Adventures in an alternate dimension Book 2

Chapter 58 - Brother Bonding and Brush strokes of Love

Hunter's POV

The Saturday morning sun streamed through the window, painting golden streaks across the living room floor. I stretched, the events of our proposal still warming my chest. Hope. My beautiful, fierce Hope. Now my fiancé. Today, the mission was to find her the perfect art supplies to celebrate her passion. Enter my secret weapon: Jeremy.

"Jer, up and at 'em!" I called, already halfway down the stairs. A muffled groan was my answer. Patience wasn't my strong suit, especially not when a trip to the art emporium awaited. Ten minutes later, I found him huddled under a mountain of blankets, a halo of messy black hair framing a sleepy frown.

"Dude, it's nine am. We're going art shopping, remember?"

"Ugh, fine," he grumbled, dragging himself out from his nest. Jeremy, at sixteen, was an artist in his own right, his room a kaleidoscope of unfinished sketches and paint-splattered canvases. Unlike me, a mechanic, my world was messy with oil and grime, his world was vibrant, a constant explosion of color and form.

The drive to "The Creative Cauldron" was a symphony of classic rock and Jeremy's running commentary on the latest street art he spotted. He was like a walking, talking art critique, dissecting every piece with an enthusiasm that was infectious.

The store itself was a haven. Stepping inside was like stepping into a painter's dream. Towering shelves groaned with the weight of every color imaginable, tubes of paint stacked like colorful missiles. Brushes of natural hair hung in rainbow clusters, their tips hinting at the potential for delicate lines or bold strokes. Canvases of varying textures leaned against the back wall, each one a blank canvas waiting to be brought to life. Jeremy practically vibrated with excitement.

"Let me show you the paint first," he declared, already weaving through the aisles. He grabbed a heavy tube, its label boasting a brand name that sounded more like a magic spell than a pigment. "These Windsor & Newtons are the best. Pigmented like crazy, nice buttery consistency. One squeeze and you'll have color that sings."

He patiently explained the difference between oil and acrylic paints, the pros and cons of various brands, even letting me hold a couple of brushes to test their weight and flexibility in my hand. My knowledge was limited to finger paints in kindergarten, but with Jeremy's help, I started to understand the subtle differences of each product. It was like learning a new language, a language of texture, shade, and vibrancy.

"Now, canvases," he said, taking me to a wall lined with different types. "Linen's the gold standard, but cotton's lighter on the wallet. For Hope, it depends on what she usually paints on."

"Big, bold canvases," I remembered. "She needs space for those sweeping brush strokes, like she's capturing the entire storm in one go."

A grin lit up Jeremy's face. "Then get some linen canvases, different sizes. Maybe a couple of those textured ones too, just for variety. Imagine the dimension she can create with a bit of texture in the paint."

As we filled the basket, Jeremy offered invaluable advice. I learned about the subtle difference between cadmium red and crimson lake, the specific brush types ideal for blending versus detail work, and the importance of using a good quality gesso primer to ensure the paint adhered perfectly to the canvas. By the time we reached the checkout, the basket was overflowing, the total a shocking $400. I swallowed hard, but seeing the pure joy on Jeremy's face as he admired the haul made it all worth it.

The drive home felt lighter, the air buzzing with anticipation. As we pulled into the driveway, I saw Mom watering her roses, her smile blooming brighter than the flowers themselves.

"You two back already?" she asked, wiping her hands on her gardening gloves. "Looks like a successful trip."

"Surprise!" I announced, grabbing the overflowing basket. "For Hope."