Page 10 of Someone Like You

Bri chilled. And by that I mean she smacked her gum even more obnoxiously and deliberately popped it in Brody’s face a few times.

In that moment, I was glad to be an only child.

When Brody pulled up to a two-story brick house at the end of a cul-de-sac, I got the hint that this was Bri’s stop and hopped out so she could go back to whatever hole she’d crawled out of.

“Tomorrow at ten,” Brody yelled at her as she disappeared between towering hedges along the front path.

There was no response. I got back in the car, still squishing myself against the window even though there was a lot of space now. Brody pulled away from the curb and drove off, one hand gripping the top of the steering wheel, the other resting loosely in his lap.

“I live on?—”

“I know where you live,” he said, sounding like every serial killer ever.

“Of course you do,” I grumbled, staring out the window.

There were a few minutes of silence, and my dread began to build. My frazzled anger from earlier had waned during my time at the sandwich shop, replaced with an icy guilt over how I’d treated him. The things I’d said. But I bit back any words of apology that wanted to come out. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Brody, but I knew I hadn’t liked him asking me on a date.

Not one bit.

I wasn’t entirely comfortable ignoring Brody, so I opted to stare out the windshield and keep an eye on his wandering hands in my peripheral. And then I found myself turning my head ever so slightly so I could side-eye him, so I could see those long legs stretched out, thighs parted. So I could see his big torso leaning against the seat, shoulders relaxed and one toned arm blanketed in ink extending out in front of him. One big hand, fingers flexing against the steering wheel. I wondered which hand he’d used to rub my back, which fingers had sifted through my hair and scratched gently against my scalp.

And then I wanted those hands to be on me again, and when a horrified squeak eked past my lips, Brody glanced at me. “You okay?”

I forced my head to face forward again. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

A low chuckle floated over to me, curled around me, and I felt it like I felt the engine of the truck, vibrating powerfully through the cabin.

I shifted in my seat. “So how long have you and your sister worked at Big Boone’s? I’ve never seen you there before.”

I could feel Brody’s eyes again, and I wanted to shout at him to keep those treacherous orbs on the road. There was a moment of silence, then he said, “I’ve worked there part-time since I was fifteen. It’s my uncle’s shop. So, ten years.”

“You grew up here?”

“Yep. Born and raised.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Another laugh. “I like it here. There’s not much to do, from an outside perspective, but it’s home.”

I wondered why he was living in a house with students when he must have a home here. Maybe the same one he’d dropped Bri at. “Then why are you living with students?”

“Because I’m a student?” he said, like it was obvious. Maybe it was.

“Yeah, but…you could save money living at home.” My thought process was to pinch as many pennies as I could, but I realized that wasn’t what everyone did.

He shrugged. “I wanted to be on my own for a while. And I can afford it.”

Fair enough. “What’re you studying? What’s your major?”

He glanced at me again, his lips curved in a smile. “Business Management. I’m gonna take over the shop one day, just want to know as much as I can. What about you?”

I cleared my throat, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “Um. Writing. I want to be a writer.”

His eyebrows went up, like I’d surprised him, and that only made my insecurity deepen. Until he said, “Wow. That’s…impressive. I could never do something like that.”

“Why not?”

His smile turned a little sad, and his fingers tightened on the wheel. He licked his lips, and my eyes were so fixated on that pink tongue, on the sudden wetness that covered those lips, I almost missed his next words. “I’m dyslexic. Makes it harder to read and write.”

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