Page 133 of Damaged Boys Don't Fall For Bubbly Girls
“Are you okay?” Brock asks.
My eyes get wide when I realize I’m in Brock’s arms. On his chest. I’m not supposed to be in his arms or on his chest! We’re supposed to keep our distance. I scramble back, knocking into Nate.
“Geez,” he grumbles. “But I guess I deserved it.”
“You okay, Lexi?” Brock repeats.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Nate says.
“I’m fine,” I assure them. “I think the place is getting a little crowded.”
“Yeah, because everyone wants a front row ticket to our amazing dance show,” Gael says, high-fiving Finn.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Brock says. “Anyone else thirsty?”
We tell him we’re good, and he walks off.
The guys continue dancing, and I do, too, but my eyes follow Brock as he heads to the punch table. He seems to be in deep thought as he pours himself a cup of punch and slowly brings it to his mouth. He doesn’t drink it, though, just looks distracted. His bangs fall into his eyes, but he makes no move to push them aside.
I…miss him. Darn it, I miss him so freakin’ much. I know we’re supposed to keep our distance so we can figure out what we want, but…
I know what I want. Ido. I want to be with Brock. I don’t care that he hurt me, because I understand why he did it, and I’ve forgiven him wholeheartedly. I know that he’s a good person who had something terrible happen to him. He made some mistakes because he was just a kid. A scared, hurt kid. I made mistakes, too. But he’s trying his hardest to move past it. He’s trying to make up for the pain he caused me and the guys. He’s shown me these past few weeks that he’s still the same sweet guy he used to be. He’s just a little broken.
But just because he’s broken, it doesn’t mean that he can’t be whole again.
I don’t care that being in a relationship with Brock might be hard. It might take more work than other relationships. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Because he means more to me than anything else in the world—besides my family, of course. I’ve gotten to know myself better these past few years and Iknowthat I’m not clinging onto the old Brock. Nor am I clinging onto a fantasy version of him I created in my head. I want to be with the real Brock, the person he is today. With all his heartache, pain, and trauma. I want to hold him close when he’s reminded of Andy’s death. I want to kiss away his tears and rock him in my arms as I whisper comforting words in his ear. I want to make him smile, make him laugh, bring sunshine into his life.
I want to be the first person he runs to tell happy news to, and the first person he tells sad news to. I want him to gush to me about all the things he loves in life, like sharks and books and puzzles. I want him to complain and vent and cry to me. I want him to pour out his heart to me. I want to be by his side forever.
That is, if he wants the same. And I know deep in my heart that he does.
The band suddenly switches to a slow song. The guys disperse from the dance floor, Coop informing us that he’s going to look for a girl to dance with. Brock, still holding his cup of punch, walks off to the side and leans back against the wall, staring at the floor. Then his gaze lifts to mine. Something shifts in his eyes, something I can seeveryclearly—I’m the most important person in his life, too (along with his family, of course).
With my heart speeding throughout my body and with shaky knees, I march over to him, putting on a smile. He returns it, though his lips quake. As though there’s so much he wants to say but he’s forcing himself not to.
I hold out my hand. “Do you want to dance, Brock?”
His whole face fills with surprise as he straightens up against the wall. “What?” I can see the question in his eyes—this is aslowdance.
I offer him the sweetest smile I can muster. “I’d like to dance with you, Brock Hastings. If you want to dance with me.”
He stares at my hand for a short while, and I swear I see pain in his eyes. “Are you sure? Because…” He snaps his lips shut and shakes his head.
I know what the rest of his sentence is:Because I want you to take your time to figure out what you want.
I nod. “I’m sure.”
He searches my eyes for a moment before throwing out his cup and stepping closer to me. Every hair on my body stands onedge as he inches closer and then slides his hand into mine. A chill runs down my spine, and I hold myself back from shivering.
I lead him toward the dance floor, noticing the guys’ eyebrows rising in shock when they see our clasped hands. When I glance at Finn, he winks at me and grins, urging me to go for it. I throw him a smile, then find an empty spot on the dance floor.
Brock still looks unsure. But I don’t want him to be. I want him to know that this is what I want.Heis who I want. I raise my arms and step closer to him, locking them around his neck. With a swallow, Brock moves forward and slowly rests his hands on my waist. His touch is as light as a feather, but it sends tingles all over my body. I step even closer and lower my head on his chest.
We sway to the beat of the slow song. I feel Brock’s heart thumping, and even though it’s pretty fast, it’s soothing as well. I don’t know, just hearing his heart, knowing it’s right under my ear, it makes me feel closer to him. I think I could listen to it beat for hours.
Brock’s hand rubs circles on my lower back. It’s soothing, too, and his arms make me feel so protected. So cared for. This is what I want. To be this close to him and to grow even closer to him. This guy is the only one for me. Iknowit.
“Brock.” I raise my head and look into his eyes. “There’s so much I want to talk to you about. But maybe not right now. I just want to dance in your arms. If you’re okay with that.”
