“Damn, bro,” Brody said, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was sizing me up. His eyes traveled along my body as he watched me, and I felt equal parts nervous as hell and confused about why he was paying me this much attention at all. Right now, getting called “bro” didn’t feel as silly as it usually would to me. It sounded natural coming from somebody like him. Maybe it was because I could see in his eyes that he was really impressed that I’d won the scholarship.
“I just got lucky, I guess,” I said, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. “With the scholarship, I mean.”
His gaze was still steadfast. Clearly, Brody did not get flustered by eye contact like I did, because it still felt like he was staring into my damn soul, the way he looked at me. “You’re obviously a really smart person,” he said.
How many times was he going to make me blush? “Sure. I mean, I guess,” I said. People had been calling me smart for my whole life, but really, I just loved reading, I loved history, and school was my happy place.
And for my whole life, that fact had made me feel so painfully different from everybody else.
By now, I’d just come to accept it.
Logan Martinson, only good at school and nothing else. Always different, always awkward. Shove the loneliness into the box. Put the box somewhere far, far away.
Brody cleared his throat, standing up straight again before walking into the doorframe that led to the hallway. He put both arms up above him, hanging on the frame like he was about to do pull-ups.
It was almost obscene how good it made his arms look, the taut curves of his triceps on full display.
Did he just always act like this, unaware of how perfect his body was? Or was he doing it on purpose, in some dominant display, like he was trying to show me exactly how strong he was?
I put the thought out of my mind.
Just because football players targeted you for being different in high school doesn’t mean Brody is doing that now.
He’s just stretching his arms.
Chill. Out.
“Well, it’s still early,” Brody said, the kindness in his voice letting me relax a little. “You got any plans to go out tonight?”
“God, no,” I said instinctively, a little too quickly.
A big smile spread over Brody’s face, his dimples showing up again. “You sound like somebody just offered you rotten food or something.”
I ran a hand through my hair, trying not to get distracted by his dimples. “I mean, I’m just not in the mood. I’m not much of a partier.”
“Me either,” he said, waving a hand through the air.
I found that hard to believe. “Really?”
Brody glanced to one side. “Okay, yeah, that was a lie,” he admitted. “I do go to parties most weekends. I like meeting people. I like having a good time. But sometimes parties can be… a little much.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked down at the floor, letting out a long breath of air. “A lot of gossip and drama can come from being at too many parties. And I’m definitely getting sick of that.”
I’d stayed so far out of the world of college gossip for my whole time here at KMU that I’d barely remembered it existed. Dani sometimes told me stuff that she’d seen on online gossip forums, but I never knew any of the people involved or really cared at all.
I was glad to be far, far away from that stuff. There were benefits to being alone most of the time, no matter how isolating it could be.
“Last time Dani dragged me out to a party I ended up stuck on a couch, directly in between two people who were making out,” I said. “They didn’t even ask me to move. One of them smelled like a car air freshener.”
Brody puffed out a laugh. “Sounds like fun,” he said. “And I think you might be talking about Dan Brennerton. It’s fuckin’ weird how much his clothes always smell like a car dealership.”
“It was definitely a weird night,” I said.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” Brody told me. “Sorry again about the commotion. Won’t happen again, unless we’re the ones throwing the party.”
I snorted. The idea of ever throwing a party in my own house was unfathomable.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m sorry that blond guy didn’t realize you were straight.”
Brody glanced up at me, his head cocking slightly to one side.
“Huh?” he said.
“The guy you brought home,” I said. “You said he was looking for a hookup, but that you didn’t want one.”
Realization slowly spread over Brody’s face, his stupidly beautiful eyes going a little wider. “Oh, you… you really don’t follow the school paper, do you?”
I blinked at him. “No. Why?”