Top Gun Imagines

30. Feisty Painter (Hangman - Jake Seresin)

(Published July 12, 2023)

   The soft notes of Yanni's album "In My Time" floated around me through the chilly unfinished basement of my parents' home. Despite the bare cement walls and floor, I had rigged up a corner as a perfect art studio. Bright lights hung from the metal cross beams over my work area, a free rug from moving neighbors kept my feet from freezing, and my easel and craft table were carefully set up to ensure that light and space were used to the greatest advantage. It was perfect for what I needed, and in the hot California summer, I surely didn't mind the basement being a little cold.
   Very carefully, I soaked strands of yarn in different colored paints. Taking one at a time, I began to lay them out on the four by eight canvas on the table in front of me, curling and twisting them some. There was a large sheet of plastic spread out under the canvas, and I taped the unpainted ends of each string securely to the plastic as I went.
   Suddenly, the basement door opened and heavy footsteps clomped down the wooden stairs my dad had built. I knew it was most likely Jake, so I continued with my work since I knew he was simply coming to visit.  Arms curled around my waist as he came to a stop behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder.
   "Good evening, sugar."
   I grinned, giving one of his large hands a gentle squeeze before returning mine to my project. "Hey you."
   "I missed you today." He mumbled, moving with me as I tried to keep my painting going before the paint dried on me.
   "You miss me everyday," I teased.
   He chuckled. "True. But today was worse than usual.  Turns out Rooster is part of this whole training thing."
   I paused, turning my head to look at him best I could. "Oh no."
   "Oh yeah," He grumbled, finally releasing me and walking around the table so he could face me. "Prick thinks he's so good when he can't even shoot a practice target. Don't know why they picked him."
   I taped down the last strand of yarn. "Maybe a year in combat has toughened him up."
   "I highly doubt it." He snorted. "Still got his feathers all ruffled when he saw me."
   I looked up at him, hands hesitating over the canvas. "You're not going to deliberately piss him off, are you?"
   "Just the fact that I'm breathing pisses him off."
   I gave him a look and he threw up his hands in a surrendering motion.
   "I don't plan on it, darlin'. But I bet you money that me being me is gonna rub him the wrong way every time we're in the same vicinity." 
   "Very likely." I grinned again, returning my focus to my canvas. I carefully gripped the edges that weren't in the line of the strings.
   "Hey, I don't piss everyone off," He objected, chuckling again at my bluntness.
   "Didn't say you did, just that it was likely." I shot him a smirk.
   Slowly, I began to lift the canvas. The strings that were curled began to tighten and straighten as they slid off of the canvas, each one leaving unique shapes that resembled flowers behind. The taped strands fell to the table once I held the canvas high enough. Once they were gone, I set the canvas on the table to view the finished product. Jake walked over behind me again to get a look, as well.
   "Dang, Leah, that's pretty cool." His voice held true interest, so I knew he wasn't just playing it up.
   With a small smile, I tipped my head up to him. "You really think so? Be completely and brutally honest, I can take it."
   He chuckled and drew his index finger down my jawline slowly. "I think you should make one for my mom for Mother's Day."
   "I dunno about that," I looked back down at the painting, putting my thumbnail between my teeth nervously. I didn't like painting gifts for people I knew. It made me too nervous, since I was no professional painter.
   "I'll convince you by then." He murmured confidently near my ear.
   "So sure of that, are we?" I asked in a mock of outrage, turning to face him full on.
   He raised an eyebrow at me. "Yeah, I am. Whatcha gonna do about it?"
   "I could paint you," I tossed out an empty threat with a cheesy grin.
   "That I'd like to see. I like feisty women, you know." He leaned real close, his lips only centimeters from mine.
   "Mmm, is that why you put up with me?"
   "I think that's the other way around, darlin'. I think you put up with me."
   "Maybe a little."
   "I'm glad you do."
   His lips softly met mine and they slowly moved in sync.  His hands went to my waist pulling me closer to him.  I wrapped my arms around his neck, careful to keep my paint splattered hands from touching him.  We kissed for a long minute, soaking up the romantic moment in the privacy of my makeshift art studio.  
   When he pulled back a bit, I smiled happily up at him. "Ditto."