Page 11 of Because I Liked A Boy
The weight of it presses down, heavier than the rain outside. But beneath it—thread-thin and trembling—something else flickers. Relief.
Today, I bought a car from a cocky mechanic who wouldn’t stop smirking at me. I drank coffee made by a girl who treated me like I belonged here. I walked into a bookstore and walked out with a job and a promise of tomorrow. And now, somehow, I have aroof over my head.
I tip my head back against the sofa, close my eyes, and let the rain fill the silence.
A car. A job. A home.
It isn’t much. But it’s enough to start over.
Six Months Of Silence
Six Months Later
Six months. That’s how long I’ve been in Maplewood. Longer than I ever planned. I told myself I’d stay until the lease was up. Six months of hiding, breathing, surviving. Then I’d disappear again. But I’m still here.
The flat on Maple Street is quiet, but it’s mine. Page Turners has become more than a job, more than shelves and dust and paper. It’s the only place I can think straight. Ruby decided we were friends somewhere along the way, and she’s impossible to say no to. She keeps me fed on caffeine and sarcasm, and sometimes that’s enough.
And then there’s Hunter Hayes.
The whole town calls him trouble. Maplewood’s playboy. Always grinning. Always flirting. Always moving on before anyone gets too close. I thought I’d be the same—another girl he teased for a week or two before he got bored.
But he didn’t.
Six months later, he’s still here. Still throwing that smirk my way. Still showing up every Monday morning to walk me to work like it’s a routine we never agreed to. Still brushing too close when he doesn’t need to, saying my name like it’s something sharp and sweet on his tongue.
I tell myself I don’t care. That I roll my eyes. That it doesn’t mean anything. But I haven’t told him to stop. And for someone like Hunter Hayes, that feels dangerous.
The Maple Bean hums with its usual morning rhythm when I push through the door. The air is thick with coffee and cinnamon, warm enough to chase the bite of autumn outside. Wooden tables are scattered with open laptops and half-read newspapers, the hiss of the espresso machine blending with the low thrum of conversation.
Ruby’s behind the counter, hair piled into a messy bun that defies gravity, curls springing loose around her face. She spots me instantly, grin spreading like she’s been waiting all morning.
“There’s my Belle.”
The nickname still lands like a pebble in my chest, small and sharp, impossible to ignore. Nathan’s voice. Penelope’s. I force a smile anyway and slide onto a stool at the counter.
“You’re late,” Ruby teases, already reaching for the vanilla syrup.
“I’m right on time.”
“In Maplewood, this is late.” She smirks, steam curling between us. “I was about to send out a search party. Thought maybe you finally ran off with a cowboy.”
I snort. “Please. I’d rather die in my sleep.”
Ruby arches a brow. “Or maybe you were delayed because you were… distracted.”
“Distracted?”
“You know. By someone.” Her tone is light, but her eyes glint with mischief.
I roll mine. “You seriously need a new hobby.”
“This is my hobby.” She slides the latte toward me, vanilla and espresso curling into the air. “Watching you two go at it every morning? Better than Netflix.”
I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the heat soak into my palms. “Not everything’s about him.”
“Sure, Belle.” Ruby grins. “Whatever you say.”
The bell over the door jingles. Ruby’s grin sharpens. “And speaking of…”
