Boys Like You(29)

11/19/13 10:02 AM

Juliana Ston e

nearly let her float away from me, because as much as she was into this right now, I knew that I needed to take things slow with her. I thought of her eyes. Of the secrets they held. I thought of the pain I’d glimpsed, and something inside me twisted.

What was I doing? I was no good for her. Hell, with the crap going on in my life, I wasn’t good for anybody.

“Are you done waiting?” she said.

I blinked, my body tightening even more if that was possible.

No.

Then she moved a bit— we were skin on skin. She made that sound again, and I was done.

“Yes,” I said, barely able to answer. “I am.”

I’d kiss her. And maybe it would suck. Maybe all this other stuff didn’t mean shit when it came to actual kissing.

Her pupils were huge, her long hair slicked against her shoulders, and her mouth was shiny and open. She shuddered against me as I bent forward and gathered her even closer.

I felt her legs tighten around my waist, and I think I stopped breathing until my mouth slid over hers and she exhaled into me.

At first, she was hesitant, her lips trembling a little beneath mine, but then her fingers dug into my shoulders and she opened up, her tongue sliding into my mouth and driving me crazy. She was warm and soft and smooth beneath my fingers, and her mouth was as amazing as I had imagined.

No, that was wrong, because everything was way better than 118

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I’d imagined. The way she felt. The way she tasted. Those little noises she kept making.

We kissed for a long time. Long enough for me to know that if I didn’t stop things, I was gonna embarrass myself in ways a guy should never do with a girl he liked.

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.

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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?”

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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.