Love Me Like I Love You

by Willow Winters

  I stiffen. What the hell?

  Blue eyes meet mine, and the sadness in the depths acts like a fist clenching the center of my chest. “What is it?” I demand.

  “Dallas walked in, and he’s talkin’ with Kendall and the new girl.”

  “O-kay,” I draw out the word slowly. I’m not sure why this is such big news. I mean, sure, our classmate Kendall and the new girl—Charlotte, I think?—are both pretty, but I feel like I’m missing something here.

  Her troubled eyes act like tractor beams to mine. I can’t look away. “Right now, Dallas is lookin’ at her like that.”

  I’m lost. “At who? Like what?”

  She heaves out a breath, and her eyes flick back over my shoulder. “At Kendall. Like…” She swallows hard, releasing my arm, and leans back in the booth. Her shoulders slump. “Like he’s lookin’ at the most amazin’ girl he’s ever met.” Our eyes lock. “He’s never looked at me like that.”

  I turn slowly to see for myself. Surely, she’s just exaggerating. I mean, she’s never been one to do that before, but this is her first real boyfriend, so she—

  As soon as my gaze finds them, my stomach twists. Because she’s right. Dallas’ expression is different.

  Kendall waves to someone a few feet away and leaves Dallas and Charlotte. He must feel the weight of my eyes on him because he turns his head slightly and catches sight of me. He nods with an easy smile, his eyes quickly finding Magnolia, and that smile widens affectionately. And I realize something.

  He’s clueless.

  I turn back to face Magnolia, who appears queasy.

  “Hey.” I slide a hand across the table, palm upturned, and she limply places hers in it. “Dallas adores you. That’s what I do know.” After a moment, I admit softly, “But I see it, too.” I give her hand a quick squeeze before releasing it.

  She twists her lips and nods. “I shouldn’t be upset because I don’t feel that with him. But seein’ it with my own eyes?” She shakes her head, a sad uptick of her mouth. “It stings a little.”

  “I can tell you one thing for certain.”

  Her eyes flick past me, and she straightens so I know Dallas is approaching our booth. “What’s that?”

  “Dallas doesn’t realize it.”

  I barely finish before her boyfriend sidles up at the end of our table. With an easiness only a guy who’s been dating a girl can have, he dips his head to press a light kiss to her lips. Then he straightens and gestures to the girl a few steps away.

  “This is Charlotte. She just transferred here from Birmingham.”

  The new girl smiles shyly and steps forward, waving at Magnolia and me. “Hi.” Magnolia and I introduce ourselves.

  “I used to go to Collier.” I offer up my old elementary school in Birmingham. God knows, it sucks being the new kid, and I can’t stomach the idea of her feeling more uncomfortable.

  Her smile is a bright reward. “I went there for a while, too.”

  I suddenly realize I’m being rude and shove over in the booth seat, gesturing for her to join me. She hesitates visibly, her eyes darting over to Magnolia. Just then, my best friend slides over, and Dallas drops down beside her.

  Charlotte gingerly slips into the spot next to me, and it’s only now that I realize how intimate this is. How my larger, more muscular frame takes up more than my allotted space compared to her petite one.

  Dallas and Magnolia are caught up in their own conversation, so I take advantage of it to study Charlotte. The light brown color of her hair reminds me of caramel, and her eyes nearly match it. Her smile is shy, and she practically radiates sweetness.

  “How are you likin’ it here so far?”

  She winces. “We’ve moved around some for my dad’s job, and it can be hard, but here…it’s different.” She lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Just hard to adjust sometimes.”

  Her eyes survey me, before she leans in closer to whisper conspiratorially, “I feel like this place is like The Hunger Games, but between the kids with money and those without.”

  She catches me by surprise, and I tip my head back on a laugh. Her mouth spreads into a wide grin, brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

  I lower my voice. “You’re in good company then. Because I’m basically the male version of Katniss.”

  “That so?” The corners of her eyes crinkle even more when her smile widens.

  Damn, she’s cute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?”

