“I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening in the slightest. We’ve done Peter Pan a half dozen times. The pink walls, I can figure it out.”
I scowled and turned back to painting. We painted in silence for a few minutes before he sighed.
“Oh, come on now, don’t do this to me. I hate having a stuck-up partner.”
I gasped and turned my head.
“I am not stuck up,” I glared at him. He looked skeptical.
“Really? Then why aren’t you filthy like everyone else?” I glanced down at my clothes.
“I didn’t have any old clothes to wear and I’ve been careful. There’s nothing wrong with that,” I defended. He smirked and pulled some of the bristles back on his brush and then let them go, flinging pink paint all over my shirt. I jumped back and swore.
“Thomas!” I squealed. He was smirking at me, his eyes watching me, tempting me to respond. I tightened my lips and grabbed my brush and slapped his cheek with it. He straightened and looked at me with bulged eyes. I tried to apologize but before I could he lifted his brush and swiped my face, from chin to forehead.
I sputtered and wiped my eyes and mouth. I knew if I tried to wipe the rest it would make it worse. I glared at him and he held his hands up.
“Can we call this even? You’re not stuck up, I swear.” I shot daggers at him. He stuck his tongue out, making a silly face and I softened.
“Pink suits you. Almost as well as the purple,” he said in a low voice. He reached out and tugged on a curly pigtail. I pulled away from his touch. He shook his head incredulously.
“I can’t believe you still keep it that color. Do you remember when I first convinced you to do it?” I smiled, thinking back on it.
“Yeah, it was right before I left home. I remember I cut my hair with kitchen scissors and you helped me dye it. Then we grabbed my bags and ditched town. I thought I was so edgy back then,” I laughed.His eyes shined with amusement.
“Yeah and we had to squeeze you into our van for the next month until we got our own car. God that so embarrassing. We did not think that one through.”
He had that one right. I thought when I left home to be with him it was so romantic, and we’d be free to follow our passion during the day and keep a different kind of passion going at night. But then I soon realized that every night I was crammed in a bench seat with Thomas, while his parents or brother slept around us. There was no place for privacy. There was an awkward pause and I suddenly felt weird. This trip down memory lane wasn’t what I had signed up for today. Not with Thomas, anyways.
“I heard Ron got married,” I said, changing subjects. He nodded.
“Yep. Nice girl named Catherine. She sold tickets at the venue we were using. He finished that show and then announced he was staying there.”
“What about yourself? Did you ever get married?” I asked. I had noticed earlier that there had been no ring on his hand, but that meant little.
“Nah. I’ve dated. You know, the casual fling here and there. Up until recently I never wanted to settle in one place.”
I frowned. I knew what he meant. Up until I met Mark, I was convinced I’d spend my entire life on the road.
“What made you change your mind?”
“Well it’s not totally changed yet. The entire troupe deciding to buy this place and stay helped. More like pushed but whatever. I found a place to rent pretty quick and I enjoy the weather. Having some roots doesn’t hurt, but there’s nothing like the open road, sleeping under the stars,” he was looking past me, perhaps imagining those stars. “Who knows, maybe I’ll find another traveling troupe to join. We’ll see how this goes.”
We worked together laughing and making casual conversation for the rest of the afternoon. I made a point to stay away from uncomfortable topics and he was kind enough not to bring them up often. Eventually Justin came around and announced we were done for the day. I groaned as I stood up. Suddenly I felt Thomas’ hands on my shoulders. He squeezed and panic shot up my spine. I moved away quickly and made an excuse about having to clean up and hurried away. After I washed my face and hair, I came back to find everyone packing up. Stacie was bringing out cases of beer out and declared that the real party was starting.
“Oh man, Renee you should have seen it. One of our last shows on the road we did this murder mystery. Thomas and Joe were in this competition the entire run of who could break who. So, we’re in the last act. It’s Thomas and Joe in a stand-off. They both draw guns from places they had stashed them in a previous scene. Thomas pulls out an old school pistol and Joe is looking in his drawer. He hesitates, Thomas coughs, and Joe finally reaches in and pulls out a banana,” Erin told us. Everyone burst into laughter. Joe glared at Thomas.
Thomas, who was sitting next to me shrugged.
“Looks like I won.”
I reached for my last beer and finished it with one large gulp. Crushing it slightly with my grip I realized that I was more than a little tipsy.
“You’re buzzed,” Thomas laughed. I tried blowing it off, but it was obvious.
“I’m not that bad.”
“You can’t be driving,” he added. I rolled my eyes but before I could protest anymore Stacie butted in.
