Boys Like You

by Juliana Stone

  Gram was at the car by now, loading her bags into the trunk. “What time?”

  “Around nine.” Brent grinned and I saw the relief in his eyes, but I had to set him straight. I knew a little bit about the process of healing—or not healing—and nothing was easy.

  “He’ll probably say no.”

  “Probably. Though I think he’ll have a hard time saying no to you.”

  “Really,” I said dryly.

  “I know I would.” He grinned. “Sugar.”

  The guy had enough charm to light up an entire city block in New York, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t promise, but I’ll try.”

  “Cool,” he said. “I’ll save you guys a seat.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nathan

  When my cell pinged, I almost didn’t answer it.

  Rachel had been texting me for days now. She was incessant, and I knew that she wouldn’t stop because she was real stubborn. Always had been. I used to like that about her.

  But right now, she couldn’t get that I wasn’t into her anymore. She thought that us breaking up was about the accident, but she was wrong.

  The events of that night were like a cancer that was growing and wouldn’t stop. But the seeds of that cancer had started a long time ago, and she was part of it. I was outgrowing the endless parties and good times—Trevor and I both were. Music had pretty much become everything to us, and it was hard to write really good songs when you were wasted.

  And wasted is what she was all about these days.

  It hadn’t always been that way. Rachel used to make me laugh. She used to have this way of making everything light and easy. We used to hang at Trevor’s and play guitar and write songs and she’d listen to us, this big grin on her face because she really dug what we were doing.

  God, she’d walk into a room and most every guy’s head would swivel around, and I was proud that she was my girl. But then something changed, and I don’t really know what it was. Maybe I just outgrew what we had. Maybe I outgrew our friendship, or maybe it was Rachel.

  Bottom line was that I stopped thinking of Rachel as someone I loved a long time ago. I mean, I loved her, but not in the way a guy should love his girlfriend.

  Music was my thing, and it had kind of taken over. It was mine and Trevor’s. It was all we lived for. And he knew how I felt about Rachel, about how I was going to break up with her. I’d planned on doing it that night, but then everything had gone to shit.

  So I’d let it fester for three more months, and though I had finally stepped up and cut her out, the cancer was still spreading, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

  I didn’t know how to end it because the cancer was connected. It was connected to me and Trevor, and if it took my best friend whole, I was pretty damn sure it would take me too.

  The cell pinged again and I stared at it, not moving. We’d finished dinner and my mom had just cleared the plates. I heard her and Dad in the kitchen, talking softly, murmuring to each other. They were worried. Worried about me.

  I didn’t deserve their worry or my mom’s sad looks or the way she tried to smile though her pain.

  “Are you going to answer that?” Dad’s voice jerked me from wherever the hell my mind was at, and I glanced over to him.

  I shrugged. “Doubt it. It’s probably Rachel again.”

  I’d migrated to the family room, and he slid into the leather chair across from me. The big screen was on, the Texas Rangers were pounding the crap out of the Dodgers, but there was no sound. There was only the shit inside my head.

  Dad leaned forward. “You guys broke up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You have a fight?”

  I looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, and he held his hands up.

  “Just asking.”

  I shook my head. “We didn’t have a fight. We just…we just don’t fit anymore.”

  “It happens.”

  “Yeah.”

  He cleared his throat. “I ran into Mike Lewis today.”

  That had me sitting up. “Is Trevor okay?”

  “He’s the same.” My dad blew out a long breath. “Mike told me you were there last Saturday.”

  My eyes slid away. “I needed to see him, Dad.”

  “I know.” My dad got up and walked over until his knee was touching mine. He bent forward, clasped my shoulders in the way that guys do, and I hated that all the pain inside me was bubbling, just there, just underneath my skin like invisible scars.

  “They hate me for what I did.”

  He ran his fingers across the top of my head, just like he used to do when I was little, and a big lump clogged my throat.

  “It’s not hate,” he said roughly. “It’s…you have to understand the place that Mike and Brenda are living in is dark. Mike’s taking it out on you because he has no one else to hit. Right now, you’re it. You’re the face he sees when he’s in pain, but he’ll come around.”

  “I should be lying in that bed, not Trevor.”

  “No.” His voice was sharp. Sharp and rough. “Don’t you ever say that again.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Something snapped in my dad. His eyes got all weird and his mouth was tight as he glared at me.

  “I will tell you right now that I don’t want to hear that kind of crap coming out of your mouth. Understand? What happened is in the past. There’s nothing you can do to change what you did that night. It’s done. Finished. Do you understand?”

  But he didn’t get it. I wasn’t so sure his answers were the right ones.

  “It’s not over. Don’t you get that? No matter how much you all want it to be over.” My voice was loud, and I shifted away from him. “It’s all I can think about. It’s in my head every single day. If Trevor…” I had to stop for a second. “If Trevor doesn’t make it…” but I didn’t have the balls to finish my thought. I couldn’t say the words out loud, so I left them hanging.

  “I know it’s hard, Nathan, but shutting yourself out and taking a vacation from life isn’t the answer either.”

