A Boy Like You (Like Us Book 1)

by Ginger Scott

  “Well don’t you clean up nice, Kyle Marley,” I say, stepping into the shadow with him. He chuckles and looks down, his thumbs hanging onto his pockets and his posture that of a boy ready to bolt.

  “Thanks, Joss. You clean up pretty well yourself,” he says, his head tilted just enough that his eyes meet mine. His smile only makes it across half his face, and his breath stops when he looks at me. His lips close tightly as he shakes his head, glancing down to his feet. “Nah, that’s a lie. You don’t clean up well. You’re always beautiful. But tonight, you are breathtaking.”

  My chest collapses a little, and my eyes sting with his compliment.

  “Thanks,” I say, swinging my hand into his. Our pinkies link with my touch, and I let his hold on my hand linger for a few seconds before we both let go. “Where’s your date?”

  His eyes flash up to mine, and even though it’s dark, I can tell he’s blushing. He stretches his arms out before letting them fall to his sides. “I don’t have one. I’m…I’m not staying long. I just wanted to see you. Taryn said Wes finally talked you into going, and I…I had to see Josselyn Winters in a dress,” he smiles.

  I squint at him, and he chuckles, shrugging with guilt.

  “You shit! I rock this dress,” I say, holding the skirt out a little on each side. His laughter fades when I do, and he brings one hand up to rub his chin.

  “Yeah…you do,” he says, his voice low as his eyes slide up to mine.

  I suck in my bottom lip and look at his chest, not ready to take more praise from him so soon.

  “Well since you’re here…” I say, glancing up briefly.

  “I’d love to have this dance,” he says, pulling his hand from his pocket again and holding it out for me. I take it and let him lead me to the center of the dance floor, my eyes catching Wes’s as Kyle pulls me in close, but not too close. Wes only smiles and continues talking with his brother. He understands, and I’m relieved he isn’t jealous.

  “I’m wearing my mom’s boots,” I say, stepping once to the side and twisting each foot on the heel so he can admire them. Kyle smiles.

  “They fit you—in so many ways,” he says.

  I step into his embrace slowly, my own smile a timid one. “Thanks,” I whisper. I both love and hate these boots. I hate that I love them. And I hate that I miss my mom tonight.

  “She’d be sorry, Joss,” Kyle says, his chin now resting on my head.

  “Hmmm?” I question.

  “Your mom; if she knew you now. She’d be sorry she missed so much of you. You’re amazing, despite her. And she’d be sorry,” he says. I squeeze him tightly, and his hands close around me and squeeze back.

  I hold him like this for the rest of the song, and when it ends, he steps out of my arms and nods toward Wes. His eyes come back to me.

  “I’m gonna go. There’s a party at the river bottom. And I need to get this suit back in my dad’s closet,” he smirks. I laugh, also relieved that he didn’t rent something special just for one dance.

  “Thanks for the dance,” I smile.

  He shakes his head and shuts his eyes, opening them just as Wes reaches me and tugs my hand to his chest.

  “It was my pleasure, Winters. Every single time,” he says.

  Wes shakes his hand, and without any words, Kyle leaves. Wes never asks what we talked about, and even though I know it wouldn’t be any big deal to share, I keep it to myself. Kyle is still part of me, and I want to hold onto those small things that are just ours—even if they’re transient and meaningless. And the fact that Wes lets me, makes my heart swell even more.

  I never leave the dance floor. For an hour and a half, I let Wes sway me at the same tempo in a circle in a two-foot section of the gym floor. My purse remains slung around my body, and my friends only see me when they approach us. This stupid dance—it’s the most amazing night of my life.

  The clock says nine-thirty when Wes finally leads me out the door and to his truck. I don’t ask where we’re going, and I don’t question the fact that we’re abandoning Levi. I just follow him.

  He pulls the passenger door open for me, then tucks my dress in safely before closing the door. The cab is dark when he climbs in, but the moonlight reflects off his eyes, and I lose myself in them as we pull away from campus. I let him drive me for several miles, until it dawns on me where he’s taking me.

