Chapter Thirty
Lexi
Brock and I enter art class the next day and take our seats. It’s my turn to paint a portrait of him and I’m a little nervous. I guess it’s because we’ve been a little distanced from each other. Also, it’s easier when we’re hanging out with the guys, but it’s totally different when it’s just the two of us. But I’m looking forward to spending some time with him because I don’t want to lose our friendship.
“Let me help you set up,” he offers.
“Thanks.”
He gets the easel and canvas ready while I fetch the paint supplies. His shoulder bangs into mine as we put everything in order.
“Sorry,” he says. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry for getting in the way.”
He shakes his head, giving me a small smile. “You’re not in the way.”
I shift from one foot to the other, pushing some hair behind my ear. Why are things weird? Because I’ve decided to give Finn a shot? Why would Brock care if he doesn’t want us to be more than friends?
“You’re all set,” he says with another smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He positions his chair in front of the easel and sits down.
I find myself staring at him, trying to determine what kind of expression he’s wearing. Does he still want us to be as close as we were? Or is that impossible because I’m trying with Finn? Does he feel like I abandoned him? But I can still be there for him. I want to be there for him.
I also can’t help thinking that, despite our awkwardness, I’m much more comfortable with Brock than I am with Finn. But then I reprimand myself for once again comparing them.
Brock looks at me, then away, shifting in his seat. “So, uh, any idea what theme you want to do?”
Blinking, I snap out of my thoughts. “Not really. Figured I’d wing it like you did. Yours came out pretty good.”
He chuckles, the sound almost music-like. “Pretty good for a No-casso?”
“Some-casso, remember?”
He laughs again. “Right. Well, maybe you’ll be an even more Some-casso than me. You definitely have more years of painting under your belt.”
My spirits lift a little. Maybe things don’t have to be weird between us just because I’m with Finn.
But there’s something off with us as I start painting him. Brock sits still in his seat, eyes on me, an expression I can’t read. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s this chill in the air.
“So…how are you?” I ask as I begin drawing his eyes.
“I’m good. You?”
“Good.”
“Nice.”
I want to say more to him, but I don’t know what. Brock seems content to just sit there watching me, but I feel like I’m losing him. Losing our close friendship.
Maybe I can’t fight it? Maybe it’s just natural that we’ll grow apart?
“Excellent work,” Mrs. Jackson compliments me as she passes by.
“Oh, thanks.” Once she walks off to the next team, I bend close to Brock. “She actually thinks what I have so far is good.” I frown. “Or maybe she’s just encouraging me.”
“I’m curious what you have so far. Can I see?”
He gets to his feet, but I say, “No, you’ll jinx it.”
“Okay.”
“I’m working on your second eye now. Shh, this needs concentration.”
“You got it.”
We’re quiet as I paint, and I can feel his sharp eyes on me. But I don’t look at him. It’ll just make me feel uneasy.
“So you and Finn are, like…” he says, then stops.
“Um, yeah. We’re hanging out and stuff.”
“That’s great. I’m really happy for you guys.”
My gaze darts to his and I find his eyes still on me. There’s pain in there, but I’m not sure if that’s the usual pain he carries or if he’s sad that we’re…
I mean, that’s silly. He doesn’t see me that way.
“Thanks,” I say.
Quiet.
“You know, I almost had him at the arcade on Monday,” he says after a little while. I’m mostly done with the second eye, so that’s awesome progress. And you know something? It’s not that bad.
“Well, your Brock competitiveness came out,” I tell him with a light laugh. “It’s nice to know you still have it.”
“Yeah, I’m kind of feeling more like myself.”
“That’s really good. I’m so happy for you.” I smile.
He holds my gaze. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, Lexi. You and the others. Seriously, if you guys wouldn’t have accepted me, I’d be all alone and feeling rotten.”
I stop painting and give him the brightest smile I can. “Of course. You’re our best friend. There’s no way we would have rejected you.”
“Thanks, but I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did. I don’t want to talk about the past all the time, but I still feel bad for abandoning you.”
“It’s in the past.”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I totally had Finn, anyway. He had zero chance against me.”
I snort. “From what I saw, you guys were neck in neck.”
“Pssh. No.”
I give him a look.
He holds up his hands. “Fine, fine. I guess we’ll never know. Anyway, I don’t want to disturb your masterpiece, so I’ll be quiet now.”
“No,” I quickly say. “I mean, I don’t want you to be quiet.”
