Chapter 3

3

ISAAC

I made him wait. Even though I wanted nothing more than to be back home, curled up under the covers with my laptop and a shitty Netflix movie, I didn't leave the sandwich shop until 4:15. And the petty part of me had definitely been a lot louder than the rational part, because on my way back to Big Boone's I finally realized that he would probably leave without me if I wasn't there on time. I ended up running the rest of the way, and both him and Bri were standing by the front door, watching me wheeze my way down the sidewalk.

"Sorry— wheeze —lost— wheeze —track of— wheeze —time," I panted, bent over with my hands on my knees.

"That looked painful," Bri said. Brody knocked her lightly on the back of her head. "Ow! That was painful, you dick!"

"I barely touched you."

"I'm pressing charges for assault."

"It's not assault when it's your sister."

"Can we— wheeze —go, please?" I was finally getting my breath back, and I wanted to get this over with.

"This way," Brody said, leading the way to a black pickup truck at the front of the small lot. Bri trailed behind him and I trailed behind Bri, realizing with a wash of horror that the three of us were gonna be crammed into the cab of that truck. Thankfully, Bri took the middle, and I shoved myself against the door, pretending I had more space than I did.

"Can we stop at Taco Bell?" Bri asked.

"No," Brody said, starting the car and pulling smoothly out of the lot. I stared out the window, wondering what the hell my life was right now.

Bri popped her gum and switched the radio on, and when Britney Spears' voice came through the speakers singing about someone being toxic, Bri started to sing along. I gaped at her in awe, at the voice coming out of that mouth that excelled at chewing gum.

Because it was awful. It was worse than Jordan's. It was like a dying rat's final garbled wail, protesting the end of its life.

"Oh my god. Can you not?" I said. I didn't usually try to rain on anyone's parade, but I needed my ears. For life and stuff.

Brody punched the radio off, and for once I was thankful for him.

Bri huffed and slid as far down in her seat as she could go. "You two are made for each other. Don't even know the meaning of having fun."

"Bri, it's a five minute drive. Just chill." Brody sounded affectionately exasperated.

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."

I pulled my eyes off his lips to find him watching me carefully. Then he slid his gaze back to the road and I didn't miss the way he moved in his seat, didn't miss the way the hand in his lap pressed hard against himself. It suddenly felt like it was boiling in here.

Fuck, he'd just told me something, hadn't he? I wiped my sweating palms against the thighs of my jeans. Yes, he was dyslexic. Oh Jesus, he'd just shared something that probably hurt to share, and here I was gaping at his lips and sweating over how he'd rubbed his palm into his dick. Was he hard?

"Um," I said. "That's hard." Oh god, I was speaking in double entendres now. "I mean, that must be really hard. For you." What was wrong with me? I leaned my elbow on the window and let my head drop onto my hand. "I'm sorry, I'm really bad at this."

Brody laughed, and some of the tension that was tightening in my chest dissipated. "Yeah, I can tell. It's fine, I'm used to it." I wasn't sure if he meant getting shitty platitudes from assholes like me, or if he meant he was used to being dyslexic. "And there are a lot of tools out there now that help me read. I do most of my studying electronically or with audio files."

"That's good," I said. And I realized that despite it being something extremely difficult, he was still going through with getting a bachelor's degree. I chanced a peek at him again, reluctant admiration welling within me. "Your family must be proud of you."

Brody's small smile slowly fell away, and his jaw tightened. "Yeah. Most of them."

I didn't ask what he meant. I figured we'd done enough baring of our souls for one car ride. I don't even know what had prompted me to ask him personal questions in the first place. I turned my attention back out the window and got lost in the blur of trees and houses as we drove along.

"Look, Isaac," he said, dragging my attention away from the boring landscape. His fingers were drumming along the top of the wheel now, and he seemed anxious. I didn't like that, and I didn't like that I didn't like that. I waited for him to continue, and after a few sighs and a lot of drumming, he said, "I didn't know…I didn't think—fuck. I'm really sorry, Isaac. You don't know how sorry I am. I never wanted to…to make you feel like you weren't…safe. Like I'd actually do something to—shit." He scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair.

I wanted to tell him that he did make me feel safe. That no one had ever made me feel safer than he had. Except I wasn't about to hand over that amount of power to someone like him. But his apology, and the sincerity I could hear behind his words, melted something inside of me. Settled it a bit.

I wasn't gonna tell him that, though. And he kept talking. "I don't know what your life has been like, and it was wrong of me to cross the lines you drew. I know better than anyone that life isn't all sunshine and roses?—"

"It's not a competition," I said.

