Chapter 4

4

ISAAC

T hree days later I got a call from an unknown number. I never answered calls from unknown numbers, so I ignored it, let it go to voicemail, and read through the edits on my English 303 paper. When it was all printed and ready to be turned in, I looked at my phone again. Saw the voicemail icon and clicked on it.

As soon as that deep, soft, husky voice came on the line, my body tensed up, a lazy heat prickled along every inch of my skin, and my mouth went dry. Warmth gathered in my groin, and I was appalled when my cock began filling, hardening in my boxers and throbbing with a disturbing discomfort.

"Isaac, it's Brody. Your car's all set with a new catalytic converter. Feel free to pick it up whenever. And, if you…if you need a ride to the shop, just let me know. I can come get you."

I'd never been more disappointed in my life that a voicemail had been so short. Before I could think about it too much, I clicked on the unknown number in my call logs. A vicious swell of anticipation burst through me when it began to ring, and when Brody picked up, I almost ended the call. "Hello?"

Oh, that voice. Like chocolate melting in the hot summer sun. Like the climaxing notes of an epic song. Like?—

"Isaac? You there?"

Fuck. "Hey, Brody," I choked out. "I, uh, got your message. About my car. Being ready."

"Yeah, she's all good to go. You comin' by today? Or did you…need a ride?"

And of all the times for something to sound like a sexual innuendo, of course it was now. "I could use a lift . In your truck . If that's okay," I said.

"Um…" Brody sounded slightly confused, and I didn't blame him. "Yeah, I can do that. What time?"

And then, instead of just giving him a time, I gave him my life story. "Well I've got two more papers to write after just finishing a bitch of an essay that I need to get at least an A- on because otherwise it's going to bring down my entire GPA which has never not once in the history of my life been lower than a 4.0, so if you could come get me now, I'd really appreciate it."

He laughed. "Sure. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

When the words I'll be waiting tried to jump out of my mouth, like this was a prom date, I hung up. Without saying goodbye. Like I was on a TV show or something. Why did nobody ever say bye in shows and movies? They just hung up like assholes. It was one of my biggest pet peeves.

And then reality kicked into high gear and slapped me in the face. I had let him fix my car and I didn't even have the means to pay for it. I'd begged my manager at the bookstore for more hours, and he could only come up with three of them. That had barely budged my numbers, and another job on top of all the schoolwork I had wasn't really feasible.

I should have told him I wouldn't be able to afford it, but instead, I'd said nothing. I didn't know what I was hoping would happen, what I was thinking, what I was doing. I couldn't pay the repairs, period, and everyone would find out when my card got rejected at the register. I was completely delusional. Even worse, I was optimistic when there was absolutely no reason to be, and trying very hard not to break down about it all.

Twenty minutes later I was sitting on the front steps—Jordan was blessedly absent to yell at me about getting another ride from Brody—when the big black pickup rolled down the street and stopped in front of my house. I debated running back inside and away from the inevitable humiliation that was about to come, but my legs took me to the truck and my arms pulled the door open.

Brody's smile was bright as he watched me get in with those silver eyes. His hair flopped endearingly over his temple, and he wore that big flannel jacket that he'd been wearing at Jamie's party. It looked good on him. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," I said back, hopping in. His eyes slid down my torso, roamed across my thighs, and then he put the car back in drive and stared out the windshield while I burned underneath my clothes.

His eyes were fucking radioactive. There was no mistaking the heat in his gaze for anything other than what it was, and despite his obvious attraction to me, I had to give it to him: he'd kept his promise so far. Hadn't touched me since the day I'd flipped out on him. Maybe that had been enough of a deterrent that he'd decided it wasn't worth it when I would probably scratch his eyes out next time.

Which I would never do because, come on, they were way too stunning.

We were almost at the shop, nary a word spoken between us, when Brody said, "I can still give you a discount."

Damn he was persistent.

"I'm not on board with your discounting methods. I'm not going on a date with you," I said.

"Why not?"

"I'm not into you like that."

He shrugged. "Then I guess we'll know for sure that after countless hours of forced proximity you won't come to realize that your anger was really just covering up your burgeoning desire for me and there'll be no riding off into the sunset holding hands," he said, throwing my words from the other day back in my face. "Because you're not into me like that. Besides, I wasn't gonna ask for a date again. I'm not a total masochist. I know when to quit."

"Right," I said, wondering if he had some kind of auditory photographic memory because that had been word for word. I had to watch what I said around him. He was dangerous. And when disappointment tried to claw at me that he wasn't going to ask me out again, I beat that bitch back. I should be relieved, damn it.

"But tell me something, Isaac," he said conversationally. "Are you really not into me like that or are you just scared?"

I turned toward him, so quickly that my seatbelt's child lock engaged and it dug hard into my chest. I grabbed it and tugged and tugged even though I knew better, then gave up with a huff. "Why the fuck would I be scared? I just don't want to spend more time with you than I already have. This has been enough for a fucking lifetime. You're not someone I want to be around."

