A Guy Like Him

by Amanda Gambill

  We won that, too, becoming louder and more boastful, cheering and high-fiving each other, easily sliding into somewhat-playful-kind-of-hurtful trash talk that we could blame on the game.

  “Hell yeah, Skylar,” Michael said, slipping his arm around my shoulders as I beat Krista in another round of face-to-face trivia. “You have changed.”

  I smiled. I couldn’t believe someone had finally noticed and admitted it to my face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve gotten even better at this game,” he said with a laugh, picking up a card, ready to face off against Kyle.

  I kind of laughed, shaking my head, telling him to shut up and focus on the game.

  We won again, jumping up and down, Michael picking me up like old times, telling me I was the best as I pointed at Krista and laughed, the mix of wine and winning making me even more childish, pulling me back to how I used to be when I was with Michael.

  I groaned in my bed, thinking of the memory, so embarrassed.

  The next game was even more competitive, but we couldn’t stop, addicted to being number one. This was our vice, we were the worst versions of ourselves, highly competitive and downright mean.

  “Wow, we’re totally dominating this game night,” I said, laughing. “It’s, like, do you guys even want to play anymore? It’s kind of sad.”

  Michael laughed, putting his arm around me again. “Yeah, we’re clearly the best match here, so maybe you all should just stop while you’re ahead … well, wait, you aren’t ahead. Hmm, well, then I guess this is just awkward,” he said, making me laugh and grin at Krista, wondering why wasn’t she happy for me, isn’t this what she wanted.

  “Okay, okay,” Krista said, holding up her hands and leaning against Kyle who wrapped his arms around her waist. I scowled, shrugging Michael’s arm off of me. “Geez, you two are being really sore winners.”

  Lindy looked at us, shaking her head. “I don’t remember you two being this mean.”

  “Well, you don’t pay attention to anything, Lindy,” I said with a shrug. “So that makes sense. And maybe that’s why you and Brandon are in last place tonight.”

  Michael laughed. “You guys in for a fourth round? We’ll take it easy on you this time.”

  “Consider it one of the many favors I’m constantly doing for you,” I said to Krista, not feeling the guilt from that statement until the next day. She rolled her eyes, not responding.

  “I think we’re done,” Kyle said, sitting down his beer on the table. “Let’s call it a night.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Boring.”

  “Scared,” Michael chimed in.

  I laughed, so glad he got it. I may not have wanted to be with him, but in this scenario, I had to admit he was the perfect match.

  Krista stood, hastily picking up the items on the coffee table, and moved to the kitchen. Her silence said more than any angry words could have. I rolled my eyes again, not caring at this moment, still on a winner’s high.

  Kyle followed her to make sure she wasn’t too upset. I rolled my eyes once more, not willing to admit to myself that I was jealous. Because even if she’d lost, she still got to be with the guy she wanted after the games were put away.

  “This was fun,” Lindy said with a laugh as she and Brandon gathered their things. “I mean, once you look past how intense you two are, it really was nice to get the gang back together. Honestly, it’s good to see you back to normal, Skylar.”

  I looked at her, tearing my gaze away from where Kyle had his arms around Krista’s waist, making her smile, kissing her cheek, right there, in front of all of us.

  “What?” I said, suddenly crashing from my high.

  “I think she means this is the real you, Skylar,” Michael said.

  I shook my head, feeling the guilt then, right in the chest, his arm heavy on my shoulders. I pushed him off of me.

  “No,” I said, standing as Lindy and Brandon waved bye at the door. “Wait, no, this wasn’t me. This isn’t what I wanted,” I said quickly, but Lindy was already walking out, not listening, saying she’d text me later so we could grab coffee and catch up about SGA’s new president.

  Michael stood, pulling me into a hug.

  “It was really good to see you. I know you felt it all come back,” he said, his voice low, close to my ear, making me cringe. “This is us. This is what makes us so good.”

  I closed my eyes, shaking my head. This was what had made us so bad.

  “Michael, stop.”

  “Skylar, come on, I know you. This is what you want,” he said, slightly annoyed, leaning back to properly look at me, not understanding why I wasn’t agreeing with him.

  “I want to go to bed,” I said, pushing him away. “Can you please leave?”

  “Or we could celebrate like how we used to,” he said with his trademark charming smile.

  I felt like I was stuck in the past, my brain saying one thing — that this made sense, that a guy like him was who I was supposed to be with, he’d always been the perfect one, I had the pro and con list to prove it — and my body feeling another way, not even a one-percent desire to sleep with him.

  I rolled over in my bed again, so annoyed last night had gone the way it did, squinting against the sunlight streaming through my open window. I’d been too buzzed and too exhausted to remember to close it last night — too upset that Krista and Kyle went to bed together, and I went to bed alone.

  I closed my eyes and dialed my phone.

  Dean laughed the second he answered. “Did you drunk text me last night?”

  I groaned, pulling the covers over my head. “I haven’t checked what I sent. Do I even want to know?”

  “You said, ‘I am a winner, but you think I’m a princess, do you like me Dean’ with a period at the end. Was that your attempt at a haiku? Or are we back to sexting? I don’t think that was your best work.”

