Page 52 of Someone Like You

“But he put his hands on you?” Brody should not be turning me on right now. I should not be getting aroused at the abundance of fury that was sizzling in those eyes on my behalf. I shouldn’t be. But I was.

“For like…two seconds,” I said, swallowing thickly. “He just grabbed my shirt. That’s it. Hey, can we go eat?” I had to distract him. “I’m so hungry. My lasagna was ready like ten minutes ago.”

Brody’s eyes bounced between mine, his mouth set in a flat line, and then he nodded stiffly. He turned to Jamie and asked, “You guys need any help up here?”

“Nah, we’re good. Hey, you got an extra one of those snow brushes for your car? I can’t find mine,” Jamie said.

“Yeah, I’ll get it for you,” Brody replied. But Jamie spoke again before either of us could move.

“So are you guys, like, a thing now?” Jamie’s question was casual, but it immediately made everything in my body go white-hot and then turn ice cold. Brody stilled beside me, and I looked up at him. He was staring back at me with an intense but unreadable expression that I wished for the life of me Icouldread.

Were we a thing? No, surely not. We were just messing around, right? Exploring? Someone like Brody would never want a…athingwith someone like me. Surely, surely not. And yet, there was a fluttering ball of hope in my chest. A delicate thing that wanted so desperately for Brody to say yes.

“I think that’s up to Isaac,” said Brody.

Huh? Wait, what did that even mean? Why did this all hinge onme? Did that mean he wanted this to be a thing? Was that a roundabout way of saying yes? Or was he just sidestepping and throwing out a vague answer?

“Come on,” he said before I could even open my mouth and get a single word out. I looked at him again, and fuck me, his cheeks were bright red. Brody wasblushingand it was so endearing I wanted to palm the heat of his cheeks and give him a big, smacking kiss on the lips.

I grabbed my plate of lasagna from the microwave, not even bothering to reheat it, and followed Brody back downstairs. He grabbed a long snow brush from behind the pool table, told me he’d be right back, then ran it upstairs to Jamie. I sat on the couch and stared at my plate, my limbs sinking into the cushions as sudden exhaustion swept over me.

What the actual fuck had just happened? Was I really that dumb to provoke someone so much bigger and stronger than me? If Jamie hadn’t walked into the room when he did, I’m pretty sure Gavin would have punched a hole right through mybig mouth. But damn it, I hadn’t been able to stand him talking about Brody like that. He’d be lucky if he was evenhalfthe man Brody was. Instead, he was just another shitty human being who took issue with other human beings who were simply existing.

I heard the door close, heard the snick of the lock, and then Brody was slowly walking down the stairs. He didn’t stop moving until he got to the couch, where he sat back against one arm, brought one leg up and stretched it out until his foot was touching my thigh. “Come here,” he said, beckoning me with open arms. I went over to him and let him grab me. He positioned me so that my back was resting on his chest, my ass over his crotch, and his long legs flanked mine. He palmed my forearms and wrapped my own arms around myself as he held them. It was the same way he’d held me at Jamie’s party the first day I’d met him, and I still had the same initial reaction of feeling safe—except it had intensified a considerable amount since that day. And this time, I didn’t ever want to leave his embrace or give up that safety.

I think that’s up to Isaac.

Fuck, he couldn’t do that to me.

His warm breath tickled my ear when he murmured, “What did he say, Isaac? To set you off?”

“He called you a freak and a serial killer. It pissed me off, Brody. Nobody gets to talk about you like that. Especially not to my face.”

Brody’s fingers began moving back and forth over one forearm. “People have been saying mean things about me behind my back for as long as I can remember. My whole life, it feels like. My dad, my schoolmates, people around town. I’m bad, I’m good for nothing, I’m a loser. A freak. I’m dumb as a box of rocks.” He sighed. “I’ve known Gavin since I was in high school, and he’s never been a nice person. He’s always tried to start shit with me and I never let it go anywhere. I don’t carewhat people say. None of their words matter. Becausetheydon’t matter. You know what does matter?”

He paused, and I realized he wanted an actual answer or for me to ask him what. So I did, even though my heart was aching for what he’d had to endure. I wanted to find every single person who’d ever said anything bad about him and slap them across the face. “What?”

“You. Your safety. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt up there, Isaac. And for what? I don’t want you putting yourself in danger like that because some asshole said a few words that don’t matter. Let him talk. Let them all talk. It will never change how I live my life or how the people I’m closest to treat me. Their words don’t matter becausetheydon’t matter. Not to me.Youmatter to me. So please…just ignore it, if someone decides to say something judgmental or mean. I appreciate you sticking up for me. But I don’t want you to do it if it gets you hurt. You’re too important to me.”

This whole day—no, this whole entire week—had been such an emotional rollercoaster. For most of my life, I didn’t have a loving support system. I didn’t have parents that would encourage me when I was passionate about something, scold me lovingly when I messed up, or hold me when I cried. I didn’t have the kind of words that Brody was giving me over and over and over again. Filling me up, painting in the cracks, stitching up the ripped seams. He was mending me with his care. His affection. His touch. I was sinking so deep into the hold he had over me that if this ever ended, it might break me. Irrevocably.

“You matter to me, too,” I whispered. “And I can’t stand the thought of anyone causing you pain, either. But you’re right. I should’ve just let it go.”

“You wanna know the worst part about it all?”

“What?” I asked, hanging onto his every word.

“Your cyanide lasagna is cold.”

I laughed, and he tightened his hands on my forearms. “If you don’t want it, I’ve got a whole closet full of snacks down here. Food for months. I basically live in my very own bunker.”

“Maybe we could grab some snacks and watch a movie?”

His lips pressed against the top of my head, and warmth slid down my body in a slow ripple. “I hope you like science fiction, because that’s basically all I watch.”

“Hmm. I’ll watch anything, but I love horror. Maybe we could compromise? A good sci-fi horror?”

He chuckled, and it vibrated through my body. “Sure.”

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