Crazy, Sweet

Chapter Eleven

“How about a little more green here?” Seth asked, pointing to a corner of the plain yellow shirt that we were going to be painting on. I had volunteered to create a template of the shirts we’ll be sending in to the printers for the Children’s Play Day staff to wear on the day of the fair and Seth had offered to help.

We had a big tarp spread out on their grassy lawn where we sat and experimented with different colors of fabric paint and the different designs I had come up with. It was a splendid and sunny Tuesday afternoon and we had until tomorrow for the final sample to be finished and dried and sent to the printers. 

I scrunched up my nose and studied the half-finished shirt. “It’s too low that if people tucked it into their pants, no one will see the details there. Remember, the more colors, the bigger the print, the more expensive each shirt will be.”

“Fair enough,” Seth agreed, picking up the sheet where I’d drawn the design we were trying to copy. “It will look nicer with one central print. That way, people will look at the shirt and immediately focus on that logo.”

I studied the shirt again and made a decision. “Okay, please grab me the pencil and I’ll redo this. I just need a couple of minutes.”

I crossed my legs and placed the sketchpad on my lap, nibbling on the pencil before erasing parts of the design and rescaling the central logo. 

Seth had inched closer and was sitting right behind me, peering over my shoulder as I drew.

“You can draw really well,” he commented, resting his chin on my shoulder and his hands on each side of my hip. “And you have really creative designs.”

I grinned and kept drawing. “Thanks. I grew up with very little clothing allowance. I’d sewn a lot of my own clothes from excess fabric cuts at a small textile store in Dock Garren with a really old Singer machine I inherited from my father who once also worked as a tailor on the side. He showed me how to sew when I was twelve and since then, I’ve been sewing most of my clothes.”

“Like this blouse?” Seth asked with mild awe in his voice, brushing the sleeve of my pale gray, off-shoulder tunic that I wore over a pair of a pair of black leggings. 

I nodded and about a minute later, I felt Seth’s lips gently caress the arch between my shoulder and neck. 

I murmured a protest but it died in my throat as Seth left a trail of fleeting, little kisses all the way up to the nape of my neck where numerous sensations exploded upon contact with his warm, soft lips. 

“Your shoulders are driving me absolutely crazy,” he whispered huskily into my ear.

I giggled. “There are reasons why women wear off-shoulder tops. This is one of them.”

He kissed my hair, his arm sliding around my waist. “So you’re strategizing. I see.”

I looked over my shoulder, my nose brushing against his. “And I see that this is distracting you a lot. I should wear ugly overalls next time so we can stay focused.”