Plastic Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page B

others it was clouded by darkness. While most of my friends had journals or laid out their inner feelings through multiple Facebook posts, I had chosen to draw and paint in my family’s pool house. My parents weren’t particularly fond of my love for art, but had agreed that the ‘little hobby that I would simply have to grow out of’ could be done out of sight.
    When I walked past a circle of easels in the center of the room, I noticed art desks in sets of two; there was only one set open and it just happened to be in the front row. If I wouldn’t have had to deal with Jade this morning I would have made it to class in time to get a better seat, but of course things didn’t work out that way. That girl really needed to invest in an alarm clock and a decent amount of self-discipline.
    I put my bag down and grabbed a new notebook and pencil as the professor cleared his throat, signaling the start of class. "Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Greg Thomas and I’ll be your instructor for the next 16 weeks.”
    Greg Thomas couldn’t have been more than five foot seven and wore a ridiculous pair of dark jeans pulled up a little too high on the waist and a patterned button down western shirt. His glasses looked like they hadn’t been updated in years and he had longer hair in the back, some of which was combed forward to his forehead in order to hide an obvious bald spot. I couldn't help but ponder the idea of submitting him to the TV show, What Not to Wear, or the movie Clueless. I needed to find his Miss Geist and set him up.
    "This semester we will be going over many different art types, from Abstract to Portrait to Still Life. I know some of you may already have a niche you would like to concentrate on, but this is Art 101 and it’s required for all Art majors. Consider it a stepping stone to your future." He began to write week one goals on the board when the door directly to his right opened, causing everyone to focus their attention in that direction.
    At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me because it was Sexy Stranger from the club. He was dressed the same as the other night, wearing faded blue jeans that sat low on his waist and a brown leather jacket over a fitted white t-shirt. One thing I hadn’t noticed before was the amazing color of his eyes. They were the shade of green sea glass and, with the reflection of the light, they showed a vibrancy I didn’t know eyes could possess. He looked around for a second, realizing the seat next to me was the only one open. I realized I was staring and quickly looked down at my notebook, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me. I talked to him for all of five minutes the other night, but something about him unnerved me. I couldn’t place it, but I was definitely feeling a level of uncomfortable that I wasn’t used to. As he took the seat next to me my eyes betrayed me, trying to get another glimpse of the new guy. When our eyes met, I felt extremely uneasy, wishing there was a hole to climb into. Eye contact had always been an issue for me; I was afraid someone would see through me and would realize that I wasn’t who I pretended to be.
    "Excuse me. What’s your name?" the instructor asked, bringing my focus back to the front of the room. He was staring directly at my new neighbor with a look of annoyance that I usually only saw from my father.
    "Dane Wright,” he said, drawing my attention back to him. The hot guy from the club had a name…and a deep masculine voice that had me silently begging to hear more. He looked in my direction and winked before turning back around to face the instructor. My heart rate picked up again; I’d be lucky if I got through this day without having a freaking heart attack. I didn’t know a thing about this guy - besides that he went to dance clubs and attended an Art class - but my body couldn’t stop reacting to him. I never had this type of reaction to guys, ever.
    "Okay, Dane Wright, why don't you tell me