Page 23 of Someone Like You

I sighed. “I guess? I don’t really know, honestly. He says he is. I’m going over to his place to do his school reading soon.”

“Isaac…” I looked at Jordan, who actually seemed concerned. “Is he safe?”

I blew out a breath, knowing what he meant. “Yeah, I really think he is, Jordan. I mean, he didn’t mean to trigger me. I believe that. And the way he got me to calm down…fuck, no one’s ever done that for me. So, yeah, I think he’s safe. He hasn’t touched me again, or even remotely tried.” Even though Ireally wanted him to. Fuck. I wanted to shower him with all my consent. Among other things.

Jordan’s expression softened, and then he said, “Good. Get me another spatula while you’re out, too. Bitch.”

Ugh.

7

BRODY

If Isaac kept looking at me like that, I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to keep the promise I made him. Reaching surreptitiously under my laptop, I adjusted myself in my pants. I shouldn’t have done that, because just that brief touch had me gritting my teeth. My dick was aching, and when Isaac fixed those pretty green eyes on me, his expression so open and showing every lick of his own need, little jolts of electric arousal speared straight to my groin.

“Did you need me to read that again?”

Even his voice was angelic. Soft and smooth—until he got annoyed. Then it turned harder, with an aggressive edge that really got my blood flowing. As well as it could, at any rate.

Something had changed since the hospital, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he pitied me or what. He wasn’t as prickly, though, which I definitely liked. It made me think he was letting me in a little. That I was making some kind of progress.

My eyes shot to the cactus I’d set on top of the mini fridge, and warmth crept through me. No one got me presents, not even Bri. We just didn’t do that. But Isaac had brought me this one small thing—and I hadn’t been lying when I said it was likehim in plant form. All bristles and spikes keeping you from the prettiest flowers that didn’t bloom often. But when they did…when they did, they were everything.

“Hello? Earth to Brody?”

“Oh—yeah, can you read that part again?” I’d barely been able to pay attention since he started an hour ago, but I blamed that on my concussion. I also blamed the ceaseless thoughts of Isaac that kept jumping into my head on the concussion, too. But really, I knew better.

Ever since the hospital, the way he looked at me had become…more. More inquiring, more meaningful, more heated. Gentler. Filled with words and thoughts he didn’t voice but didn’t really have to, because he was an open book when it came to his expressions. He wasn’t really able to hide his emotions, and fuck if I didn’t love that. Being able to read him so easily when he refused to say what was actually on his mind. And I had a feeling that I was in his head a lot more than he let on.

Isaac started reading again, that smooth voice flowing over me, and I forced myself to focus and type a few notes. My mind started to wander within thirty seconds, and I was just staring at Isaac again, at the way his small, pink mouth shaped the words, how his eyes glided effortlessly along the lines I’d never be able to read properly, how he sometimes reached up to scratch absently at his uptilted nose. I could stare at him forever, and now, after knowing that there was a bleeding heart under all those spikes, I wanted to know him like no one else ever had. I wanted his kindness and his attention, I wanted his awkward efforts to console, to hear him trip over words that didn’t come easily but he still tried to offer them anyway. I wanted to lay him back on this couch, stretch my body over his smaller one, and?—

“Brody?”

I ripped my eyes from his mouth to find him staring at me with concern. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“I said maybe we should try to finish this on Wednesday? I think you should rest or something, you look flushed,” he said, green eyes trailing avidly along my cheeks.

“I’m fine,” I said, not wanting to end this. Not wanting him to leave. I watched as he slowly set the book down on the coffee table, anxiety that hewasleaving rushing through me. But he just leaned his small body back on the couch, turning more towards me.

“You don’t look fine,” he said softly. “Why don’t you put your laptop down.”

I clutched the laptop harder, not wanting to move it away from the evidence of where all my wandering thoughts had gone. “No, that’s—it’s fine where it is.”

There was a long pause, and then I almost choked on nothing when he asked, a slight tremor in his voice, “Are you hard, Brody?”

I could not have been more shocked at this change of pace, at the words he’d spoken so bluntly, at the heat in his dark green eyes. Eyes that kept wandering over my body, kept transferring some of that heat to me, kept telling me things that couldn’t possibly be true. “What?” I gasped out.

“I asked you,” he said, small pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, “if you were hard. Are you?”

“No,” I lied, appalled at the huskiness of my own voice. But, fuck, what did this mean? Was I dreaming? Was this a hallucination brought on by my head injury?

“I think you are,” he said, silky voice soft and low. “I think you should show me.”

My cock jerked in my pants, and a tortured groan worked its way from my throat. “What are you doing, Isaac?” Because he’d asked me not to touch him, and I was trying hard—so fucking hard—to keep my promise, so why was he torturing me like this?Was that what it was, payback for accidentally triggering him? God, he was an evil little fucker and I loved it.

Isaac leaned forward, eyes penetrating mine, and said, “I haven’t been able to think of anything but you for weeks, Brody. You’re in my fucking head, and I just want to get you out. So maybe this will get you out.”

The admission stunned me, thrilled me, and made even more blood rush to my cock. I was throbbing under the laptop, unable to look away from his burning stare. I couldn’t say no to him. I couldn’t. And I couldn’t touch him. He’d made that clear from the get-go, and the fact that he hadn’t moved any closer to me told me he still didn’t want that. But I could show him. Show him what he did to me, just how deep under my skin he’d gotten. That he was in my head, too. “Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked, sounding rough and raspy, desire choking me.

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