The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels

by Christina Benjamin

  “Ronnie . . .” Camille shot him a warning glare. At first she’d been into Ronnie’s playful questions. It was nice to have someone asking everything she wanted to know, but in true Ronnie fashion, he’d gone too far. “You don’t have to answer, Nate. This isn’t an interrogation.”

  “I don’t mind.” Nate’s easy smile said he was speaking the truth.

  He tapped his fingers on his chin. Camille was starting to notice it was something he did when trying to be clever. “Let’s see, my father is Charles Hawthorne, but he goes by Charlie, and he plays a mean guitar. I had the world’s best older brother, Tyler Hawthorne, but he was killed three years ago in a car accident, therefore I don’t drive. You can put that in the quirks column. No crazy ex’s, no kids, I’m straight, and my biggest fear is not living enough.”

  It was silent enough to hear a pin drop in the café. Ronnie was speechless. Camille didn’t think that had ever happened before. He always had a witty comeback or some kind of remark. But he was currently staring at Nate like he was a ghost.

  “Did I pass?” Nate asked eagerly.

  Ronnie snapped out of it, taking Nate’s hand. “I’m sorry about your brother, bebe.”

  “Me too.”

  “Well, those are all good answers, son.” Ronnie patted Nate’s hand. “You have my permission to date Miss Camille LaRue.”

  Ronnie gave Camille a pointed stare and stood up, pushing back from the table. “Be nice to this one, baby cakes. I got a feelin’ ‘bout him.” Then he sashayed to the kitchen leaving Camille and Nate to themselves.

  5

  Nate

  Nate couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited to go to school. He’d pretty much figured he’d be on autopilot at NOAH since he’d already gotten accepted to the Tulane music program pending graduation. Half the appeal of going to NOAH was its Tulane affiliate status. Which basically meant, NOAH students funneled enough tuition money to make acceptance at any college in the state a guarantee. And for what Nate’s mom was paying, NOAH should guarantee a freaking parade along with graduation!

  But that was beside the point. Nate’s main reason for transferring to NOAH was so he could start over. He wanted to stop living in the past and restart his life again. He was also excited about getting to spend some time with his dad while exploring the New Orleans music scene. Or those had been the things he was excited about. Meeting Camille had sort of changed his priorities. Just a few hours together and he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  Last night he’d walked her home from the Sweet Thang’s. She’d offered him a ride back to his house when she found out he lived all the way in the Bywater, but he said he preferred the Streetcar. It wasn’t a total lie. The streetcars were awesome, and a great way to see the city, but truthfully Nate didn’t want to let Camille see where he lived after walking up to her place.

  Camille lived in one of those massive two-story French Quarter homes that took up both corners of a block. It was the color of beach sand with two levels of wrap-around balconies adorned with scrawling pastel green ironwork. Wealth oozed from the place, just like the overflowing flower baskets. Nate only got a glimpse through the street door that led to the interior courtyard, but it was enough to make him second-guess his chances with Camille.

  Wealth and status were never things Nate really focused on. But growing up in the average suburbs of California underprepared him for the social differences he was discovering in New Orleans. A walk through the French Quarter was an exercise in social economics. There were million dollar homes, nestled next to old rundown bodegas, homeless people begged outside restaurants that required jackets for dinner, and talented street artists and musicians peddled their wears for pennies next to galleries and jazz joints that were overflowing with tourist dollars.

  Having just met Camille, Nate wasn’t sure how she’d react to his father’s shabby shotgun home. He didn’t want to kill his chances with her just yet. And to be honest, Nate was also worried about what version of his dad he’d come home to.

  Most nights his dad wasn’t home at all. He tended bar at Vaughan’s and picked up gigs when he could. But two nights ago, Nate arrived home to find his dad passed out drunk on the front porch. He was so tanked he couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door, choosing to vomit and pass out in front of it. Nate spent the rest of the night getting him into bed and cleaning up.

