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Authors: Juliana Stone

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last one barely intelligible.

U cmign?

27

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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

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Juliana Ston e

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.

Lucky for me, I didn’t want anything to do with boys like

him— you know, the complicated ones. I wasn’t here at Gram’s

to socialize. In fact, I hated socializing.

About a month ago, my friend Kate had convinced me to go

to a party at Blake Mathews’ place. His parents were out of town

and his older brother was home from college. It was supposed to

be
the
summer kick- off party. I knew it was a mistake, but Kate had begged and I’d given in. At the time, I’d thought that maybe

I was ready to move on. Maybe I was ready to be normal again.

I’d spent the entire night hiding in a dark corner, sipping

the same warm beer. Any guy who approached was shot down

because I had no idea how to act or what to say.

I studied my friends. I watched them laugh and have fun.

I watched them dance and act crazy, and I watched them kiss

and cuddle.

It made me furious. It made me sick…and it made me so sad.

Because no matter how hard I tried to be that girl— to be the

one who was light and happy, the one who my parents wanted

back— I couldn’t be her. I knew she didn’t exist anymore, and I

was pretty sure she was never coming back.

I frowned as I yanked on my top— the cami was long gone,

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BOYS LIKE YOU

but the coral blouse I’d thrown on was a little snug across the

chest. I’d also axed the shorts, because, well, they were way too short, opting for a jean skirt instead. The fact that I’d finally brushed out my hair had nothing to do with Nathan Everets,

even though I could tell that’s exactly what Gram was thinking.

But she’d be wrong. Way wrong.

Nathan, on the other hand, looked totally relaxed. He had

tossed his bandana but covered up his muscles with a white

T- shirt. It did nothing to hide the six- pack that I knew was

underneath, mostly because it fit him like a second skin and was

threadbare as if it had been washed many times.
The
Cramps
spelled out across his chest in faded red letters.

Though it was rather presumptuous of me to claim the

popular New York alternative band as my own, it bugged me

that he even knew who they were. They were edgy and political,

not hillbilly country blues.

I knew I was generalizing but couldn’t seem to help myself.

I passed Nathan the platter of ribs, after throwing enough

pork onto my plate to feed a small country. I wasn’t even hungry, so what was up with that?

I took a sip of iced tea and glanced up at the clock, 5:15.

All I had to do was get through the next forty- five minutes

and then he would leave and I could go back to my totally

inappropriate reading material— taken from my mother’s night

table— and get on with my quiet Friday night.

“So, Nathan, how is Trevor doing?”

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Juliana Ston e

Nathan choked on a rib. Or at least I think he did. I glanced

from him and back to Gram, wondering at the odd expression

that crept over his face.

He cleared his throat as Gram poured herself some iced tea

before offering the jug to Nathan. He shook his head and stared

down at his plate. “He’s the same, I guess.”

“I see,” Gram replied softly.

I didn’t.

“Who’s Trevor?”

Nathan’s head shot up, and the look in his eyes was so bleak

that, for a moment, I forgot to breathe. His eyes were blue, dark blue like the Atlantic on a cold winter day, and at the moment,

they were filled with something I was all too familiar with.

Pain. But not just pain. It was so much more.

Something inside me twisted, and a wave of nausea rolled

through me.

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “That was rude.” I glanced at Gram

and shook my head. “None of my business.”

I tore some meat off a rib bone and shivered, suddenly cold.

Sweat beaded along my brow, and even though I felt like I was

freezing, it was, in fact, hot as hell in the house.

This weird roaring started in my ears— it was thick and

pressed into me, so I knew I was already running to catch up.

If I didn’t get hold of my shit, Gram and Nathan would have a

front- row seat to a one- of- a- kind freak- show panic attack.

I went through the steps my therapist had taught me.

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BOYS LIKE YOU

I exhaled, fingers trailing through the condensation that

gathered along the bottom of my glass as I tried to slow down. I

counted, concentrating on the numbers, starting at twenty and

working my way back. My chest hurt, but eventually my heart

relaxed and the pressure eased. It took a bit, but after a while, the fuzziness went away and everything became clearer.

It was then that I realized Nathan was staring at me as if I’d

grown two heads and Gram’s eyes were misty, her lined face

drawn in concern.

“Are you all right, Monroe?” she asked carefully.

“I’m fine,” I muttered and shoved a piece of meat into my

mouth. I forced myself to chew it slowly and washed it down

with a long, cold drink.

5:30. Nearly there.