  The flower fields.

  Wes pulls over into the rough dirt on the side of the road, and climbs out of the truck, flipping the tailgate down before walking to my side and meeting me just as I’m about to step from my seat.

  “Levi and his date are going to some party at the river. I…I didn’t want to go. I hope that’s okay with you?” His lips are crooked, and I’m struck by the fact that Wes wanted to get me alone, and he’s slightly bashful about it.

  “I love it here,” I say, the only answer to give. The air is sweet. I’ve forgotten what it’s like out here at night, and I’m sure that’s why Wes brought me. The flowers are all sleeping, but their scent is almost like a potion for the soul. When I was a little girl, I was convinced that my hair would soak it up, and in the morning, I would sniff the strands in search of it. But it was always gone. The magic that happens out here—you can’t bottle it. It doesn’t come home with you. It stays with the petals and with the earth, ready and waiting for you to visit when you need to feel spellbound for a little while.

  I need that right now.

  Wes knew.

  I climb into the bed of the truck where Wes has laid an open sleeping bag. I smile up at him, raising a brow, and his eyebrows shoot up.

  “I swear to god, for stargazing. Cross my heart,” he says, actually making the motion.

  “I know,” I roll my eyes. When I turn away, though, I think about how alone we are and how much I want his hands on my body. I pull my boots from my feet and set them along with my purse in the corner of the bed, then nestle into Wes’s side, his fingers slowly curling around my arm. I love the tickle of his fingertips.

  “You haven’t checked your phone once tonight,” Wes says, his head falling to the side until it rests against mine.

  “I haven’t,” I realize. My father very well could have left after I did. But for some reason, I have this strange sense of faith that he stayed home. My instincts taunt me, preparing me for disappointment, but the faith remains.

  “Your boss was okay with you taking the night off?” Wes asks.

  “Sort of,” I say. “He told me he’d save all of the gum from this weekend for next.”

  Wes turns his head to take me in fully and scrunches his face.

  “That means I’m getting all the gum, doesn’t it,” he says.

  “Pretty much,” I say, ignoring his stare and snuggling back into his hold. He chuckles eventually, and I let my hand rest on his chest, feeling it shake with his laugh.

  As we both grow quiet, the sound of the crickets in the fields takes over, and my eyes begin to wander around the sky. I haven’t looked up in years. I notice the stars, but I don’t really tend to them. I’m glad Wes made me do this.

  “When I was little, after my mom left? I used to try to guess what star she was staring at, and it felt good to think that we were looking at the same one,” I say. I feel his head shift, and I know he’s looking at me. I swallow.

  “You miss her,” he says. It isn’t a question. He’s reading me. He’s always read me.

  “I do. It guts me sometimes,” I say.

  We lay in silence for a few more minutes before he asks for more. It’s as if he knows I need to get used to shedding layers before I remove a new one.

  “Tell me about her,” he says.

  My breath comes slow, and I let it fill me completely before I speak. I need this time to think of her, because I don’t remember much. And that hurts most of all.

  “She had blond hair—wavy, like mine. And she always wore ripped jeans and old T-shirts. She…she liked art. She had a potter’s wheel in our spare bathroom. I used to put m
y Play-Doh on it when I was a kid. She never got mad,” I say. It takes me a few quiet seconds to realize I’m smiling, and I start to correct it, to scowl, because that’s what I’ve told myself to do when I think of her. But I stop, my head falling to look at Wes, and when his eyes catch mine, my mouth curves back into place. They are happy memories, and I’m allowed to have them.

  “She sounds like she loved you,” he says.

  I consider his words for a moment, and I don’t have a whole response. I only shrug, because I’m so unsure if she did. She left. She disappeared. And if she loved me, surely she would have stayed.

  “When I was twelve, I thought about running away. I wanted to find her. Taryn was going to go with me. My dad found out about our plans, and that’s when he started going to Jim’s on Saturdays,” I say, twisting back so my body is flush with the truck bed, my eyes locked on the stars and the thin layer of clouds threatening to hide them.

