Juliana Stone - Boys Like You

He wouldn’t be starting senior year with me. Wouldn’t be catching my throws on the football field or gigging at local clubs. And tomorrow…shit, tomorrow Monroe was flying home to New York City.

“Everets, your arm is looking damn good!”

I turned as my coach, Mr. Forster, jogged over from the other side of the field. We’d just finished playing against the fathers and I had thrown for a win by twenty-one points. Wasn’t hard to do. They had a few players with some legs—my dad was one of them—but for the most part, they were a bunch of overweight, middle-aged guys who were already searching for the beer tent.

Coach Forster knocked his hat back and planted his hands on his hips. “Should be a good year.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Truthfully, I wasn’t all that interested in playing ball. Wasn’t all that interested in much, but I’d made a promise to Monroe and I planned on keeping it. I had to be positive for her. Positive for myself.

“We’ll miss Trevor for sure, but I’ve got my eye on that young Caleb Obinksky.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

I didn’t give a shit about Caleb Obinksky. Where the hell was Monroe?

“Look, coach, I gotta go. Hit the showers.”

Mr. Forster grinned, slapped me on the back, and then paused to shake my hand. “I just want to say that all that stuff…” He cleared his throat.

“Stuff?”

“The stuff with Trevor. It’s in the past. New year. New outlook.”

I didn’t know what to say, because his analysis of the situation was so far off my grid that I couldn’t see it. He wanted a winning season.

I just wanted to get by.

And I didn’t ever want to forget what happened that night, because to forget meant that it could happen again. And I was never going to be so goddamn selfish and stupid. Never.

“Sure. Okay.”

I pushed past him, my gaze roaming over the field until I saw that familiar dark head. She was chatting with Brent and a few others, her parents several feet away with her grandmother.

I jogged across the field, my eyes only on her, and I lifted my chin when she looked up. My heart did that strange flipping thing—was I ever going to get used to it? And I pushed Brent out of the way so that I could get to her.

“Hey! What the fu—” Brent stalled when Mrs. Blackwell arched an eyebrow, and he punched me in the arm. “You could have asked me to move, douche bag.”

“Whatever.”

I bent down and kissed her nose, inhaling that summery scent that was all Monroe. My forehead rested on hers, and I hoped she didn’t mind that I was filthy and sweaty because I didn’t want to move.

“Hey,” I said.

She laughed and slid her hands up my arms until they hit my shoulders. “You’re really good, Nate. Wow. I mean, I knew you would be, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

I grinned. “Good, because I was showing off for you. Look, I gotta go home and shower. Brent’s gonna pick me up later and we’ll head out to the party. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

She bit her lip in that adorable way that made me crazy, and I swear if it weren’t for her parents watching us like hawks, I would have slipped my tongue inside her mouth and kissed her senseless.

But I had to be good. Her parents weren’t 100 percent sure of me and I got that, but I didn’t want anything to interfere with our plans. Tonight was our last one together, and I had to make it count. I needed to make this girl so crazy about me she would never forget this summer, or me.

Because I knew I wouldn’t. She was burned into my skin like a tattoo, and I would carry her with me forever.

Monroe

I changed my clothes at least seven times before settling on a pair of dark navy skinny jeans, ballet slippers, and a green halter top that made my eyes pop. Or at least that’s what the saleslady said when Gram had taken me shopping in New Orleans a few weeks back.

The top was on the skimpy side—most of my stomach was bare and the jeans rode low—but I couldn’t wait for Nate to see me. I had plans for tonight. For me and him.

I grabbed my purse from the table beside my bed and fumbled inside the hidden pocket until my fingers closed around the small foil packet.

I’d bought condoms when I was in New Orleans. My cheeks burned at the thought—I still couldn’t believe I’d had enough balls to do it. It had been hard, slipping away from Gram, and then, well, who knew there were so many different kinds? Ribbed. Glow in the dark. Stuff that vibrated.

God, there were different sizes!

I’d bought the plainest, smallest box I could find and prayed that Gram wouldn’t be able to tell. You know, in case there was some invisible sign on my forehead that said, “Monroe is going to have sex and she has a box of condoms in her bag.”

I’d been thinking about this for days. No. Weeks. I’d been thinking about it ever since Nathan had kissed me at Baker’s Landing. And tonight was my last chance. My last chance to be with Nathan. Really be with Nathan.

Outside, there in the maze that was ours, we’d spent most nights under the stars until he had to go home. We’d kissed. A lot. And we’d touched. I’d explored his hard, muscled body that was so different from mine, and he’d kissed his way down my chest, but he’d always held back, didn’t go further. And when I wanted to do more, he stopped us.

Said we needed to move slow. That he needed to move slow.

So I hadn’t touched him. Or seen him there.

Even though I’d wanted to.

I knew that Nate had had sex before. I’d asked him and he’d been honest with me. He’d told me that he and Rachel had been doing it since the tenth grade. When I pushed him, he’d admitted that there had been others.

Of course there had been others. Nathan Everets was hot. And it wasn’t just that physically he was smoking. He was the deepest, sweetest guy I’d ever met. Who wouldn’t want to be with him?

So why didn’t he want me?

I shoved the condom into the front pocket of my jeans and glanced at myself in the mirror. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the face that stared back at me.

Who was this girl with eyes that sparkled and skin that glowed? This girl who looked…happy. Excited. And scared.

“Monroe, Nathan is here!”

Gram’s voice made me jump, and I grabbed my jean jacket. I shut the door and didn’t stop until I was at the front door when I nearly tripped over my feet.

Holy. Hell.

Nathan smiled, a slow, soft grin that could seriously melt anyone’s heart. His eyes were soft and I noticed that he’d shaved. I loved it when he didn’t shave—it gave him that edge that I really liked—but tonight, with that smile? My hands were itching to touch all that smooth, tanned skin.

He wore a plain white Henley, his golden skin and burnished hair a contrast that could make any girl lose her head and—I smiled—he wore my favorite jeans. They were old and faded, but they looked amazing on him, and I exhaled shakily as I snuck a look at my mom.

She leaned against the staircase, and I could tell that Nate’s charm was working overtime because she smiled at him. She smiled at him in a way I recognized. God, he was good.

“So,” she cleared her throat. “You kids won’t be too late?”

“Mom, it’s my last night here, and I promise I won’t be out all night, but can I stay out later than midnight?”

I saw the indecision in her eyes.

“I mean, I just haven’t felt so good about things in so long, I kinda want to hold on to it as long as I can, you know?”

Okay, that was low, but I didn’t care. I was willing to work any angle in order to spend as much time with Nathan as I could.