“What inspired this one?” I ask, pointing to the canvas with multi-colored splats all over it.
Standing next to it, Eden takes a beat to survey her work. “You did actually. I did this when I was feeling mixed up after our first date. Painting helps me work through things.”
After I ruined the first date, Eden said she needed time. I didn’t realize what she needed was to paint. A note I will tuck away. I suppose it’s like me when I need to clear my head. I either go on a run or practice a cheer routine.
“I like it. I think this style is my favorite. Like, I can feel the emotions behind it, of you. Know what I mean?”
Eden twirls her body towards me. She has a huge smile on her face. “See, you do understand art.”
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “I really don’t. Maybe I’m just getting to know you?”
“Well, I like that even more,” she says, taking my hand. “I think this style will suit you. I want you to enjoy our lessons. Sometimes art is about causing chaos and mess. It’s not always shading and perspective.”
“Tell that to Billings,” I grumble.
Eden wiggles our hands. “Billings has a curriculum to stick to. We don’t have that problem in here. You can do whatever the hell you want.”
Maybe this isn’t going to be as painful as I thought. I must admit, I imagined Eden trying to teach me how to draw a fruit bowl or something. Throwing some paint around sounds much more fun.
Eden takes the canvas off the easel and replaces it with a fresh one. She picks up the apron and slips it over my head, tying it around my waist.
She nips me on the side of the neck, causing me to shiver. “I don’t want you to spoil your clothes.”
Taking my hand, she pulls me over to a collection of paints. There is every color imaginable. She must spend a fortune on art supplies.
“Pick any colors you want. Take your time to connect with them.”
I raise my eyebrow at her. How the hell do you connect to a paint can?
She rolls her eyes. “Connect to the colors. Take a second to really feel your feelings. Then ascribe those feelings to a color that fits. There is no right or wrong answer.”
I feel kind of silly, but I trust her. Closing my eyes, I take a second to look inside myself. I can’t lie, most of my emotions are still tied up in what just happened in Eden’s bedroom. The second I think about it, dark purple pops into my mind. Followed by white and gold.
Smiling, I open my eyes and pick out the colors I saw. Eden is grinning at me like an idiot, which makes me feel a hundred feet tall. Stepping up, she takes the cans from me and walks them to the easel.
“Do you want to sit or stand?”
Feeling full of energy, I choose to remain standing. Eden pours a generous amount of paint into three separate trays.
“So, do I just throw it at the canvas?”
Eden shrugs. “What do you feel like doing? Is it a paint brush kinda deal, or would you like to dip string in the paint and whip it? You can use your fingers, or simply chuck the tray at the canvas.”
“Are you serious?” I laugh.
Circling my waist with her arms, Eden kisses my neck again. “Totally serious. Art is about expression, however that transpires. No wrong answers, remember? Do what feels right.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something naughty when I pull it back. This isn’t the time. Instead, I turn to face her and place a delicate kiss on her lips. “Let’s do this, Sawyer!”
Squeezing my hips and chuckling, Eden pulls away. “Have at it.”
I am covered in paint. I don’t think there is an inch of me clear of color, but wow, did I have fun. The canvas is a mess of paint, as is Eden. I may have taken my artistic expression a little too far. The first splat of paint hit her by accident asshe circled the easel. I was in the zone and didn’t see her. A nice streak of purple paint hit her straight in the face.
The second color hit her with purpose after she dipped her hand in the tray and pressed it to my face. I looked like a crap Orc extra fromThe Lord of the Rings.
After that, it was every woman for herself. My creation went ignored, as we ended up in a full-on paint war. The apron didn’t save my clothes.
I’m bent over laughing when the studio door opens. A waft of something delicious filters through.
