Guys Like You

by Vivian Kohlman

  “I want to drive myself,” I said, still groggy. He moved his hand up and down my side in a comforting motion.

  “OK, but I have one request: answer my texts and calls, OK? I’ll leave you alone as much as possible, just work with me while I get used to this new approach.”

  “OK,” I responded, smiling with my eyes still closed.

  “If you need anything, anything at all, just text me or Stephen, OK? I’ll be at the office in Tyson’s and Stephen will be in DC.”

  “OK, baby. Just go to your meeting; everything’s going to be fine,” I said.

  He bent down and kissed my lips tenderly, paused for a second, then kissed my forehead with his warm hand holding my head. His hesitation is proof that he’s not comfortable with this new approach quite yet.

  I blinked my eyes opened so I could look him in the eyes, and I smiled when our eyes met.

  “I love you, baby,” I said.

  “I love you, too, Princess. So much,” he said before patting my side and rising from the bed. I stretched and slowly woke up, knowing I had to get to school for my eleven-thirty class.

  It sounds ridiculous, but I actually felt exhilarated driving to school that morning. I was driving for the first time in months, it was a gorgeous fall day, and I could do whatever the hell I wanted without having to tell anyone first. I guess I’m like any other freshman girl, for once.

  And I liked the independence I felt.

  I parked my car on campus and sent King a text, just to check in, telling him I arrived safe and sound, and that I plan to leave campus after rush hour. I knew I shouldn't push it; it was in my best interest to help King understand that us living a normal life is the best way to go, and I know it was best to make him feel at ease.

  For the next few days, I plan to tell him every move I make, just to calm his nerves, knowing he’d eventually become more comfortable and I wouldn't have to do so anymore. And it’s really not a big deal, I love communicating with King…I just don’t like that he worries about me and that he feels the need to know my every move.

  The next Saturday, Tori, her boyfriend Dylan, and I went to watch King’s fight. I was so excited to see him in the ring again. On the way there—King was driving—I kept getting flashbacks of the first time I saw him. It was at a jiu jitsu competition; I watched a few of his fights and he and I had a moment.

  I remember it like it was yesterday—I was sitting among the handful of girls who were ogling him, he paused during a break and put his hands on the ropes while his eyes bore into mine. I felt that stare to my core, and I couldn’t peel my eyes off of him for the life of me.

  I remember being completely stunned by him; he was tall and muscular with thick, wavy hair, long eyelashes, and plump lips. And his muscles flexed with every swing of his arm or movement of his legs. He was mesmerizing.

  “Babe, do you remember the first time I watched you fight?” I asked him, knowing Tori and Dylan were in the back seat and could easily hear us.

  “Of course. And I remember watching you watch me,” he said with a smile.

  I put my hand on top of his and squeezed. We’ve come so far from that day. I was dating Preston then, and had no idea that Dylan—Preston’s friend—and King knew each other. That little fact I didn’t know until my first date with my next boyfriend, also a friend of Dylan’s—we went to Dylan’s party and King was there.

  All these memories were rushing back to me as we entered the facility where King’s fight was taking place. King’s big, warm hand was holding mine as he guided us to the seating area.

  I searched the room for Giorgio, but he didn’t seem to be here. I took a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief when I was confident that was the case. I could relax tonight, and focus on King’s fight. This will only be the second time I’ve seen him in action—his fight in LA was off-limits to me, and I’ve never gone to his practices. I was excited, practically bouncing out of my seat in anticipation for King to enter the ring.

  When he stepped over the ropes and walked to the center of the ring I had the same admiration for him as I did when I first saw him fight that night about a year ago. He is beautiful, and moves with such control and strength that it’s hard to not be impressed. At one point I looked around us and noticed that many of the girls in the arena were watching him and whispering to their friends. I can’t blame them; if I didn’t have him already, I’d be drooling over him too. Just like I was a year ago.

  “Damn, I’d hate to be on King’s bad side,” Dylan said. “The guy’s invincible!”

