Page 17 of Someone Like You

“It’s all a front, Brody. He really, really likes you. It’s so obvious.”

Was it? Did he like me? Was I that oblivious? Maybe that day, because I’d been so unsure he would agree to help me with my assignment, and admitting I needed the help at all had been difficult. But despite Isaac’s prickly nature, he never seemed to judge me. And he had seemed a little flustered that day, hadn’t he? I thought it was just because he was embarrassed that he couldn’t outright pay for the repairs. I would have given him the discount no matter what, and maybe I felt a little bad about wheedling some of his free time from him, but it felt like the only way he’d see me. I was desperate to be near him, desperate to apologize for making him relive his trauma, and god I justwantedhim. He was so fucking cute, and that mouth? Fuck. He was savage. His temerity and ability to defend himself was fucking hot.

Maybe Bri was right. Maybe he did like me, but something was holding him back from acting on it. Bri was—annoyingly—the most perceptive person I’d ever known and didn’t have any kind of filter.

Maybe I should test the waters tonight, see what kinds of things I could get away with. See what kind of responses I could tease out of him. Maybe not, though. I didn’t want to push him too far too soon.

I’d taken a different route when it was clear he wouldn’t ever agree to go on a date with me. Which kind of hurt, but I guessI was used to rejection. Everyone in this town knew who I was. They knew what had happened all those years ago, and they knew how I’d acted out growing up. I’d been given a lot of leeway at first. They all agreed it wasn’t easy when your mom died of cancer at such a young age and then your dad was thrown in prison for dealing drugs. But their sympathy had waned as the years went on, and my own frustration with my behavior had only grown.

I’d calmed down by the time I’d turned twenty, and I was really trying to be better. Still, I had a reputation for being chaotic and intractable, and people’s memories were long, it seemed. So, yeah, I’d tried dating around because I wanted to share more than just a physical relationship with someone else and, every single time, the person already had preconceived notions of who I was—who they thought I was—and only wanted to fuck. I was never good enough to date.

So if Isaac liked me—and I was hoping he liked me for more than just my body, but that was probably too high of a hope—then I was willing to pull out all the stops to get him to give in.

I smiled at Bri. “For once in your life, Bri, you’ve been a godsend.”

Pop.

6

ISAAC

“You arenotgoing over there, Isaac!”

“Yes, I am,” I said, starting to get frustrated. Jordan was blocking the door with his body now, arms and legs spread wide. I’d find it funny if I wasn’t gonna be late. I hated being late to anything. Just the thought had anxiety buzzing through me. Anxiety that had nothing to do with the butterflies currently swarming through my stomach over getting to see Brody again. Nothing at all.

“You will have to kill me and crawl over my dead body if you want to leave this room!”

“Oh my god, dude, you’re so fucking dramatic. And unoriginal. Just move, Jordan!” I tried shoving him, but he wouldn’t budge.

A knock sounded through the thin wood, and we froze. “Everything okay in there?” said a muffled voice.

“Everything’s fine, Josh, I’m just trying to save Isaac’s life and he won’t let me!”

“Isaac, let him save your life,” said Josh The Traitor.

“Go away, Josh!” I yelled.

“Fine. I tried,” he said, then I heard his feet moving down the hallway. That’s what he called trying?

“Jordan,” I said, giving him a fierce glare, “please move. Seriously. I made a deal with Brody and I need to keep my end of it, okay?Nothingis going to happen. And if I need help, I’ll call you, okay? Okay??”

Jordan squinted at me. “You promise you’ll call me?”

“I promise.”

“Fine. And I already texted Jamie to be my eyes and ears.”

Jesus Christ. With a disgusted scoff, I pushed him aside and he let me. “I’ll see you later,” I said. Then I was out the door and in my car and at Jamie’s house in no time. Which, I guess technically it wasn’tjustJamie’s house, but before Brody, he was really the only person I knew who lived here.

As I walked up the front path my heart was pounding, almost arrhythmically, and the erratic beats were a little concerning and did nothing for the anxiety pummeling me from every direction. My palms were sweaty as I lifted my hand to knock on the door, and it swung open before I even touched it.

“Isaac,” said Brody, smiling like just seeing me made him happy or something. “Hey. Come on in.”

He looked good. Really, really good. His hair was slightly damp and slicked back, like he’d just taken a shower, and he had on a black long-sleeved shirt and black sweatpants and I swore I saw the outline of his dick before he turned to lead me to the basement. My eyes were glued to his ass the entire time, and fuck, what an ass. Firm and round and Christ, how thin were those sweats anyway? Was he even wearing underwear? I was placing all bets onfuck no. I could practically see every single magnificent muscle flexing beneath the cotton and I was hard before we even got to the stairs.

Brody led me down to his room—rooms, actually—and my first thought was that it was as neat and tidy as a psychopath’shouse. Nothing was out of place, there were no clothes lying around, no dirty dishes left on surfaces. It smelled like incense, which I liked because I’d come to associate that smell with Brody. The main area was a big open space that had a long black leather couch facing a huge flat screen on one side and a pool table on the other. There was a plaid blanket over the back of the couch, and I imagined Brody lying down and watching TV, one arm crooked behind his head and the other sneaking beneath the blanket, where he was completely naked. All that tan flesh on display, his long fingers trailing down a black line of soft hair on his lower stomach that would lead straight to?—

“—thought we’d be more comfortable in there,” Brody said.

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