Boys Like You(40)

Nate hadn’t made a move to collect his payment yet, and I was pretty sure now was it.

I rotated my shoulders and glanced up at his house. It was as dark as everything else. His parents had either gone out them-selves or they were in bed already. Either way, it felt like there was no one around for miles.

“Are you gonna shut this thing off?”

“What?” I jumped at the sound of his voice. The little bit of light from the dashboard illuminated his face— his strong chin, high cheekbones, and a mouth that made me think of things.

It made me think about the kiss we’d shared the week before.

And what his body had felt like pressed up against mine. With his longish hair and that little bit of stubble on his chin, he looked dangerous. He looked hot.

And though he looked perfect, I knew that he was as un-perfect as I was. We were damaged, the two of us, in ways not a lot of people could understand. And for the first time since all the bad stuff had happened to me, I didn’t feel so alone. I didn’t feel like the freak with too much shit inside her. The one who couldn’t talk. The one who fell into herself and hid.

I felt almost…normal.

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BOYS LIKE YOU

I felt like a girl, sitting in a car with a boy. A boy who she liked.

I turned the key and settled back in my seat, not sure what to do or say, and for the first time, the monumental inexperience of my life hit me in the face.

I bet Rachel would have no problem knowing what to do.

I’d seen her grab Nate at the Coffee House. I didn’t have to be introduced to know she was his ex-girlfriend. She’d looked at Nate as if he was a yummy piece of chocolate. One that she’d tasted. And when she looked my way, I could tell that she still wanted him.

She was exactly as I’d imagined. Tanned. Blond. And gorgeous. Every guy’s fantasy, and yet, he was here with me.

“Thanks,” Nate said suddenly.

“For what?”


“I was a total dick tonight. Thanks for not leaving.”

The radio was on low, an old song by The Fray, and for a few seconds, we listened to it, Nate’s fingers tapping along the tops of his knees while he hummed the melody.

“Trevor was such a * when it came to music, ya know?”

My head rested against the back of the seat and I turned slightly so that I could see him.

“What do you mean?”

“The Fray. Good band. Solid songwriting skills with a lot of melody, but not a whole lot of guitar and drums. I like heavy guitar and loud aggressive drums. Five Finger Death Punch is more my speed.” Nate shook his head, his eyes ahead and his 165

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Juliana Ston e

mind elsewhere. “But Trevor loved The Fray. He was real big on melody, and it’s why we worked together so well. It’s why we clicked. I was all about technique and arpeggio scales and fast riffs, but he kept things in perspective, he smoothed things out, and together, man, we wrote some good songs.”

That surprised me and I sat up a little straighter.

“You wrote your own stuff?”

Earlier, at the Coffee House, Nate had played a bunch of songs with Brent, showing off some impressive guitar skills while singing all of the girls into a frenzy. He had something real special, and though it had taken a few songs for him to open up, once he did, I was mesmerized.

He’d made me feel as if I was the only girl in the room, and I’m pretty sure every other girl had felt the same way. How could they not? When he looked at me, I felt as if he was touching something inside of me and that something was alive. It was hot and aching and a little scared.

I wanted to be touched. I wanted to feel. And maybe to forget.

“Yeah,” he answered softly, bringing me back. “We wrote a lot. Some of it was crap, but some of it was pretty good. We were gonna record them this summer, maybe put them up on iTunes or something…”

Nate sighed and I felt his pain. I felt it cross my chest and hit me hard like an old friend saying hello.

“We were gonna go for it. Even talked about moving to LA or New York when we graduated. And now…”

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He shuddered and ran his hands along the tops of his legs.

Back and forth. And then again.

“Shit,” he muttered. “How did I end up here?”

For a moment, I panicked. “Here with me?”

“No,” he answered. “Just here…here looking down a road that I don’t recognize anymore. A road that I never thought I’d be on, you know? Trevor was supposed to be with me. It was always us against everyone else. Us and our music.”

“Nate, you can’t give up on your dreams. You don’t know what’s going to happen. None of us do. Trevor could wake up tomorrow.” But I knew the likelihood wasn’t great. I’d heard Gram talking to one of her friends the day before. I’d heard words like sepsis, brain damage, possible infection.

“It doesn’t matter what I say or think, Monroe. There is only the truth. And the simple truth is that Trevor is laid up in a hospital because of me. He might never wake up because of me.

Or if he does, he might be screwed up so badly he might wish he’d just died. It sucks, and I can’t change a f*cking thing, no matter how bad I want to.”