  “You don’t get it,” I replied. “It’s so much more than just a mistake. A mistake is putting milk in your coffee instead of cream, or calling the wrong play in a game.”

  “I’m not minimizing what you did, Nathan. I would never do that. You made a mistake. You. All on your own, and it was one with tragic consequences. But you’re going to have to live with them. You’re going to have to deal with them.” His voice broke, and I felt the heat of tears stinging my eyes. “No one is perfect. Remember that.”

  That was me all right. Far from freaking perfect.

  “Yeah, well, my bad decision just might kill my best friend or leave him damaged for good. He’ll hate me forever.”

  “Maybe.” My dad pushed away. “Maybe not. But whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. Your mom and I are here for you. I hope you know that.”

  “You guys must be so ashamed.” We’d never really talked about this stuff before. After that night, when they’d come for me in the hospital, my mom had talked about everything except what had happened. And my father? He’d been real quiet. Scared.

  “I’m not ashamed of you, Nathan. Don’t ever think that.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I wish that you didn’t have to deal with any of this. I wish that Trevor was good and healthy and that you guys were off with the band playing a show tonight.”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” I muttered.

  “No, it’s not, and I’m sorry it didn’t turn out that way. But I believe that the events of that night also set into motion the things that will define you. The things that will make you into the man I know you can be.”

  My cell pinged, but this time it was a call.

  “You should answer that,” he said quietly.

  When he was gone, I glan
ced down, jerking forward when I saw who it was. Monroe.

  I clenched my jaw as a wave of anger rolled over me. After Sunday, I’d thought…hell, I don’t know what I had thought. But I sure didn’t think she’d act as if I didn’t exist. Maybe she had figured out what everyone else already knew. That I was bad news.

  The phone pinged for several more seconds and then stopped. I waited for a few minutes and then checked my voicemail, but there was nothing.

  Tossing it, I sank back into the sofa, rested my head, and gazed up at the ceiling. I kept clenching and unclenching my hands, hating the heaviness inside me. But I had no idea how to lighten the load, and despite what my dad said, I wasn’t so sure I deserved it.

  I’m not sure how long I was there, alone with all that darkness. It could have been minutes, but judging by the gloom outside, I was guessing it had been at least an hour. My mom poked her head in, a smile on her face.

  “There’s a girl here for you, Nathan.”

  “Yeah?” I angled my head so that I could look at her. “Tell me it’s not Rachel.” My mom wasn’t exactly a fan of Rachel. Hadn’t been ever since tenth grade when she’d come home from work early and found Rachel and me in bed. Naked and in the middle of getting busy.

  Even so, at this point I was willing to bet Mom would let us go at it wherever the hell we wanted to, if that would make me happy. She just wanted to see me smile again.

  “It’s not Rachel. It’s a really pretty girl with long dark hair. She says her name is Monroe and that you were expecting her.” She paused, her forehead wrinkling. “Who is she?”

  Huh.

  “Mrs. Blackwell’s granddaughter.” I saw the look in my mom’s eyes. “Hey, don’t get all excited. First off, she’s only here for the summer, and secondly, we’re not exactly friends.”

  I scowled. She’d made it more than clear that I was nothing.

  “Tell her I’m not home.” I added.

  “I can’t.” Mom pushed back her long, blond hair and walked over to me, nudging my knee with hers as she rolled back on her feet. “She knows you’re here. If you want to blow her off, you’re going to have to do that yourself.”

  “Awesome,” I said, jumping up to my feet.

  My mom was on the small side, about Monroe’s height, and she had to stretch to reach me. She kissed my cheeks and whispered, “You’re welcome.”

  I watched her leave through the patio doors that led to the back garden. My dad was out there, and I guessed she was trying to give me some space to deal with the “pretty girl” who’d come to see me.

  Did I want to see Monroe? Did I have a choice?

  “Screw it,” I muttered and headed toward the front door.

  I smelled that summer scent that was all Monroe before I hit the foyer, and for a second, I let it wash over me.

  “Pussy,” I said under my breath.

  So she smelled good. She was still the prickliest, most complicated girl I’d ever met, and just because kissing her had pretty much been the highlight of my pathetic summer, it wasn’t like it had meant anything to her. She’d blown me off.

  But I was curious as to why she had come to see me, and I guess it was that curiosity that pushed me forward. Or maybe I just wanted to see her.

  She leaned against the wall beside the front door, her hair long and free—the way I liked it. Her shoulders were bare and so were her legs, and I took a good long look before meeting her eyes.

  For a few seconds, there were no words. Hell, I barely breathed. That’s the kind of power that sat in the depths of those clear eyes.

  “Out for a drive?” I said slowly, as if I didn’t give a shit.

  Monroe took a step forward but paused, her hands swinging at her side. The dress was on the short side, and man, she looked hot in it. I tried to ignore the pull I felt toward her, but it was damn hard. Especially when she moved a piece of hair behind her shoulders and sighed.

  “You could say that.”

  “You look like you’re dressed for a party or something.”

