Page 1 of Someone Like You

1

ISAAC

“Jesus fucking Christ, are youkiddingme?”

I looked up from my textbook at the snarled words that held a wealth of vitriol, my eyes landing on the tall figure that was currently kicking a booted foot into the vending machine. That so much aggression was being aimed at an inanimate object was almost funny to me, but the vehemence with which he was attacking said object made any humor die a quick death. His face was twisted in anger, his lips peeled back, baring straight white teeth. His Roman nose was scrunched with his snarl, his black brows drawn together over eyes fringed with thick black lashes, so dense I couldn’t make out the color from here.

“You stupid piece ofshit!” He was punching the machine now, and it rattled against the wall. I looked left and right, but there was no one else in the hallway except us. The guy was slapping broad palms against the side of it now. “Give me my fuckingdrink!” His voice was getting hoarse with the force of his shouts, and I was pretty sure he’d draw the attention of someone soon.

I wondered just what kind of day he’d been having for him to go completely postal on a vending machine. Bad, that was a safe bet. Possibly even horrible. Maybe his worst day ever. I glanced around the hall again, but not a soul was around. With a weary sigh, I dug into the side pocket of my backpack and pulled out a crinkled one-dollar bill. Then grabbed another one, just in case. Unfolding my legs, I pushed up from where I’d been studying on the floor and probably did the dumbest thing I’d ever done.

I walked over to the raging bull and stopped a few feet away. “Hey,” I said. “Here.”

He paused, his broad shoulders moving up and down with the force of his heavy breaths, and a pair of silver eyes flashed to mine.

Fuck me, those eyes were out of this world. I’d never seen a color like that, and staring at them now, I never wanted to look away. Icouldn’tlook away. They were a pale, pale gray, glinting like steel under the fluorescents. This close, I could see tiny shards of light brown near the pupils, honey and quicksilver swirling together in an ethereal combination of colors. His black hair and olive complexion only served as beautiful contrasts to those eyes, and I felt like my skin was melting off my body. I was pretty sure this guy was just staring at muscle and ligaments now, a puddle of pale flesh pooling below the macabre mess that had been revealed.

When he just kept staring at me, I waved my hand with the money. “Take it, dude. You don’t have to break your hand for a soda.”

His snarl deepened, drawing my attention to the silver steel of a lip ring that was embedded in the center of his bottom lip, being tugged upward with the snarl. “Maybe I wanna break my fucking hand,” he growled. “Maybe I’ll breakyourhand.” His eyes flitted to my hand, and I thought about pulling it back. Turning around and getting the hell out of the danger zone. Thisguy had lost a screw, and I wasn’t going to magically find it for him. But I was nothing if not persistent when I decided to do something. And I swore I saw vulnerability in those eyes of his. Like he’d been ripped open and was trying desperately to hold himself together. I felt bad for him, because it seemed like he was suffering and if there was something I could do about it, I would.

“Just take the money. Maybe try a different vending machine. There’s one by the library, it’s not that far.”

He stepped closer to me, his breathing under control now. He was a lot taller than me, but most guys were. I forced myself to stand my ground, even when he bumped his chest into the hand I still held out, an offering he was refusing to take. Quick as lightning, he snatched my wrist up. But the hold wasn’t painful. It was almost gentle, and when his thumb slid along my pulse point, up and down, rough skin against smooth, my breathing hitched. His hand moved higher until he was closing my fingers slowly—almost tenderly—into a fist around the money. His eyes seared into mine, bouncing back and forth from one to the other, and his snarl had loosened and lowered into something resembling a smile. “Tell me something,” he murmured, leaning closer. His scent moved into my space, wrapping itself around me. It was airy and exotic, like incense, with the faint aroma of something clean. Like fresh laundry. “If I take your money, am I in your debt?”

Um. What now?

“What? No, dude, I’m just trying to study and you’re making a lot of noise.”

“Am I?” He was still holding my hand against his chest as his eyes traveled down my torso, my legs, taking in every inch of me. Something hot moved under my skin, and I resisted the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. I wasn’t much to look at, I knew that.But the way he was looking at me, like he wanted to lick every inch of me, was thrilling and unnerving at the same time.

“Can you let go of me? Just take the money and go buy something somewhere else?”

“Trying to get rid of me? I’ll tellyousomething now, just to even up the exchange,” he said, his voice deep and low.

What fucking exchange? What was even happening right now?

He moved closer, closer, until his cheek was flush with mine, skin against skin, and that silky smooth voice whispered in my ear, “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

I felt something wet and hot run along my earlobe, and electric sparks zipped down my spine straight to my groin. When my cock jolted in my pants, when some kind of helpless sound of distress slipped from my lips, I ripped my hand out of his and jumped away from him, horrified.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I snapped. It felt like our roles had reversed, somehow. In just a few short minutes, his anger had faded and mine had exploded. His eyes were lit with amusement, with some kind of knowing that only strengthened my ire. “Man, fuck this. Fuck you. Fucking weirdo.” I threw the money on the ground at his feet and turned around, marching back to where I’d been sitting, intent on finding a new quiet place to study.

Fucking creep.

I snatched up my backpack and threw the straps over my shoulders, fuming. When I turned back around, he was gone. The crumpled bills sat untouched on the floor.

“Asshole,” I muttered, grabbing them and shoving them back into the side pocket of my bag. “Couldn’t just accept it like a normal fucking person.”

I left campus and headed back to my house, wondering where the hell I was going to put all this angry energy he’d excavated. That was the last time I tried to help a stranger out.

When I got back to my room, Jordan wasn’t there, so I took advantage of the quiet and cracked my books open.

My school was a satellite campus of a larger university, so there wasn’t typical college housing like dorms or apartments. There were, however, a lot of houses in the small suburb of Gardiner, Pennsylvania that had contracted with the university to offer rooms for students at a discounted price. The house I stayed in only had two bedrooms, so four of us doubled up to lower the rent even more, and I shared a room with my best friend since freshman year.

Sometimes I wish I’d gotten my own room somewhere, because Jordan could be a handful despite how much I loved him. But the truth was I definitely could not afford anything else. So shacking up with Jordan it was.

Three hours later, the flimsy wooden door banged open and my roommate was barreling into the room and flinging himself onto his bed without shutting the door. With a weary sigh, I got up and closed it.

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