"Why? What's wrong with me?" He didn't sound insulted at all, though, just amused. My eyes caught on his lip ring as he smiled.

"Lots of things," I hedged.

And then I realized he must be fucking with me, he must be, because his tongue made a slow appearance, sliding across that fleshy bottom lip, and then his teeth were biting into all that plush softness and god if I didn't want that to be my teeth. My tongue.

"Fuck!" I shouted.

Brody swerved abruptly, then righted the car. "Jesus Christ," he said. "You know, you're really loud for such a lit?—"

"Don't you dare say it."

He didn't say it. Instead, he rounded back to our earlier conversation, much to my disappointment. "So what's wrong with me?"

I sighed. "I don't like your face."

Liar .

"What's wrong with my face?"

It's too perfect.

"I just don't like it."

Brody pulled into a spot outside the shop and cut the engine, but stayed in the car and turned that big body toward me. "What, specifically, don't you like about my face, Isaac?"

I looked at him then, at his gorgeous face with those eerie eyes that seemed to see past every lie. At the thick head of wavy black hair that curled gently over his ears. At the beautiful, wide mouth with the silver ring in the center. At his perfect nose, his sharp cheekbones.

He had the most beautiful face I'd ever seen, if I was being honest. With just myself, of course. To him, I said, "Your nose is too big."

His eyes flicked across my face, paused at my mouth, then snapped back to mine. "Oh yeah? Well, I guess that settles it then. We can't all have perfect faces like you." He grabbed the keys from the ignition and shoved his way out of the car, leaving me staring at the seat he'd just occupied in shock.

He thought I had a perfect face? And after I'd basically told him I thought he was ugly? My own attempts at self-preservation were starting to make me a plain old asshole. With a groan, I unbuckled my seatbelt and followed after Brody.

I found him at the register, leaning over the counter and speaking quietly with Bri. When she looked at me over his shoulder, they stopped talking, and Brody turned around.

Pop . "Hi, Isaac," said Bri.

Her chipper greeting immediately had me on edge, but I walked over to them and said, "Hey. So. What—what's the total?"

This was it. I'd thought my episode with Brody would be the single most humiliating moment of my life, but I was wrong. It was going to happen right here, right now, and there was nothing I could do to stop myself from continuing the charade until I couldn't. My card was going to bounce, and then there would be two pairs of judgy eyes on me, laughing at me, and I'd have to leave my car here until I could pay for it.

Which would probably be never. A date with Brody wasn't looking so bad right about now.

Bri typed something into the computer, then said, "That'll be one thousand, six hundred and thirty two dollars and twenty three cents. How will you be paying for that?"

At first I thought she meant "how can you even afford that?" and I was about to break down and admit that I couldn't, but then I realized she meant cash or card or Venmo or something.

"Uh—card. With my card," I said. Brody was just standing a foot away from me, watching the exchange in silence.

"Why are you sweating?" Bri's eyes trailed over my face.

"I'm not sweating," I said.

"There's little beads of moisture popping up all over your face."

"That's just condensation," I said. "From the—it's humid in here."

Bri's eyes squinted at me, and I concentrated on getting my wallet out and slipping the card from the pocket. My fingers were shaking, and I didn't want her to see, so I all but threw the card at her. It landed on top of her keyboard, and there was a moment of silence as she just stared at me.

"That was rude," she said, picking up the card and slipping it into the reader.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. There was a roaring in my ears and it felt like my entire body was vibrating intensely. When an atonal beep sounded, I jumped.

"Hmm," said Bri. "It's not going through."

"Try it again," I rasped. I was gripping the edge of the counter now, staring at the card reader like I could will it to go through. Bri slipped the card out, then shoved it back in.

Beep.

"It bounced again," said Bri. Her knowing eyes slid to mine, and she blew a bubble.

"Just try it again," I said through clenched teeth.

"Isaac." That was Brody, and his voice pierced through whatever toxic cloud had begun to swell and choke me.

I watched Bri pull the card out and push it back in again.

Beep.

"Isaac," Brody said softly.

"It must be your reader," I said desperately.

"We just got it replaced last week. It's brand new," said Bri.

"Isaac, can I talk to you? Over here?"

I looked at Brody, expecting to find amusement at my plight. Expecting him to laugh and be smug, because now he had the upper hand. What I found instead was a soft expression that bordered on sad, and my stomach flipped. He jerked his head toward the peeling leather chairs, and I nodded once. Followed him to the chairs and sat down next to him. But I couldn't meet his eyes. I just stared at my hands in my lap, fingers twisting together.

"Isaac. What can you afford right now? Be honest with me. Please," he said, and when I looked up, gray eyes bored into mine. They were kind, those eyes. I could feel myself getting lost in that kindness.

I hated feeling this vulnerable. Hated feeling helpless and powerless and all I wanted to do was run away from all these feelings. But Brody wasn't looking at me with judgment. There wasn't an ounce of satisfaction on that beautiful face of his. So I told him, "Honestly? Half of that."

He nodded and said, "Okay. We can make a deal. I'll help you if you help me."

