Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card

PAINT

LAURA

I couldn't get out of school fast enough. My feet moved on autopilot, my mind racing a mile a minute. I barely noticed the curious stares as I stormed past classmates in the hallway. Before anyone could stop me or ask what was wrong, I bolted for the parking lot. Sliding into the BMW's driver's seat, I let out a shaky breath. The glossy black paint gleamed in the sun, drawing the attention of a few kids walking by. To them, this car screamed privilege-a shiny gift from my mom to her only daughter. But the truth? It wasn't mine.

Mom had stopped driving since... well, since everything fell apart. She claimed it made things simpler, but I understood the true reason. She didn't trust herself to take the wheel.

Luckily, Dad had left us enough money to make life comfortable, at least on the surface. But it still felt like a house of cards, ready to topple at any moment.

I gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath before turning the key. The engine roared to life, and I sped out of the lot, leaving school-and Josh-behind. The art supply store sat just outside of town, tucked away in a quiet plaza. It was my favorite escape, a place where the world. seemed to slow down. 12:24

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As I parked, I felt some of the tension melt away. The small coffee shop inside was buzzing with the comforting hum of espresso machines and the soft chatter of customers. I ordered my usual latte and wandered toward the paint section, cradling the warm cup in my hands. There was something soothing about being surrounded by rows of vibrant colors. My fingers skimmed over the tubes of paint, imagining the feel of the brushes and the smell of fresh canvas.

A voice nearby broke my reverie.

"Excuse me, do you have this in, uh, cobalt blue? Or something close to it?"

I turned to see a guy talking to one of the employees-a young

who looked like he was

skin and messy brown hair that fell just above his eyebrows. He had a relaxed, easygoing vibe, dressed in a simple

looked flustered and pointed him toward an aisle.

I could tell from his expression that he

Should I

the cobalt blue paint from the correct shelf and walked over "Here you go," I said, holding it out with a

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1288 Wouchers

into a grin. "Oh, thanks! You saved me. I

shade," I replied, feeling

took the tube from my hand, his fingers brushing mine briefly. "Thanks again," he said, but as

Sorry-thanks, really. I, uh, haven't

"Oh, I'm one town over, but I love this shop. They have the

nodded, holding the tube of cobalt blue like it was a prized possession. "Yeah,

confused and... something else I didn't want to think about. "Good luck with the

"Wait."

he touched my elbow lightly, stopping me in my

if I bought

stunned. Was he serious? Was he