Boys Like You

by Juliana Stone

  I was also really surprised at how small and soft her hand was. She didn’t have those fake four-inch things that Rachel and a lot of her girlfriends had. Shit, you could poke a guy’s eyes out if you weren’t careful. And I didn’t want to think about how many times I’d had to listen to Rachel and her friends bitch about breaking one of them.

  In the grand scheme of things, I didn’t care about something as stupid as fake nails, and I was willing to bet most of my buddies didn’t either.

  But her hand didn’t stay in mine for long, and by the time we reached the entrance, I reluctantly gave in to her gentle tugs and released her.

  She followed me to the elevators, and I punched the fifth floor as if I had every right to. As if I’d done it a thousand times before, when I’d only been up there once and that had been a disaster.

  Monroe didn’t say anything, she just followed me inside the elevator, and I wished her hand was still in mine because honestly, the urge to bolt was bad.

  I thought of Rachel and how she had refused to come with me that first time, three months ago. She’d pulled out the big guns, had cried until her mascara made raccoon tracks down her cheeks, and she’d managed to make me feel worse than I already did. So I went without her, and it had turned out pretty much the way she thought it would.

  It had sucked. If she knew I was here now, I’m sure she’d hit me in the shoulder and call me a loser.

  But she wasn’t. I glanced down at my empty hand, and I was still staring down when the elevator doors slid open.

  The first thing I saw was the nurse’s station. The second? Taylor’s fierce scowl and her wild, blond hair.

  “Who the hell is that?” she pointed at Monroe.

  “You don’t need to be such a bitch, Taylor. This is Monroe. She’s just a…a friend.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “So she’s your ride?” I knew she was thinking about Rachel, and judging by the nasty look she gave Monroe, she thought there was a whole lot more going on between us.

  “Yeah,” I answered, a little pissed at her attitude. “What else would she be?”

  Monroe muttered something under her breath, and I guess I was glad I didn’t hear it, because I had the feeling it wasn’t nice. “I’ll be waiting over there,” she pointed toward a tired-looking lounge just past the nurse’s station. “You know, when you need your ride home.”

  Shit. She was pissed too. Seemed as if I was on a roll.

  “Monroe,” I said softly.

  “Forget it, Nathan. Go and do whatever it is you need to do, but I’m not sticking around all night.”

  I watched her cross over to the lounge. Watched her sit on the sofa, a faded brown one that looked like it was leather but I knew was cold, slippery vinyl. She ignored me, grabbed a magazine, and turned the other way, making me feel like an even bigger shit.

  “Are you coming?” Taylor grabbed my arm. “They’ll be back soon, and if you get caught, my ass will be toast, and I don’t even want to know what he’ll do to yours.”

  Taylor led me down the hall even though she didn’t need to. I remembered the way. I saw it in my nightmares.

  He was still in the same room, and as we walked by the nurse’s station, Taylor waved to them, which was a good thing, because I was pretty sure they wouldn’t let me in on my own.

  When we reached 514, Taylor paused and shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. She looked tired, and the heavy black crap she put around her eyes didn’t do much to help. A year younger than Trevor and I, she was like a kid sister to me.

  “I’ll let you,” she mumbled and glanced down the hall before clearing her throat, “have some time.”

  I followed her gaze and caught Monroe looking our way. She stared at me for a few seconds and then flicked open her magazine again and disappeared behind it.

  “Taylor, thanks.”

  When she looked back to me, her brown eyes were filled with tears, and something inside me broke. I did this to her. I thought of her family. I did this to all of them.

  “You don’t have long. They went for dinner at the Warehouse, and their reservation was for seven.” She cleared her throat. “It’s seven-thirty now, so that gives you about an hour before Mom and Dad will be back, ’cuz you know, we live at the freaking hospital now, so…”

  “Thanks,” I said quietly.

  She didn’t say anything. She just turned and leaned against the wall, her raccoon eyes closed, her breathing heavy.