  Dallas’ voice interrupts, drawing my attention from Charlotte. He slides out from the booth. His eyes flick to Magnolia before returning to me. “I know this is y’all’s night, but—”

  “No worries,” I interrupt. “Have fun.”

  Magnolia looks like she wants to protest, hesitating so slightly I doubt anyone else notices but me. Finally, she accepts his outstretched hand and slides out.

  “Bye.” Magnolia waves before Dallas tugs their joined hands, and they make their way out of the diner.

  “So,” Charlotte starts.

  “So,” I parrot back with a grin.

  “You and Magnolia are…?”

  “Best friends.”

  She seems to mull that over for a beat. “Huh.” Then she tips her head to the side. “Nothing more?”

  I shake my head while I’m simultaneously bombarded with the taunting echoed voices of Mrs. Barton and my own mom. You’re not good enough for her! You’re trash!

  I inwardly shake them off.

  “No, ma’am.”

  She props her chin in her hand and eyes me. “Girlfriend?”

  Another shake of my head. “Not anymore.”

  One eyebrow arches in surprise. “Bad breakup?”

  “No,” I say with a little laugh. “We were never serious. Decided it’s better to cool things off since we’re headed in opposite directions after graduation.”

  “What’re your plans?”

  I lean back against part of the booth and window to angle myself to see her better. “I put in an early decision application with Auburn.”

  “Auburn’s one of my first choices.”

  “Cool.” We watch each other in silent appraisal. “So, tell me about Charlotte. What’s she like?”

  She ducks her chin slightly as if embarrassed and shrugs. “Not much to tell. My family doesn’t come from money, I’m not super girly, and I love cars.”

  A surprised half-laugh rushes out of me. “I think I just fell in love with you.”

  Charlotte snickers, and a faint blush spreads across her cheeks. “Whatever.”

  I stretch my long leg and nudge her flip-flop with mine. “You love cars, huh?”

  She perks up, and the light in her eyes shows me that this is a passion of hers. “My dad restores cars in his spare time. He taught me everything I know.”

  I cock my head in interest. “So if I told you I just finished replacin’ the carburetor and am workin’ on replacin’ the bumpers on my truck, you’d say…”

  Unmistakable interest flashes in her eyes. “I’d ask if you’d be so kind as to let me look at it.”

  I turn in my seat and point out the window toward the parking lot. “See that third light post? There on the left? The blue truck parked underneath is mine.”

  Her face lights up while her eyes survey my truck. “A Chevy Silverado, huh?” Her gaze flicks to me. “V8? Four-wheel drive?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her attention moves back to my truck. “Hard to tell for sure from here, but the body looks good.”

  “Wanna see under the hood?”

  The way her eyes light up, you’d think I just told her she held the winning lottery ticket. “Could I?”

  I nod and pull out my wallet, leaving enough cash to cover both Magnolia’s and my food along with the tip. Even though she’s dating Dallas, I still insist on paying when she’s with me. It’s tough to change a habit like that.

  Charlotte slides out and stands, waiting for me. When I guide h
er out of the diner with my hand hovering at the base of her spine yet not touching, deep down it feels like I’m embarking on something new. Important. Exciting and a little intimidating.

  Still, there’s a small part of me that wishes Magnolia were here by my side.

  Hollis

  SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

  February

  “Tell me again why you dragged me here?”

  I slump into one of the cushy chairs arranged in a small semicircle a few feet away from the dressing rooms.

  “Because I know you’ll be honest with me. If I end up lookin’ like an old hag, you’ll let me know.” Magnolia’s voice carries from one of the changing rooms where she’s trying on her prom dress now that the seamstress adjusted a few things.

  I admit, I thought about the fact that my mom does that kind of work, but… Yeah. That wasn’t happening. Not in a million years.

  I stretch out my legs and cross them at the ankle. The young girl working here at the dress shop catches my eye and flashes me a flirty smile. I offer a polite one because even though I’m not interested, I’m not trying to be an ass.

