Boys Like You

by Juliana Stone

  Carefully, I pulled away, though her legs were still wrapped around my waist as if they belonged there.

  We were both breathing pretty heavy, and for a few long seconds, I stared down into the most amazing eyes I’d ever seen, and the cool thing was, there were no shadows. No pain. No sadness.

  There was just Monroe.

  “Hey,” I managed to say.

  She glanced away, but not before I saw the ghost of a smile. “Is that your lame attempt to get me naked?”

  “Did it work?” I answered, letting her float away.

  She splashed me. “Do I look naked?”

  “Not yet.”

  She splashed me again, this time filling the air with laughter. “I don’t know why you’re trying, Nate. I don’t do stuff like that. Not with boys like you.”

  “Hey,” I said with a grin. “Should I feel insulted? What do you mean, boys like me?”

  “You know,” she said softly. “Boys who can make a girl forget.”

  “What is it that you want to forget?” I asked, breath held as I waited for her to answer.

  Her eyes bored into mine and something flashed inside them.

  “I’ll never tell,” she answered softly.

  She’d drifted far enough away for my body to cool down a bit, and I moved after her, treading water to keep my distance. I had the feeling that Monroe needed some space. Maybe I did too.

  So for a few moments, we floated and said nothing. When she eventually made her way to the other side of the bank, I watched her walk out and then followed her, flopping down beside her on the large blue-and-white checker blanket her Gram had given us.

  It didn’t take long for the sun to dry the water on our skin, and when she rolled over and began to slap on sunscreen lotion, I had to look away. I mean, a guy could only take so much, and the little bikini she wore didn’t hide the fact that every inch of her was beautiful.

  “You want some?” she asked.

  “Nah.” I shook my head. Because I was outside all the time, my skin was tanned. I was good.

  She slipped on a pair of sunglasses and offered me another Coke. It was cold and felt good going down.

  “How come you won’t play guitar?” she asked suddenly, not looking at me but out over the water.

  I followed her gaze but didn’t answer right away. I had to give it to Monroe—she sure as hell knew how to kill the mood.

  “Why do you care?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t really. I’m just curious. It seems as if music is a huge part of your life and you’ve kind of shut it down.”

  I scowled. Huh.

  Couldn’t argue with that logic.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  She turned her head and tipped her glasses down her nose. “Yeah, you are, Nate.”

  Somewhere overhead, a plane crossed the sky, and off in the distance, I heard a chainsaw echo. I fell back, throwing my arms over my eyes for shade.

  “Playing reminds me of Trevor. It reminds me of all the things he can’t do. The things he might never do again, and that’s all on me.” I had to pause because the emotion was there, burrowed in my chest, and I didn’t want it to get hold of me. Not here. Not with Monroe.

  “All of it. That night. It all went south, and Trevor’s dad is right. It’s my fault.”

  “But there were four of you there that night, right?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “So how can his father think it’s your fault? Isn’t Trevor a big boy? Used to making his own decisions?”

  “You don’t get it.” I sprang forward and wrapped my arms around my knees. “I was the one who drove that night. I made that call. Did something stupid and irresponsible, and now he’s in a coma.”

  Monroe rolled over onto her stomach and rested her head on her arms. “Don’t you think it could have been any one of you guys driving?”

  I shook my head. “Not that night. It was my turn.” The burn in my gut made my voice shake a little, but I couldn’t help it. “We always did that when it came time to party. We took turns, and that night it was mine. It was mine and I screwed up, and nothing will ever be the same again. If I could go back in time and change it, I would, but I can’t and now there’s no more music. I just don’t…feel the music anymore.”

  “I think—”

  She didn’t have a chance to finish because I cut her off. “Don’t think, Monroe.” I rolled over and grabbed the sunscreen. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What are you doing?” she angled her head back, her pale eyes wary as I grinned at her.

  “Do you want your skin to burn?”

  She was too late to answer, and I squirted coconut-scented lotion near the small of her back. Slowly I rubbed it upward, enjoying the view and liking that she was quiet. God, her skin was soft. And the color? It was creamy, white, like the alabaster carvings my grandfather loved.

  My fingers looked dark against her, and something about the way they looked and felt made me tight again. I was starting to lose focus—my hands began to travel back down to where they started, and that wasn’t a good idea.

  When I was done, I tossed the tube and slid back down beside her.

  I’m not sure how long we lay there, so close that it felt as if we were together, but the silence between us made it feel as if she was across the lake.

  “Still trying to get me naked?” she said abruptly, and I grinned. I was glad she had made the effort to lighten whatever this was between us. Light was good. Light made things bearable.

  “Nope.”

  “Huh.”

  I glanced her way and found those pale eyes on me, and for a moment, I forgot what I was going to say. Her smile widened and she shot her elbow out, hitting me in the arm.

  “You sound like you don’t believe me.”

  She shook her head. “That’s because I don’t. I know what you guys are like.”

