Authors: Juliana Stone
hands, hating the heaviness inside me. But I had no idea how to
lighten the load, and despite what my dad said, I wasn’t so sure
I deserved it.
I’m not sure how long I was there, alone with all that dark-
ness. It could have been minutes, but judging by the gloom
outside, I was guessing it had been at least an hour. My mom
poked her head in, a smile on her face.
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“There’s a girl here for you, Nathan.”
“Yeah?” I angled my head so that I could look at her. “Tell me
it’s not Rachel.” My mom wasn’t exactly a fan of Rachel. Hadn’t
been ever since tenth grade when she’d come home from work
early and found Rachel and me in bed. Naked and in the middle
of getting busy.
Even so, at this point I was willing to bet Mom would let us
go at it wherever the hell we wanted to, if that would make me
happy. She just wanted to see me smile again.
“It’s not Rachel. It’s a really pretty girl with long dark hair.
She says her name is Monroe and that you were expecting her.”
She paused, her forehead wrinkling. “Who is she?”
Huh.
“Mrs. Blackwell’s granddaughter.” I saw the look in my
mom’s eyes. “Hey, don’t get all excited. First off, she’s only here for the summer, and secondly, we’re not exactly friends.”
I scowled. She’d made it more than clear that I was nothing.
“Tell her I’m not home.” I added.
“I can’t.” Mom pushed back her long, blond hair and walked
over to me, nudging my knee with hers as she rolled back on her
feet. “She knows you’re here. If you want to blow her off, you’re going to have to do that yourself.”
“Awesome,” I said, jumping up to my feet.
My mom was on the small side, about Monroe’s height, and
she had to stretch to reach me. She kissed my cheeks and whis-
pered, “You’re welcome.”
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I watched her leave through the patio doors that led to the
back garden. My dad was out there, and I guessed she was trying
to give me some space to deal with the “pretty girl” who’d come
to see me.
Did I want to see Monroe? Did I have a choice?
“Screw it,” I muttered and headed toward the front door.
I smelled that summer scent that was all Monroe before I hit
the foyer, and for a second, I let it wash over me.
“Pussy,” I said under my breath.
So she smelled good. She was still the prickliest, most compli-
cated girl I’d ever met, and just because kissing her had pretty
much been the highlight of my pathetic summer, it wasn’t like it
had meant anything to her. She’d blown me off.
But I was curious as to why she had come to see me, and I
guess it was that curiosity that pushed me forward. Or maybe I
just wanted to see her.
She leaned against the wall beside the front door, her hair
long and free— the way I liked it. Her shoulders were bare and
so were her legs, and I took a good long look before meeting
her eyes.
For a few seconds, there were no words. Hell, I barely
breathed. That’s the kind of power that sat in the depths of those clear eyes.
“Out for a drive?” I said slowly, as if I didn’t give a shit.
Monroe took a step forward but paused, her hands swinging
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hot in it. I tried to ignore the pull I felt toward her, but it was damn hard. Especially when she moved a piece of hair behind
her shoulders and sighed.
“You could say that.”
“You look like you’re dressed for a party or something.”
“Oh,” she tripped over her words, “I…this was all I had and…”
I didn’t want to do this. Not with her. I just wanted the truth.
“What’s going on, Monroe?”
She took another step and I shoved my hands into my front
pockets, shoulders hunched, a ferocious scowl in place.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“For what?” Something cracked loose inside me, something
heavy. It broke away like a chunk of rock falling from a cliff, and suddenly I felt lighter than I had all week.
Was it the sound of her voice? Did she have that kind of
power? Or was it the fact that being near her for less than five
minutes had me wanting to crush her to my chest and just
breathe in that summery, gentle smell.
The crap week I’d had melted away, and though I felt my
resolve failing, I didn’t want her to get off easy. I wanted her to squirm a bit.
“I’m sorry for the silent treatment this week. I…” She
licked her lips and my focus shifted slightly. How could it
not? She had on this light gloss that looked wet and soft. All I
could think about was the kiss we’d shared and how amazing
it had felt.
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“When things get intense, I pull away.” She shrugged. “It’s
what I do. It’s how I cope.”
Okay. I got that. I mean, it didn’t make me feel better or
anything, but at least I understood.
“So why are you here?”
A soft blush swept across her cheeks, and she twirled a strand
of hair between her fingers. “Well, I guess I’m hoping that you
might want to hang out…” Her voice trailed away as our eyes
connected. “Or something,” she whispered.
The grandfather clock at the end of the hall decided to chime
eight bells, and she flinched at each one. When the echo died,
I spoke quietly.
“Is this a date?” I asked, watching her closely. I loved how
easy it was for me to make her blush.
She shook her head. “Not really. I mean, I don’t know.”
“So what is it then?”
“Does it have to be something? Can’t it just be a couple of
friends hanging out?”
“So we’re friends now?”
The air thickened. Or maybe my lungs stopped working,
because I had trouble breathing, and I thought that just maybe
the look in her eyes wasn’t a look you’d give a friend. It was way too hot for that.
It made me wonder what she saw reflected in my eyes, because
I sure as heck felt hot and tight, and there was the whole trying to breathe normally thing.
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“We’re friends,” she said softly. “Friends who don’t date.”
Her eyes slid from mine, and she twirled a piece of
hair nervously.