  Charlotte Benson and I have been… Well, I don’t actually know what we’ve been doing. We decided not to label it right now, trying to be realistic with each of us heading off to college. But the past few months have been great.

  She’s smart, funny, doesn’t get jealous of the fact that Magnolia’s my best friend, is never demanding when it comes to my time and my job at the country club, and comes over and helps me work on the truck. She even had me bring it over to her place and got her dad to look at it.

  He showed me the Chevelle he’d restored and went over the body work he’d done. Mr. Benson gave me a few tips, and then he and his wife insisted I stay for dinner. It was one of the best nights I’d had in a while, especially with my dad working so much and me trying to stay out of my mom’s hair. Not to mention, it was the first time anyone had invited me over for dinner without it being a pity offer—like the time Mrs. Barton invited me over a few years back.

  The Bensons are a good bunch, down to earth, and welcoming. It’s probably from moving around for Mr. Benson’s job as a high-level business consultant of some sort and trying to fit in every time.

  Charlotte told me he has to wear a suit to work, but you’d never know it when he’s at home. Every time I’ve been over, he’s been in a pair of khakis, a polo shirt, and a nice pair of flip-flops. Totally laid-back.

  They invited me over for Thanksgiving and Christmas—after Dad and I had our own low-key meal, of course. Mom’s even more distant, and I’m pretty certain Dad’s sleeping on the couch these days.

  I discovered that when Charlotte and I got a little carried away with our make-out session one night. I came home well after curfew, and Dad was already snoring up a storm. I crept past him sprawled on the couch beneath the throw blanket.

  After that, I started paying attention to the blanket normally folded and draped over the back of the couch. Every morning, I’d get up for school, and that thing was in a different spot.

  When he began leaving his bed pillow on one end of the couch, that confirmed my suspicions. I wish I could help him somehow, but I’ve never understood their relationship or how a man could put up with someone like her.

  It makes me even more grateful for Charlotte and her family. They’ve shown me what it could be like to be around welcoming and kind people. Even though Charlotte and I haven’t mentioned the “L” word or anything, I’ve had random thoughts about what it would be like if we stayed together through college and got married. About holidays with the four of us together. How awesome that would be.

  A jaw-breaking yawn hits me the instant Magnolia walks out of the dressing room in her prom dress, and I try to stifle it. I pulled a shift after school at the country club and headed straight over to spend the rest of my Friday night with Charlotte.

  “What’d y’all do last night? Late night movie marathon or somethin’?” she asks, catching me mid-yawn.

  I snap my mouth shut because Charlotte and I were definitely not paying attention to the movie playing on TV last night. A satisfied smirk tugs at my lips as a flashback hits me.

  We’d been more daring than usual, but only because Mr. Benson went out of town for work and Mrs. Benson sleeps like the dead. Charlotte and I had experimented, showing each other what feels good, and I learned a lot about how to make a girl orgasm.

  “Oh.” Magnolia’s single response, spoken with an odd heaviness, jerks me from my inner thoughts. She clears her throat and can’t seem to look me in the eye. “Well, what do you think?”

  I internally shake off my train of thought and blink, focusing on my best friend. “Whoa.” My eyes go wide. “You look…” I trail off because I’m not sure what to say.

  She glances down at herself, and it’s plain to see the uncertainty written on her face. I shoot to my feet and draw to a stop when I’m only a few feet away.

  “You’re beautiful, Shortcake.”

  It’s the God’s honest truth. Dallas will be knocked stupid when he sees her in this dress. It’s blue, strapless, has lace above the waist, and the rest of it has satiny folds. The color matches her eyes, and she looks like a princess.

  Blue eyes meet mine with hesitation. “Really?”

  I nod slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  With a weak smile, she glances down at herself, and I hate the doubt I see. I take her by the shoulders and gently turn her to face the mirrored wall. Standing at her back, my palms rest on her bare shoulders, and I lower my head to her ear and speak softly.

  “You look beautiful, and Dallas won’t know what hit him.”

  The tension in her features eases a little. “You sure it doesn’t make me look—”

  I cut her a sharp look. “Don’t even mention that,” I practically growl.

