Page 29 of Someone Like You

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all. It sounds like you’re creating something fun and meaningful. Maybe you could read me some of it sometime.” I swear I was imagining that hopeful tone.

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.”

And thankfully he didn’t say anything more about it. He handed me the textbook, and this time while I read for him, neither of us interrupted with inappropriate shenanigans. Much to my disappointment.

I probably should have just left when we were done, but there was something that had been bothering me for a while now. Maybe bothering wasn’t the right word, but the question had been nagging at me for weeks, and now that we seemed to be getting…I don’t know, closer, I wanted to know the answer even more. Because I still had this drive to help him, to comfort him,to understand him. A drive I didn’t fully understand myself, but I couldn’t deny its existence all the same.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, closing the book and setting it on the coffee table.

Brody looked at me with one eyebrow raised. “You can ask me anything.”

That was a slippery slope. I held his gaze, determined to get an answer today. “What made you so upset that first day? Because the you I’ve come to know,”and really like,“is nothing like the you who was beating up a vending machine.”

“I—” He paused, biting his lip and looking away. I wanted him to talk to me, to open up to me like I’d been unable to do with him, and I know that made me a hypocrite, but maybe I’d be ready to at some point. If he wanted to hear about it. And who did he have to talk to about things that went wrong in his life? He’d admitted he didn’t have any friends. So, who, Bri? Talking to Bri was like trying to walk through an open field littered with hidden pit traps full of sharpened sticks.

“Please, Brody. Please let me in.”

His eyes snapped back to mine, and something passed between us. I felt it down to my core, that deep longing for someone to understand. Someone to trust. And knowing it wasn’t just me who needed to let down my walls only made what was happening between us all the more compelling. Slightly intoxicating. Mildly alarming, but in a way that had anticipation thrumming through me rather than dread.

Brody sighed, holding eye contact, and said, “All right. That day…that morning, I found out that my dad died.” My throat constricted, but I didn’t say anything. I could tell he had a lot more to say. “And you’re not from around here, but if you were, you’d know that he’s not—hewasn’t—a good man.” A deep breath in, and then, “When I was nine, my mom passed away. Cervical cancer. And after that…well, after that, my dad justkind of—I dunno, didn’t care about anything anymore. Not even me and Bri. He got into drugs—hard drugs—and then got into selling those drugs, and then got arrested and sent to prison for twenty five years.”

“Oh my fucking god,” I whispered. I didn’t realize I’d reached out my hand toward Brody until his eyes flicked down, and when I saw what I was doing I?—

I didn’t want to pull back. But I let my hand fall when Brody kept going, sensing he needed to get this out. He stared at a spot on the couch between us and said, “Bri and I were adopted by our uncle—my mom’s brother—right after he was sentenced and…I dunno. I had a lot of trouble controlling my anger as I got older. I acted out a lot, did a lot of stupid shit that got me into trouble, but I started to get my act together about five years ago. Twenty felt a little old to still be stealing from people and getting into fights, and that was never the life I wanted for myself. I wanted something I could be proud of, that my mom would have been proud of, so I stopped fucking around and applied for college. The day I got accepted was one of the best days of my life because I was so sure I would be denied. My mom always wanted Bri and I to go to college, and she would have been really happy for me.

“But I always felt like I had the same poison running through my veins that had made my dad be such a piece of shit, and when my uncle told me he’d died, I just…lost it.” Then those eyes raised to mine and pinned me in place.

“And Isaac…it’s not an excuse for any of the shit I put you through, but I wasn’t myself that day. I was so fucking angry with him for just leaving us all behind again, even though we’d never wanted him there in the first place. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but that’s how I felt. And when I saw you, I…” He huffed out a laugh that was humorless. “Well, to be honest, I wanted to fuck you. Wanted to rile you up in some kind of way,and I got so drunk at Jamie’s party that I wasn’t thinking right. But there was something about you that…I don’t know, it was like I could see the pain in your eyes, some of whichI’dbrought to the surface, pain that matched my own, and it made me hate myself even more, but I wanted to hate myself that day. I just…I’m so fucking sorry, Isaac. I was so careless with you?—”

“Stop,” I said hoarsely. “Just…stop.” My throat felt like it was closing up, and the anguish in his eyes made me feel like I was about to break down. There was a hole in my chest, a gaping chasm his words had fractured open. “Brody, you…God, I’ve been so fuckingmeanto you,” I choked out as every single interaction started rolling over me and battering against me like violent waves. “I don’t even know how you can stand to be around me. And you’ve been…you’ve been so fuckingniceand I know you didn’t mean to trigger me that day, and if we’re being honest here then you should know that no one has ever made me feel as safe as you do, Brody. So don’t—please don’t apologize anymore. I know you’re sorry, and I know I’m messed up, but I can’t have you thinking you’re a piece of shit because of my issues. Because you were going through something that fucked you up.”

