Boys Like You(10)

“I’d for sure take Monroe, Mrs. Blackwell, but I…”

His face flushed deeply, and for a moment, I forgot to feel insulted, mostly because my curiosity was piqued. Something was up, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to know what it was— probably because it wasn’t me under the micro-scope. But still, my therapist would be fist-pumping right about now.

“I can’t drive, so…I mean, I can drive, I’m just not allowed to, um, drive right now.” Nathan said the words as if he could barely get them out. His eyes narrowed, like he was mad, and he looked at the floor.

Gram’s face softened. “That’s not a problem. Monroe can take my car.”

What? Wait a second. She was going to let me drive her big boat?

I glanced out the window at the big beast, or what Gram 37

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referred to as “the Matlock.” I had no clue who or what a Matlock was, though she told me once he was a judge or an actor…or an actor judge. Who knows, but the car was long and silver and shiny, and did I say long? She was crazy to let me drive it.

“Oh,” Nathan mumbled. “I guess that could work.”

Gee, don’t be all excited or anything.

“Thank you, Nathan,” Gram said with a big, embarrassing smile on her face. Nothing like being pimped out by your own flesh and blood. “Do you want Monroe to give you a ride home tonight?”

“No,” he answered quickly.

So quickly that I whipped my head up, no longer interested in the pretend piece of lint I was picking off my skirt. Okay, I knew I wasn’t supermodel material or anything, but I wasn’t dog meat either, so his attitude hit a nerve. The thing of it was I was surprised at my reaction.

“I could use a walk after eating all that food.” Nathan glanced at me, and I hoped he could tell that I wasn’t into this peach thing. It wasn’t my fault that Gram was hopelessly looking for ways to— what had my therapist called it? Engage me. She wanted to bring me back to life and was willing to sell me to the local hottie to do it.

“Monroe will pick you up around four tomorrow, sound good?”

His eyes were still on me, so I thrust out my chin, though when his gaze wandered down to my chest— just for a second— my breath caught and I hated the blush that stained my cheeks.

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I could say no. I could ruin Gram’s expectations that her granddaughter would have a great night. Or her hope that, finally, Monroe would snap out of the funk that was never ending. I could disappoint her and watch the light fade from her eyes. I could watch her smile disappear altogether. Lord knows I’d done it to my parents many times in the past year.

But I couldn’t. Not with Gram. Besides, it would be worth it just to make Nathan as miserable at the thought of a night out with me as he obviously felt.

“Monroe?” Gram asked again, and I glanced toward her.

“I’ll try and fit it into my schedule.” I pushed my chair back and left.

Of course I didn’t want to seem too eager or anything.

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Chapter Six


Nathan


At two minutes after four, I watched Mrs. Blackwell’s old Crown Vic make its way up my driveway. The thing was practically an antique, but man, she kept it mint. American-made and a pig on gas, the car had to be at least twenty feet long.

And judging by the speed at which Monroe turned into our driveway, it would be lucky if it was returned to its owner without a ding or two.

She drove like a city girl, which would be one speed, fast, and it was obvious she didn’t know how to corner the damn thing.

I wasn’t sure what Mrs. Blackwell was thinking letting Monroe drive, but then, it wasn’t my car.

My jaw tightened as I glanced toward the garage. Toward the car that was mine. The one that was off limits.

Monroe pulled up and threw the Crown Vic into park, her eyes finding mine as she sat there for a moment. I wondered if she was as uncomfortable about this situation as I was.

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knew that. I decided as I took the first step off the porch I was going to have to set Monroe straight on that point.

Technically, I still had a girlfriend. And even though I had decided sometime in the night— most likely between the twen-tieth and thirtieth pathetic, drunken text I had received from Rachel— that I was gonna call it quits as soon as she got back from the cottage, this thing with Monroe still wasn’t a date.

I yanked on the passenger door, slid in beside her, and was immediately hit with the smell of…summer. Fresh, sweet summer.

I glanced at her in surprise, noticed that her hair was down, and again was hit with summer…and something else. Something heavier. Something I had no name for, but man, it was nice.

“Hey,” I said, clearing my throat because suddenly there was a frog the size of a baseball lodged in my throat.

God, you smell good.

“Hey yourself,” she replied as she reversed the car into a three-point turn. Once she had maneuvered the vehicle back down the driveway and turned right onto the road, she cleared her throat. “And just so you know? This isn’t a date or anything.