Chapter Seventeen
Brock
Lexi waves at me from where she sits near the window in art class. I smile, hurrying inside to sit next to her.
“Hey, long time no see,” she jokes, her eyes shining in the way I love.
I laugh. We just saw each other at lunch. The guys and Lexi were talking about a comic book they were all reading together. Theo passed it to me, urging me to give comics a shot. They know it’s only books for me.
“So…” She bends close to me, and I get a whiff of her Lexi smell that brings me back to the past. “How do you feel about this whole portrait thing?”
I puff out my cheeks. Our art teacher told us we’ll be starting our portraits today and I really don’t know what to think. I’ve never done anything like this before. Most of the students here have taken art classes in the past, so they know what they’re doing. All I know is to make a circle or something.
“Not great, honestly,” I admit.
She smiles. “I think the point is to have fun. It doesn’t matter how your artwork turns out, all that matters is that you put your heart and soul into it.” She shrugs. “At least that’s what our art teacher said last year.”
I nod slowly as I take in her words. “How exactly does one paint from their heart and soul?”
She holds up her hands like she has no clue. “Promise you won’t make fun of my lame art skills.”
“Of course I won’t. Remember, we both paint like five-year-olds.”
That has her giggling. I smile.
The class fills up and then Mrs. Jackson walks in. She instructs us to prepare our items for the portraits and to face each other. One partner will paint the other first. It’ll take a few classes before both partners finish.
I release a heavy breath. “Here goes. So who should paint the other first?”
Lexi twists her mouth. “Hmm. Good question. Do you want to paint me first?”
I shrug. “Either way, I’ll botch the whole thing up, so it doesn’t really matter to me. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
She thinks it over for a bit. “You can paint me first.”
She helps me set up the easel, then sits before it, placing her hands on her lap. She frowns and puts her hands on her waist, then frowns again. “Where should I put my hands?”
“Uh…”
“You need to have a vision,” Mrs. Jackson says from behind me. “Perhaps a theme. Don’t just paint your partner, students. Think about the message you want to send.”
“Like what?” Lexi asks.
“Do you want to paint someone who has just gone through a breakup? Do you want to paint someone in love? Think along those lines.”
“Why can’t I just paint her the way I see her?” I mutter.
Mrs. Jackson beams at me. “That’s quite interesting, Mr. Hastings. But very difficult. Do you mean how you see her on the surface or on a deeper level?” She faces the class. “I told you students that I want you to look into your partner’s eyes and see them for who they really are, but what does that mean?”
The kids glance at each other, some looking confused, some bored.
“That’s your challenge,” our teacher finishes as she heads over to the next group.
I frown at Lexi, causing her to laugh. Then she pushes some curls behind her ear, but they pop back out. “What did you mean by how you see me?”
With expressive eyes that make me get lost in them. With a sweet smile that makes the world feel like a perfect place. And with a kind heart that gives me hope for the future.
But I can’t say any of that to her.
“As one of the most amazing people in the world. My best friend.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“You’re my best friend, too.” Her smile is shy as she tries yet again to tuck that curl behind her ear. It pops back out again.
“Can I try?” I reach forward and gently take hold of the curl. Her eyes stare into mine as I slowly push it behind her ear.
“Thanks,” she says with another shy smile. Then she cringes when the curl pops out again. “Sometimes I hate my curls.”
“No,” I say as I twirl it around my finger. “Your curls are beautiful.”
Her face reddens a little. “Thanks. In eighth grade, I used to straighten my hair. It took so long because I have so much hair. Eventually I quit because I couldn’t take it anymore. My mom always tells me to love my curls.”
I nod. “She’s right. You wouldn’t be the amazing Lexi without them.”
She smiles as she looks into my eyes.
“Please focus on your artwork,” Mrs. Jackson says as she passes us.
Lexi’s gaze breaks from mine and she shifts in her seat. “So…I guess you should start.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Pick a theme…a theme…” I sigh heavily. “Screw it, I’m just going to paint you and however it’ll come out, it will come out.”
She laughs. “Okay. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She bows her head.
After grabbing my painting supplies, I poise my paintbrush over the canvas. Clenching my jaw, not from anger but concentration, I make a stroke, but I mess the whole thing up. “Dang it. It’s supposed to be your head, but it looks like a circle.”
“Just paint from your heart,” she tells me.
I study her for a bit to get a feel of how to do this. She’s sitting straight on her chair, hands on her lap, a sweet Lexi smile on her face. And her eyes…they say so much, even though I’m not entirely sure what they’re saying. But I think I get the gist of it—I can do this and I should have fun. She’s right. We’re not graded in this class. I have the creative freedom to paint however I want. Sure, I want her to come out good, but maybe I shouldn’t put so much pressure on myself.
I have no idea how to draw her eyes, so I do the best I can. I find myself staring into hers again, getting lost in them as my heart pounds all over my body. They’re such a pretty shade of green. I remember being twelve and how much I loved to fall into the green pools. That was right before I started having strong feelings for her and pushing her away to hang out with Andy.
I take my time with the eyes because I want to get them right. Lexi doesn’t twitch or complain. She’s being the perfect model.
“Sorry this is taking me long,” I say.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
Mrs. Jackson told us to take our time, but I don’t want Lexi to be uncomfortable. Feeling a little insecure, I glance at the team next to us, where a girl is painting her friend. Hmm. She doesn’t seem to be doing well, either, which makes me feel a little better. I really should let loose and let myself have fun.
“How’s it going?” Lexi asks after I’ve been quiet for a few minutes.
“Terrible.”
She laughs softly. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. Can I see?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Okay. But I know you’re just being humble.”
I sigh as I put my paintbrush down. “Fine, I’ll prove to you just how much it sucks.” I turn it around to face her, hanging my head in shame.
She’s quiet for a while, so I’m forced to glance up at her. Her eyes are narrowed as she examines it. Gosh. This is so embarrassing.
“This is adorable,” she gushes.
I only have her head, eyes, nose, and half of her mouth. “Adorable?”
“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.”
No more thinking about Lexi. It’s time to focus on school now.