I scoffed. "Help you with what? I already told you, I don't want your help if it means I have to do something I don't want to do. I'm not going on a date with you."

He shifted nervously, and that only made me nervous. "That's not what I need help with. I…" Brody looked away, one tattooed hand coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. And then I noticed the pink flush staining his cheeks, and damn if he didn't get even prettier with that color. "I thought…maybe you could help me with one of my classes."

"Huh?"

Then he rushed out, "One of my classes has a required reading in a book I can't get on audio and I…I've been having trouble reading it. I wondered if you could read it to me."

I stared at Brody. My heart was beating hard, and then it felt like it cracked open at how he'd just lain himself bare at my feet and I wanted to do anything he asked of me, opened my mouth to say yes, of course I'll read to you, you big beautiful man but what came out was, "Why can't Bri read it to you?"

"Too busy," Bri called from where she sat, obviously listening.

"I figured we could come to some kind of agreement," Brody said. "I'll cut the price down and all you have to do is help me with this book."

In truth, what he was offering was an insanely good deal that I would be getting way more out of. Eight hundred dollars was nothing to sniff at, and all for, what? Reading to him? I could do that. But it wasn't a question of what I could do, it was whether or not I wanted to. Brody was dangerous for me to be around, and agreeing to this would mean being around him a lot.

But fuck it was too good to pass up. I'd just have to erect some very sturdy, very high walls that he couldn't get through.

"Fine," I heard myself say. And then I was so glad I'd said it, because the slow smile that stretched across Brody's face was breathtaking. His eyes lit up and small lines crinkled around the edges. He was still slightly flushed and it felt like lava was smoldering low in my belly.

"Really?" he asked, as if he hadn't ever believed I'd say yes. As if I'd take it back.

"Really," I said, a little breathless all of a sudden.

"Ring him up for eight hundred, Bri," he tossed over his shoulder, still smiling.

"Yes, master," Bri said.

Brody leaned forward in his seat and said, "When are you free? I figure we could meet up twice a week since the assignment for the reading is due in two months. What days work for you?"

It was slowly sinking in, what I'd just agreed to. Even the high of seeing Brody happy wasn't enough to stop the dread from creeping in. That feeling that I'd made the wrong choice, that this would turn out horribly. That he'd break his promise. And I could break mine, couldn't I? I could just say I was gonna help him, take my car and drive off into the sunset without ever following through. But I wouldn't do that. As nervous as I was about seeing Brody twice a week, I wouldn't do that to him.

"Um…" I said. "I mean, I'm free on the weekends, usually. And Wednesdays are always lighter, I don't have class that day."

He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and absently played with the piercing while he thought about something. Then he said, "Can I have you for two hours on Wednesdays and Saturdays?"

Why—oh why—did he have to word it like that? My cock gave an enthusiastic twitch and I shut my eyes as they rolled to the back of my head before he could see. I tried to count or something, tried to think of anything but Brody and the dirty images his words had shoved into my mind.

"Isaac?"

"Yeah," I gasped out. "Sounds good."

"Are you…what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just got a headache." I rubbed my head to give the lie a little life.

"Do you want your card back? And your keys?" Bri cut in.

Bri had effectively killed any growing arousal just by opening her mouth, so I stood up and walked to the counter without looking at Brody. I just needed a few moments to recover.

She eyed me knowingly as she handed me my things and whispered, "You're so fucking into him. Don't worry, I'll let him know." She gave me an evil smile, although I'm sure that's just how every smile of hers looked.

"I will cut your wrinkled little heart from your chest if you say a single fucking word, you gum-popping muppet!" I hissed at her.

I turned around when her gleeful cackles became too much and almost ran right into Brody's chest. I stopped short just in time, but he'd taken a step back when he realized I didn't know he was there and god that made me appreciate him. He really was trying not to touch me, and something warm and gushy flooded my entire system. And suddenly, I felt nervous. Or shy, or apprehensive, or a weird combination of those feelings, and I hated it. I stared at his chest and asked him, "So what time do you want to meet on…" Today was Saturday, but did he really want to start today? Fuck, I needed some time to wrap my head around this. "Wednesday," I finished.

"Is five okay? I have work and I'm not usually off 'til four thirty."

"Yeah. Yep. That works. Okay, I'll see you on Wednesday," I said. I had to stop myself from reaching out and touching him when he was right there, when his exotic, spicy scent was filling my nose and all that tan skin littered with tattoos was on display. He leaned down, catching my eyes with his, his face too close now. Not close enough. I could see a tiny patch of freckles that ran across the bridge of his nose and I wanted to lick that endearing little line of dots.

"Do you know where we're meeting?" he said, his lips quirking.

"Right," I said. We hadn't discussed that.

"I have the basement to myself. At the house," he said.

That was dangerous. And I must've loved how dangerous that was, I must be a masochist, because I said, "That's—good. Okay. Bye now."

His quiet laughter trailed after me as I left the shop. It rattled around in my brain when I got into my car, and as I drove away, I wished I could take my mind to get repaired, because that clinking sounded ominous, and I wanted so badly to make it stop.