Boys Like You

by Juliana Stone

  My cheeks smarted at her meaning because I knew she was talking about me as well. I tucked a long piece of hair behind my ear and tried to think of something else besides the pathetic past I’d left in New York.

  “Nathan’s a good boy who made a bad decision, but he’ll be fine. He’s just hit a rough patch.”

  Huh. I thought of the scene I’d witnessed the night before, and in my mind, Nathan Everets had hit more than just a rough patch.

  For a moment, the only sound I heard was the faraway drone of a plane crossing the sky above me. I glanced up and saw a trail of white cotton, but I couldn’t see its source. The sun was too bright. Too hot.

  It was going to be nasty today.

  “He’ll be here a lot over the next few weeks. His uncle told me that most of the work I’ve contracted will be done by Nathan.”

  I didn’t say anything though my heart began to beat faster. Blowing out a long breath, I sank deeper into my chair, eyes still searching for the elusive plane, mostly because it gave me something to do.

  Mostly because I could avoid Gram’s eyes.

  “I’m glad the two of you are getting on.”

  Oh God. My cheeks flushed. Getting on? That got my attention, and I glanced at her.

  “He has a girlfriend, you know.” What the hell was Gram up to?

  “Does he now?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Her name is Rachel.”

  Gram didn’t have to say anything. I could tell from the way her mouth pinched at the corners as she took another sip of tea that she wasn’t a fan of his girlfriend.

  “How was the festival?” she asked instead, and I smiled. Gram was as good as me when it came to deflecting.

  “It was…cute.”

  For a few moments, the silence of the morning enveloped us, broken only when Gram said something very unladylike and rose to her feet. She was late.

  “Are you coming with me to service, Monroe?”

  Shit.

  “No?”

  My answer came out more like a question, and for a moment, I was afraid she was going to make me go with her. I tugged on the edge of my T-shirt and exhaled, trying to stem the panic that I knew was there beneath my skin, just waiting to explode. I hadn’t stepped inside a church since Malcolm’s funeral, and my throat was already closing up at the thought of going.

  I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never.

  “You go and I’ll clean up the dishes from breakfast and call Mom and Dad.”

  Gram wiped an invisible crumb from her forearm, her silky white hair brushing her shoulders. She grabbed her teacup, turned toward the door, and spoke softly, her voice catching a bit and making me feel worse than I already did. “You’re going to have to face all of this sooner than later, Monroe. All of it. And that means opening up to your parents and letting them in.”

  “I know, Gram,” I whispered. “But not today…okay?”

  Gram bent and kissed me as she walked by and then disappeared inside, leaving me alone with the bees and the honeysuckle.

  Twenty minutes later, she pulled away in the Matlock, and I was washing up the few dishes we’d used for breakfast. My cell vibrated on the counter and I ignored it, drying the frying pan instead, but when it vibrated again, I tossed my towel aside, glaring at the phone.

  I really didn’t want to talk to my parents—not today. Not after the Malcolm dream when things were way too fresh in my mind, because I knew exactly what would happen. Dad would be polite, afraid that if he said the wrong thing it would trigger a relapse and send me back into the darkness. Back to before. And I got it. Before hadn’t been pretty.

  Before had been hell.

  But what he didn’t realize was that I didn’t want polite. I didn’t want the robot he’d become, because when I got the robot, it made me feel as if my dad was gone forever. And I’d already lost so much, the thought of never getting him back was more than I could handle right now.

  And Mom would be all in my business, wanting to know every single boring thing I’d done. And then she would ask how I was feeling—if I was happy—which was stupid. We both knew I would never be happy again. Not really. So why ask?

  And when I lied? When I told her that Gram and I were bonding over iced tea and kumbaya and that I was freaking A-okay? She would get emotional because she wanted to believe it so badly, and I would shut down because it was all a lie. And even though I knew my mom needed to believe things were going to be okay in order for her to survive, I hated that she could slide things under the rug and forget.

  Or maybe I was jealous because I couldn’t.

  The cell phone blipped instead of buzzing and I grabbed it. Great. Now they were going to text me to death.

  But it wasn’t my parents sending me a text message.

  It was Nate.

  Thanks for last night. I owe you.

  When had I given him my phone number? I chewed on my bottom lip and my heart sped up again, hitting a new level of insanity as I stared at his message. Crap.

  What did he mean, he owed me? I rubbed my hand along my bare thigh, wondering what to say back to him, and I decided something casual was the way to go.

  no probs.

  Too much? Too little?

  My phone bleeped almost instantly, and I jumped.

  See you tomorrow.

  If my heart was beating a mile a minute before, it kick-started into overdrive something fierce, and for a second, I was dizzy. Me. Monroe Blackwell. Dizzy over a stupid text message from a boy who not only had a girlfriend, but was as screwed up as I was.

  I gave myself a mental smackdown and took a step back. Why was I getting so worked up over a few text messages? It’s not as if they meant anything. The guy had a girlfriend. End of story.