“Give me five minutes and I can be ready for our second ‘non
date.’ I gotta grab a quick shower.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly, and I knew she wasn’t exactly sure
what had just happened.
“And Monroe?”
“Yes?”
I couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across my face. It was
a side effect of the lightness inside me. A lightness that, these days, only she seemed to be able to tap into.
“I’m glad you stopped by.”
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“Two Saturdays in a row,” Nate said as he slid into Gram’s car and reached for his seatbelt. He’d had the quickest shower ever and
reappeared in less than ten minutes, wearing a pair of faded jeans, beat- up brown boots, and a steel- blue, long- sleeved Henley.
He looked way too good, and my heart started beating a mile
a minute as soon as I saw him.
I’m sure he heard it, which was why I turned without saying
anything and bolted for the car. I managed a wave at his mom
and dad, but I’m sure they thought I was a complete idiot.
“Monroe?”
“What?” I glanced at him, and anything else I was going to
say kind of froze in my throat.
His hair was damp and hung to the top of his shoulders in
tangled waves that told me he hadn’t taken the time to comb
them properly. He tilted his head to the side a little, a half smile on his face, and ba- boom, there went my heart again.
My hands clutched the steering wheel as if it was a lifeline,
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but I kept picturing them trailing across the stubble on his chin, and even though I’d told myself I wouldn’t go there again, I
thought of the kiss we’d shared. I swear I could close my eyes
and feel his lips on mine.
“Are you okay?”
I glanced at him. Took a few moments. And then I was able
to speak. “Yep.” I nodded and put the car in reverse. “Perfect.
Right as rain.”
Oh God. I was rambling. This wasn’t good.
I pulled out onto the road and headed toward town. The sun
was just starting to descend, and the horizon was filled with red-gold rays. I had the windows down and smelled a hint of rain in
the air. And though it was still hot and sticky, I was cold.
And nervous.
So. Freaking. Nervous.
“So where are we going?”
Shit.
“To town.”
“To do what?”
“Hang out.”
“Hang out where?”
I had a death grip on the wheel by now. “What’s with all
the questions?”
I felt his gaze on me but refused to look at him. I concen-
trated on the road and didn’t even protest when he changed the
radio station. I was driving, so technically the music choice was 148
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my call, but hey, he could knock himself out because I had other
things on my mind.
What was I doing? I knew he was going to hate the Coffee
House. I knew the idea was a bad one. I knew this and yet…
I
wanted
to
see
him.
Unease settled in my gut, and I felt my cheeks heat again.
This must be some kind of record.
I’d wanted to see Nate, and this had been my excuse. It had
been my way of getting around the fact that I’d been a total
asshole, ignoring him after Sunday. After that kiss.
After that kiss that had made my head spin and my limbs feel
like spaghetti. A kiss that had twisted me up in heat and fear and desire, making me feel all sorts of things. Making me
feel
. And the weird thing was? I’d liked it a lot.
And that made me wonder just what it was that I had gotten
myself into.
We drove through town and I followed the directions in
my head— the ones Brent had given me when he’d called
earlier. I drove to the end of the main drag and turned left
onto Fossil Street, biting my lip when Nate sat taller and
glanced my way.
“Where are we going, Monroe?” His voice wasn’t friendly
anymore. In fact, it was downright harsh, and I bit my lower lip
so hard I tasted blood as I took my foot off the accelerator and
began to slow down.
I cleared my throat, an exaggerated sort of thing that had
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me wincing, and pulled the car into a parking spot. What was I
going to say to him? Shoot.
Think, Monroe
.
I yanked out the key and turned to him. Crap. He looked angry.
“Don’t be mad.”
Wow. That was a great start.
His eyes were flat, his mouth tight and tense. “I’m guessing
we’re not here because you want to go to Chuck E. Cheese.”
“No.”
Nate ran his hands through his hair and glanced out the
window, across the street to the Coffee House. There was a patio
out front and it was filled with people. Mostly teenagers, a few I recognized from the bush party.
“I ran into Brent today.”
He said nothing, his eyes still on the Coffee House, and I
shivered, my skin damp from the humidity. How was I going
to fix this?
“We can go somewhere else if you want,” I offered.
“Where did you see Brent?”
“Oh, at the, uh, market. He was buying stuff for his mom
and I was there with Gram. He told me that it would be a good
time and that he and the other guys you jam with would be
here. I thought…”
“Clearly you weren’t thinking.”
No. Clearly I wasn’t.
I exhaled and drummed my fingers along the steering wheel,
not really sure what to do or say.
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“I can take you home,” I said slowly.
“I don’t want to go home.”
Okay.
“Well, where do you want me to take you?”
“I don’t want you to take me anywhere.”
Nate was pissed, and though I couldn’t really blame him, the
snark in his voice still stung.
“Well, that’s pretty vague.”
“It’s all I got,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
His eyes were flat. “I don’t want this shit pushed on me.”
“I’m sorry— ”
“Quit saying you’re sorry. You’re not sorry. How can you be
sorry when you just don’t get it?”
Hurt, for a moment, I couldn’t get the words out, and when
I did, my voice was tremulous and weak.
“You’re not the only one who’s been through shit, you know.”
He yanked his hand through his hair, his eyes glittery and
angry. “Look, you brought me here. I didn’t ask to come, but
Jesus, Monroe, did you really think this was gonna be a good