Page 28 of Someone Like You

“Shit, shit, shit,” I said, slamming my notebook shut, flinging it under my bed, and grabbing my phone, jacket, and keys. I checked my messages when I started my car up, and there was one from Brody.

Brody:

You still coming tonight?

Once again, it sounded like a come-on. I was beginning to think he was doing this on purpose. Crafty fucker.

Me:

Sorry, on my way!

Then I put the pedal to the metal and stayed within the legal parameters of the speed limit because I could not afford a ticket. I rushed out of the car when I got to Jamie’s—Brody’s—and the door swung open before I was even up the front steps.

Brody was definitely trying to tempt me into touching him. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt that outlined every single muscle and made me think it was from when he was twelve or something becauselordwas it tight. I could see his nipples and the barbells running through them, and because I was so much shorter than him, they were basically eye-level. I hadn’t realized they’d put me in a trance until Brody leaned down until his gaze snagged mine, and the mischief lighting up those beautiful gray eyes made my stomach flutter.

“Hey,” he said, lips pulling up in a knowing smile. “I can draw you a map, if that’ll help.”

I licked my lips, not following the conversation. “A map to what?”

“My eyes,” he said.

“Oh, stuff it,” I muttered. But excitement was making my heart pound, because he was so fucking sexy when he was playful like this. It immediately made me wonder if he was this playful during sex, and a different kind of excitement had my palms sweating.

Brody laughed and moved aside to let me in, then led me down to the basement. I tried not to look at his firm ass in those sweatpants he kept wearing, but it was a lost cause.

“Do you want anything? Water, soda, juice?” Brody asked once we were downstairs. “I know all that reading is hard on your throat.” He walked over to the mini-fridge—where I was delighted to see the cactus still sat—and pulled it open.

“Um…water is fine,” I replied. Without warning, a bottle of water was flying through the air right at my face, and I had to thank my recently discovered cat self for catching it before it could make contact.

“How come you were late?” he asked, taking up his usual spot on the end of the couch, and seeing him there again, after what we’d done the last time I was here, short-circuited my brain. “Isaac?”

“Uh, yeah. What now?”

“I asked how come you were late? You’re usually early. Did something happen?” And oh, the concern in his voice was the sweetest sound to ever fall from his lips. Aside from the orgasm-inducing primal groans he made while coming three feet away from me and growling my name.

“No,” I said, sitting down. “I was…working on something and lost track of time.”

“What were you working on?” Brody was completely relaxed against the couch and actually looked curious.

“Oh…just some writing stuff.”

“What kind of writing stuff?”

“Just some…poems and short stories.”

“What are they about?”

“Um…have you ever read Shel Silverstein?” I asked, and then smacked my hand over my eyes because I’d spoken without thinking. “Sorry!” I rushed out. “I’m so sorry—I wasn’t thinking, that was so fucking insensitive Brody?—”

“Isaac.”

I lowered my hand as an embarrassed flush spread across my entire face. Brody looked mildly amused and in no way offended, but I still felt like shit.

“It’s fine, Isaac. Icanread, you know. It’s just a lot harder for me. Takes longer to try and piece together letters and words that look backwards or jumbled up. And no, I’ve never read his books but I liked looking at the pictures,” he said with a small smile. “Tell me about your work.”

I sighed, trying to make the guilt dissipate. “Well, it’s a series of interconnected stories and poems about all different kinds of animals that have trouble doing what usually comes naturally to them because they were never shown how or they were just born different. They work through their issues and other animals come and help them…Christ it sounds so stupid, but I always wanted to write children’s books, so that’s what it is.”

I forced myself to look at Brody, despite my utter embarrassment, and found him smiling warmly at me. Part of me wished he would just laugh at me instead.

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