Boys Like You

“No, but as soon as Brad Lawson gets me out of here, I’ll be flying.”

Brad Lawson. No surprise there. At one time, the thought of her with that douche bag would have driven me crazy, but now…now I just wanted her to be safe and to not hate me.

“I’m sorry, Rachel. I don’t want to hurt you, I just…”

“So that’s it?” she asked. “We’re really over.”

“It wasn’t good for a long time,” I replied softly.

“I know,” she replied. “I know,” she said again. “But it doesn’t make me feel any better to see you here with her.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Oh?” she said. “What is it exactly?”

I glanced back toward Monroe and found her eyes on me. I shrugged. “I don’t know.” But it could be something big, I thought.

“Well,” Rachel said. “Maybe you should figure it out.”

We stared at each other for a long time, and then she reached up and hugged me, her mouth near my ear. “I miss you. Please tell me we can at least be friends.” She pulled away and looked up at me. “No one knows me like you do, Nathan, and I…I don’t want us to act like strangers, you know? It would just be wrong.” She sighed. “It would be so wrong. After everything. After Trevor.”

“I know.”

And then her friend Gia grabbed her arm and dragged her away from me.

After a few seconds, I turned and slid through the crowd, not stopping until I was inches from Monroe.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hating the way her eyes fell away from me.

For a second, I thought I’d blown everything. I thought my need to hurt and to lash out had ruined whatever it was that we had.

But then she moved her chair, and I knew things were going to be all right. A bit more of that weight left me, and I slid in beside her.

Brent and his buddy broke into some kind of hillbilly crap that Trevor would have loved, and after a few seconds, I relaxed enough to sit and watch. Link, the drummer in our band, was a table over and grinned, his arm around a redhead. I nodded but kept my focus on Brent.

Monroe and I didn’t talk or even look at each other, but when my hand crept over hers, she didn’t move away. Her fingers were cool and I loved how they fit inside mine. I felt as if I’d just won the war or something.

Brent played for nearly twenty minutes more, his eyes laughing as the girls up front sang along to everything that came out of his mouth. His buddy, a guy I vaguely knew from a town in the next parish, was pretty good, and by the time they were done, I was completely relaxed.

Was it the music? Maybe. Though I’m guessing it had more to do with the fact that Monroe’s hand was still in mine and her bare thigh was pressed up against my leg.

Brent finished off with a flamboyant chord run and then leaned over to whisper something to his buddy. The guy slid from his chair and jumped off the stage, his eyes on me, his guitar outstretched.

“Hey guys, why don’t y’all make a lot of noise and maybe we can convince Everets to get his ass up here and play for us.” Brent was standing, clapping his hands and gesturing to the crowd behind me.

His buddy grinned. “Dude, you should get up there.”

Monroe nudged me with her leg and I glanced down at her.

“I’d love to hear you play,” she whispered.

My eyes moved from her shining eyes down to her mouth. To her lips that were slightly glossed and so damned kissable they should be illegal. I thought of the week before. I thought of our kiss.

And I thought of what she’d said.

I jumped up and grabbed the guitar that was held in front of me, but before taking the stage beside Brent, I bent forward, my mouth close to her ear.

“I’ll play for you, Monroe. Just for you. But remember it will cost you.”