  I kind of laughed, burying deeper under the covers, squeezing my eyes shut, grateful he couldn’t see how hard I was blushing.

  “Sorry I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure if it was question, and I didn’t see it until this morning anyway.”

  I laughed, groaning. “What are you up to? Is your dad okay?”

  He sighed. “I’m still at his house. Currently standing in front of a coffee pot, and I’m trying to decide if it’s worth it. I mean at this point, I don’t think I can get more tired, so maybe I’ll just wait. I don’t know. I feel like I’m not making any sense,” he said with a laugh. “What are you doing? Why are you up so early?”

  “You know what time it is?”

  He laughed again. “I know I’m already late for work, so that’s something.” He sighed again. “Skye, I miss you. I’m sorry I had to cancel on you last night. Can I make it up to you? Can we have real, unmovable plans on Friday? I’ll even put it in my calendar.”

  I smiled. “You have a calendar?”

  “Well, my phone calendar. I think I’ve done that once or twice before. Maybe when I was in school,” he said with a laugh. “Just let me know what you think and if you’re free. And now I’m sorry again because I have to go. I just looked at the oven clock, and it’s way later than I thought it was.”

  “I miss you, too, by the way,” I said quickly before he hung up.

  I stayed in my room for a majority of the day, sneaking out to grab coffee when I heard Krista and Kyle leave to get lunch, knowing they had a meeting with the jeweler after to order wedding bands. I hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to apologize to her, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to, still mad at her for inviting Michael. But I was also mad at myself for so quickly becoming a version of the person I didn’t want to be again.

  I faced the coffee pot, rolling my eyes at how stupid I felt as I sent Dean a picture with an actual attempt at a haiku: This coffee pot sucks, Chemex would be better or, Aeropress with you.

  I smiled as he responded almost immediately, thinking this was hilarious. After a moment, he texted me again: Sleep deprived, are you; j
ust a princess in my dreams; or are you real Skye. (Sorry… I dropped out before I got around to taking an English class).

  I bit my lip, blushing even harder than before and laughing out loud in my empty apartment, unable to stop myself from wishing he was here despite my best efforts. The feeling was just as strong as it had been last night except I didn’t have sangria to blame it on.

  I hid out in my room for the rest of the weekend, only sneaking out to run errands, anything to avoid Krista and to push my childish antics from game night out of my head. Coming up with cheesy haikus for the next 48 hours with Dean helped.

  On Monday, I dropped by the coffee shop, not wanting to wait 120 hours until Friday. The mornings were busy with a stream of people coming and going, constant interruptions making our short conversations even shorter. So I got straight to the point.

  “I’m free on Friday,” I said as he made a latte. “If you’re still interested.”

  He smiled at me, glancing up from the tree he was creating.

  “Yeah, it’d be awesome to see you without a counter between us and when I don’t have to split my focus between foam and checking you out. A guy like me should not be so attracted to a girl like you in a blazer.”

  “Well, a girl like me shouldn’t basically be stalking a guy like you in a coffee shop,” I said with a laugh.

  He laughed. “Okay, let me take these orders, and then I’ll walk with you to your car. Maybe we can figure out a post-hookup activity to do together on Friday,” he said with a grin, switching places with Roe at the register.

  I’d learned that even though Dean was an expert latte artist, he preferred the variety of interacting with people at the register over the monotony of making the same drinks over and over again.

  I moved to the back of the line, actually wanting a cup of coffee for my commute, when I felt a familiar touch on my shoulder.

  I turned and sighed. “What are you doing here, Michael? Are you actually stalking me at this point?”

  He laughed. “Good morning to you, too, Skylar. No, I’m actually taking a summer class,” he said, not saying this meant he didn’t get an internship. “Why are you here? Don’t you have an internship downtown?”

  I turned, not looking at him as we scooted up in the line. “I prefer the coffee here.”

  He laughed at that. “You know, we haven’t really had a chance to talk about your internship. Do you have time to sit and talk? We could catch up.”

  I glanced at Dean. There were exactly two people between us.

  “No, I don’t have time. So, uh, yeah, good seeing you, Michael,” I said quickly, turning my back to him.

  There was now one person between Dean and Michael and me.

  “Ah, I see, if you don’t want to talk about your internship, that must mean Krista helped you get it,” he said casually.

  I faced him, ready to snap back. But then I realized he was doing this to me again, manipulating me, pulling me back to the worst version of myself.

  I turned around, noticing the person in front of me was gone. Dean looked at me and smiled, glancing at Michael who was now standing next to me rather than behind me.

  I froze, needing just one second to react to this unplanned scenario, but that was too long for Michael.

  “She’ll have a small iced caramel latte,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “And I’ll get the same.” He glanced at me with a smile. “Our favorites, right?”

  Dean looked at me, not quite smiling, and I opened my mouth, but Michael, already done with this interaction, faced me.

  “I had fun Friday night,” he said, placing his hand on my wrist.

  Dean glanced at Michael’s hand.

  “Um,” I said, my cheeks turning red no matter how much I willed them to stop.