  “You guys?” I guess I should have been insulted, but I wasn’t.

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Rocker guys. They’re always trying to get into some girl’s pants.”

  Slowly, I pushed myself up until I kneeled beside her, and then I leaned forward, pushing away a long chunk of hair so I could whisper near her ear.

  “You’re not just any girl, and Mrs. Blackwell would skin my ass if I pulled any kind of shit on you.”

  “That’s right,” she said, and I heard a quiver in her voice. “Don’t forget it. Gram is fierce.”

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t kiss you again.”

  I smiled and ran my fingers over her shoulders, liking the way she trembled beneath them.

  There was silence. For a heartbeat. Maybe two.

  “I might let you kiss me again.” She shrugged and rolled over so that she was up on her knees as well. Her skin was pink and it wasn’t from the sun. I was pretty sure it was all about the heat between us.

  “You’ll let me?” I wasn’t teasing anymore. Mostly because my eyes dropped to her mouth and that damn pink tongue of hers was resting between her teeth. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, in tandem with the heavy beats of my heart.

  When her eyes fell to my mouth, I might have groaned. Pussy move, but man, she really tugged at all kinds of shit inside me.

  “When you play your guitar,” she paused and exhaled. “When you play just for me, Nate. I’ll let you kiss me again.”

  She was up on her feet in a flash, a blur of pink bikini, pale skin, and dark hair. The sun blinded me when I glanced up, and for a few seconds, all I saw was a shadow with a ring of gold.

  And then she was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Monroe

  I didn’t see Nate for the rest of the week and not because he wasn’t around. He’d shown up T
uesday morning with his uncle, and they started working on the back porch up at the main plantation house.

  It was a pretty big project, and the two of them worked from early in the morning until dinnertime. He texted me a few times, but after two days, he stopped. I guess he wasn’t impressed with my one word answers.

  Nate: What cha doin?

  Me: nothing

  Nate: wanna hang later

  Me: No

  Nate: is something wrong

  Me: No

  Except that there was. Nathan Everets confused me. The feelings he made me feel confused me. And every time I thought about being with him, I got all nervous and anxious, and I just didn’t do any of that real well.

  It might have been immature of me, but my reaction to our afternoon at the pond was to stay away, and even I didn’t understand it. And I sure didn’t have enough experience with boys to know what to do about it.

  So I avoided him.

  I didn’t go anywhere near the main plantation house, and when Gram suggested I take Nate some lemonade, I told her that I was pretty sure he had a supply of his own drinks.

  Gram had given me her signature look—the one that made most people cave and just do whatever it was that she wanted done. But I didn’t fall for it.

  I was pulling away, and Gram knew it. It’s what I did. But for now, she let it go, smart enough to know that if she pushed harder, I would disappear. I’d climb back into that dark hole I’d barely made it out of.

  I knew Gram wanted to help me, and I’m pretty sure she thought she could help Nathan too. But he made me nervous. He made me feel. And I needed time for those things.

  Only we don’t always get what we want.

  Friday morning came with a blast of heat, the promise of rain, and no Nate. Something had come up, and he and his uncle had gone to another job site. I heard Gram’s one-sided conversation while picking at my bowl of Lucky Charms. I’d already eaten all the green marshmallows and was on to the pink ones.

  She hung up and turned to me, her soft white hair already set, the curls perfect, but in this heat, they wouldn’t be for long.

  “Do you want to come shopping with me, Monroe?”

  I pushed my bowl away, feeling that restlessness inside expand and tighten up. “Where?”

  “Just to town. I want to go to market before the weather turns.”

  I shrugged. “Sure.” It’s not like I had anything better to do.

  After a quick shower, I pulled on a pair of faded jean shorts and a white tank top and slipped my feet into a pair of old flip-flops before pulling my damp hair into a loose side pony.

  I’m not sure what made me do it, but I grabbed some gloss from Gram’s bathroom for my lips and ran her mascara brush over my eyelashes. For a few moments, I stared at the reflection in the mirror. I knew I would never be as tanned as the girls I’d met here, but my cheeks weren’t as pale as they used to be and my eyes…

  I glanced away, scrubbing at the corners of my eyes. I almost looked not sad. I almost looked normal. Pretty even.

  “What do you care,” I muttered before running out to meet Gram.

  A half an hour later, she pulled up to the old fairgrounds. There were several smaller buildings scattered around an area as big as a football field. But the largest one was where all the local farmers gathered every Friday to sell their fresh fruit, produce, and pretty much anything else you wanted.

  That’s the thing about these southern folks. They sure liked to buy and sell, and they sure liked to gossip.

  I followed Gram inside where the air was cooler in the shade, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. The building was filled with all sorts of vendors and—I sniffed—probably livestock somewhere.

  “I’m going to have a look at the produce, Monroe. Can you take this bag and grab some peaches and whatever else you want?” She nodded to the aisle across from me and handed me some cash.

