Page 78 of Damaged Boys Don't Fall For Bubbly Girls

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It was just stupid.”

I get started on cleaning the wound. I’m standing very close to him, mere centimeters, and I feel his soft breath on my skin. And the heat radiating off his body. When I gently wipe the blood away, tingles travel down my spine.

Brock hisses. “Darn, that hurts.”

“Sorry.”

“No, not your fault. Like I said, I was an idiot.”

“You were.” I thump his forehead with the heel of my palm.

“I deserve it.”

“You can say that again,” I say as I thump him again.

“I deserve it,” he repeats.

Once all the blood is gone, I sigh in relief. The cut isn’t deep at all and I don’t think he needs to go to the hospital. I finish off with putting on a bandage across his palm.

“You think it’ll leave a scar?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “Boys.”

Even though his hand is covered in dry blood, he takes my hand in his, which is also covered in his blood. “Lexi, I’m really sorry for scaring you. I wasn’t thinking.”

I want to yell at him that he should know better than anyone about vehicle safety. Things could have been so much worse and I could have experienced what he did four years ago. But the last thing he needs is for me to reprimand him like I’m his mom. I can tell from the freaked look on his face that he understands how badly he messed up.

“Just promise you won’t do it again?” I whisper.

He nods with a sincere expression. “I swear. And to prove it to you, I’ll ground myself and not ride my bike for a whole month.”

“Whoa, don’t exaggerate. Why should your bike suffer? And more importantly—me.”

That makes him chuckle in surprise.

“But seriously, Brock.” I grab the back of his neck and look closely into his eyes. “Never again. Please,” I beg.

His eyes are wide with even more sincerity. “Ipromise.” He curses under his breath. “I promised my grandparents I would be responsible. I’m such an idiot.”

“Look, we all make mistakes,” I say. “We should be thankful you weren’t hurt more severely. Let’s learn from this and move on. Okay?”

He nods as he stands and closes me in his arms, resting his chin on top of my head. “Definitely.”

He helps me clean up. Once we’re done with the bathroom, we wash away the blood on the street before my house because I don’t want my mom or the neighbors or random passersby to think someone in my house committed a murder. Thankfully, no one passes as we do it. Because I have no idea how we would explain it.

“Why do I feel like we’re covering up a crime scene?” he asks.

I know I shouldn’t, but I laugh. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Brock chuckles.

With a groan, I shove his shoulder. “This isn’t funny.”

“It kind of is. Come on, we’ll look back at this in a few months and laugh. Not the part where I almost got hurt badly,” he clarifies. “But the washing away my blood.”

I shake my head as I try to hide my smile. “Why do I always have fun with you even when I’m not supposed to?”

He raises his shoulders. “It’s a gift?” He glances down at his bloody clothes. “I should get home and clean my clothes before my parents come home. Lexi, I’m sorry again for scaring you. I’ll never,ever, do it again.”