  “It was just like old times,” he continued. “Being in your apartment, laughing, and celebrating with you.”

  “Michael, stop—” I said, having never felt this flustered before. “That wasn’t—”

  “$7.10,” Dean said, looking at Michael.

  Michael handed Dean his card and looked back at me. “Kyle mentioned that you still don’t have a plus-one for the wedding. So you’re still single.”

  Dean handed him back his card. “What’s the name for the order?” he asked, picking up a cup.

  “Michael and Skylar,” Michael answered, smiling at me, putting his arm around me before I could react.

  “Skylar. Got it,” Dean said, his voice level, stepping back to make the drinks, switching places with Roe.

  I pushed Michael off of me, but Dean’s back was already to us. He called our drink orders, and before I could step forward, Michael grabbed them off the bar, handing me my drink, our fingers brushing, a move I knew Dean also noticed.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car,” Michael said, smiling his classic charming smile at me.

  I glanced at my watch. I had to leave or else I would risk being late to work. I looked over my shoulder, but Dean had already moved on, no longer looking at me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  More than a year ago, when I’d told my parents that Michael and I had broken up, Mom actually cried. Dad’s reaction was more similar to an interrogation, demanding every detail, asking why this had happened, did I think I could convince him to take me back.

  Krista, who’d been standing silently as we sat at the table, family dinner over and the plates cleared, scoffed at his question.

  “Skylar broke up with him,” she said before I could try to convince them it had been mutual. I figured if they thought it had been Michael’s decision, too, they’d be less disappointed and wouldn’t try to change my mind.

  “What?” Mom said, more shocked by this than the news that our relationship was over. “Why?”

  I looked at her to try to answer, but she wasn’t asking me. She was looking at Krista who had her arms crossed, annoyed.

  She shrugged. “I tried to talk her out of it. She won’t listen.”

  Krista and I rarely fought. We’d been raised by a debutante mom, always told that it was better to be pretty little girls than fighting monsters. The only two choices in our world.

  But my sister and I had fought about Michael. She was the one I went to, the one who always gave me advice, the road map for where I should go. I’d thought she’d be able to help me. I should have known that changing something up, especially a years-long relationship, would rattle her, catch her off guard, completely throw off the plan.

  “Why would you do that? You two love each other,” she said when I’d told her, sitting on her bedroom floor, that I was thinking of dumping him.

  I shook my head.

  We’d never said those words, not even after all these years.

  Sure, we said we loved things about each other — I loved that he was competitive, handsome, well-to-do, and equally school-obsessed — but we’d never committed to loving each other, our full selves, every little detail. And since he’d brought up marriage at family dinner nearly two weeks before, basically telling me that was the plan, I’d been trying to figure out why the idea made me feel like I was going to have a panic attack instead of joy. When Krista talked about marrying Kyle one day, her whole face lit up. She knew, without a doubt, that he was the person she wanted to spend all her time with. So what was wrong with me?

  I tried to explain this to her, fumbling over the words.

  “This doesn’t make sense, Skylar,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “Michael is everything you want. Ever since we were kids and would make up our dream guys, he’s exactly what you’ve said you wanted.”

  I nodded. She was right. He was supposed to be the one.

  “I don’t think I love him,” I said, unable to meet her gaze. “I don’t think I want to be with him.”

  “It’s not about what you want,” she said, her tone calm and steady. “And it sounds like you aren’t sure. Look, what does Dad always tell us when we can’t figure out a problem?”

  I sighed, pickin
g at a piece of carpet. “That we’re being too emotional. Which means we’re being irrational. That we need to step back and think about it—”

  “Like a math problem,” she said, finishing my sentence. “Why don’t you take all the things you like about Michael and put it in one column, all the pros, and compare it against the things you don’t like, all his cons. Don’t think about how you feel, you know? Just consider all the cold hard facts, right in front of you, on paper.” She stood, grabbing a notebook from her desk. “Let’s work on this together.”

  I watched her as she dated the top of the first blank page, writing Michael’s name, waiting for me to speak.

  “Skylar,” Krista said, putting her arm around me. “Just picture one place where you’re with him, okay? Like, think about the coffee shop on campus.”

  I nodded, imagining us across from each other at our usual table.

  “Okay, and now let all the other variables fall away and just focus on Michael’s qualities,” she said, her pen poised over the paper.

  I listed pros off the top of my head as Krista wrote, realizing once I was done that she had reached the bottom of the page.

  “Okay, now what about his cons?”

  I hesitated.

  “Skylar, his cons, things you don’t like?” she pressed.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I could only think of how much my family loved him, always calling him — and us — perfect. “I guess he doesn’t have any.”

  She looked at me for a moment and then back at the notebook.

  “Well, then I guess you have your answer. There is no logical reason why you’d dump him.”

  I nodded, feeling like I was going to be sick. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I stood and took a deep breath. “Can I borrow that notebook?”

  “Sure,” she said, handing it to me. “Baby sis, this is part of growing up. Realizing that it’s kind of terrifying when you finally find what you’ve been looking for. That what you’ve spent all your life looking for is right there, and you get to have it.”

  I nodded again. “And that’s Michael?”