Brody was leaning forward now, hands resting on his thighs as he laced and unlaced his fingers. When he spoke, it was almost solemn. “I just wish I’d met you on any other day but that one.”

I wanted to take him in my arms—which was ridiculous considering how big he was compared to me—and hold him as tight as I could. And really, what was stopping me? The urge to go to him, to comfort him, was overwhelming, and for once I wasn’t afraid of what touching him might mean. Only part of my trauma was based on consent, on all mynosandstopsbeing ignored when I never thought they would be. But Brody—after realizing his mistake—had only been showing me how seriouslyhe took my needs. Had been waiting patiently for me to say yes, had never tried to push me at all. And right now, I fuckingneededto touch him.

“Brody,” I said, waiting for him to look at me. I stood up, feeling a little shaky, and when he raised his eyes to mine, I said, “Can I…hug you?”

He looked startled at first, gray eyes searching mine, back and forth, looking for any ounce of doubt. But he wouldn’t find it. I needed to hold him like I needed air. “Is that really what you want, Isaac?”

I nodded. “I need to…”Touch you. Feel you.“To hold you.”

He stared at me with so much intensity I started feeling dizzy. Then he rasped, “You never needed to ask.”

Three feet felt like three miles, and when I stood in front of him and he stared up at me, when he slowly leaned back into the couch, his arms at his sides, fists clenched, I slid my right knee onto the outside of his thigh, then swung my other leg over him, inhaling sharply when his body heat singed right through my clothes. My palms came up to steady myself against his chest, and the firm, hot flesh beneath my fingers jumped as if he’d been electrocuted, his heartbeat strong and fast. Every place we touched was tingling, sparking, like all my nerve-endings were going crazy. His eyes were so close now—closer than they’d ever been—that I could see the brown dots near the pupils, could see clouds of grays and whites and even blues swirling around in a heady mix of colors. His chest wasn’t moving beneath my hands, as if he’d stopped breathing, and when I leaned forward and slid my hands higher, when I rested my chest against his and wrapped my arms around his neck, when I nudged my face into the crook of his neck, he took a deep, shuddering breath and his entire body trembled beneath mine.

Safe safe you’re safemy body hummed.

His arms were still resting on either side of our legs, and I wanted him to hold me back so badly. I wanted to feel the weight of his embrace, for him to tether me to him, so I whispered against his skin, “Hold me, Brody. It’s okay.”

He groaned and wrapped his arms around my torso, tighter than I’d ever hoped for, his big hands curling around my ribcage on either side of my body. He nuzzled his cheek against my hair, and his hands began moving up and down in a soothing motion that sent delicious waves of calming heat sliding over me. And he smelled so fucking good. His skin was soft against my lips, my nose, and I couldn’t stop inhaling him, that spicy exotic scent mixed with his skin and sweat. He felt so good beneath me, enveloping me, and I let my body melt against his. Nothing felt more right in my entire life than being here, in his arms.

Brody moved one hand from my side to rub long lines down my back, pressing firmly and making my entire body turn to rubber. And when he started speaking in my ear, his voice deep and soft and reassuring, rumbling through his chest to mine, I would have floated away if he wasn’t holding me to his body.

“You’re such a beautiful boy, Isaac. So sweet and funny and good. You make me feel good, did you know that? You’re not mean. Not at all. You’re smart and creative and stubborn. So goddamn stubborn. You’re soft and generous and so fucking pretty it hurts sometimes just to look at you. But I’d rather feel the ache of what you do to me than anything else in this fucked up world. Nobody but you would approach someone losing it on a vending machine. Nobody but you would try to give away the money that they needed more. Nobody but you has ever made me want to lose myself inside of them. I just want you to trust me. I want to show you that you can trust me, because I never want to see you cry again. Not because of me, or anyone else.”

I wasn’t sure when I had, in fact, started to cry. But his words had dug their way beneath old wounds and spread a balm overthem all. No one had ever given me words like these. No one had ever seen me the way Brody did. And the warmth that suffused every atom of my being as he spoke was almost too much to bear. When I sniffled against his neck, Brody’s hands stopped moving and he gently—so fucking gently—grasped my head and pulled me back. He looked devastated when he saw the tears, began wiping them away with soft brushes of his fingers, until I unwrapped my hands from around him and held his hands still, shaking my head.

“Sweetheart, I’m so?—”

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