  “That’s my man,” I said with a proud smile.

  He won that fight, as everyone expected, and we all greatly enjoyed the celebration after.

  ~~~~

  A week or two later I noticed that a few texts a day were all I needed to send to make King comfortable. I was perfectly aware that the security team was still tracking Giorgio’s movements, but since he was away from DC—I think they said he was back in Los Angeles now—we all suspected that his need for revenge is passing.

  Only on rare occasions did I see a security guard around me; and only once, when they thought there was danger, was I told that they were there for me and asked that I keep them aware of anomalies.

  The big test came on Emelia’s birthday—she wanted us girls to go to dinner, and then to a hockey game in DC. On her birthday, the Washington Capitals were playing Montreal—her favorite team—so she considered it fate that we celebrate her birthday by attending the game.

  But I just knew King wouldn’t allow me to go with just the girls. He complains that we, as a group, stand out too much…yes, it’s flattering that he thinks we’re attractive. He tells me often that we’re five beautiful girls and we draw attention even if we sit still.

  When I told him our plans he didn’t flinch, though. Maybe he is calming down on the issue, I thought. He didn’t ask me to take security with me, nor did I see anyone following us on the night of. So I was able to just go out with my friends, like any normal eighteen-year-old girl.

  I promised King that I would keep my eyes open for Giorgio and let him know if I had any problems or felt like I was being watched. He also gave me the number of an on-call security guy and told me I could call him directly. With that, we were both comfortable that I could be on my own.

  I was thrilled…perhaps a little too happy that I was trusted with my own safety. I drank one drink too many glasses of wine at dinner, and picked up a beer on our way into the hockey game. That’s nothing strange; most of my girlfriends had the same amount to drink and we were all feeling good as we cheered our respective teams on. But I know I was a little tipsy.

  Emelia and Viv—who was back from school for the weekend—were rooting for Montreal and the rest of us were cheering on the Capitals. The stadium was packed and the fans’ energy intoxicated me more than the beer. During the break between the first and second periods, the girls left the arena to use the restroom and resupply on snacks and drinks; I stayed behind to keep an eye on our coats and purses.

  I was sending a text to King to let him know that all was calm and well when Miko surprised me by popping up to say hello.

  “Omigosh, what are you doing here?” I asked, happy to see him. I gave him a heart-felt hug and he sat next to me so we could chat.

  “I came with my brother—he’s home this weekend from school.”

  Miko’s brother goes to UCLA and they both love hockey so it makes sense that they’d want to come to a game. But this arena is enormous; how he found me is puzzling.

  “How did you see me?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “I didn’t; Kimi did,” he said, referring to his brother. “We’re sitting over there,” he pointed across the ice to the other side of the stands, and Kimi waved. “And we saw you and your friends taking selfies—you girls are quite noticeable.”

  Ugh. Don’t tell King that. It would just confirm that we draw too much attention.

  “I see. So, how have you been?”

&nbs
p; “Great. I mean, school’s as awesome as ever and I started working out more, so I feel great. How are things with…uh oh, check out the screen,” he said, pointing to the display above the ice. It was the kiss cam display, with a big heart around Miko and I. I giggled.

  “Oh no! You have the wrong couple!” I said into the camera, waving it away. Of course, the cameraman didn’t move an inch.

  “They’re not going to stop until I kiss you. Just your cheek?”

  “OK, fine.” I leaned toward Miko and pretended like I was swooning as he kissed my cheek.

  “More! More! More!” the audience chanted, and the cameraman didn’t move.

  “OK, fine. On the lips? Just make it quick, OK?” I said.

  That was the alcohol talking. I didn’t think about the action, I didn’t even care that I’d be kissing Miko. I just wanted the camera to move off of us so we could resume catching up.

  “Got it,” he said before leaning toward me and kissing me on my lips. But he didn’t make it quick, he put his hand behind my head and held my lips to his. I heard his breath hitch and felt the passion in his kiss. And I didn’t pull away.

  I was confused for a second. The crowd was cheering, I was tipsy, and Miko was so familiar to me. It’s not like he was sticking his tongue down my throat or anything, so it really wasn’t a big deal, but this was a real kiss. When I felt it was long enough, I pulled away and giggled.

  “OK, that was more than I signed up for, Miko,” I chided him.

  “Sorry. We had to give the masses what they wanted,” he joked, motioning to the crowd. “And it worked.”

  The cameraman moved away from us and we continued talking until my friends came back—the little kiss cam incident didn’t bug me at all. If only I had thought of the potential repercussions of that pseudo kiss before it happened, I never would have agreed.