  Nate couldn’t even be mad. He’d seen the way his father stared at him sometimes. Nathan and Tyler were only eleven months apart. They looked so much alike they were often mistaken as twins. It had to be difficult for his dad to suddenly have Nate around, haunting him like the ghost of his lost son. He knew it was hard on his mom. Nate had overheard her talking on the phone to her sister not too long after Ty’s death. She’d said looking at Nate broke her heart, because sometimes she could only see Tyler.

  Nate couldn’t imagine what that was like for her. She must’ve felt like she’d lost both her sons—only seeing the son who died, while trying to see the living son.

  It was different for Nate. He liked that he looked like his brother. It was like always having a piece of Ty with him. It brought Nate comfort and he sought it out at every opportunity. Like now, staring into his locker mirror, Nate examined his reflection seeking out Ty’s resemblance. His eyes were browner than Ty’s. Where Nate’s leaned toward gold, Tyler’s had held a hint of green. And Tyler had a natural crooked smile that always made it look like he was up to something. Nate grinned. His smile was wide, or trustworthy, as Ty always pointed out.

  Nate gave his reflection a wink, channeling the strength he got from seeing even the tiniest hint of Tyler in himself. Nate needed all the bravery he could get, because his goal for today was to spend more time with Camille. He closed his locker to go in search of her. But halfway down the hall, three blondes corralled him.

  Cami

  Camille was about to slam her locker closed when she heard Ashley Dupree’s high-pitched laughter float down the hall. Camille had trained her ears to pick up on Ashley’s specific brand of evil so it could be avoided at all costs. Hiding behind her locker door, Camille watched as Ashley and her clones caged Nathan in. Poor guy. She should’ve warned him about the Ashleys—Ashley Banks, Ashley Calhoune and their ringleader, Ashley Dupree. They were NOAH’s crème de la crème when it came to high school hierarchy. And they could smell hot new boys like blood in the water.

  Camille couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed that she hadn’t seen Nate all day. She’d secretly been hoping she’d have at least one class with him. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was something charming about his forward flirtation and endless smile.

  She watched him introduce himself to the perfect Ashleys as unreasonable jealously flared in her chest. Camille hated that she was wasting her time straining to listen to what the popular blonde girls were saying. But years of childhood teasing couldn’t be erased, even if the Ashleys weren’t mean to her anymore. Well, at least by their standards they weren’t.

  They didn’t pick on Camille for wearing a wig like they had in fifth grade. But now they ignored her completely, which somehow felt worse. Camille already felt like she didn’t belong, but the Ashleys made sure she knew it. And it wasn’t just them. Camille was never invited to hang with the in crowd. She was never invited to hang with any crowd. But then again, ‘cancer friend’ wasn’t exactly a demographic most cliques were looking to fill.

  Camille knew she shouldn’t take it personally. There were plenty other perfectly healthy kids that the Ashleys and the Antes ignored. The Antes was what the cool clique at NOAH called themselves. It was short for Antebellum, because they all lived in the old Antebellum homes of the wealthy garden district, and pretty much preserved the elitist ways of their pre-civil war ancestors.

  The name was appropriate on many levels. It sounded like anti and the Ashleys and their wannabes were pretty much anti-anyone who wasn’t them or threatened them. And normally, Camille would say it was
impossible to infiltrate the Antes. No amount of money or kiss-assery could get you in. You had to be born into it. And we’re talkin like fifth generation born into it. But as Camille watched the Ashleys bat their eyelashes and giggle at Nathan, she felt her stomach drop. Maybe you only had to be the right amount of hot?

  “So, have you met anyone yet?” Ashley Banks was asking.

  “Yeah. I hung out with Camille, yesterday. She’s cool.” Nate said, his token smile glowing.

  All three of the Ashleys let their pretty pink faces sour. “Camille LaRue?” Ashley Calhoune asked.

  Nate nodded. “Yeah. She makes a badass donut.”

