The story follows first-year college student Kichi, who finds herself rapidly drowning in the girl she had come to like. And Yuli, who fell in love with Kichi at first sight.


Author's note

"A GIRL LIKE YOU" is a girl-love-girl story.


4. 04


*. . .UNEDITED...*




“Thank you once more for contacting me last night. It’s scary to think she does it often, fall asleep while travel alone,” Kichi’s father, Ian said.

It was sometime around nine o’clock the next morning. Unable to help myself, I ended up visiting Kichi home earlier than planned. Even though I had no reason to feel so, I got anxious, after I was separated from her last night at the train station. Sleep was near impossible, too. Even after my shower, I could still smell Kichi’s scent wrapping me like a gentle warmth.

“You haven’t eaten yet, I hope,” Ian said, breaking my train of thought.

Eat? Normally, if I didn’t have work—I’d never wake this early let along have breakfast.


“Good. I just finished breakfast.”

“Smells delicious.”

“My daughter does breakfast most times. I do wake early though, head downstairs to bake,” Ian explained his morning routine.

Sitting around the Hyde’s dinner table while engaging in a conversation, my thoughts drifted briefly to the orphanage I grew up, and the hectic, but joyful mornings Milana and staff members endured during breakfast—as they attempted to settle everybody.

Honestly, when was the last time I had a homemade meal.  Somehow, I felt jealous.

“Kichi commutes from here to college?” I asked, watching him.

“Yes. Since it’s the same town and travelling is not difficult. It also means she gets to keep an eye on me even though I am a capable man. Naturally, my daughter is a worry wart, but I guess it cannot be helped, after losing one parent.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. No. It wasn’t that I didn’t know . . . it was more like I knew nothing would change even if I said something, and I loathed this type of talk. Depressing talks.

His mushrooms, bell peppers, and jalapenos egg white omelette served with fresh cilantro sprinkled on top with tomato salsa and raisin bread on the side, was absolute perfection. After one bite, I couldn’t stop eating.

“This really is good!” my taste buds exploded with each bite.

“Thanks. Baking and omelette are my specialities. I am surprised Kichi is still asleep and you’re in town,” Ian said to me after swallowing a bite of his food.

I chuckled, embraced such small words had the power to flutter my heart.

“She is tired.”

“I am sure. She often overdoes things. I am thankful for her help, but she needs a different pace. I don’t want Kichi to think my passion should be hers too, so I was happy she went for the interview yesterday.”

When Ian at glanced at me, I looked away immediately. My gaze fell on freshly baked goods on the table between us. Kichi’s father did not make me nervous, but I worried Ian could see the desire I held for his daughter.

“She always watches you on TV,” Ian continued. “So, I know it’s a big deal for her, meeting you.”

“Is that so?”

I shifted anxiously. I could sense something, a question perhaps, burning at the back of Ian’s throat. I stared hard at the middle-aged, coloured skin man with notable wrinkles under his eyes and brown low-cut hair and a beard.

What was it? What do you want to say?

“You are popular. Celebrities like you, especially so young, usually fall under pressure and give into negativity that comes with fame—to the point where fans begin to follow. I don’t want that for, Kichi.”

I set my fork aside and looked at him properly. “I am sorry, Kichi doesn’t strike me as a follower.”

“Perhaps. But I think, based on what I saw last night at the station . . .”

My flesh turned hot.

Why was my heart beating so fast suddenly?

“I don’t know the nature of your relationship with my daughter; from the way, she clung to you last night . . . not wanting you to leave her side—is rare. Because of the way she is Kichi has been selective when it comes to letting people close. It’s her way of protecting herself.”

Because of the way, she is . . .

“You know?” I asked him without batting an eye.

“That my daughter like girls?”

Ian grinned, apparently amused, or was it embarrassment? He scratched his hair.

“I raised her, after all.”


“Excuse me for saying, but . . . I know parents who crumble to shame and devastation when they find out their child fancy a partner of the same sex . . . hence I find your acceptance of Kichi lifestyle very uncanny.”

“You’re rather straightforward.” Ian’s gaze fell. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Honestly, I had a feeling she goodly turns out this way. Guess you could say I had time to prepare myself.”

I observed Ian closely. No. He was most definitely not. Her mother, perhaps? Kichi will have to explain this to me.

“You accept her as is?”

“Don’t I have to?”

“No,” I answered.

“The world will criticise and hate her enough, and it’s hard for any father to hate their child. I agree, I’d rather she have a boyfriend but that’s not going to happen.”

Does she know you know?”

Ian laughed, amused. “She’d be mortified if she did.”

“Why do you tell me?”

“Why, indeed.”

I was about to say something when I was interrupted by a bell ringing from downstairs.

Ian looked towards the direction the sound came from. “Where is that girl?”


“I have part-timer, but she does everything except work most times. She should’ve been here by now.” He looked at his watch when the bell rang again. “I have to go downstairs.”

“Thank you for the meal,” I gratefully, and bowed.

“You’re welcome. Do something for me, will you?”

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