  Her mother’s been on a kick about Magnolia’s weight, and it pisses me the hell off. She wants Magnolia to be the spitting image of herself, and it’s never going to happen.

  Magnolia clearly got most of her genes from her dad, and she’s grown a little curvier lately. Not fat or unhealthy, but even so, her mom’s response to it has been to lecture Magnolia about her eating and tell her she should cut back.

  “You sure?” Her expression reflects uncertainty, and I hate it.

  “As sure as I know there’ll always be a redneck with a gun rack and the Confederate flag flyin’ from the back of his truck.”

  This gets a little laugh out of her, and the tenseness eases a fraction.

  “Remember what Shakespeare wrote, Shortcake.” I silently will her to believe my words. “About beauty bein’ in the imperfections.”

  She slowly nods before whispering back, “Thanks, Hollis.”

  “Anytime.” I move to drop my hands from her shoulders, but she stops me, placing hers over mine. Our eyes lock in the mirror, mine silently questioning.

  “Will you save a dance for me?” Her question is so faint that I have to strain to hear her.

  “Of course.”

  She smiles back as her hands release mine, and I step away.

  While I wait for her to change back into her clothes, a text comes in from Charlotte.

  Charlotte: Hey, handsome. Last night was amazing. Hope you’re not too tired today. Let me know if you want me to bring you food for your lunch break later. Mom’s making red beans and rice and her famous cornbread.

  My stomach growls in response to her text. Good Lord, Mrs. Benson’s cornbread is so good I could easily eat my weight in it. Just as I start to text back a yes, please, she sends another text.

  Charlotte: P.S. I’m still smiling like a weirdo today. And tingling. Because of you last night.

  Shit. Every molecule of my body ignites, thinking about last night. Damn. This girl’s addictive.

  “Everythin’ okay?”

  I jump in surprise at Magnolia’s question, lose my grip on my phone, and end up juggling it to keep it from crashing to the floor. I
finally manage to clutch at it clumsily.

  My best friend eyes me like I’m one of the odd folks who jump the barricades during a Mardi Gras parade and risk getting run over by the floats just to nab beads or a moon pie. Then her eyes narrow on me.

  “You look guilty.” Her gaze darts to the phone in my hand. “What’s goin’ on?”

  I do my best to act nonchalant. “Nothin’. Just a text from Charlotte.” I shove the phone in my back pocket and hurriedly say, “All set?”

  She nods quickly, raising one hand that holds the hanger of the garment bag. “All set.”

  Once we’re in my truck and heading back to her house, she says, “Y’all seem to be doin’ well.” Her overly casual tone makes me uneasy for some reason.

  “We’re good. Just takin’ it day by day.” Aside from last night, that is. One edge of my lips tugs upward at the reminder.

  “Are you still a virgin?”

  If I hadn’t already slowed to a stop at the four-way intersection, I’d have slammed on the brakes hard enough to give us whiplash. Making sure there aren’t any cars behind me, I whip my head around to stare at her.

  “What?”

  She’s as cool as a cucumber, sitting in the passenger seat like she didn’t just blurt out a question like that.

  “Are you still a virgin?”

  Magnolia and I talk about anything and everything—that much is true—but ever since Dallas came into the picture and then Charlotte, things have shifted a bit. Which is why I’m caught off guard by her sudden interest in my sexual status.

  I study her for a moment before I answer quietly. “Yes.” My voice seems to echo within the truck cab. When she doesn’t react or respond, I stare. “Are you askin’ for a reason?”

  “No.” Her tone is defensive. “I just wondered.”

  I force a laugh, trying to inflect humor to detract from the awkwardness I’m feeling. “You’re suddenly wonderin’ whether I’ve had sex or not?”

  She lets out an exasperated sound. “I was just askin’. Don’t be gettin’ a bee in your bonnet, Hollis Barnes.”

  I grin, shaking my head at her, and continue driving. When she makes no move to say more, I prompt, “Well, go on. You can’t just ask me if I’m a virgin and not offer up your own status.”