I didn’t say one word for the rest of the meal. I didn’t really

need to; Gram more than made up for the fact that Nathan

wasn’t in his happy place anymore and that I had never really

gotten there.

I listened as Gram chatted about some kind of peach festival

that was on in Twin Oaks for the weekend while studying

Nathan covertly. I didn’t feel like talking, and he was more interesting than the rose pattern on Gram’s wallpaper.

His brown hair was longer than it had looked underneath his

bandana, and I could tell he spent a lot of time outdoors because his ends were lighter. When he turned his head, the pieces shimmered like warm butter, which really wasn’t fair because I knew

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Juliana Ston e

more than a few girls who laid down big bucks to achieve the

same look.

With his blue eyes, square jaw, and hot body, there was no

denying Nathan Everets was packing some pretty serious genes.

He smiled at Gram, and I could tell that she was charmed,

but then how could she not be? He was polite, well- spoken, and

really good- looking. I wondered if she sensed the darkness that

ran just beneath the surface like I did. He was hiding stuff. I saw it, but then again, I guess that’s no surprise since these days I was all about the darkness.

He made some comment— I couldn’t tell you what they were

talking about— and Gram laughed. She laughed like a school

girl, all deep- chested and animated and giddy. I wondered if

Nathan was a player. Or if he had a girlfriend that he was faithful to. If so, I found it odd that on a Friday night, he was stuck

making small talk with us instead of having fun with his friends.

He and Gram ate peach cobbler while discussing football,

and my eyes glazed over. I hated football. I mean, really, what

was the point in lining up across from some huge Neanderthal

whose only mission was to kick your ass all over the place?

I didn’t get it. When they started talking about some guy

named Payton, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“So you like The Cramps,” I asked, though it was more of a

statement than a question, and judging by the look on Gram’s

face, it had come out sorta rude.

Nathan sat back in his chair and nodded. “Yeah, they’re

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BOYS LIKE YOU

awesome. The guitarist, Blake, is old school and I appreciate

that. Too many guys these days are just hacks. They wouldn’t

know what an arpeggio scale was if it hit them on the head.”

“Really,” I murmured. They weren’t the only ones. What the

heck was an arpeggio scale?

Gram sat up and grabbed the empty bowls off the table.

“Nathan here is quite the musician.”

Ah, now I understood the tattoos and hair. He wasn’t just

into the look; he was part of the scene.

Nathan’s face hardened, and the darkness or sadness or what-

ever you wanted to call it was there again. It was in the blank

expression that crept into his eyes, the way his hands froze, and the way his shoulders hunched forward as if trying to protect

himself from something.

It made me wonder. From what?

“So you must be a guitarist,” I said.

He shrugged and didn’t answer. Instead he pushed his chair

back and got to his feet. “Thanks a lot, Mrs. Blackwell, that was way better than what I had waiting for me at home.”

Gram leaned against the counter. “Thanks for your hard work

today, Nathan. You’ll be back Monday, or will it be your uncle?”

He shoved his hands into his front pockets, and for

a moment, I glimpsed the tops of his boxers again, along

with a pretty impressive span of flat, toned skin. My cheeks

flushed when I glanced up and realized he was watching me

watching him.

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Juliana Ston e

A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth, and

I didn’t like the way his eyes glittered beneath the soft light

from overhead.

He was arrogant, and I didn’t like him.

Or maybe I didn’t like how he made me feel, which was

something I didn’t want to think about. At least, not right now.

“I’m pretty sure I’m here for the next few weeks,” he answered,

his attention once more on Gram. I exhaled a long, hot breath

and pushed at a few pieces of hair that stuck to my neck.

Gram smiled. “Wonderful.” She paused, her eyes swinging

my way, her forehead drawn thoughtfully. About a half a second

before she spoke, I knew what she was up to. I opened my mouth

in an effort to dodge the bullet, but she beat me to the punch.

“Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon, Nathan?”

Oh. My. God.

I gave Gram the stink eye but she ignored me, even with my

right eyebrow raised at least an inch or more.

If Nathan was surprised by Gram’s question, he sure didn’t

show it.

“Nope. Some of the guys are up at a cottage and I’m stuck

here, so…”

“I see,” Gram said, still avoiding my glare.

I swear, if she goes where I think she’s going to go—

“So, would you be able to take Monroe to the Peach Festival

in town? She’s been stuck with me for a week, and I’m not

exactly exciting company for a sixteen- year- old.”

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