  “He was probably afraid of losing you,” Wes says. I let go of a heavy breath, not wanting to give my father any excuse. “I’m not saying it was the right choice. But…I think he was just running scared. I also think he’s done avoiding.”

  “We’ll see,” I whisper. “We’ll see.”

  My mind lingers in hope for a while, and I let myself remember good times for just a little longer. It feels safe to remember out here in my flower fields, in Wes’s arms. My thoughts never dive into worrying, and I never feel the urge to run. In fact, the longer Wes’s fingers tickle up and down my arm, the more I want them to roam along more of me.

  As long minutes turn into half an hour, my breathing shifts into a slow and quiet rhythm, and I become acutely aware of everywhere my body is touching Wes’s. My right leg is against his, and my torso is turned just enough so my arm can reach over his chest, my fingers grabbing a fist full of his shirt to hold my hand in place. His body is just as still, and the more minutes that pass, the more I consider he may be inventorying the same touches.

  “Wes?” I ask finally, my heart beating so hard it’s drumming can be felt in my bones.

  “Uh huh?” he says, his voice quiet as his face falls toward mine. His eyes are different—maybe a little hazed, definitely anxious.

  “Now would be a killer time to kiss me,” I say, pinning my lip in my teeth the second I do. My skin feels warm instantly, despite the cool air picking up with the late night breeze.

  “Okay,” he says, his voice cracking like a boy hitting puberty. I giggle at him, and he rolls his eyes closed. “Not cool, making fun of your boyfriend who is seriously panic-attack nervous about kissing you alone in the bed of his pickup truck.”

  “Boyfriend,” I whisper, looking away from him and smiling. Wow, I hadn’t thought about the word that goes along with him. I hadn’t considered a label or any word for what we are. I just know I need him. God do I need him in my life. He’s been missing.

  I look back at him and smile so large my cheeks ache quickly.

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice deep, vibrating in his chest against my hand, which he reaches for and holds tightly. “Boyfriend.”

  I leave my eyes on his and let my lips tingle with expectation.

  “You’ve kissed me before,” I shrug slightly, the right side of my lip raising a little more, dimpling my cheek. He mimics me.

  “Yeah, but not…not like this,” he says, his smile sliding into a more serious look, his eyes moving from mine to my mouth. The tingling quickly becomes numbness under his scrutiny.

  “I know,” I breathe.

  Inside my closed fist, the one wrapped in his hand, my palm is sweating. My heart is pounding, and my body is rushing with adrenaline. This is almost the same feeling I get when I step up into the box to swing against a really fast pitcher, only, I’m less sure of everything right now. My hookups and make-out sessions at parties and down at the river or the beach have been meaningless. But this—every this with Wes—it means everything.

  I inhale deeply, lifting myself by pressing against his chest. He holds my weight and watches me carefully as I sit up next to him and slide one leg over his body, straddling his lap. We’ve been in this position before—the first time we kissed. Only this time, I feel different.

  Wes’s eyes study my every movement, and his breath stills. My hands slide down his chest, along the lines of buttons on his shirt, and I slowly pull each one through its hole. I push his shirt open and pull on the ends tucked in his pants, his stomach and chest now bare in front of me. My eyes widen at the contours of every muscle on his perfectly-formed body. Without pause, I lean forward and press my lips on his stomach, working my way up him until I kiss the center of his chest.

  Wes takes a sharp breath as I blow coolness over the small area where my tongue tastes him, and I feel his hands begin to gather the skirt of my dress into his fists. I peer up at him as I lean forward and kiss him again, and I feel his muscles tighten. He’s caught between being my savior and being my seducer, and right now, I don’t need saving—I need his touch.

  My hands find his, and I cover them, guiding them up my body with my dress until it’s gathered around my waist and his fingers have found my bare skin underneath. His gaze bores into me, and I nod slowly, my movement continuing as his hands slide inches at a time under my dress until his palms have found my breasts.