  The door slid open and I slipped inside, exhaling through my mouth because I hated the smell so much. The sick, stale, antiseptic smell that Trevor and his family lived with every single damn day.

  The lights were low, and I turned toward the bed. Toward the machines and tubes and IV. Toward the big gray one that forced air into Trevor’s lungs and then sucked it back out. The one that allowed him to breathe. The one that allowed him to live.

  I swallowed hard and stared at the machine that allowed Trevor to exist in some weird, in-between place. I wondered if he knew I was there. Was he hanging out, levitating below the ceiling, staring down at the idiot who had put him here?

  Carefully I made my way over to him, one foot in front of the other as if I was creeping across the foyer in my house after a night of partying.

  It was stupid, really. What was I afraid of? That Trevor would wake up? No, that’s what we all wanted. It was the stuff that came after that had me tied up in knots.

  What if he told me to go screw myself and never come back? What if he told me that he hated me?

  Or even worse, what if he woke up and couldn’t say the things I knew were inside his head?

  I paused at the edge of his bed. I took a moment to just look down at my best friend, and what I saw made my gut churn. It churned so badly that for a second I thought I was going to be sick, and it took everything I had to push the nausea away.

  He’d lost a lot of weight and his hair was still shaved from when they’d cut into his skull to relieve the pressure because his brain had swelled a few days after the accident.

  Funny thing was? Take away the tubes and shit and he kinda looked badass.

  “Jesus, Trevor,” I whispered.

  A shiver rolled over me, and I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to find some heat. “Dude, you gotta wake up.”

  I leaned forward and touched his hand. It was cold, his skin almost papery and too soft for a guy. Even the colors in his wristband tattoo seemed faded and lost. The one on his shoulder? The tattoo that matched mine? I couldn’t look at it.

  Courage. Protection. That’s the Celtic meaning behind the ink and obviously it was all a bunch of crap.

  I stared down at my best friend and I wanted to cry like a baby. If he was here right now—really here—he’d headlock me, knock me on the chin, and call me a pussy. He’d say something stupid like, “It’s better to live fast and die young, asshole.”

  “I wish it had been me,” I whispered hoarsely, wiping at my eyes angrily as I stood back and shoved my hands into my pockets.

  I’m not sure how long I stood there like a stalker, just staring down at him, but I was surprised when Taylor yanked on my arm. Hard.

  “Hey,” I snapped, but my voice died when I caught sight of her eyes.

  “You gotta get out of here. Mom texted from the lobby and they’re on their way. Someone screwed up their reservations and they got sick of waiting, so they grabbed pizza or something.” Taylor was frantic, and I knew how much of a line she’d crossed by letting me in to see her brother. “You gotta go, like, yesterday, Nate. I’m serious. I don’t know what Dad will do if…”

  “Shit.” I glanced back at Trevor and then followed Taylor out of the room.

  “Take the stairs, Nathan.”

  “I can’t leave without Monroe.” I paused near the nurse’s station, trying to get Monroe’s attention, but her head w
as still buried in her magazine.

  “Oh my God, Nate. Forget about her. I’ll tell her you had to leave and you can hook up with her later.” She pushed me toward the stairs. “My dad will kill—”

  “Nathan Everets.”

  I stared into Taylor’s eyes, feeling the world slide away at the sound of her father’s voice.

  “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, her eyes huge with worry as she glanced behind me at her parents.

  You know that moment when your world is about to implode? That moment where you have to face a truth so hard you know it will knock you on your ass and you feel sick inside?

  Yeah, I’m there right now, and as I turned back, it was all I could do to meet Mike Lewis’s eyes. He used to like me. A lot. Hell, I spent more time at the Lewis place than my own, because Mike loved music as much as me and Trevor did, and he let us play as long and as loud as we wanted to.

  Or I had. Past tense.

  God, everything was so screwed up.

