Boys Like You(31)

Nate: What cha doin?

Me: nothing Nate: wanna hang later Me: No

Nate: is something wrong Me: No

Except that there was. Nathan Everets confused me. The feel-ings he made me feel confused me. And every time I thought BoysLikeYou.indd 125

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about being with him, I got all nervous and anxious, and I just didn’t do any of that real well.

It might have been immature of me, but my reaction to our afternoon at the pond was to stay away, and even I didn’t under-stand it. And I sure didn’t have enough experience with boys to know what to do about it.

So I avoided him.

I didn’t go anywhere near the main plantation house, and when Gram suggested I take Nate some lemonade, I told her that I was pretty sure he had a supply of his own drinks.

Gram had given me her signature look— the one that made most people cave and just do whatever it was that she wanted done. But I didn’t fall for it.

I was pulling away, and Gram knew it. It’s what I did. But for now, she let it go, smart enough to know that if she pushed harder, I would disappear. I’d climb back into that dark hole I’d barely made it out of.

I knew Gram wanted to help me, and I’m pretty sure she thought she could help Nathan too. But he made me nervous.

He made me feel. And I needed time for those things.

Only we don’t always get what we want.

Friday morning came with a blast of heat, the promise of rain, and no Nate. Something had come up, and he and his uncle had gone to another job site. I heard Gram’s one-sided conversation while picking at my bowl of Lucky Charms. I’d already eaten all the green marshmallows and was on to the pink ones.

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She hung up and turned to me, her soft white hair already set, the curls perfect, but in this heat, they wouldn’t be for long.

“Do you want to come shopping with me, Monroe?”

I pushed my bowl away, feeling that restlessness inside expand and tighten up. “Where?”

“Just to town. I want to go to market before the weather turns.”

I shrugged. “Sure.” It’s not like I had anything better to do.

After a quick shower, I pulled on a pair of faded jean shorts and a white tank top and slipped my feet into a pair of old flip-flops before pulling my damp hair into a loose side pony.

I’m not sure what made me do it, but I grabbed some gloss from Gram’s bathroom for my lips and ran her mascara brush over my eyelashes. For a few moments, I stared at the reflection in the mirror. I knew I would never be as tanned as the girls I’d met here, but my cheeks weren’t as pale as they used to be and my eyes…

I glanced away, scrubbing at the corners of my eyes. I almost looked not sad. I almost looked normal. Pretty even.

“What do you care,” I muttered before running out to meet Gram.

A half an hour later, she pulled up to the old fairgrounds.

There were several smaller buildings scattered around an area as big as a football field. But the largest one was where all the local farmers gathered every Friday to sell their fresh fruit, produce, and pretty much anything else you wanted.

That’s the thing about these southern folks. They sure liked to buy and sell, and they sure liked to gossip.

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I followed Gram inside where the air was cooler in the shade, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. The building was filled with all sorts of vendors and— I sniffed— probably livestock somewhere.

“I’m going to have a look at the produce, Monroe. Can you take this bag and grab some peaches and whatever else you want?”

She nodded to the aisle across from me and handed me some cash.

I headed down the aisle, sidestepping more than a few people who weren’t paying attention. One lady backed into me, her elbow hitting me in the chest, and she turned around as if it was my fault.

“Watch where you’re going,” she said in a huff.

Rolling my eyes, I moved past her, searching for the booth that sold peaches. I figured the sooner I found what Gram wanted, the sooner we could head back to the plantation and I could get ready for an exciting afternoon of nothing.

I’d just spotted the peaches when someone grabbed my arm.

“Hey, Monroe, right?”

It was Brent. Nate’s buddy.

His voice was as warm as his eyes, and I nodded, smiling.

“Hey.”

He waved to someone behind me, his smile still in place.

“Seen Nate lately?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since Monday.”

He frowned. “I thought he was working out at your grandmother’s.”

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“He is, but I…we just…” God, I sounded like an idiot, and the longer I stumbled over my words, the wider Brent’s smile became.

“You guys have a fight?”

“What? No.” I took a moment. Gathered my thoughts.

“We’re not even friends really, so…”

Brent snorted and leaned close. “Yeah. Okay.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, changing the subject.