When I’m as put-together as I can get, he moves to open the door, but I catch his arm and tug him back.
He pauses, looking down at me. His amber eyes search mine, unreadable.
“Thanks,” I say. “For everything.”
“It was just a hug.”
We both know it wasn’tjusta hug. It was a crack in my armor. A small one, but it’s there. And he’s the one who made it.
He gives me a kind, knowing smile, and that damn dimple of his pops out.
I appreciate that he’s trying to downplay the last fewminutes, but he doesn’t understand what a big moment this was for me.
What it meant.
All I know is, I made progress today, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel entirely irreparable.
Maybe, there’s hope for me yet.
Chapter 11
Jessie’s in my class after lunch and wastes no time apologizing profusely for Rachel’s behavior.
“She’s not usually like that,” she insists, wide-eyed and earnest.
I seriously doubt that. People don’t justaccidentallyturn into raging bitches for no reason. Still, I nod politely, while knowing I’m in no rush to see Rachel again. I don’t make a habit of hanging out with people who are rude and hateful, best friend or not.
By the time the final bell rings, I’m early for my last class of the day: art. This is the class I’m most looking forward to. Art’s always been a way for me to relax and express. And after the last 24 hours, I could use a little creative therapy.
I pop in an earbud and flip open the new sketchbook Ben picked up for me from my supply list. I start doodling while the classroom slowly fills around me.
I’m deep in the zone when two bodies drop into the seats beside me simultaneously.
Startled, I look up… and smile.
“Hey, strangers!”
Axel sits on my left. Nik on my right.
I pull out my earbuds and snap them back into their case, turning to Axel first. “You didn’t tell me we had a class together.” His sticky fingers were all over my schedule yesterday.
He shrugs. “Ididsay cool people take art.”
I give him a flat look, but it’s more amused than annoyed.
Our conversation ends before it truly starts, when the art teacher begins her lecture. But focusing is hard withmodel number oneandmodel number twoflanking me. My attention drifts between them until Nik stretches and his shirt rides up, flashing a glimpse of toned stomach. My eyes lock in, and yep, pretty sure I just drooled.
He catches me looking, and I die inside a little when he smirks at me.
So much for being subtle.
After the initial instruction, we’re left to start sketching for a self-portrait project. Nik strikes up quiet conversation while we work, and I surprise myself by enjoying it. He’s funny, easy to talk to, and quick to praise me for standing up to Rachel at lunch.
“You werebadass,by the way,” he says with a grin.
I smile, feeling a little high on the attention. He doesn’t know my past. He doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. I feel... normal. And I like that. I like that a lot.
But every time Nik has my full attention, Axel leans over and points something out on his or my paper. It’s like he can’t stand the fact that Nik and I are vibing.