  Trevor’s dad is built like a Mack truck. He’s six foot six with broad shoulders and arms that are covered in tattoos. His thick neck and square jaw are intimidating, but then so are the shaved head and bulging biceps.

  A sob sounded just behind him and I felt sick all over again at the sad, forlorn look in Trevor’s mom’s eyes. Brenda Lewis was about the same age as my mom, but she looked at least ten years older now.

  I guess not knowing if your kid is going to live will do that to you.

  “I told you never to show your face here again,” Mike said slowly, carefully, as if he was talking to an idiot. Which I guess he was.

  He took a step toward me, and every muscle in my body ached with tension. My hands clenched and my chest tightened, and for one crazy second, I wished he would just throw a punch. Just one, because I needed to hurt more than I already did.

  “Dad, leave him alone. He just wanted to see Trevor.” Taylor tried to play nice, but her father wasn’t having any of it. His eyes narrowed as they left me and moved to his daughter.

  “You stay out of this. I’ll deal with you at home.” Mike’s anger was so thick and strong, I swear you could see it in the air.

  And I was choking on it. God, was I choking on it.

  “Sir,” I began, desperate to help, to do something, anything to defuse the situation. “This isn’t Taylor’s fault.”

  “I know,” he said slowly, the veins in his neck corded and sticking out like something bad was filling them up. Hatred, most likely.

  “This is your fault, Nathan. All of it.” He pointed down the hall. “The fact that my boy is in there, lying in a coma, fighting for his life, that’s on you.” He sucked in a huge breath like he was about to dive underwater. “The fact that they had to cut into his skull so he didn’t die, that is on you.”

  “Mike,” Brenda said softly.

  I was aware that everyone was watching. The nurses. The patients. The doctors. The man in his bright pink pajamas over by the elevators. It seemed as if everyone had stopped doing whatever it was they’d been doing and all eyes were on me.

  “I’m not going to tear him apart, honey,” Mike replied. “Even though I want to. But I’m telling you this now, man-to-man. I don’t want to ever see you here again, got that? You nearly killed my son, and as far as I’m concerned, your ass should be in jail. We all know the only reason you’re not riding a bench in juvie is because your daddy’s got the mayor’s ear and your uncle is an auxiliary officer in the sheriff’s department.”

  “Sir…if I could trade places with Trevor, I would.” The words tumbled from my mouth and I stepped forward.

  He shook his head—a warning—and I stopped.

  “I trusted you, Nathan. You were the responsible one, and maybe I was wrong to do that, but…I did, and I can’t have you here right now because I can’t control the anger I feel. Trevor’s fighting for his life because of you.”

  His words ripped into me like a knife through bone. Every single one of them hurt.

  Mike slipped his hands around his wife and hugged her, motioning for Taylor to join them. “Maybe I’m wrong to put this all on you but I can’t help it. It’s the way I feel and as much as the sight of you makes me sick.” His voice was hoarse and he pointed down the hall. “What you saw in there? My son hooked up to a bunch of machines and tubes? That isn’t something I’d wish on anyone, not even if they deserved it.”

  Mr. Lewis turned away from me, but he paused before heading back to Trevor’s room. “I’m going to let this one slide, but if I see you up here again, I won’t be so accommodating.”

  Taylor joined her parents, and I watched until they disappeared into Trevor’s room. Suddenly my insides twisted so much that I bent over, hands on my knees, eyes closed. If I didn’t get my shit together, I was going to be sick or I was gonna pass out.

  A minute passed. Maybe more. And when I finally opened my eyes again, I saw mint-green toes.

  “Okay, you win.”

  Slowly I straightened, my stomach recoiling but strong enough that I knew I wasn’t going to puke. “Yeah?”

  Monroe nodded and grabbed my hand, forcing me toward the elevators.

  “Yep,” she said as she pressed the lobby button. “You’re officially the most pathetic person I know.”

  “Great. Thanks for that,” I retorted sarcastically. Who the heck was she to talk like she knew what I was going through? As if she knew what it felt like to nearly die from regret and remorse and guilt?