  “Listen, Nathan,” Ashley Dupree purred. “You’re new here, so I’m gonna do you a favor. Camille’s not really . . . I don’t even know how to put it. She’s . . .”

  Camille squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t say it. Don’t say I’m the cancer girl.

  “She’s different,” Ashley Banks interjected.

  Nate shrugged. “I’m different, too.”

  Ashley Dupree’s smile dripped saccharine. “No silly, not good-different. She’s weird-different.”

  “Well, whatever she is, sign me up for the fan club, because that girl is awesome.”

  Camille couldn’t help the flush of pride that washed over her. Take that Ashleys! New guy thinks I’m awesome! She was practically glowing. Maybe she should give Nate a chance after all?

  The Ashleys passed a knowing look between each other, trying to suppress their giggles. “Bless your heart,” Ashley Dupree crooned. “Nathan, sweetie. Take our word for it. You can do better.”

  He flashed his giant toothy grin. “I plan to. I’m hoping to get another date with her tonight.” He gave the stunned blondes a double thumps up and turned, making a beeline toward Camille’s locker.

  Shit! Did Nathan really just tell the Ashleys he and Camille went on a date? And there was going to be another one?

  Camille didn’t know whether to cheer or hide. The shock on the Ashleys faces was priceless, but Camille also didn’t need any Ante drama in her life. She was perfectly happy with her invisible status at NOAH. It meant she was safe and could stick to her plan—sixty-five days until graduation. Sixty-five days until freedom.

  Unfortunately for Camille, Nathan didn’t know she preferred to stay invisible. He sidled up to her locker, his grin near blinding. She turned her back, pretending not to see him, but watched his reflection approaching in her locker mirror. She examined the white slice of his smile as it ate up the space between them.

  Suddenly, his warmth surrounded Camille.

  “Hello,” he greeted as he dipped his head into her hair, inhaling deeply.

  “Hey!” she whirled around, scanning the hall to see if anyone was watching them. They weren’t. “No more hair smelling!” she hissed.

  Nate grinned with only half his mouth. “But it’s silver today.”

  “So?”

  “So, I haven’t smelled silver hair.”

  Camille sighed, making a mental note to wear only purple or silver wigs for the next few days until she could shake Nathan and his strange hair-sniffing habits.

  “Can we go get more donuts?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “From that place you work at. That chocolate bacon Cap’n Crunch one was seriously like the best thing I’ve ever had in my life! I must have another one.”

  Camille glowed at the praise since that specific donut was on of her own creations. She tamed her pride long enough to give him a tired look. “They’re just donuts, Nate.”

  He looked appalled. “How dare you speak ill of my new favorite dessert.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do they not have donuts in California, or are you just this ridiculous about all normal things?”

  He smirked. “The latter.”

  Nate was keeping pace with Camille as she walked down the hall trying to escape him. This time she waited until she was outside the building and far away from any stairs when she came to an abrupt stop. “Look, Nate, we’re not friends. You should really listen to the Ashleys and find someone like them to flatter.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “The Barbie clones? No thanks. By the way, are they really all named Ashley, or did they have to change their names as part of initiation or something?”

  Camille snorted a laugh. “No, they’re actually all Ashleys. I think their parents must’ve read Gone With the Wind one too many times.”

  It was Nate’s turn to laugh. Camille liked the sound of it. It was deep and rumbled through her. “You were just kidding about the friend thing, right?” he asked.

  She gave her best ‘sorry’ face and shrugged, but it just made Nate smile more. What the hell was wrong with this guy?

  “I see what’s going on here,” he retorted.

  “You do?” Cami certainly didn’t.

  He gave her a crooked boy smile. “You’re trying to tell me we’re more than friends.”

  “What? No! I—”

  “Shhhh . . .” Nate put a finger to her lips, silencing Camille immediately. A boy had never touched her lips before. “I mean I knew you’d fall for me. But I have to say this is much faster than I’d even hoped for.”

  “I’m not falling for you,” she grumbled.

