“You’re staying out here,” I told him.
“I’m supposed to protect her.”
“Then guard the door like a good bodyguard.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “I had to stand around in the woods for hours for you, so you can give us some date privacy.”
“But—”
I shut the door in his face. The walls weren’t that thick. He would hear if someone had managed to break in and take me by surprise.
“What’s your plan for the paints?” Talia asked.
“We’re going to paint portraits of each other.”
She snorted. “I’m not that good of an artist.”
I walked up to her, grabbing her hips and claiming her lips in a kiss. “That’s the fun of it. Neither am I.”
“Don’t be offended when I somehow manage to make you ugly,” she warned.
Laughing, I swung her around and seated her on the bed, covered in a white sheet like everything else. “I’ll go first. Pose for me, princess.”
She rolled her eyes as I squeezed out paints onto the palette and started to haphazardly mix them. I wouldn’t do her justice, but I doubted anyone could. It had to be impossible to distill all her beauty into a flat canvas painting.
I’d do my best, though.
I turned the easel, so I had a good view of both her and my work in progress and got to painting.
“You’re not good at being a still model,” I said after she’d switched positions four times.
She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, rolling her neck. “Let me start on yours. You try sitting still.”
I looked down at my completely unfinished painting and shrugged. “Sure. But you can’t look at mine until it’s done.”
Picking up the easel, I walked it to the edge of the room, the painting facing the wall. Then I positioned hers and went to sit on the bed. As she mixed her paints and started painting, a cute wrinkle of concentration formed on her forehead. I tried to stay still.
Turned out I wasn’t much good at it either.
Shocking no one, probably.
I stuck my tongue out at her and watched her hide her laugh. Then I made a few weird faces, blowing up my cheeks like a chipmunk and smiling astronomically wide. When she put down her paintbrush, I made a show of fainting back on the bed like a delicate Victorian lady, arm splayed across my forehead.
“I can’t go on,” I said dramatically.
Talia came over, palette still in her hand. “See, it’s not as easy as you thought!”
“I need a kiss to keep me going.”
Leaning in, she placed a kiss on my cheek. Before I could turn my head and kiss her for real, her fingers had smeared cool, wet paint across my cheek. She jumped back, laughing, with red covering her fingers.
I sat up, wiping some of the paint off. “Oh, you’re asking for it.”
She backed up fast, getting to the other side of the room before I could go and grab my palette. My weapon in this fight.
I caught a glimpse of her painting on the way. She’d gotten a good start on it—I could see resemblance to me, however faintly. It was a shame we wouldn’t be getting to finish them today.
It was paint war time.
God, I’d really hoped this would happen.
