume.”

  “That’s funny because you look like you’d be good at photography, bro,” Brandon said. He wasn’t known for being the nicest or smartest person I’d ever met.

  “Yeah, bro,” Dean said, nodding. “Guess I’m just an idiot or something.”

  “Well, it was great seeing you, Lindy—”

  She sat down next to me, making herself comfortable, never one to pick up on hints.

  “Okay, but what is the deal with you and Michael, though?” she said, helping herself to a piece of my toast. “Because Krista said you two have a date planned this week?”

  I stared at her, having completely forgotten about that, shocked Krista had remembered something I must have told her weeks ago. I’d immediately regretted saying I was going to reach out to Michael during family dinner, but the distraction had worked. My dad’s demeanor had instantly changed, saying he thought that was a great idea, it sounded like I was finally focusing on what was important, this was a good step in the right direction. I’d thought I could just pretend I did it, but during one of my daily check-in calls with my mom, she’d said she mentioned it to Michael’s mom at the last Junior League meeting. I was stuck, reluctantly asking him if he wanted to get dinner and catch up, choosing a faraway date at random, saying repeatedly it was not a date, just something to please our parents. It had completely slipped my mind, not even slotted in my planner.

  “Oh,” I said, my mind going blank, feeling Dean’s gaze as I struggled to answer her. “No
, it’s not like that—”

  “What happened to Brad though? Or are you going to juggle two guys at once?” she asked with a laugh. “You are an excellent multitasker.”

  I rubbed my head. Staying up all night made me feel foggy, and I struggled to think of a way to get her to shut up.

  “Uh, Lindy, we’re kind of in the middle of something,” I said, nodding to Dean who was watching this interaction with amusement.

  She looked at me, confused, unable to imagine a world where I was telling her what to do, before launching into another agenda item, asking if I wanted to carpool to the bridesmaid dress appointments, already pulling out her phone so we could sync up our calendars. After she was satisfied, she stood, linking her arm with Brandon, and smiled.

  “I’m so glad I ran into you! This was, like, so productive,” she said, waving over her shoulder as they sat at a table across the room.

  I covered my face with my hands and groaned, unable to meet Dean’s gaze as he laughed at me. “Wow, that was brutal,” he said.

  “Dean, I’m so sorry,” I said, dropping my hands and sighing.

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thanks for covering for me,” I said quietly, feeling guilty for multiple reasons. “And, look,” I said, taking a deep breath, trying again to explain something that seemed so impossible, “about this Michael guy—”

  “Nope,” he interrupted. “Rule 2, Skye. This is exactly why we have the contract.”

  Before he could continue, our server walked up. “How are you two doing checks today? Together or separate?”

  “Together,” I said, gesturing that I would pay.

  “No,” Dean said firmly. “Separate. Definitely separate.”

  “Dean,” I said, rolling my eyes once the server walked away. “I thought I was getting this because of your birthday.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Rule 3, remember? Do you need to borrow the contract for a reread?”

  I crossed my arms, not sure how to respond, knowing he was right. We’d had a bit too much fun breaking the rules the past few times we’d seen each other, but this was a reminder we needed to get back on track. Because whatever had happened between us last night had just been a moment, but today, in the morning sun in public, this was reality.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You have thirty minutes,” I said, sitting down and looking at my watch. “And then this is over, and you tell your mom that we had a great chat but we don’t want to make this work again. And I’ll tell my mom the same.”

  “Are you serious, Skylar?”

  I nodded, looking at the menu in front of me, trying to find the quickest item to order.

  “Do you want to split French fries?”

  “We didn’t choose one of the nicest restaurants in this city for thirty-minute French fries,” Michael said, flashing his perfect smile.

  “There is no ‘we,’” I sighed. “You chose this place, not me. Forty-five minutes, but I’m still getting fries.”

  He nodded to an already-filled wine glass. “I ordered your favorite. Unless you’re a completely different person than you were a year ago.”

  I rolled my eyes, annoyed he’d beaten me here. In his world, showing up 10 minutes early was considered on time. I was five minutes early, already feeling late.

  I huffed and took a sip, thinking the wine might make this experience easier. He looked good, his hair perfectly styled, wearing a sports coat paired with a white button-down and crisp khakis. He hadn’t changed at all since we’d been together.

  “I recently ran into Kyle, and he said you’ve been a huge help with his wedding,” he said after ordering us the same appetizer we’d always shared when we used to come here. “I guess you really have changed.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, looking around the restaurant. It felt weird being back here, sitting at the same table we’d always sat at, him so comfortable, as if no time had passed.

  “Well, when we were together, you seemed pretty against the whole wedding concept.”

  I looked away. “I’m just helping Krista.”

  “So you’re thinking you might have come around to the idea of being married?”

  I sat up straighter, adjusting the hem of my skirt, covering the scar on my knee. “Michael, I am not having this conversation with you. Everything that has been said was said a year ago.”

