Page 42 of Shattered In Darkness

He’s never even kissed a girl. It’s not like I have a lot of experience, but I’ve kissed a few guys. I’m not judging; I think it’s cute. I wonder what kind of kisser Brody is.

Too much tongue? No tongue? Hands in my hair? No kissing at all? Some guys are quick to jump right into it. Will Brody take it slow? Or will he pin me against a wall?

I tingle at the thought of being so close to Brody while he pleasures me. His hands are so big and masculine. Long fingers. As if they were made to touch me. Wetness forms between my legs at the image of it. Brody kissing me against a wall. Fingers stroking me. Grinding me into dust.

“Lola! Are you okay? You look like you’re spacing out.” Sophie waves her hand in front of my face. I blink. The images leave, and I am back in reality.

“I’m okay, just thinking about stuff.” I wave it off, not wanting to tell Sophie that I am fantasizing about her brother.

“No worries,” she eyes me for a second. “I know you’ve been kind of stressed about your home life lately. I try not to pry, but I do worry.”

I smile. Sophie is so nice. I am glad I met her. It’s comforting to know I have a friend I can go to.

“Yeah, Marcus is just weird. Freaks me out sometimes. He’s harmless, though. It’s not like my mom would listen anyways even if I expressed myself. She’s brainwashed by that man.”

I sit back and sigh. I do not want to tell Sophie the whole truth. She’s too innocent, too soft. I don’t want her to change or see me differently. I show what I want to show, and keep the rest inside.

Sophie chews on her lip, probably contemplating if she should leave it alone or push me for more insight into my life. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask what I mean.

“Hey, let’s take a break from all this studying. The test can wait. I’m sure we can go out for a bit, maybe it will make you feel better.” Sophie stands up and stretches before closing the books that were open on the table.

I shrug and stand up too. “Alright, that sounds a lot better than sitting here and memorizing all these words. My brain is fried anyways.”

Sophie smiles, big and wide. “That’s what I thought. School work just makes me so bored. Sometimes we just need to step away for a little bit.”

Before I can respond, Brody walks into the room. Shirtless. Sweat is dripping down his chest. My eyes go wide for a moment. For a seventeen year old boy, he has a good amount of muscle. His chest is broad, and his arms? I can feel myself drooling internally at how big his biceps are.

Sophie’s lip curls as she turns. “God. Put a shirt on, Brody. I have a guest, you animal.” She throws a scrunchie at him, it bounces off his shoulder and rolls under the table.

Brody shrugs, eyes fixed on me like none of it matters. Like Sophie isn’t even here. “Don’t think she minds,” he says, voice low and too steady.

My face bursts into flame. I pretend to focus on the scenery outside of the window.

Sophie huffs, feigning disgust. “Why are you walking around like that? Are you broken? Go blow off your testosterone in your own room.”

Brody’s smile is thin, not really a smile at all. “I was. I just needed a glass of water.”

Even when he’s not looking at me, it’s like he is. I can’t get enough of it. The way his muscles tense under his skin. The heat coming off him in waves. His hands—ugh, those hands. Big, veined, fingers flexing. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from staring.

Sophie grabs her phone off the table. “Fine. I’m gonna change. Lola, if he tries to wrestle you or whatever, just scream.” She grins at me, but I barely see it.

The silence is instant, suffocating. Only Brody and me now. Even the air feels different. He leans against the door frame, not moving closer but not backing off, either. His gaze flicks over me. My skin prickles.

He cracks his knuckles, one hand, then the other. “You okay?” The words are almost gentle. Not what I expected.

My mouth goes dry. He must’ve heard Sophie and me, whispering about my house, about curfews and locked doors, and step-fathers who never let you breathe.

I try to play it off, give him my best smirk. “Yeah. I mean, considering I haven’t been locked in a dungeon or sold to pirates yet, I’d say I’m doing great.”

His frown deepens. “Not funny.”

I feel something snap tight inside me. The urge to spill all of it—how some days I want to run away and never come back, how Marcus’s eyes make my skin crawl, how lonely it feels to be a body and never a person. I want to say it. Beg someone to see me.

Instead, I look at Brody’s hands, fists unclenching, then balling again like he’s holding himself on a leash. I want to touch him. I want to see if he’ll let me. But I can’t say that, either. Not yet.

I swirl my hair around my finger, clearing my throat. “So, what’s your excuse for terrorizing innocent girls? Just bored or is being half-naked your career plan?”

His eyes drag up my body. A flicker of something dark and possessive lingering there. “Maybe I was hoping you’d like the view,” he says.