  “It’s okay. We can play the game. So how ‘bout those donuts?”

  Camille made a growling sound in the back of her throat. It was all starting to make sense. Nathan Hawthorne was insane. Cute, but insane. Why else would he be hitting on her? She didn’t have the energy to waste arguing with him, and decided there wasn’t much else she could do but wait for the next shiny object to catch his eye.

  “Sorry, Nate. No donuts today.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “I’m not working.”

  “Even better! So whatcha wanna do?”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Camille! Are you inviting me over? I like you, but this is so sudden,” he teased.

  She rolled her eyes at his mocking tone, honestly wondering where he got his energy from. Maybe all he ate was sugar? It would explain the donut obsession, which he was still droning on about.

  “Maybe we could stop and get some donuts on the way to your house?”

  “Nate! Enough with the donuts.”

  “But they were legitimately the best donuts I’ve ever had! Is New Orleans famous for them? Because if not, they absolutely should be.”

  Camille cocked her head at him. “You really thought they were that good?”

  “My mom’s a health freak. I don’t get a lot of sweets. Or at least I didn’t. I’m sorta on my own now at my dad’s. It’s overwhelming. There’s so many choices when it comes to what to eat.”

  But Nate looked more excited than overwhelmed. Camille’s heart softened a bit. She knew what it was like living on a strict health food diet. Sometimes she craved sugar like it was a drug. For that reason she kept a secret stash of PEZ in her backpack at all times.

  “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stop for one teeny, tiny donut? I don’t want you getting the sugar shakes again,” he teased.

  Camille grinned. “I think I know a place you’ll like even better than Sweet Thang’s.”

  6

  Nate

  Nate followed Camille to a small café on Royal Street. It had a green and white striped awning and the words Café Beignet spelled out in tiny black and white tiles on the checkered floor.

  “What is this place?” Nate asked as they walked inside.

  “Only my favorite place in the French Quarter.”

  Nate could see why. It was like he’d walked into a dreamscape. The low ceiling was curved and narrow like the inside of a school bus. Someone had painted it to resemble a blue sky, complete with fluffy white clouds and tropical palm fronds. The white bistro dining sets and sparkling chandeliers made him think of Paris. At least, how he imagined Paris.

  He followed Camille to the counter, listening carefully to the hint of French accent flavoring her voice as she
ordered beignets and two café au laits. They snagged a table in the outdoor courtyard, listening to a charm of finches sing in the trees overhead.

  “So this is your place, huh?” Nate asked.

  “Kinda. I like to come here and just escape. Especially when I need a sugar fix,” she said, dumping six packets of sugar into her coffee and stirring.

  “I knew you were a sugar fiend like me.”

  She laughed. “You have no idea. But my mom won’t even let it in the house.”

  “I bet I do. My mom’s a PNS.”

  “Yikes! That is rough. Were you allowed to eat anything she didn’t grow herself?”

  Nate’s brows knitted together. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who I didn’t have to explain PNS to.”

  Camille flushed. “I was kinda interested in it for a while.”

  “I don’t think you can be a sugar freak and a doctor who specializes in diets that prevent illness,” Nate added.

  “Yeah, I sorta figured that out. But my mother still makes my father and I eat like we’re training for a triathlon.”

  Nate took a sip of his coffee. It was strong and had a bit of tree bark bite. He tried not to make a face, but Camille’s smirk told him he didn’t succeed.

  “It’s the chicory. It takes a bit to get used to,” she added. “But once you do, you’ll never go back to regular old coffee.”

  Truthfully, Nate wasn’t much of a coffee guy. He had enough energy as it was. Plus, with his addiction to all things sugary, he didn’t need the extra high. But he did enjoy wrapping his long fingers around the foam cup. There was a chill in the swampy air even though it was almost April. He wasn’t used to the humidity, yet. It made everything feel clingy and heavy. He was about to ask Camille if she was cold when a waiter arrived carrying two plates of powered pastries.