Loving in London... Ontario

Chapter 2

I sat at the dinner table, twisting the fork in my right hand. "How was work honey?" My mom asked, taking a sip of her beer. I knew the end would come, soon she would ride down that ugly road, her inner devil was a ticking time bomb.

"Fine." I said, finally putting the fork into my mouth, chomping down on my spaghetti.

"Anything interesting happen?" Another swish, she looked away from me, giving her spaghetti a light toss.

"Nope." I sighed, pushing the sauce covered pasta back and forth on my plate. The room got quiet, my dad didn't say a word the whole night. He was focused on his food, eating and eating just like he always does. What a depressed man?

Being honest, I was happy my family dinner was on mute. My mind had been cluttered, filled with his image. Who knew if I'd accidentally spit out some parts of the fantasy I created in my head. He seemed like a prince, he was charming and handsome. I felt like I was stuck in high school again.

After a long, meaningless dinner, I headed up to my I undecorated room. The walls were blank, even my comforter was bland. I hated simple, I needed complex.

I let my fingers dance on the white walls, conjuring up ways I could make my space just a little less boring. "Maroon." I muttered to myself, a smile popped a crossed my face, a cheeky grin.

No time was wasted, I flung my blue purse diagonal on my chest and making sure my wallet was inside before storming down the stairs. Neglecting to mention my whereabouts to my parents, I hopped in my car. My mission was set that I was going to paint my room, add a vintage yet indie spark to my life.

Inside my mind, I over thought the color. I looked up and down the paint aisle inside the little rinky dink hardware store. There were so many different shades of maroon, some that I'd never even hear of. Burned brick, tinted flame, there was even dark maroon and light maroon. How would I know which was best for me?

"Excuse me, sir?" I tapped this kind looking gentlemen on the shoulder. He looked nice from behind, if you know what I mean. He spun around with a happy smirk on his face.

I felt my stomach drop to my feet and I became even more nervous then I was earlier. I gulp 50 or so times, anxiously putting my hair behind my ears over and over.

"Scarlett? Right?" It was Justin. That handsome man I met earlier. I nodded repeatedly.

"Yeah..yeah." I muttered, smiling at the ground. I could feel my cheeks heat up, the color must have been more of a tinted flame then a burned brick. "Justin? Right?" I questioned back, taking a deep breath.

"Wow, you remembered." He sounded shocked, "I'm surprised, when I told you earlier you seemed to be more focused on my body then my name." I heavily exhaled, giggling a little.

"I was not!" I said in defense, "but I mean, I'm not saying that you don't have a nice body because you do..." Again, I found myself rambling on like a fool. "You work here?" I quickly changed the subject.

He flattened out his apron with pride, scoffing a little. "Seems to be I do." He smiled, "so what it is you need help with miss?" I showed him my two options.

"Well, sir." I slowly became more confident with my approach, a little cocky if I do say so myself. "I was thinking about painting my room and I needed some professional advice. Considering you have that fancy apron and all, I figured you'd be the best to ask."

He slid closer to me, getting a better look at my sample papers. "Well, if I were a beautiful lady like you I'd go with the burned brick." I stepped back and smiled, so did he. "You know, it's store policy to help the costumers with painting."

Justin motioned for me to follow him toward the counter. "Oh is that so?" I asked, placing my swatches on the plastic covered wood.

He nodded his head, "how many gallons would you like?" I though for a minute.

"4?" I questioned, shrugging my shoulders.

He wrote down something's on the back of my swatches, what I assumed to be the number of gallons and the final price. However, when he handed it to me, he winked and wandered off to get back to business.

On the back under the category "gallons" he put his phone number and under "total" he put on the house.

I snapped back, spotting his head peek around from the closest aisle with a satisfied grin on his face. "When you're ready to paint, call me." He disappeared behind the wall once more.

When I was finally able to gather myself together enough to wander out to my car, my body sat motionless in the front seat. I was unable to even pull out of the parking spot, my mind was just blank. "What?" I sighed, laying my hands on the steering wheel.