  “Oh,” she tripped over her words, “I…this was all I had and…”

  I didn’t want to do this. Not with her. I just wanted the truth.

  “What’s going on, Monroe?”

  She took another step and I shoved my hands into my front pockets, shoulders hunched, a ferocious scowl in place.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  “For what?” Something cracked loose inside me, something heavy. It broke away like a chunk of rock falling from a cliff, and suddenly I felt lighter than I had all week.

  Was it the sound of her voice? Did she have that kind of power? Or was it the fact that being near her for less than five minutes had me wanting to crush her to my chest and just breathe in that summery, gentle smell.

  The crap week I’d had melted away, and though I felt my resolve failing, I didn’t want her to get off easy. I wanted her to squirm a bit.

  “I’m sorry for the silent treatment this week. I…” She licked her lips and my focus shifted slightly. How could it not? She had on this light gloss that looked wet and soft. All I could think about was the kiss we’d shared and how amazing it had felt.

  “When things get intense, I pull away.” She shrugged. “It’s what I do. It’s how I cope.”

  Okay. I got that. I mean, it didn’t make me feel better or anything, but at least I understood.

  “So why are you here?”

  A soft blush swept across her cheeks, and she twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. “Well, I guess I’m hoping that you might want to hang out…” Her voice trailed away as our eyes connected. “Or something,” she whispered.

  The grandfather clock at the end of the hall decided to chime eight bells, and she flinched at each one. When the echo died, I spoke quietly.

  “Is this a date?” I asked, watching her closely. I loved how easy it was for me to make her blush.

  She shook her head. “Not really. I mean, I don’t know.”

  “So what is it then?”

  “Does it have to be something? Can’t it just be a couple of friends hanging out?”

  “So we’re friends now?”

  The air thickened. Or maybe my lungs stopped working, because I had trouble breathing, and I thought that just maybe the look in her eyes wasn’t a look you’d give a friend. It was way too hot for that.

  It made me wonder what she saw reflected in my eyes, because I sure as heck felt hot and tight, and there was the whole trying to breathe normally thing.

  “We’re friends,” she said softly. “Friends who don’t date.”

  Her eyes slid from mine, and she twirled a piece of hair nervously.

  “Give me five minutes and I can be ready for our second ‘non-date.’ I gotta grab a quick shower.”

  “Okay,” she said hesitantly, and I knew she wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened.

  “And Monroe?”

  “Yes?”

  I couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across my face. It was a side effect of the lightness inside me. A lightness that, these days, only she seemed to be able to tap into.

  “I’m glad you stopped by.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Monroe

  “Two Saturdays in a row,” Nate said as he slid into Gram’s car and reached for his seat belt. He’d had the quickest shower ever and reappeared in less than ten minutes, wearing a pair of faded jeans, beat-up brown boots, and a steel-blue, long-sleeved Henley.

  He looked way too good, and my heart started beating a mile a minute as soon as I saw him.

  I’m sure he heard it, which was why I turned without saying anything and bolted for the car. I managed a wave at his mom and dad, but I’m sure they thought I was a complete idiot.

  “Monroe?”

  “What?” I glanced at him, and an
ything else I was going to say kind of froze in my throat.

  His hair was damp and hung to the top of his shoulders in tangled waves that told me he hadn’t taken the time to comb them properly. He tilted his head to the side a little, a half smile on his face, and ba-boom, there went my heart again.

  My hands clutched the steering wheel as if it was a lifeline, but I kept picturing them trailing across the stubble on his chin, and even though I’d told myself I wouldn’t go there again, I thought of the kiss we’d shared. I swear I could close my eyes and feel his lips on mine.

  “Are you okay?”

  I glanced at him. Took a few moments. And then I was able to speak. “Yep.” I nodded and put the car in reverse. “Perfect. Right as rain.”

  Oh God. I was rambling. This wasn’t good.

  I pulled out onto the road and headed toward town. The sun was just starting to descend, and the horizon was filled with red-gold rays. I had the windows down and smelled a hint of rain in the air. And though it was still hot and sticky, I was cold.

  And nervous.

  So. Freaking. Nervous.

  “So where are we going?”

  Shit.

  “To town.”

  “To do what?”

  “Hang out.”

  “Hang out where?”

  I had a death grip on the wheel by now. “What’s with all the questions?”

  I felt his gaze on me but refused to look at him. I concentrated on the road and didn’t even protest when he changed the radio station. I was driving, so technically the music choice was my call, but hey, he could knock himself out because I had other things on my mind.

  What was I doing? I knew he was going to hate the Coffee House. I knew the idea was a bad one. I knew this and yet…

  I wanted to see him.

  Unease settled in my gut, and I felt my cheeks heat again. This must be some kind of record.

  I’d wanted to see Nate, and this had been my excuse. It had been my way of getting around the fact that I’d been a total asshole, ignoring him after Sunday. After that kiss.

  After that kiss that had made my head spin and my limbs feel like spaghetti. A kiss that had twisted me up in heat and fear and desire, making me feel all sorts of things. Making me feel. And the weird thing was? I’d liked it a lot.