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"I have the paints."
The shout from upstairs was my calling to freedom. I crumbled it up and stuffed it into my bag, skidding across the floor and scurrying past Garrett.
"We'll be up here painting."
The look of disappointment watched over his soft features like a wave upon shore.
I turned around and gave him my best fake smile. The one that makes me not seem uncomfortable.
Crooked shiny picture frames decorated the cream hallways. Most of them were old pictures of Garrett. I slowed down to scan each of them as I went by. Garrett in some sort of soccer game when he was like 8, Garrett flashing a huge gummy smile while holding a baby tooth he had just lost. His ragged teeth were growing crowded on the bottom. Finally, his baby pictures. He looked absolutely adorable with his chubby cheeks and dimples. I didn't know it was possible, but his hair was even blonder in the pictures.
"Rhiannon?"
Austin's fresh face appeared at the top of the staircase. I ran up the remaining steps to meet him. I felt like I was chasing after him, like a dog to a bone or an animal to it's prey.
"He actually has quite the amount of paint. I didn't think the kid was this artistic. But, I'm not surprised. He's loaded inside and out with everything else, why not some useless acrylics in the back of the laundry closet to top it off?"
He opened a random white door and shoved his arms shoulder-deep into the wooden shelves. They pulled out with little tubes of acrylic paint in many distinct colors. Some of them were rolled up a bit, the color of paint dried in crusty clumps on the lid. He went back in to retrieve a packaged-set of brushes. The same colors of tubes that seemed to have been used at least once stained the bristles of certain brushes.
"I'm impressed." I muttered, suddenly feeling the awkward tension that was lurking beneath our interactions.
I let him lead us to Garrett's room. He let me go in first and smiled, shutting the door behind us.
"So how do you want to do this?"
He pursed his lips into a small smile. I shrugged and flopped down onto Garrett's fresh linen sheets.
I knew the part I was dreading was coming up.
"Uh, you might have to..."
His body weight put pressure on the side of the bed, causing mine to tilt a bit. I knew what he was saying, no matter how hard he was stuttering.
My arms gripped the hem of my shirt and I pulled it halfway over my head, stopping at my bra. The cold air hit my back and goosebumps erupted all over my skin. Garrett kept his room freezing cold. I remembered the color of the back of my bra was dark blue, which for some reason made me embarrassed. My hands shakily unclipped the back. The straps slumped over into the pillowey pile of fabric that was my shirt, both shielding my breasts.
Now that the painfully awkward deed was done, I strained my neck and looked back at Austin. He seemed to be busy mixing paint colors on his wrist, trying them out like swatches. His cheeks were flushing pink. Every movement he made seemed to be huge and quick, just like his breath. Although his eyes never made contact with my back. It was making him obviously uncomfortable.
Paint hitting my back felt like he was drawing on me with icicles. The bristles tickled me and danced all over my skin in a swirling manner. Arctic Monkeys increased volume into my ears. He put it on his phone and set it by my face. At least we didn't need to talk.
"What are you painting?" My soft voice bellowed.
"Surprise."
I relaxed even more into the sheets. The feeling was more familiar and comfortable. It was putting me to sleep, the only thing keeping me awake was the fact that I had my shirt off in front of a boy I barely knew.
