I stand back and inhale a deep breath before swiping my hand, and the paint flies, but it doesn’t look as good as Caleb’s.
“You don’t need to squeeze it,” he says as he stands back. “Just swipe as hard as you can.”
I try again, and this time, the paint lands in a perfect line across the canvas. My face lights up as I do it again and again before changing colours, and allowing my canvas to be well and truly wrecked without looking like a disaster.
Caleb was right, chaos can be beautiful.
I rummage through the other supplies he brought along, including toothbrushes and spray bottles. I experiment with nearly everything as my heart rattles in my chest at the excitement of something new.
After a while, I stand back and admire my work. Sure, it’s a mess, but it feels like my emotions are in front of me.
“I think I went a little crazy,” I say as I cup a hand over the back of my neck.
Caleb stands beside me as he analyses my work. “Nah, I think it’s perfect.”
I turn to look at him to find a paintbrush in his hand. “What did you do?”
“I’ll show you.”
As I walk over towards Caleb’s canvas, my eyes are nearly blown out of my head at the painting he’s done in less than an hour. It’s a rough painting of my face beside my wolf's face.
My mouth falls open in shock, and I can’t take my eyes off it. “How did you do that in an hour?”
Caleb shrugs. “I dunno. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.”
“I can’t get over how talented you are.”
I step forward to look at the detail, and how spot-on the colour of my eyes is. It’s almost terrifying yet endearing.
“Yours makes mine look like a toddler's painting.”
He cracks a soft smile. “Not true.”
My eyes roll playfully at his biased opinion. “Thank you,” I breathe out. “I-I needed something like this.”
“We can do it whenever you want.”
I step forward and lean up onto my toes to press a kiss to his lips. He captures the back of my head with his large hand and kisses me back. It’s soft, and sweet, and reminds me I am very much alive.
This is the kind of living I want to experience.
We pull away after a moment, and I stare down at the tattoos on his arms. My eyes light up as I meet his face again.
“What?” he tilts his head.
“Let me paint you.”
“Huh?”
“Your tattoos. I wanna paint your tattoos.”
Caleb whips his T-shirt off within seconds. My eyes flick over his broad chest and the swirls of black ink that cover his body. I shudder at the way his chest heaves and how stunning he is.
Carved from marble.
“Sit down,” I order him.
He smirks at my words and perches himself against the tree. I grab the bottles of paint and some brushes. I dunk one of the brushes in the purple paint and bring it up to his chest, where I start to drag the curve of the brush over his skin.