  He held up his hands in defense and laughed. “Do you remember when we first met? I’d forgotten my textbook in AP Calc, and I asked to borrow yours for that open book test?”

  I nodded.

  He smiled. “And you said no. You weren’t even using yours, but you said I should have been more prepared. You said you weren’t going to do anything to help me get a better grade than you.”

  I kind of laughed as the server brought us appetizers. “Yeah, that was kind of harsh.”

  “I don’t think you’ve changed at all from that moment. You have to remember, you know me, and I know you, Skylar. I’m not like the other guys you’ve been with,” he said, placing his hand over mine.

  His touch was so familiar, his voice the same, that I almost felt like I’d been transported to us two years ago.

  “What do you mean, the other guy,” I said, shaking my head and pulling my hand away, “I mean, guys I’ve been with?”

  “Kyle said you’ve been dating around. I get it. I’ve dated other people, too. But no one special. No one like you. Everyone thinks you’re perfect.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. He’d always had the incredible ability to play on my weaknesses, making me lose sense of myself. “Stop, Michael.”

  He held up his hands again, a familiar move where he was defenseless and maybe this was all in my head.

  “Let’s change the subject,” he said, asking me about school and my major. The conversation felt easy then, the wine smoothing out the anger and awkwardness.

  When it was time to order our entrees, I looked at my watch. It had been 43 minutes, and I knew I needed to leave. I excused myself to the bathroom where I checked my phone.

  No messages.

  I closed my eyes, allowing myself to think about Dean for just two minutes, wondering what he was doing, wondering if I’d just made up how close we’d been this past weekend. It had been exactly five days since we sat across from each other at breakfast, reminding ourselves of the contract, and I hadn’t heard from him since. It made sense, I rationalized, because part of our rules was to only text when we wanted to hook up, and we both knew the other was too busy to meet up this week. I sighed, putting my phone in my pocket, and walked back to my seat.

  “Michael, I should go—”

  “I went ahead and ordered for you,” he said, not hearing me or choosing to ignore me. “Your usual. So no fries,” he said with a laugh, pulling out my chair, always a gentleman.

  “I said this was only going to be forty-five minutes,” I replied, annoyed, remembering that he never listened to me.

  “So Kyle said that you guys still have game night,” he said, brushing his hands on my shoulders before taking his own seat.

  I rolled my eyes. “I am not a part of those nights.”

  “That’s funny,” he said, the charming smile I’d almost fallen in love with bright on his face. “Because you and I were reigning champs of those nights.”

  He was right. When we’d been together, we had been more competitive than any other couple, dominating at every game, even going as far as practicing beforehand to make sure we were on the same page. We were also terrible winners, gloating and cheering until Krista would storm off, saying we were the worst. No matter how many times we won, the rush of beating Krista and Kyle, the golden couple, never wore off.

  “Don’t you miss beating everyone,” he said, reading my mind, digging into the sore spot he knew I still had. “Especially your sister. You don’t miss being number one?”

  I resisted the urge to agree, focusing on the entree in front of me. He’d b
een right again, it was still my favorite. Even though I felt so different, maybe I really hadn’t changed. Maybe I was the same girl, wearing the same version of a sweater and skirt that I had two years ago, eating the same food, suppressing the same insatiable feeling to beat my sister, to be the best.

  “So tell me about the photography class you mentioned at the Heart Gala,” he said after a moment. “I’ve never seen you as someone interested in the arts. Is your dad furious?”

  I kind of laughed. The good thing about Michael was that he knew my family. He’d bonded with my parents for more than two years. He had golfed with my dad and Kyle almost every weekend and charmed my mom at the volunteer events he’d join with me. He understood how much pressure my parents put on me to be perfect. He’d leaned into that, becoming a perfect match for me, understanding his presence made them ease up on me.

  “Yeah, my dad kind of freaked out,” I admitted, telling him the story of us at family dinner, how everyone had been so upset. “Now he’s on my case about it like every day.”

  “Sounds like you need to distract him,” he said, ordering dessert for us before I could protest. “If you only have school stuff going on, that’s all your parents are going to pay attention to.”

  He didn’t have to say that when we’d been together, they’d been much more invested in our relationship than any classes I took.

  “So what’s going on with you?” I asked, wanting to shift the spotlight off of me. “How are your parents?”

  He rolled his eyes, telling me his dad was putting pressure on him to land a summer internship at a prestigious law firm. One of the first things we’d bonded over was our demanding helicopter parents. The reason he’d been so good at the game of pleasing my parents was because we’d had plenty of practice with his. I’d been the perfect arm candy when his dad hosted dinner parties filled with his lawyer coworkers, and I’d always made sure to bring his mom homemade cookies when I came over to their house.

  I nodded, telling him I had the same pressure about getting an internship this summer. He already knew without my telling him that Krista had had an internship between her junior and senior year, so if I didn’t get one, I’d be a total failure.