Page 2 of Someone Like You

“Fuckme, Isaac, this has been the longest day of my fuckinglife.” He lifted his head up to look at me, his curly brown hair in disarray. “Can you tell me something?”

His choice of words made my stomach jump, and I swallowed. “What?”

“Tell me why I wanted to major in Psychology again?”

I laughed and said, “Because you’re as crazy as the people you want to help.” Me being one of those people. I worked hard at trying to act normal, but deep down, there was an open pit crawling with the demons of my past. Every so often they’d pull themselves out and slither to the surface, hungry for another bite of my sanity. I’d been in therapy since I was eighteen, butcoping mechanisms and talking it out only went so far. “Too late to change it now, we’re four months from graduating.”

His head fell back onto his pillow. “Ugh. You’re right.” He side-eyed me and folded his hands behind his head. “It’s Friday,” he said.

“I know.”

“It’s Jamie’s birthday,” he said.

“I know.”

“He’s having a party,” he said.

“Goddammit, I told you I didn’t want to go to that.” I shot him a baleful look over the open pages of my textbook, but he didn’t let up.

He pouted. “But who’s gonna hold my hair for me when I drink too much?”

“Your hair isn’t long enough to hold, and just don’t drink too much!”

“But who’s gonna make sure I make it back here when I drink too much? What if I get lost? What if someonetakesme?” He gasped dramatically. “What if?—”

“You’re a fucking child, Jordan,” I told him wearily. I rubbed my eyes and closed my book. “I’ll fucking go with you. But you owe me.”

He shot up with a huge smile on his face, suddenly energized. “You’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for, you know that? Thebest.” He hopped off the bed and flew to the closet, singing,what to wear, what to weaaarrr.

I rolled my eyes and looked at the clock. Jamie was one of Jordan’s friends, but he wasn’t so bad. I could tolerate a party. I hoped. We had a few more hours, so I hunkered down and tuned out Jordan’s off-key, god-awful, impromptu Broadway show.

There were people everywhere.Pouring out of doorways, crammed into open spaces, shoved against each other and squirming on a makeshift dance floor. Jesus, why had I agreed to this? The music was so loud I could feel it vibrate through my chest, and my eardrums were probably bleeding.

I’d lost Jordan over an hour ago. So much for looking out for him. He was a slippery one, though, especially when he drank. He had a tendency to disappear for long chunks of time, but he always popped up later like he’d never been anywhere else but by my side.

I looked down at the cup in my hand, the foamy, sour-smelling beer untouched. I wasn’t much of a drinker, I’d just wanted something to do with my hands. Wanted to look like I belonged here, when I didn’t feel like I did at all. I moved toward the back of the house, intent on finding a quieter spot in the backyard. Somewhere I could wait this out and hear my own thoughts. People pressed against me, shoving and writhing, sweat-slicked bodies everywhere. It was a relief when I finally broke through the crowd, stumbling out the door and down the steps.

It was cold outside, and I wished I’d worn my heavier jacket. Februarys in Pennsylvania were no joke, but I was willing to brave the frigid night for some peace and quiet. There were a few people smoking—weed and cigarettes and vapes—and I walked until I was clear of the toxic cloud. There wasn’t much in the yard, a few folding chairs and a shitty-looking fire pit. I sat down heavily in one of the chairs, setting my drink to the side in the grass.

“You too, huh?”

The disembodied voice made me startle so hard I fell off the chair and right onto the stupid fucking cup full of beer. I felt the wetness seep into my side, cooling me further. “Fuck,” I groaned, scrambling to my feet and brushing at my clothes. Like that would help. “Fuck!” I could smell it, the cheap acrid odor invading my nostrils and pissing me off.

A low laugh from behind me had me whipping around and peering into the darkness. Two eyes glinted in the shadows, and I took a step back. “What the fuck man, why are you just…lurking out here?”

Another laugh. “I live here. What’s your excuse?” Then he stepped out of the cover of darkness and my eyes widened as my stomach sank. It was the guy who’d been beating up the vending machine.

Fuck me.

And then it hit me, as I stared at him. At his flashing silver eyes, black hair, and lip ring. At his heavy flannel coat, black jeans, and combat boots. At the tattoos snaking along one side of his neck and disappearing under his collar. This was Brody. Jamie’sroommateBrody. I’d heard people talk about him—not Jamie or Jordan, but other people at parties, or friends of friends. They described him as the weird punk guy who barely spoke to them and mostly stayed holed up in his room—when hewashome. I’d been hearing about him for six months now, but I never gave a shit about what they said. It’s not like I was ever going to meet the guy, and even if I did, I didn’t care what he did or how he was. But people liked to gossip, and they liked gossiping about people they didn’t understand even more.

Brody took a step closer. “I said, what’s your excuse?” His tongue snaked out and darted along his bottom lip, leaving it with a glistening sheen.

“Uh, there’s a party going on, or are you too busy beating it in the bushes to realize?” As soon as the words were out of mymouth, I wanted to snatch them from the air between us and shove them back to wherever they’d come from. It would be wise to avoid any kind of sexual comments with an unstable guy who had literallylicked my ear.

Brody’s laugh was lower now, full of something dark and salacious. “Are you imagining me in the bushes with my dick out, sweetheart? I can make that a reality for you.”

I took a step back. “No dude. Stay the fuck away from me.” I turned on my heel, angry that the one place I’d thought I could relax was already taken, angry that I’d gotten beer all over me, angry that I’d even agreed to come here tonight. This was the last time I let Jordan whine his way into getting me to go to parties with him.

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