“Sounds good to me. May the best painter win!”
He turns on his hard rock playlist then sets a timer for thirty minutes. Once he sets his phone down and hits start, we get to work.
Thirty minutes later his alarm goes off and I think I have more paint on me than I do on the canvas. My hands and forearms are covered along with the tarp under my feet.
“You ready?” he asks from behind his canvas.
“Yup! Prepare to be amazed!” I pick up my canvas and turn it around to show him.
He tilts his head to the left, then right, then left again. “It looks…good. Um…what exactly am I looking at?”
I gasp in fake outrage. “It’s you looking up at the stars! Look. This is your black hair,” I point to a black blob in the lower corner, “And this is your cute nose,” I point to where I think hisnose is. “And this is obviously the star-filled sky,” I wave over the dark blue background with what’s supposed to be white stars, but I fucked it up and had to turn it into a swirl type thing.
“Mmhmm. Totally see it now.” His lips twitch as he squeezes his lips closed, making his dimples pop out.
“Hey. It’s not that bad.” It really is. I’ve never been good at drawing and painting makes me a thousand times worse.
He starts snorting trying to hold in his laugh. His eyes glisten and his Adams apple bobs as he finally lets it out.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” He grabs his stomach, still laughing. “That-that’s the most hideous painting I’ve ever seen.”
I can’t help but laugh with him. “Guess I should’ve mentioned that I can’t paint worth a shit. Let’s see yours Mr. Artist.”
He wipes his eyes, as his laugh dies down. Still smiling, he turns his canvas around and like all his work, I’m floored by its beauty.
“This is what I saw almost every night during the summer when I was a kid.”
It’s a view from the ground looking up into the night sky. The tops of trees line the edges. It’s like I’m lying on the ground in a clearing in a forest.
“How the hell did you do this in just thirty minutes? It feels so…real. I’m always amazed at how talented you are, baby.”
His cheeks flush at my compliment. “Thanks.”
Setting his canvas back on the easel, he walks over to where I’m still holding mine.
“I think you needed to ease up on the black and dark blue. It became a little muddled right here,” he points to a spot that’s all black with a dark blue dot in the middle. “Maybe if I take some away.” He runs his fingers through the thick layer of paint, spreading it out.
The next thing I know, his dark fingers are coming for my face. I duck at the last second and slap my hand on the canvas before tossing it to the side. Holding my hand up for him to see the paint, I wiggle my fingers.
“Two can play at this game baby.”
He smirks then grabs the closest bowl of paint and tosses it at me. My chin and shirt get covered in bright pink.
“Pink looks good on you,” he laughs.
“So that’s how we’re going to do this, huh?” I wipe my chin.
He picks up another bowl. “Yup!” He sprays me with brown before I can stop him. He grabs another bowl before taking off to the other side of the table.
“You’re going to pay for that.” I grab the bright orange and the dark blue. “How good do you think my throwing arm is?” I ask as I scoop up some of each color with my right hand.
His eyes go wide as he splashes me with yellow then spins and runs. There’s not much room to run and I laugh as I watch him run from wall to wall, trying to get away. When he stops, we’re facing each other about ten feet apart.
He’s panting, looking at the paint in my hand.
“If you can dodge a wrench, can you dodge a ball?”
“Wha-”
