Authors: Juliana Stone
“I just need a minute.”
“Okay.”
So
do
I.
Holy hell, so did I.
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It might have taken more than a few minutes for our hearts
to settle, and by then I realized that it was nearly midnight and Gram was expecting me.
“I have to go.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of my head and I smiled. “One
more minute.”
“Just one?” I teased.
“I’d take more, but I don’t want to get on Mrs. Blackwell’s
bad side.”
I giggled and snuggled into him. “She likes you. I don’t think
you have to worry.”
“Good to know.” I smiled at the lightness in his tone.
“And Monroe?”
I angled my head so I could see him. “Yes.”
“Technically that wasn’t my collection kiss.”
My smile widened. “It wasn’t.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Rules are you have to state the
claim before the prize is collected, and I didn’t state my claim.”
I liked this side of him. The light side. The teasing side. And
I liked how he made me feel. Coyly, I grinned. “So I guess I owe
you at least one more kiss.”
There was a pause.
My heart sped up.
“At least.”
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“So, as per the rules, I’m stating my claim.”
It was Sunday night and getting kind of late, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to hear her voice, and I needed to see her even more.
I’d spent most of the day and night at a family thing at my
aunt and uncle’s. Yep. The entire day spent with a bunch of
cousins who were either too young and annoying to hang with
or too old and annoying to hang with.
So I’d pretty much kept to myself. My family thought I was
brooding— angsting over my situation— and I was fine with
that. Because as long as they did, they didn’t try to talk to me
and I could be alone with my thoughts.
Thoughts that went from X- rated to kind of pissed off to
confused— and all of them were about Monroe.
I’d thought about how amazing it had felt to hold her and
how much I wanted to do more than just kiss her. I thought
of her laugh and the way it lightened everything, especially the
heaviness inside me.
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And I thought about Malcolm.
Who was he? A friend? A boyfriend?
I wanted her to share her secret with me. To trust me
enough to do it. But I was willing to bet that Monroe would
only come around when she was ready. And maybe she would
never be ready.
“So when exactly are you collecting your prize?”
Monroe’s voice cut through my thoughts and I grinned.
“Tonight.”
“Tonight? But it’s nearly midnight and I’m already in bed.”
“Really,” I said, my grin widening. “And what does Monroe
Blackwell wear to bed?”
She giggled, a soft, girlie sound that made my gut churn
with anticipation.
“Guess you’ll never know.”
I grabbed my knapsack from my bed and shook my head.
“Don’t count on it. See you in a bit.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” I answered before pock-
eting my cell and heading out of my room.
The house was dark— my parents had gone to bed as soon as
we’d come home— and I crept through it silently. They’d never
been super strict with me. I don’t think they’d ever given me
a curfew, but considering everything that had happened this
year, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be too happy catching me
sneaking out of the house at midnight.
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I still couldn’t drive— my license was suspended until the
fall— but that didn’t mean my dad’s bike was off limits. Slipping the backpack over my shoulders, I climbed aboard and set off
for Twin Oaks Plantation.
The sky was clear and my eyes adjusted quickly, so traveling
the back roads was easy.
Would she like what I had planned? Or would she think it
was stupid? Corny.
I thought of the connection we had shared the night before,
and I had to believe that she would get it. I had to believe that Monroe would understand, ’cuz if not, I was gonna look like a
total effing loser. The fact that I was
willing
to look like a total effing loser meant something, but right now I wasn’t going to
think about it too much.
I rode up the silent driveway, noting the low light that fell from the main plantation house, though Mrs. Blackwell’s cottage was
in darkness. The night felt electric. I heard the cicadas buzzing, the sad hoot of an owl close by, and the always humid, damp
air filled with the scent of honeysuckle and whatever else Mrs.
Blackwell had growing in her gardens.
I jumped off the bike and set it against the porch. Took one
step up and froze.
Already erratic, my heart began to thump like a kick drum—
fast and heavy. Ba- boom, ba- boom, ba- boom.
God, what was it about this girl that had me all twisted up?
I couldn’t see her face— it was in shadow— but her hair spilled
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over her white T- shirt like long fingers of ink. She leaned against the edge of the railing, wearing cut- off jean shorts and runners.
“Hey,” she said slowly, a husky tone in her voice that I liked.
I took two more steps up until my head was level to hers.
This close, I could see her features, the reflection of the stars in her eyes, the moisture along her bottom lip as if she’d just
licked it.
I leaned forward and brushed my mouth against hers.
Couldn’t help myself. But it was a quick one. We had to hurry.
“You ready?” I asked, my hand seeking hers and tugging her
down the steps with me.
“For what?” She sounded breathless.
I didn’t answer. We trudged along the side of the house and
I made my way over to the maze. It was freshly trimmed— I
know because I’d done it the week before— and I knew my way
around it.
I didn’t stop until we were in the center, and pausing, I
glanced up at the sky, nodding to myself as I let go of Monroe’s
hand and reached for my backpack.
“Nate, what are we— ”
“Hold on,” I said, grabbing her once more and planting a kiss
on those lips. It only lasted a few seconds and it took everything I had to break it off.