  I took a deep breath and typed a reply that I thought was appropriate.

  okay.

  And then winced. Lame.

  I put the cell phone onto the table and watched it for way too long, but there was nothing. No more text messages. Only one longwinded voicemail from my parents telling me they were out for the day but would call later tonight.

  With a groan, I headed upstairs to get dressed because I knew Gram wouldn’t let me stay in my pajamas all day, even if I begged her.

  Just. Effing. Lovely.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nathan

  I knew the moment Monroe arrived.

  I’d just tossed the last empty water bottle into my bag after soaking my bandana and tying it around my head, and I knew that if I turned around, she’d be there. Don’t ask me how. It’s not like I’m psychic or anything. I just knew.

  So I blew out a hot breath and turned around.

  And there she was.

  Her long hair was loose, kind of wild-looking, as if she hadn’t brushed it. She wore cut-off jean shorts and a white Foo Fighters T-shirt that fit her like a T-shirt should fit a girl—tight in all the right spots. I had to give it to Monroe, the girl had good taste when it came to music. She tucked one long curl behind her ear and glanced behind me at the iron fence.

  “You’re done,” she said.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I started early. Figured it was a good idea ’cuz it’s gonna be a hot one.”

  She cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Gram thought you might want this. The lemonade is fresh. I squeezed it myself.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  A slow blush crept into her cheeks as I stepped forward and took the tall glass filled with ice and lemonade. I liked the fact that I could make her blush. Our fingers touched briefly, and I liked the little zing that shot through me too.

  I also liked the way her tongue darted out to take a swipe at her lips.

  I followed the movement—what guy wouldn’t? Monroe had a really nice mouth. Her cheeks reddened even more when she noticed, and I grinned.

 
“What are you doing this afternoon?” I asked, taking a long gulp of lemonade. My eyes didn’t leave hers.

  She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jean shorts and shrugged. “I’ve got nothing exciting planned. Thought I might read a book or something.”

  I drained the glass and wiped my mouth. “You wanna go swimming instead?” Okay, I hadn’t meant for that to slip out. “I owe you,” I said in a rush as I waited for her to shoot me down.

  “You owe me?”

  “Yeah, for being my taxi Saturday night and for, well, everything else.” I didn’t mention the bush party or how lame I’d been, and I was glad when she didn’t say anything about it.

  Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I only had to finish this fence today. Tomorrow I’m starting on the back porch at the main plantation house.”

  “Oh,” she said softly, biting her mouth as her eyes fell away.

  “At least your mistake is still alive.”

  Her words had rattled around in my head since Saturday night, and I knew that there was a lot more to Monroe Blackwell than a hot body and amazing eyes. And maybe I was stupid for wanting to get to know a girl who wasn’t all that interested in me, but hey, I’d never been the guy to let something drop just because I thought my endgame wasn’t achievable.

  I wasn’t even sure why I wanted to get to know her, except that sometimes when I looked into her eyes, I knew that she knew exactly what was going on inside me. And how crazy was that, considering I’d just met her?

  “I know a really cool place, and it’s not far from here, though…” my words faded to nothing.

  Shit. My suspended license was going to bite me in the ass over and over again. Frustrated, I yanked off my bandana and balled it in my fist.

  That got her attention, and once more, those pale green eyes focused on me. “What’s wrong?”

  “My car is still under house arrest, so it’s not like I can actually take you anywhere.” Pissed at myself, I offered her the glass back and shrugged. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

  “Won’t your girlfriend be mad if she found out you’d invited another girl to go hang at some watering hole? I mean, I’m not saying there’s anything going on between us, because we both know that’s not true, but still…”

  Oh, there’s something going on. I just don’t know what it is.

  “If I was the girlfriend of a guy who did that, I wouldn’t be happy.”

  A shot of hope ran through me. So that was it. Her only thing was Rachel, and since Rachel and I had…

  “I broke up with Rachel yesterday.”

  Sunday had sucked. Not surprising, considering the epic failure Saturday had been, but waking up to find a very naked Rachel in my bed had been the icing on the worst cake ever.

  I can’t lie. At first it had felt pretty damn good, but I guess that’s because I’d been half asleep, and though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, in some far corner of my screwed-up head, I thought it was Monroe.

  I’d been half asleep as Rachel kissed her way down my stomach and tugged on my boxers. I might have let her finish, but then she opened her mouth—and not in the way I’d been anticipating—and reality crashed in hard.

  “Babe, I heard you went to the Peach Festival with some skank ho and then out to the bush party. Tell me it isn’t true.”

  “Shit, stop,” I said, coming fully awake.

  “You’re kidding, right?” She’d sat back, pissed and confused. “What the hell is wrong with you, Nate? On what planet do you turn down a blowjob?”

  I pulled away and rolled out of bed, swearing as I tripped over her clothes and shoes.

  What followed had been twenty minutes of listening to her scream and rant, and when she brought up Trevor and the accident, I blew her off and told her to leave. I especially didn’t want to talk about that night with her.