“A model shouldn’t talk. It’ll mess up the portrait.”
“Maybe, but I don’t really care. Tell me something cool you’ve been reading.”
He spends a few minutes informing me about the plot of his current fantasy book. “The author is actually one of my dad’s mentees.”
“What do you mean?”
“A few years ago, my dad got a message from a guy telling him he’s a big fan and he asked if my dad could read his manuscript. My dad loves helping inspiring writers, so he agreed. He mentored him for a bit, helped him grow as a writer and everything. Then a few years later, the guy got his first book published. My dad was so happy for him. He dedicated the book to my dad.”
I smile. “That’s so cool.”
“Yeah.”
Quiet again.
“I’m up to your nose now,” I tell him.
“Can I take a peek?”
“Nope.”
He frowns. “Fine.”
The nose is tricky and I don’t have much experience painting noses. The last thing I want to do is mess the whole thing up and have to start over.
“Ten minutes left to class, students,” Mrs. Jackson announces. “Finish up and we’ll pick this up next week.”
Ten minutes isn’t long at all, but I manage to finish the nose just as the bell rings. Brock stands. “Can I see now?”
I gesture that he can.
He walks over to the front of the easel and examines my artwork. His eyes grow smaller as he smiles. “This is so good.”
“Are you making fun of me?” I demand.
He shakes his head. “No, it’s cute.” He cringes. “I don’t want to use the words ‘cute’ and ‘Brock’ in the same sentence, but yeah, it’s cute.”
“What’s wrong with cute?”
“I don’t know. You’re cute. I’m not.”
“You so are cute.”
He laughs, then I laugh and then we both stop, glancing away from each other. This is a little awkward. We both admitted that we think the other is cute. But not cute as in cute…but like…as friends…
Ugh.
“We’d better go to our next classes,” I tell him.
We clean up and then leave the classroom. I’m surprised to find Finn leaning on the wall outside. He perks up when he sees me.
“Hey, how was art?” he asks.
“Good. I painted his eyes and nose.” I point my thumb at Brock.
Brock shoves his hands into his pockets. “Apparently I’m cute.”
I playfully jab him in the stomach with my elbow.
Finn raises his eyebrow as he glances from me to Brock. “What?”
I wave my hand. “He’s just teasing my painting. Mrs. Jackson said it was the best in the entire class.” I lift my chin.
Brock snorts. “She didn’t say that, but I’m pretty sure it was. I mean, just look at my face.”
“Oh my gosh,” I mutter.
He waves. “I’ll see you guys later.” He walks off.
Finn watches him with furrowed brows. “Looks like you two are having lots of fun in art class.”
“We both suck at painting, so we’re doing our best to have a good time. But actually, it’s not so bad.”
He wraps an arm over my shoulder. “Best in the class, right?”
It’s a little disappointing that I don’t feel a spark or tingle or anything from his contact. I mean, it’s been a few days and I still don’t feel any different about him. Why? Will it never happen or do I just need to be patient?
Or is it normal not to feel anything?
Finn and I don’t want to broadcast our relationship to the entire school—even the guys, other than Brock, don’t know yet—so he drops his arm from around me as we walk through the halls to my next class. He’s nice to walk me, which makes me realize he’s a really good guy. A good guy whom I currently don’t feel anything for.
Mom told me that when she and Dad met in high school, it was bam. Love at first sight. And they got married right after high school. I know there’s a high chance I won’t follow in their footsteps. Most people don’t fall in love so young. But shouldn’t I at least feel something?
Finn glances at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“You just seem to have a lot on your mind. Anything you want to talk about?”
I shake my head. “No, not really.”
Does he sense I don’t feel anything? I feel horrible that I don’t, but I can’t exactly control my emotions, can I?
“Okay. Because you know you can, right? Being honest with me won’t hurt my feelings.”
I bite my tongue. I don’t want to tell him I don’t feel anything because I don’t understand it myself. And I don’t want to hurt him. I know that the more time we spend together, the higher chance I’ll have to feel something.
“Thanks. I know. You’re very nice to me, Finn. Like, really, really nice.”
He smiles. “Well, yeah. I mean, you’re awesome.”
My insides prick with even more guilt. “Thanks.”
We reach my classroom, chat for a bit, then I walk inside. Throughout the entire lesson, I can’t stop thinking about how bad I feel about Finn.
What does one do if she knows she’s with a good guy, but doesn’t feel anything for him?