Juliana Stone - Boys Like You

His cell dinged, for the twentieth time, and I snapped. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

Nathan grabbed his phone and glanced down at it.

I assumed it was his girlfriend, his “at the moment girlfriend,” and I looked away in disgust, my eyes falling upon a cotton candy stand. A little boy who looked to be six or seven was in line for a stick, smiling up at his dad as the two of them waited. When the lady handed him his prize, the vibrant pink color caught my attention.

For a few moments, it was all I saw. Pink. Fluffy. The little boy.

Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, and I lifted a heavy chunk of hair and pulled it forward over my shoulder. I couldn’t take my eyes off the treat, and when the little boy dug in, his mouth grabbing for the biggest piece he could get, I wanted to yell at him.

Be careful. You’ll get that crap in your hair, and then your mother will be mad, and then I’ll have to…

“Monroe, are you all right?”

“What?” I shook my head and exhaled a long, shaky breath. I thought of my bed. Of the pills I no longer had. And I glanced down at my wrist, at the single, solitary scar that was there. It wasn’t big and it wasn’t flashy. Kind of like me.

It was a testament to the real me. The weak part. The part that couldn’t do anything right.

“Monroe?”

“I hate it here,” I said quietly.

Nathan glanced at his cell one more time, his long fingers running over the screen. “If I ask you to take me somewhere, will you?”

“You’re not some kind of criminal, are you?” I thought of his suspension and realized I didn’t know much of anything about him.

“Nope,” he answered. “Not the kind you need to be afraid of, anyway.”

My gaze returned to the little boy whose face was all but swallowed by the large stick of cotton candy, and I knew if I stayed, I would be sick.

“Sure,” I said and took a step forward, “as long as you promise there aren’t any rides, games, or peaches.”

Or kids.

“I promise,” he said as he fell in step beside me.

For the first time today, I relaxed a bit. “So, where are we going?”

We were almost to the parking lot when he answered, his voice not only subdued and maybe distracted but definitely sad.

“The hospital.”

Wait. What?

That wasn’t what I had expected to hear. A party maybe. Or an underage club—if they had them out here in the boonies—but the hospital?

And yet, the sea of happy that existed here at the Peach Festival was so thick I felt like I was drowning. Even though I hated hospitals, I couldn’t deny that, at the moment, they were more my speed.

Anyplace other than here was where I wanted to be. “Okay,” I answered. “Let’s go.”

Nathan

I stared at the text again, my heart pounding so hard I was sure Monroe heard it. They’re gone for now. Can you make it?

Did I want to? Did I want to make it?

“Turn left at the lights.”

We passed Sheriff Bellafonte’s car parked next to the bus stop and I looked away, glad that Monroe’s lead foot was relaxing a bit. Up ahead, I saw the hospital, and I told Monroe where to park for free, on Fraser Street just to the right. She pulled in along the sidewalk, and I pretended not to notice when she bumped the curb.

Foo Fighters were playing on the radio, and the air that blew from the vents was colder than I liked. Guess the northern girl wasn’t used to our steamy summers, but I liked the heat.

I blew out a long, hot breath, my foot tapping an insane beat on the floor. I was nervous, and I felt like my head was going to explode, but I kept it cool. I had to.

“Are you going to be long?” Monroe asked.

She tapped her fingers along the steering wheel, and when she turned to look at me, for one second—for one perfect second—I thought she had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.

“Nathan?” she asked.

“Call me Nate,” I said as I reached for the door handle.

“What?”

“Nate,” I said again and opened the door. “It’s what my friends call me. Nathan is saved for the parents and everyone else.”

I rounded the car and stared down at her.

“So we’re friends now?” she said, her fingers still tapping the steering wheel, tap, tap, tap, in rapid succession.

“Are you coming?” I asked instead, moving back so she could open the door. She hadn’t even asked why I was here or what I was going to do, which I found interesting. I wondered if it was because she was afraid to ask, but then I decided it was more that she didn’t give a crap. She wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type, and I guess that was another thing that I kinda sorta liked about her.

She wasn’t clingy or needy or begging me for something that I couldn’t give her. It was nice to be with someone who had no expectations.

Just last week, Rachel had gotten all heavy on me, afraid that I was mad at her about something and that I was going to break up with her. She begged me to tell her that everything was going to be all right, and I gave in.

But the lie still stuck in my throat, and when I thought about it, I felt sick.

Monroe glanced behind me, toward the hospital. I’m sure she thought I was a freak. Hell, I probably was. What kind of guy brings a girl to the hospital? A girl he hardly knows? And yet, I needed her. I needed someone , and I guess it sucked for Monroe that she was the only person around.

“Come on,” I repeated, my hand held out.

I could pour on the charm. Smile a certain way and lean against the car. Stare into her eyes like she was the most important girl in the world. I knew what girls liked, and I also knew what I could get away with. But I didn’t think any of that would work with this particular girl. Her bullshit meter seemed to be sharp.

So I waited. And I hoped she couldn’t tell that I was basically shitting my pants at the thought of going in there by myself.

“You’re weird,” she said softly.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” I smirked.

She shook her head, but there was a slight smile around the corner of her mouth, and for some reason, it felt good to know I’d put it there.

I stepped back, and she opened her door.

We headed up Fraser to the corner and waited for the light to change. When it did, I grabbed her hand—an automatic thing—and was surprised that she let me.

I was also really surprised at how small and soft her hand was. She didn’t have those fake four-inch things that Rachel and a lot of her girlfriends had. Shit, you could poke a guy’s eyes out if you weren’t careful. And I didn’t want to think about how many times I’d had to listen to Rachel and her friends bitch about breaking one of them.

In the grand scheme of things, I didn’t care about something as stupid as fake nails, and I was willing to bet most of my buddies didn’t either.

But her hand didn’t stay in mine for long, and by the time we reached the entrance, I reluctantly gave in to her gentle tugs and released her.

She followed me to the elevators, and I punched the fifth floor as if I had every right to. As if I’d done it a thousand times before, when I’d only been up there once and that had been a disaster.

Monroe didn’t say anything, she just followed me inside the elevator, and I wished her hand was still in mine because honestly, the urge to bolt was bad.

I thought of Rachel and how she had refused to come with me that first time, three months ago. She’d pulled out the big guns, had cried until her mascara made raccoon tracks down her cheeks, and she’d managed to make me feel worse than I already did. So I went without her, and it had turned out pretty much the way she thought it would.