Free BoysLikeYou.indd by Juliana Stone

wanted to forget, but I
    couldn’t lie.
    It was good to see him.
    “Dude,” he said with a slow grin, grabbing my shoulders
    tightly as he shook me. “Where you been hiding yourself?”
    We hadn’t jammed once since the accident. Hell, I hadn’t
    picked up my guitar since our last gig. And it wasn’t that we
    couldn’t or didn’t want to. It’s just…without Trevor, the band
    was dead. It was like the soul, the groove, and the life were gone, sleeping beside him in that hospital bed.
    “I’ve been working for my uncle.”
    “Every damn day? That sucks.”
    For a moment, his bright blue eyes shadowed and he stood
    back, rubbing the day- old stubble along his jaw. It wasn’t stubble so much as peach fuzz, and it was something I used to razz him
    about a lot.
    Except I didn’t feel much like razzing.
    “You seen Trev?” he asked carefully.
    I nodded but didn’t elaborate. I wasn’t about to tell him
    that Mike Lewis had just threatened to kick my ass all over the
    hospital. It was a small town. I’m sure he’d hear it soon enough.
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    “I stopped in a few weeks back but he just…” Brent’s voice
    was subdued.
    A heartbeat passed. Then another.
    “Yeah, I know.”
    Brent’s eyes quickly slid from me to Monroe and the moment
    passed. He winked at her. “New blood? What’s your name, gorgeous?”
    “Monroe,” she answered.
    Brent’s grin widened even more and he bent over at the waist.
    “Nice to meet you, Monroe. Y’all don’t sound like you’re from
    around here.”
    “I’m not.”
    “So where’re you from, sugar?” His eyes moved over her
    from head to toe, and something inside me tightened. I nearly
    stepped forward but caught myself in time. I wanted to shove
    him the hell away from her, and that was wrong. Monroe didn’t
    belong to me. Shit, I barely knew the girl.
    “I’m from New York City, and my name’s not Sugar.”
    He snorted. “Your name might not be Sugar but I bet you
    taste real sweet.”
    Monroe made a weird noise in the back of her throat, and I
    was surprised to see a hint of a smile on her face. “That’s lame.”
    “Yeah, I guess it is.” Brent chuckled, his eyes moving from
    Monroe back to me, and I saw the question there. Brent was
    a player. Big time. I narrowed my eyes in warning. There was
    no way he was going there with this girl. Mrs. Blackwell would
    have my butt in a sling.
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    Brent was all about getting laid, which was pretty much the
    one thing most guys I knew thought about every single day. But
    him? Girls had been throwing themselves at him since he was
    twelve, and the ones who fell for his lame ass lines deserved what they got.
    But Monroe was different. And she didn’t know him like I did.
    “So, Monroe,” Brent said carefully, cocking his head. “You
    want something to drink?”
    She shook her head. “I’m driving.”
    “Right.” Brent looked at me. “That means you’re not.” He
    grabbed a can from his back pocket and tossed it my way.
    “Come on,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of guitars.”
    I popped the can open and took a long swig. The beer was
    lukewarm and not my favorite brand, but whatever, it was some-
    thing to drink. Something to hold onto. Something to keep my
    hands busy.
    “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Monroe said carefully,
    cocking her head to the side in a way that made a chunk of that
    dark tangled hair fall over her face.
    I took another long drink and then wiped my mouth. “I’m
    not sure of anything right now.”
    For a moment, I thought I saw a small smile lift the corners
    of her mouth. I blinked and it was gone.
    “Are you going to play for me?” she asked. Her eyes glistened,
    little sparks from the fire reflected in their depths.
    “Yo, Nate.”
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    The three of us turned as Chuck McDaniel strolled over with
    his