Boys Like You(7)

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Juliana Ston e

pretty intricate design, and though I thought it was kinda creepy— keeping your family bones on the property— I wasn’t about to judge anyone. Around these parts, a lot of folks did the same.

“All I did was slap some paint on it, Mrs. Blackwell. It’s pretty hard to screw that up.”

“I suppose.” She smiled and turned back to me, her hands on her hips. “Your uncle called. He’s been trying to get hold of you but your cell phone must be dead. He’s still having problems at one of his work sites, so he won’t be able to give you a lift home.”

Her eyes settled on me with a clarity that made me uncom-fortable. Of course she knew about that night. Of course she knew that I was suspended from driving. Everyone in the whole freaking county knew about that night.

I thought of the fridge at home. It was full of Dad’s beer, and I knew that if I locked myself away in the dark and took the time to get good and drunk, then maybe I wouldn’t think about that night. I wouldn’t care about the dark holes in my head. The ones that I’d been desperate to fill. The ones that shouldn’t be there. The ones that would tell me why I’d been so damn stupid.

But for now, I just wanted to forget everything.

“Come have dinner with us— ”

I started to protest. “No, really, Mrs. Blackwell, I’ll just head home. I don’t mind.”

“Nathan Everets.”

I stood a little straighter, because in my world, when a lady spoke at you like that, you paid attention.

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BOYS LIKE YOU

“I know for a fact your parents are on holiday, and I’ll bet you haven’t had a proper meal all week.”

“Honestly, I’m cool with working some more and heading home before dark.”

I didn’t want to see Monroe, and I sure as hell preferred to be by myself.

“It’s not a bother, really, and after dinner, I’ll have my grand-daughter drive you home.”

I shook my head, but she wouldn’t listen, and five minutes later, I found myself in a small bathroom just off the kitchen, scrubbing the dirt and grime from my hands and trying to clean up as best I could.

My stomach rumbled as the smell of good old Louisiana barbecue wafted in from the kitchen.

“Better than the frozen crap at home,” I muttered. My mom had made me a few casseroles, but they were still in the freezer where she’d left them. I’d been surviving on frozen pizza and burgers from The Grill whenever Link came to visit.

One last glance in the mirror told me it was as good as it was gonna get, so I tugged off my bandana and shoved it in my pocket, pulling out my cell as I did so. I turned it back on, and a quick glance told me Rachel had texted a few more times, the last one barely intelligible.

U cmign?

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Juliana Ston e

Guess the party was in full swing up at the cabin.

“Dinner’s ready, Nathan.”

I pushed the door open, and the first thing I saw was Monroe.

She’d changed out of the tight little top she’d been wearing and the short shorts were gone too. Bummer, because even though she was a prickly little thing, the shorts were kinda hot. She placed a bowl of taters on the table and slid into her seat. She looked pale, paler than anyone I knew, but that could be a New York thing.

I thought of Rachel and her obsession with being tanned and skinny. It’s all the girl talked about when she wasn’t shoving beers down her throat and avoiding anything that wasn’t green and leafy. I tried to explain once that beer and alcohol were just as bad as eating a Big Mac, but she laughed and said, “not when you puke it all up, it isn’t.”

Pretty hard to argue with that kind of logic.

Mrs. Blackwell sat down and passed a plate of barbecued chicken and ribs over to Monroe. Without skipping a beat, she grabbed a half rack and tossed it onto her plate before passing the platter along to me, her chin thrust forward as if waiting for me to say something.

Wow. They really did make them different in New York.

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Chapter Five


Monroe


I wasn’t happy to be sharing dinner with Captain Sweaty Pants and I wasn’t sure why Gram thought it was a good idea. I guess she was just being polite, but I liked our low-key evenings.

Dinner was done and the mess cleaned up by six. Gram changed into her comfortable clothes— I never seemed to get out of mine— and I read while she watched the Home and Garden channel. That was how it had been every night since I arrived.

There had been no fuss, no long involved conversations, and I hadn’t had to pretend to be normal. Or happy.

I made a mental note to email my therapist later. Apparently I wasn’t completely dead inside. There were things I cared about after all.

I liked quiet.

I liked simple.

I liked comfortable.

And the guy across from me was anything but those three things. He was one of those boys. One of the dark and BoysLikeYou.indd 29

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complicated ones. He was a boy who could probably get any girl he wanted just by sliding a smile their way (a) because he had a nice smile, and (b) I was guessing a smile from him would make a girl think she was the only one he was looking at. A smile from him just might make her feel special.