DAISY

The scent of paint lingers in the air as I wipe my hands on the front of my apron, half-listening to our instructor drone on about form and depth. Painting and Drawing class has never been the most exciting of my electives, but it’s a peaceful kind of boring. Predictable. I like that.

That is until the door creaks open, and chaos walks in wearing black.

Zeus McAllister.

Tall, intimidating, every bit as broody and frustrating as I remember him. My heart skips a beat, and I immediately want to punch it for reacting at all.

Why is he here?

The instructor straightens, his face lighting up in a...