Page 34 of Damaged Boys Don't Fall For Bubbly Girls

She beams. “Lexi. Got it. Now that I’ve gotten to know all of your names, let’s start today’s class.”

We’re assigned to pick any object we want and paint it. I look around for something interesting and unique, but there’s nothing too exciting in this room. Then an idea hits me and Igrab my backpack. I carefully remove the blue whale keychain Brock gave me and place it on my station.

Brock leans in close. “Are you going to paint the whale? Nice.”

His face is pretty close to mine. I can see my reflection in his gorgeous blue eyes. I can stare into them for hours and hours.

He must realize it, too, because he pulls away and rummages inside his backpack for something to paint.

“You are my model for today, awesome whale,” I tell my whale as I adjust it near my easel. “Time to show the world just how amazing you are.”

“You think a pen is too boring?” Brock holds up his pen.

I raise a brow at him.

“Yeah, thought so. I guess I’ll paint that globe. Why is there even a globe in here?” He gets up and fetches the globe that sits in the back of the room.

When he returns, I say, “I think this classroom used to be a geography class.”

“That explains the globe.” He studies it closely. “Well, this has seen better days. Look.” He holds it out to me. “Australia is gone.”

I gasp dramatically. “How could they destroy Australia? Imagine, all those people and the poor lost koalas and kangaroos.”

“And platypuses. Don’t forget the platypuses.”

I clutch my heart. “Please forgive me, sacred platypuses.”

We both laugh.

Brock places the globe on his table and turns it so Australia isn’t visible. “There. Now I can at least pretend that the world is whole.”

For the next half hour, the students work in silence. Mrs. Jackson walks around the room, checking on our work. I peek at Brock from time to time and notice how hard he’s concentratingon his work. His brows are furrowed and he’s constantly pushing his bangs out of his eyes impatiently.

“Do I have paint in my hair?” Brock asks.

I blink at him. “What?”

“These bangs keep getting in my eyes.” He pushes them away again. “Do I look like Evie?”

Evie is Brock’s cousin, the oldest child of Mr. and Mrs. Hastings. She’s a super-talented artist and is also in a band with her husband, Noah, who is also Brock’s cousin. Evie tends to be a little scatterbrained at times and often gets paint in her hair. But that just adds to her personality and makes her so…Evie.

“Nope, no mini-Evies around here,” I assure him. “Are you going to cut your bangs?”

He stops painting for a second. “You think I should?”

“No, of course not! I love your bangs.”

He smiles. “Thanks. Me, too.”

We paint in silence for a bit, until I say, “How are Evie and Noah, by the way? I saw on Spill It! that there are rumors they may go on tour again. But I thought they were going to wait until the baby is a little older.”

Spill it! is a popular social media app created by Easton’s dad.

Brock raises his shoulders. “I haven’t heard anything about that. But they should be visiting me and my family over the weekend. Maybe I’ll get some intel.” He accidentally slides his paintbrush across his cheek, smearing it with green paint. “Ah, shoot.”

“I got you.” I grab a paper towel and move closer to him, my leg getting caught in his easel and making me lose my balance.

Brock catches me by the shoulders. “You okay?”