I whipped out a worn blanket, one I’d taken from my bed,
and spread it over the grass. Then I motioned for Monroe to
lie down.
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She arched one of those delicate eyebrows, a soft smile on
her face, but pulled off her shoes and then knelt on the blanket, moving over when I did the same.
“So, a midnight picnic?” she said, nudging me with her elbow.
I shook my head.
“No?” she grinned. “I don’t think Gram will like us camping
out together overnight.”
“I only need you for a few hours.”
“A few hours,” she repeated.
Damn, but I liked to see her smile. It made me feel like a king.
I lay down, and for a moment, she stared down at me, her
expression unreadable, and I could tell she was a little nervous.
“I’m not going to bite you.”
“I know,” she answered quickly. “You’re going to kiss me.”
“Yep. That I am.” I reached up and grabbed her arm, tugging
her down until she was sprawled across my chest. Her hair hung
loose, the way I liked it, obscuring her face and tickling my
nose. Her scent was all around me. It was in me, and I felt it as if it was alive. As if it made me alive.
She was so warm, so soft, and with a groan, I rolled her over
so that she was beside me, on her back and tucked into my arms.
For a few seconds, her breaths fell rapidly, little puffs of mist that hung in the air and then disappeared like the fireflies along the edge of the maze.
“What are we doing out here, Nate?”
“Just wait. You’ll see.”
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“See what?”
I pointed to the sky and turned to watch her as she followed
my finger. I’d already seen the beginning of the meteor shower
as I’d pedaled like a crazy person to get here, but according the reports online, the big show was just about to start.
We lay like that for about ten minutes. Her body next to
mine. Her breaths lifting me up. The soft sounds that fell from
her lips were mesmerizing. This girl had her own rhythm, her
own state of being, and it was addictive.
I could spend the entire night watching her.
I knew when the first wave of meteors broke through to our
side because Monroe’s eyes widened along with her smile. Only
then did I look away and turn to the sky.
“Holy shit,” she exclaimed. “What is this?”
“A meteor shower,” I answered, watching the shooting sprays
arc across the sky. The last time I’d watched one had been a few
years back. Trevor and I and a few guys from the football team
had gone out to Baker’s Landing with a couple of six packs.
We’d stayed the night. Got wasted and watched the sky.
It had been pretty cool, but nothing compared to tonight. To
being out here under an endless sky with Monroe tucked into
my side like she belonged there.
We watched the light show for hours, it seemed, and when
the dew fell and Monroe began to shiver, I pulled the blanket
over us and wrapped us up like a cocoon. I felt…peaceful, and I
would have stayed that way forever if I could have.
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“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “I’m not much of science nut,
so I have no clue why they happen or what it is I’m seeing.”
“It’s the tail end of a comet coming close to our sun. The bits
that fly off hit our atmosphere and,” I nodded to the sky, “that’s the result.”
“Amazing,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
I stared up into the sky and felt small. I felt small beneath its bigness and I wondered…
“Do you believe there’s something out there?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
Stupid.
What the hell? Why was I getting all deep and shit?
“Nothing. Forget it.”
She wriggled and loosened the blanket enough so that she
could look at me. “Do you mean God?”
I shrugged but didn’t answer, mostly because I didn’t know
what to say. The lightness was suddenly gone, and I was pissed
that it was my fault.
“I believe there’s something,” she nodded, her pale eyes shim-
mery, like they were filling with tears.
Which made me feel worse.
She exhaled a long, shuddery breath and tried to smile, but it
didn’t really work. She looked so sad, so…broken.
“I used to think there was nothing. No one out there. No
God.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Just nothing. But then I real-
ized when you don’t believe in anything anymore, what’s the
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point of living? What’s the point of breathing or water fights
and summer picnics? What’s the point of…loving?”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I was silent. I stroked her hair, and she relaxed against me again.
“There has to be something out there, some greater power,
don’t you think?”
“I guess so,” I answered. My family wasn’t overly religious,
and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to church. This
kind of shit wasn’t something I thought too much about, so why
the hell had I brought it up?
“There
has
to be,” she whispered. “I
need
for there to be. I need to believe that Malcolm is somewhere. That when he died,
he didn’t just end.”
I wanted to know who Malcolm was. What happened? How
did he die? And why did Monroe blame herself? I had so many
questions, but I didn’t ask any of them because I didn’t feel as if I had the right to. I just stroked her hair and pulled her as close as I could.
“I’m sorry,” I said. They were only two words, but they were
all I had.
There was a pause.
“I know.”
A heartbeat passed before she whispered, “I’m sorry too.”
And then she began to cry.
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I don’t know how long I cried. I only know that when I finally
stopped, I felt empty and my heart hurt.
Nate’s arms, his warmth and strength, never left me, and for
that I was grateful. I hadn’t let this much emotion out since
that awful day. In fact, I don’t think I’d cried since. Not even at Malcolm’s funeral.
My therapist had been trying to get me to this place— a place
where denial didn’t live and some sort of acceptance did.
A place where maybe I didn’t blame myself. I’m not sure if I would ever really not blame myself for what happened that day, but I was one foot in that direction, which was one foot farther than I’d been.
Who knew that all it would take was a southern boy and a