Page 14 of Don't Love the Boy Next Door
I fold my arms over my chest. “Name them.”
She throws her hands up. “Because you’ve been a jerk to me since the beginning.” She narrows her eyes. “And I hate that you think you have a hold over me because you rescued me like some knight in shining armor.”
My eyebrows furrow. “Hold over you? What are you talking about?”
“You saved me and now I owe you. But I never asked you to come find me.”
I just gape at her. “I don’t expect anything from you.”
She’s quiet, eyes holding mine. Then she scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
“Phoenix, I’m serious.”
“Fine. Let’s do this your way. Find a painting you like and we’ll go from there.”
We seriously have no idea exactly what we’re doing as we go from painting to painting. Honestly? They’re all pretty spectacular. I don’t know anything about art, though, so I’m really out of my element here.
Phoenix reads the plaques on the walls and we decide to go with the painter who has the most captivating story.
We sit on the chairs outside the exhibit and start Googling him. Phoenix reads interesting facts about him out loud, and together we decide what we want to include in our report.
My phone keeps dinging as Charlotte texts me. Many other girls text me as well, which makes Phoenix turn up her nose.
I ignore the other girls, but not Charlotte. I’m not about to mess up my shot at getting back together with her.
Phoenix continues to watch me with that annoyed expression on her face.
“It’s not what you think,” I say, having this weird need to justify myself to her. Why do I care if she forms the wrong opinion about me?
She holds up her hands. “It’s none of my business.”
“It’s my ex.”
Her head perks up with curiosity. “She misses you?” I’m not sure if she’s mocking me or genuinely curious. I’m hoping the latter, because I really don’t want this girl to hate me.
“I think so.”
“And you miss her.”
I nod.
She resumes Googling and I do the same. My eyes keep creeping in her direction, though, and I’m not sure why.
“I think we have everything we need,” she says a few minutes later. “I’ll gather all the facts and write the report.”
“We should do it together,” I say. “Holden will know we both didn’t write it.”
She lifts a brow, a tiny smile on her lips. “Because your writing sucks?”
I laugh. “Pretty much.”
“Fine. We’ll write it together.” She gets to her feet. “I’m going home now.”
“You sure you don’t want a ride?”
“Yep, thanks.”
I can try to convince her, but I don’t think it’ll do any good. So I tell her I’ll see her tomorrow and leave the museum.
