Page 58 of Damaged Boys Don't Fall For Bubbly Girls
“Look.” She points. “The eyes really look like my eyes. You captured them so well.”
“Your nose is too big.”
“Yeah, but it still looks okay.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Looks like you have some of Evie’s talent after all.”
“Maybe only a tiny, tiny bit. I was concentrating really hard, so maybe that helped. But your mouth is all messed up.”
“True, but it’s still fun.” She straightens in her seat. “You may proceed, Picasso.”
“You mean No-casso.”
She tilts her head. “How about Some-casso?”
We both burst out laughing.
I manage to finish her mouth just as the bell rings. Mrs. Jackson tells us we’ll continue the portraits at our next class. I’m a little dismayed that the class is over. I like painting Lexi, even though I suck at it. I like the special time we share together, and I love getting lost in her beautiful eyes.
We gather in the hallway with all the other students, meeting the guys who are chatting together.
Dean’s eyes scan my head. “Why do you have paint in your hair?”
I groan as I try to scrape it off. “I do? Darn it.”
“We had art class,” Lexi informs the group. “We’re painting portraits of each other. So Brock painted me.”
“Attempted to,” I correct as I continue getting rid of the paint. “Ugh. I need water. Catch you guys later?”
Each one fist bumps me before I go to the boys’ bathroom. I quickly wash the paint off and dry my hair—specifically my bangs—as well as I can. I don’t want to be late for my next class.
Before I leave, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The guy staring back at me looks normal on the outside. Other than the pain in his eyes, one can’t tell he went through a tragedy four years ago. And when he smiles, it doesn’t look forced like it did in the past. I used to look at my reflection and see a broken person. But I’m not him anymore. Four years ago, I never thought I’d be where I am today. I’m very grateful to my parents, grandparents, sister, and the rest of my family. And my therapists who have helped me.
The bell rings for next period. I rush to the classroom before I’m late. The last thing I need is detention. Would the faculty be lenient with me because of my past? But I don’t want to play the damaged guy card. I don’t want special treatment.
I manage to settle in my seat before the teacher walks in. My hair is still pretty much wet, but I can’t really do anything about it.
Throughout the lesson, I think about Lexi and the special moments we shared on my bike yesterday and in art class. I’m glad we established that we’re best friends again. The walls have officially come down. No more awkwardness—I mean, I’m pretty sure we’ll still be uncomfortable with each other here and there,but for the most part we’re kind of back to how we used to be. Except, my heart pounds even more as her sweet smile floats before my eyes.
“Mr. Hastings,” the teacher snaps me out of my thoughts.
Every single kid in the room is staring at me.
I sink a little in my seat. “Yeah?”
“Clear your desk for a pop quiz.”
“Sorry.”
I do as she says and tell myself to shove Lexi aside and focus on school. But she keeps creeping in.
Did she notice how we looked into each other’s eyes during art class? Did her heart pound like mine did? I shake my head. What am I doing? We just established that we’re best friends. So why am I messing up the whole thing by wanting to be more?
It’s because of Zoey. I can’t let her words get to my head. Lexi and I are friends. Friends, friends, friends.
“Mr. Hastings, are you here or not?”
I notice I haven’t answered a single question on the quiz yet. I didn’t even put my name on top. Darn it.
Man, what’s wrong with me today? “Yeah, sorry. I’m here.”
