Page 61 of Fire in My Heart

When my hair was dry, he set the dryer aside. “There. How’s that?”

I stood and checked in the mirror. “Looks great.”

“Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

In the kitchen, Teddy paused at the sight of blue tape around the windows and trim. Cans of paint sat in the middle of the room. “You’re painting?”

“Yeah, your dad said it was okay.”

“You want some help?” Teddy asked, surveying what materials I had placed next to the paint cans: drop cloths, a tray, brushes, and rollers.

“I would love some.”

“Let’s order pizza, then paint.”

“Are you sure you want to? Painting isn’t fun.”

“I’m almost positive you’re going to make it fun.” He opened the lid, dipped his finger in the yellow paint, and touched my nose with it before I reacted.

“What are you?—”

He raised a brow. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

I placed my hands on my hips. “You’re making me messy.”

He smirked. “I thought it would be nice to dirty you up.”

I laughed despite the ridiculousness of his statement. It was so out of character for him. I loved it. “Let’s paint.” I poured paint into the trays, then placed the roller in one, watching Teddy do the same. Then I slid it across his bare chest before I could second-guess myself.

He paused, glancing down at the shiny yellow paint.

“You started it.” Then I squealed as he came for me. I was still holding the wet roller up as a barrier.

He reached for me but kept running into the roller.

With a growl, he wrestled it from me and rolled it down the front of my shirt.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

He waved a hand at his chest.

“That’s washable,” I sputtered, not sure how he couldn’t see the difference. My pajama shirt was now officially a painting one.

Still holding the roller as if it were a weapon, he said, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Can I declare a ceasefire?” I asked tentatively.

He dipped his head slightly. “I see how it is. You’re losing, so you call mercy.”

I nodded, having no shame. “That’s right.”

He slowly lowered the roller. “No more playing in the paint.”

“Deal.”

He reached out to shake my hand, he had wet paint on his hand from the horseplay, and my hand came out covered in paint. “Ugh.”

Teddy winked. “We’re going to get messy. Better get used to it.”

---