  “Just so you know, all it takes is one mistake to claim the crown, so watch out,” I snapped.

  The doors slid open and we stepped inside. Once they were closed, Monroe glanced up at me, her eyes huge and glassy. Her chest rose and fell, her lips were parted, and I smelled that summer scent again.

  She held my gaze until the elevator doors slid open again and then she whispered, so softly that I barely heard, “At least your mistake is still alive.”

  Chapter Nine

  Monroe

  I couldn’t believe I’d opened my mouth and let something like that slip out. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “At least your mistake is still alive.”

  Was I crazy? Why the heck would I say something like that?

  My heart pounded, so hard that I felt each beat pulse at the base of my neck, and I blew out a long breath as I slid into the car and waited for Nate to do the same. It was a few minutes after eight, and the sun was just starting to get real low in the sky. Red and gold streaked across the horizon, and I supposed it was pretty, but at the moment, I didn’t give a shit about pretty.

  At the moment, I was afraid that Nate would ask me what I meant, and if he did, I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. I didn’t talk about Malcolm. Ever.

  I squeezed my eyes shut when I heard the passenger door squeak open. In an hour, it would be dark, but the darkness couldn’t come soon enough for me because it was so much easier to hide.

  I wanted to disappear. I wanted to melt into a puddle of nothing and pretend that I hadn’t just opened my mouth and said what I’d said.

  Nate slid in beside me and I cranked the Foos, wincing when Dave Grohl’s voice cut through the silence.

  Why you’d have to go and let it die. Pretty much perfect song right about now.

  I pretended that everything was fine and normal. I pretended that I hadn’t just seen Trevor’s father rip Nate a new one. I pretended that I hadn’t felt something when I’d looked into Nate’s eyes.

  But mostly I pretended that I hadn’t just opened up my mouth and shared something with a boy I barely knew. At least your mistake is still alive… Shit.

  It was hard though—to act like everything was cool. To kinda sorta smile through the lump that clogged my throat. But I did it. I did it because I had to. Because I didn’t know how to be any other way.

  How the hell had Nate managed t
o get that out of me when it had taken my therapist nearly five months to get me to say a single freaking word?

  Maybe Nate hadn’t heard. Maybe my brain was so screwed up that I thought I said something when, in fact, it was just the ghost of a whisper in my ear.

  I turned the key all the way and revved Matlock a bit as I glanced into the rearview mirror and then into the side mirror. I looked everywhere but at the guy beside me, because inside, I was counting. I was counting and trying like hell to focus.

  One. Two. Three. Over and over again.

  It was a good minute or so before I felt calm enough to glance his way, but when I did, my heart nearly popped out of my chest.

  His dark eyes were on me. And they knew. They knew. They knew something bad had happened. Something worse than bad. Something unforgivable.

  We stared at each other for a long time, so long that my eyes began to burn and I was afraid I was going to cry.

  Wow. That would be epic.

  “I can’t talk about it,” I said, grateful that the lump in my throat loosened.

  Nate’s eyes never left mine, and I shivered when he spoke, so soft and low that I don’t think I actually heard him—I think that I read his lips. “Okay.”

  A long shuddering breath escaped me, and I put the car into gear.

  “I don’t want to go home yet,” I said, staring ahead. My palms were sweaty, and even though it was hot as sin, I was shivering.

  “Just drive.”

  I pulled out into the road and asked, “Where?”

  Nate didn’t answer. He pointed when he wanted me to turn right or left, and within ten minutes, we were on the outskirts of town. I didn’t say anything because I honestly didn’t care where we went as long as I didn’t have to go back to Oak Run Plantation. I couldn’t explain the feeling that pressed into my chest any more than I could explain the need to be with Nate.

  And that’s what this was, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not tonight. Already images and sounds were crowding my brain, and it was all I could do to keep the stupid car on the road.