  ~~~~

  I blinked my eyes as I slowly woke. My head was killing me and I wasn’t in the mood to move. Memories from last night kept sweeping across my mind. Dinner, and Emelia blowing out her candles…us cheering our teams during the hockey game…Miko kissing me.

  Shit.

  What the fuck was I thinking? Many drinks or not, why did I let him kiss me just because a stupid camera was on us? Thank God the kiss cam isn’t shown on TV; no one would have seen it. As far as I know right now, no one knows…I didn’t even tell the girls. I mean, I wasn’t hiding anything, there’s just nothing to tell. Right?

  Whatever…it isn’t a big deal. The big deal from last night is that I drank so much after the game that I don’t remember coming home. I remember that we took a taxi, so I’m not worried about how I got home—but I don’t remember saying hello and goodnight to King. Where is he anyway?

  The room is still dark, but that’s meaningless; I’m sure King left the blackout curtains shut when he got out of bed. I reached to the side table and felt around for my phone. It isn’t there. Dammit. I hate the morning after coming home drunk.

  I pressed the button to open the blackout curtains—it was bright outside and the light flooded into the room before I was ready for it. My head pounded harder. Shit, this sucks.

  A few minutes later, I gathered the strength to get out of bed and, as soon as I was somewhat presentable, I left the bedroom to find King…and my purse. Both were at the breakfast bar.

  “Please tell me there is more coffee made,” I said as I approached King and saw the mug in front of him.

  “Hey, babe. I figured you’d be up soon, so I made a French press for you a few minutes ago. If it’s not hot enough, I’ll make a new one.”

  I sat and poured the coffee into the mug he set out for me. I noticed there was also sugar and cream sitting on the breakfast bar so I didn’t have to do anything for myself. I also noticed the unopened Evian bottle—clearly King knows I was drunk last night.

  “You are a saint.”

  “You have no idea,” he said. Well, that was a loaded statement.

  “Uh, so…yeah, I was a bit tipsy last night.”

  “A bit.”

  He’s acting weird. I know I’m not a bad drunk, so even if I don’t remember anything I’m not worried that I did anything out of the ordinary. Maybe I slurred, or maybe I whined about something, but that’s the extent of my bad drunk persona.

  “Is something on your mind?” I asked, really not in the mood to dance around the issue.

  He exhaled in a slight chuckle. He turned in his chair so that he was facing me as I stirred my coffee and put the spoon on the saucer next to the mug. But he didn’t say anything; he was just watching me.

  “What?” I asked, now getting agitated.

  “Do you remember anything about last night, Ava?”

  Ooooohhhh, he used my real name. This is serious.

  “Yes, of course. But what are you referring to, Knox?” I said in a snippy tone. I know I’m out of place—I’m sure he’s mad for a good reason. King’s too easy-going to be mad for nothing.

  “Do you remember coming home?”

  No, absolutely not. I vaguely remember sitting in the taxi; my next memory is waking this morning. But I’m not going to let on to King that I was that drunk.

  “Yeah, but what exactly are you talking about?” I asked, trying to get to the point of whatever was bothering him.

  “What am I talking about. Let’s see…my text to you that you never answered. Then our argument, when you finally showed up. Does that shake your memory?”

  Nope…but this time, I gave up.

  “Baby, please make this easy for me. I don’t remember. What’s going on?”