  I couldn’t explain the feeling I got inside when I thought of the party and of Rachel and Trevor and his girlfriend, Bailey. Everything had been so great, and then in an instant, it was gone. All of it.

  I was left with this dark, mean kind of feeling, and it made me hate myself more than I already did.

  “You and Rachel…you guys broke up?” Monroe’s soft voice brought me back from before, and it took a moment for me to focus.

  I saw her clear eyes watching me warily. “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was a long time coming.” Longer even than the accident. The more I thought about it, I realized that Rachel and I hadn’t been on the same page for a long, long time.

  “Okay,” she said.

  I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulders before bending over and scooping up the paint can and brushes I’d used.

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, I’ll give you a lift.”

  “A lift?” I took a few steps until I was close enough to smell that fresh scent that clung to her skin.

  “Well, someone’s gotta be your taxi, and since I don’t have anything better to do, it may as well be me.”

  “So you’re offering to drive me to Baker’s Landing out of boredom.”

  A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and I thought that her lips must feel incredibly soft. I thought that maybe it would be cool to find out just how soft they really were.

  “Yes, Nathan. Only because I’m bored.”

  “Nate.”

  “What?”

  “Call me Nate.”

  “Okay, Nate. But just so you know, I’m only giving you a ride. Nothing more.”

  “We’re living in a freaking oven and you’re not coming in?”

  “I don’t think I packed a bathing suit.”

  She started walking toward the house and I fell in beside her, liking the way she jumped when I leaned close and whispered, “Who says anything about wearing a bathing suit?”

  She stopped so fast that I nearly ran her over. “I am not skinny-dipping with you.”

  Her cheeks were pink and hair stuck to the side of her neck. It was crazy that she could make me forget how shitty I felt about everything. Trevor. The accident. But I’d take it.

  I’d play with it.

  “Could be fun,” I said with a laugh.

  “For you maybe.”

  “What?” I said, watching her back as she walked away. “I know a lot of girls who’d love to get naked with me.”

  “I’m not one of them,” she retorted.

  I followed her, the grin still on my face.

  She didn’t say anything else until we hopped up the steps onto her Gram’s porch. Here the shade was a bit cooler, but it was still nearing 100 degrees. I bet we could have tossed a few eggs onto the bottom step and the sun would have fried them in less than a minute.

  “I’ll be five minutes or so if you want to come inside?”

  “Nah,” I said. “I’m dirty. I’ll just wait for you out here.”

  And then she was gone.

  I stared down at my filthy work boots for a few seconds and then yanked them off, pulling out sandals from my bag. My T-shirt was pretty much drenched with sweat, and my hair was a crazy mess that stuck to my neck. Shit, maybe my dad was right and it was time for me to cut it the hell off.

  I tore my shirt off and found an old baseball jersey that was wrinkled as all shit but at least it didn’t smell.

  I’d just slicked back my hair when the door slammed open and Monroe appeared with a beat-up green cooler and some towels.

  “Gram made us lunch.”

  I was on my feet and took the cooler as Mrs. Blackwell followed her granddaughter onto the porch.

  “Good afternoon, Nathan.”

  “Hey, Mrs. Blackwell. I hope you don’t mind I’m heading out early, but it’s hotter than a—” I th
ought better of cursing in front of Mrs. Blackwell and stopped myself just in time.

  “That’s fine, Nathan. Monroe says you’ve finished painting the fence around the family plot?”

  “It’s all done.”

  “Wonderful. And when are you starting on the main house?”

  “Tomorrow, I think. My uncle needed to order some materials before we could start rebuilding posts that are rotted on the porch.”

  “Good.” She paused and I shifted as she changed gears. “Where exactly are you taking my granddaughter?”

  Her eyes were on me, focused and intense.

  “I was thinking we could head out to Baker’s Landing.”

  Baker’s Landing was on my grandparents’ land. It had the coldest, freshest, spring-fed water for swimming in the area, and on a day like today was the best place to cool off. I used to go out there a lot with Trevor and the guys, but so far this summer, I hadn’t been once.

  “There won’t be any drinking.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Blackwell nodded. “All right, Monroe. But I expect you back for supper.” With one last smile, she left us alone on the porch.

  “You ready?” I said to Monroe as I headed down the steps. I got to the bottom before I realized that she hadn’t followed.

  “Anything wrong?” I asked carefully, wondering how I’d screwed this up already.

  She played with soft pink straps that were tied behind her head and I realized she’d changed into a bathing suit when she’d been inside. “Will there be anybody else there?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I was quiet for a second, and then I got it.

  “Rachel won’t be there, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Well, if she is, I’m leaving. I don’t want to get in the middle of your crap.”

  “There is no middle, Monroe. There’s no me and Rachel, not anymore. There’s nothing.”

  She didn’t answer but slipped into the driver’s seat and fired up the old Crown Vic. For the first time in a long time, I realized I was looking forward to something and it was all because of the girl inside the car.