Boys Like You

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.”

Chapter Eight

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 comin

g?” 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.