"I know that, I just?—"

"Why were you so mad? That day at the vending machine?" I was done being the center of attention. I was also really, really curious. Because—after having spent a little more time with Brody—I was beginning to understand that crazy angry and sexually aggressive weren't his default modes. Something had set him off that day, and I desperately wanted to know what.

He shut up real quick. Now both hands were on the steering wheel, gripping it so hard his knuckles were white. A part of me felt bad for asking, especially because it was something he obviously didn't want to talk about. Something bad. And I hated that my first instinct was to want to comfort him.

But…I did want to comfort him. I didn't like that faraway look in his eyes. I didn't like the tension that had draped over him like a shitty weighted blanket. I knew what it was like to have bad shit nipping at your heels. I wanted to see him smile again. Hear him laugh. And I was starting to realize that there was a lot more to Brody than met the eye. Than even a single interaction could contain.

Except I didn't comfort people. I was shit at it. Just look at how I reacted when he admitted he was dyslexic, for fuck's sake. I was not made to soothe and console. I was barely holding myself together, most times, so just the thought that I'd be able to give someone else any kind of solace was practically laughable. But the rigid set of his shoulders made me want to sink my fingers into them, to knead the tension out of him, to take some of the pain away. Pain that I'd put there with my question.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

His eyes snapped to mine, surprised. "For what? It was a valid question."

"Oh look, it's my house," I said instead of answering him. When Brody pulled to a stop by the curb, I hesitated with my hand on the door release. Sucked in a breath. "Thanks for the ride. Let me know when my car is ready?"

He nodded, then dragged his lower lip between his teeth, and I mean, come on , dude, why did he have to be so damn sexy about everything? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn't sexy. I did not just think those words.

"Okay byeee!" I yelled, pushing the door open and jumping down from the truck. I stumbled and quickly righted myself—why were trucks so high off the ground?—and didn't look back as I made my way up the front walk. Didn't look back as I unlocked the door and shoved it closed behind me. I leaned against the door and stared at the ceiling.

"Are you there, God? It's me, Isaac. I know I don't believe in you, but on the off chance I'm wrong, I just wanted to ask…what the fuck , dude?"

"You're probably not gonna get an answer from God, but I'm happy to give you one. It'll be way juicier, too."

I jumped off the door with an incredibly manly shriek and saw Jordan standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a bowl of cereal in his hand. Milk was dripping down his chin.

"Jordan, Jesus, don't just sneak up on people like that."

"I've literally been standing here the entire time."

"Well don't just stand places and eat cereal," I snapped.

"What crawled up your ass?" he asked, slopping another spoonful of what looked like Lucky Charms into his mouth.

I sighed. "My stupid car needs sixteen hundred dollars in repairs."

His jaw gaped open, and unfortunately there was still food in his mouth. "Holy shit, what are you gonna do?"

Not go on a date with Brody.

"Try and get more work? I don't know, I feel like I might have to sell it at this point. But I can't not have a fucking car. We're in the middle of nowhere, it's not like there's a bus system. And forget getting a bike," I said when he opened his mouth again. "I can barely walk on two legs without falling down."

He snickered. "Truth. Hey, maybe I can ask my parents for some money? How much would you need?"

"No," I said. "You guys are struggling enough as it is. But thank you, Jordan." I exhaled a long breath and started for the stairs.

"Wait, how did you get home if you don't have your car?"

Jordan's question stopped me, and I hesitated. Debated lying, but told the truth. "Brody gave me a ride."

" Whaaat? " He screeched. He ran to the door and threw it open, as if he'd find Brody just sitting in his truck outside my house. But he was long gone, and Jordan glared at the street for a second before turning back to me. "Why would you get in a car with that guy? You should've called me, hon."

"Dude, you don't drive ."

"Yeah but I know people who do . Josh drives. Cameron drives. You could've called them."

Josh and Cameron were our other two roommates, but we were more like passing acquaintances than friends. I wouldn't have felt very comfortable calling them for a ride. It was hard enough for me to admit I needed help, let alone accept it from others.

I threw my hands in the air. "I'm already home! It wasn't a big deal. Look, I gotta go study. I have a paper due soon and I haven't even started it."

Jordan pointed his spoon at me. "If you need a ride again, you call me. I'm not gonna have you prancing around with that bastard and having another episode, you hear me?"

A laugh sputtered out of my mouth and I shook my head. "Yeah. Whatever." When he glared at me, I said, "I'll call you, Jordan. Happy?"

"No, I'm not happy, but it'll do for now."

I rolled my eyes and climbed the stairs, trying to push everything that happened today out of my mind.

I wasn't very successful.