She folds over herself with a howl of laughter.
Once she strips off my shirt and I grab her bra from my room for her to put on, she’s left in her bra and underwear.
“Now what?” she asks.
Now, I get to work. “Leave it to me.”
I sink to my knees before her and push her legs apart. Her soft gasp starts a rumble in my chest. There’s no plan in motion when I bring the marker to her skin. I don’t have a design in my head or even an inkling of an idea. All I know is I have the quintessential canvas in front of me, so nothing can go wrong.
Her skin bubbles under the first stroke of the marker. I soothe the goosebumps with my other hand, relishing her softness. With each swipe, her body relaxes more and more, becoming putty in my hands. Eventually, I don’t even have to tell her when I need her to stand and when I need her to sit. We set an unspoken rhythm.
Almost on instinct, I start to make the design on her other leg symmetrical, but an invisible force stops my hand midair. I want to show Dani how I see her. There is beauty in her fearful symmetry. She has a formidable strength that intimidates the world around her, yet a softness that even she doesn’t see. She is a host of imperfections that add up to create the perfect picture.
The designs I drew on her other leg were more delicate. Flowers that transform into running water; soft lines that blend into soft curves.
This side is all sharp lines and edges. Lightning that sinks into harsh waves.
The branches on the tree I draw on her stomach extend over her arms, no leaf exactly the same.
When I’m done, I escort her to stand in front of my floor-length mirror.
“Woah,” she heaves.
Leaning down so that my head can rest on her shoulder without messing up the paint, I say, “You don’t need to be an artist when you are living, breathing art.”
She holds her arms out to her sides, inspecting them closely, her mouth agape. “This is incredible. I look incredible. I never wanna take this off.” She even does a full three-sixty in the mirror so she can get a glimpse of the designs all over her back.
“I hear not bathing is in these days,” I joke.
Deservedly so, she slaps my chest. “Shut the fuck up.” Her eyes move back and forth in the mirror, widening every time she notices a different design on her body.
I think I could watch her all day.
She turns to me with a shy smile. “This might be silly, but could you take a picture of me?”
Capture her covered in my art for the rest of my life? I’d love nothing more.
I take out my phone and start snapping pictures. This is when she’s in her element. She comes alive under the camera’s gaze, knowing exactly how she wants to be displayed. She is the muse they write about in history books.
Both of us had plans for the day, but those plans morphed into doing absolutely nothing together and I have not a single complaint about it.
Bailey comes over to hang out, wanting to introduce Dani to some anime, and we get into a debate of what anime should be first. Both of us agree thatOne Piecehas too many episodes to keep Dani’s attention.
Bailey insists onMy Hero Academiawhile I push forDemon Slayer.We put on the trailer for both and let her decide. Bailey is over the moon when Dani sides with her.
“Before we start, can I ask one question?” Bailey begins, her eyes ping-ponging between us.
“What’s up?” Dani responds.
“What the hell is all over you?” Bailey flicks her hand up and down the markings she can see under Dani’s T-shirt and sweat shorts.
Dani stands with her feet wide apart and holds her arms out. “I’m a work of art, baby,” she gloats.
Bailey tries to ask more questions, but Dani simply grabs her hand and leads her to the couch.
While Dani gets to know Deku and his classmates, I check in with Rome via text. I had asked him to help me locate a certain Nigel Pierce and he seems to have found information that will come in handy.
“Is Bakugo ever not yelling?” Dani asks with her lips twisted in a snarl. We’re starting the first episode of season two and so far, all of Dani’s complaints have centered around the character Bakugo and his propensity for anger.