  “You kissed Miko last night…”

  “Wait. No, I didn’t kiss Miko. He kissed me, and only after the kiss cam wouldn’t go away with a kiss on my cheek. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  King slowly picked up his phone and tapped on the screen a few times.

  “This doesn’t look like a big deal?” he said, handing me his phone, which was opened to a picture of Miko kissing me. Oh, this didn’t look good. Miko’s hand is entwined in my hair and our faces are smashed against each other’s…and both of our eyes are shut. Honestly, it looks like a couple passionately kissing.

  “King…” I started, but had no idea what to say.

  “You already explained this to me. We hashed it out last night. I’m just still more than a little pissed at that fuck for using a stupid crowd pleaser to make out with my girl.”

  “Baby, it was exaggerated, just to get the camera off of us.”

  “You already told me all about it, Ava. But it’s hard to get this picture out of my head.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, King.”

  “You should be. If I did that, you’d fly off the fucking handle. But now that you’re sober, for the most part, I want to ask you what I didn’t last night. Do you have any feelings left for Miko?”

  “No! No, King. Not at all. I love you to death, babe. I do still care for Miko, but like a friend only…”

  “So if the kiss cam was on you and Tori, you’d let her grab your head and passionately kiss you?” His question made a point, I guess, but I decided to take it as a joke—the conversation was feeling a bit too heavy as it was.

  “Have you seen how hot Tori is? Of course, I’d let her kiss me,” I joked, and he smiled. “King, it was nothing. Can we get over this?”

  “We’re over it. I’ll shake that picture from my head as soon as I kick his ass and fuck the hell out of you.” A blush flared up in my cheeks, even in my hung-over state.

  “OK, the first part can’t happen, King…you know I’ll be upset if you hurt him. The last part is totally OK, as long as you wait until I sober up.”

  “Fine, if I must. By the way, here’s your purse; Emelia dropped it off this morning.”

  How embarrassing. King is always so incredibly in control of himself, his emotions, and his entire life. I’m such a flake, leaving my purse behind after getting too drunk and kissing other boys. This is just another example of why I wonder how this p
erfect man could want to be with such an imperfect girl.

  The next handful of days were rough—Miko and I kissing was still eating away at King. It took him a few days to even want to “fuck the hell out of” me, and that didn’t immediately take the memory away. I apologized so may times that I sounded like a broken record. Then one day he woke up and rolled onto his side, facing me.

  “That’s it. I’m over it,” he proclaimed. And things were instantly back to normal. I guess he just needed some time to process the incident, and to confirm that it was a fluke.

  ~~~~

  After my midterms were over, King and I took the company jet to Iceland and spent five days in Reykjavik. Just about every day we took a private tour to a volcano, or waterfall, or geyser, or any of the naturally occurring wonders that are spread out over the small island.

  But it was our day snowmobiling on a glacier that stood out the most. On the glacier, all I could see was the sky and white—either snow or ice. It was just King and I—each of us on our own snowmobile, racing around behind the tour guide who stopped here and there to give us some facts or history about the area.

  About a half hour into the trip, we drove around a mountain of ice to an area King had reserved to be set up for us. The pseudo picnic area was simple; just a thick blanket on the snow for us to sit on, with a packed lunch of sushi and water. The tour guide said he had an errand, and would give us time to sit back and take in the awesome panorama of the glacier from this site. It was a breathtaking spot, and I was in wonder at the expanse of nothing but ice and snow.

  We sat on the blanket completely warm, as we were encased in one-piece snowsuits over our winter coats and boots. I had earmuffs under the hood and two pairs of gloves on—surely we both looked like abominable snowmen. But this is an experience of a lifetime and King and I planned to enjoy it without getting cold, so we agreed to throw vanity out of the window for today.

  It was also where King surprised me with a gift.

  “Princess, I know we’re too young to think about forever, but I want to give you something as a constant reminder of how special you are to me. I would be incredibly happy if you would wear this, as a token of my love for you,” he said, as he opened a small box.