  I let my eyes fall closed as Wes sits up into me, his hands caressing every curve of my breasts until his thumbs finally stop along the lacy edge of the only nice bra I own. I wore it because Taryn bought it for me last year on my birthday. I wore it hoping Wes would see.

  I wore it so he would take it off.

  Impatient, I reach behind my own back and unclasp the hooks, and Wes’s eyes flash with hunger. His head tilts slightly in question, for permission, and I lean my head back so I’m looking to the sky, all of me open to his touch.

  The movement of his hands is gentle, his fingertips tracing my curves with a tickle, his thumbs gliding over the hard peaks as they move down my ribs to the bottom of my dress. Once there, Wes’s confidence grows, and he pulls my dress higher until the only thing left is to remove it from me completely. He looks at me again here.

  “I want you to. I trust you,” I stare into him.

  He lifts the layers of fabric over my head and his hands slide down my shoulders, pulling the straps of my bra along with them. My eyes can’t quite make it to his as I sit before him, bare and wanting to be loved. The feel of his right hand on my cheek brings my gaze to him quickly, though.

  “You’re a beautiful girl, Josselyn,” he says, using my full name. I sink into him, and close my eyes, my lips finding his quickly, not sure how to respond other than with this physical trust.

  His mouth moves with mine until my lips are swollen and raw with our kiss, and slowly he kisses his way down my neck and shoulder until his mouth covers my right breast completely. My body grinds into him on instinct, his tongue on my nipple sending a wave of pulses down to my center. I push into him for relief, and his hands move from my ribs to my ass, pulling me against him as he groans.

  He’s careful with his touch, his fingertips flirting along the band where my panties hug my legs, but never breaching inside, though I’m desperate for him to. I lose myself in the feel of his teeth along my nipples though, and each time he sucks one into his mouth, I press into him below, until eventually the rhythm takes over control of my body in search of relief.

  “Touch me, Wes. Please, just once. I need…” I beg, my center throbbing against the hardness underneath his pants. My hands move down his chest, wanting to feel him once, and just as I touch him, his hands slide under both sides of my panties, his fingers finding me wet and ready to explode.

  “Wes…” I pant, unable to say anything more before his touch ignites a wave that rushes through me over and over again, my body moving with his touch and my hand moving against him. As I begin to come down, my core relaxing and my breath slowing, Wes pulls me against him tighter, his hand covering mine over his hard-on.

&nbs
p; With his permission, I unzip his pants and release him, taking him completely in both hands and sliding my palms up and down, using the rise and fall of his chest as my guide. My head falls against his, and our lips barely touch, pausing between breaths as his teeth tug at my lower lip and drag across my sensitive skin. His hands grasp my ass firmly as he pulls me into him a few final times, and I feel him release under my touch, a deep groan escaping his throat.

  I bury my head in his neck, my body flush against his, our skin hot. His hands loosen, but never let go totally, sliding up my back, tracing my spine, and folding around me so he can hug me close.

  “I think we’ve pushed the limits of no traffic down the farm road. How about I help you get your dress back on?” he chuckles.

  “I think that would be good,” I say back, my voice coming out nervous, maybe a little embarrassed. Wes can tell, and as he pulls my dress to his side, he pauses, moving a hand to the side of my face, his eyes searching mine.

  “Why are you looking at me?” I sigh, my face tingling from his attention.

  “Don’t do that,” he shakes his head.

  “What?” I say, looking down at my dress. I reach for it, but his hand catches mine.

  “Feel ashamed. Don’t do that,” he says. I breathe in sharply once and flit my gaze back to him. “You’re a beautiful girl, and you’re allowed to feel things. And I wanted that…god, Joss, did I want that. If I pressured you…”

  “You didn’t,” I look down, biting my lip. I look back up to him, my lip sliding loose with a smile. “You didn’t. I wanted that too. And more.”

  “And more,” he repeats after me. “God yes, and more.”

  I giggle and pull my dress up to my body, my arms and chest beginning to feel cold. He helps me pull it over my head, but leaves his hands on my cheeks after. “More can wait. I’m here with you…not because of more. I’m here because of you.”