  I headed down the aisle, sidestepping more than a few people who weren’t paying attention. One lady backed into me, her elbow hitting me in the chest, and she turned around as if it was my fault.

  “Watch where you’re going,” she said in a huff.

  Rolling my eyes, I moved past her, searching for the booth that sold peaches. I figured the sooner I found what Gram wanted, the sooner we could head back to the plantation and I could get ready for an exciting afternoon of nothing.

  I’d just spotted the peaches when someone grabbed my arm.

  “Hey, Monroe, right?”

  It was Brent. Nate’s buddy.

  His voice was as warm as his eyes, and I nodded, smiling. “Hey.”

  He waved to someone behind me, his smile still in place. “Seen Nate lately?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him since Monday.”

  He frowned. “I thought he was working out at your grandmother’s.”

  “He is, but I…we just…” God, I sounded like an idiot, and the longer I stumbled over my words, the wider Brent’s smile became.

  “You guys have a fight?”

  “What? No.” I took a moment. Gathered my thoughts. “We’re not even friends really, so…”

  Brent snorted and leaned close. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, changing the subject. Deflecting like I always did.

  He held up a few bags. “Running errands for my mom. You?”

  “Same. I need some peaches for my gram.”

  I moved toward the booth, aware that Brent followed, and when I paid for the peaches, he grabbed my bag. “I’ll help you with this.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I know I don’t have to, Sugar, but us good old southern boys are all about helping when we can.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. It’s not as if I had a lot of practice making small talk with boys. In fact, I had zero practice.

  “What do you want?” I asked abruptly, coming to a full stop and wincing because I knew I sounded like a bitch. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so…I just…” I sighed. “I don’t know what I mean.”

  And I didn’t. What was wrong with me?

  “Don’t worry about it.” He laughed. “I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re different from most girls around here.”

  “There’s not much to figure out,” I retorted. Different? What the hell did that mean?

  We reached the entrance, and I felt the heat from outside slide across my skin. I spotted Gram across the way, chatting with a few ladies, her arms heavy with vegetables.

  “Look,” Brent said. “Nate is one of my best buddies, and right now he’s going through some shit. Some really bad shit.”

  “I know.” I moved so that the large woman who’d nearly run me over earlier could pass.

  “He told you about what happened?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look, the thing is, none of us knows where his head is at. He broke up with Rachel. He’s not talking to any of us, and the guy won’t even pick up his guitar. That’s just wrong. God, it’s wrong on so many levels. I heard what happened at the hospital. I heard that Mr. Lewis rode his ass hard.”

  “It wasn’t pretty.”

  “You were there?” He seemed surprised.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, maybe you can…” Brent seemed at a loss and hunched his shoulders, kicking the ground with his shoes.

  “I can what?”

  “Maybe you can help him. He needs something, you know? Something good right now, because as long as Trevor’s in the hospital, Nate is stuck in all the shit that happened that night, and honestly? It could have been any one of us behind the wheel. Shit happens. Mistakes happen.”

  “Were you there?” I asked, more than a little curious.

  Bren
t handed me my bag, his eyes on the ground.

  “Yeah. I was there that night. I got there late. Had a fight with the girl I’d been dating, so I was stone sober. I offered to drive them home before I got into it but…”

  “But what?”

  He looked up and I saw moisture in his eyes. Brent exhaled and shrugged, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “Trevor said no. He told me that Nate was good, and I believed him. I guess Nathan’s not the only one who screwed up that night. I should have checked, but I didn’t. I knew those guys were partying hard, but they were always good about the driving thing. They took turns. We all did.” He sighed. “I was pissed and all I wanted to do was crack open my bottle of Jack and hopefully get laid.”

  Brent swore and ran his hands across his chin, his eyes on me. “I wish we could go back, you know? Back to before that night when everything was good. Because nothing is the same, and it sucks.”

  No shit.

  “Hi, Mrs. Blackwell.” He waved to Gram as I took a step forward, but his hand stopped me. “What are you doing tonight?”

  Warily, I studied him for a moment, wondering what his angle was. “Nothing. Why?”

  “A bunch of us jam at the Coffee House every other Friday. It’s a small place in town. We do acoustic stuff. Lots of singing. Playing. It’s a good time. You should come.”

  I wasn’t sure what was going on. Was Brent asking me out?

  “Unless you want to stay home with your grandma and watch Jeopardy!,” he continued. “’Cause I’m sure that will be a good time too.”

  And that was pretty much what the evening held for me. Not that I didn’t like being with Gram, but there was only so much Jeopardy! I could take.

  Surprisingly, I kinda wanted to go, except…

  “I don’t really know anyone.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You know Nathan. Tell him to come, and while you’re at it, tell him to bring his guitar.”

  I started to protest, but Brent cut me off.

  “He needs this, Monroe. It can’t hurt to ask.” He paused and smiled so sweetly at me that I was pretty sure it was something he’d done a hundred times before. “Please?”