Page 2 of Wet Paint

The shivers running down my spine and all the hairs on my arms standing up was not the reaction I intended to have, but it always happened whenhecame into a room.

My art teacher, Mr. Novak. Or, Will. Because he wanted us students to call him by his first name. Not many did, though.

He didn’t like being referred to as a professor, simply because he wasn’t one. He was an artist. One who many in the States knew. His paintings are displayed in a couple of museums, and I know of many people who own his art at home. He was at this college to teach art, which he was exceptionally good at, and maybe he was one of the reasons why I chose this college.

“Hi,” I said, smiling at him as he just stood there.

“Hey.” He eyed me for a moment before his gaze moved to my unfinished painting. “I figured that was yours,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly. The sleeves of his dark green sweater were pulled up to his elbows, and his blackjeans hung perfectly from his hips. Will was a handsome man. No doubt about that. And that’s why I had been crushing on him since my freshman year. Though, it wasn’t just his looks that kept my eyes turn into hearts whenever he was around, it was his character. Truly. Will was kind, caring, and funny. And what pulled me toward him the most was his calmness.

He was extremely pleasant to be around, and every time we were close, he reminded me of slow, rainy Sundays, where you would just wrap yourself in a cozy blanket and watch Netflix all day. Come to think of it…that’s exactly what I’d want to do with him.

But it wasn’t possible. He was my teacher, and as his student, I knew better not to get too close. Even if it was very tempting.

I pursed my lips and turned back to my painting. “I couldn’t finish it, but I hope I can get back to it soon.”

He stepped closer, his gray eyes taking in the painting again, while I took in his face. The stubble covering his jaw was thicker than usual, and his light brown, wavy hair looked like he had been running his hands through it all morning.

“Do you not have time now?” he asked.

“No, sadly. I have plans tonight, and I have to prepare a couple of things. It’s my birthday.”

“Yeah?” He smiled at me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Happy birthday, Ivy.”

“Thanks.” His touch sent another shiver down my spine, and I wished I could’ve leaned into him more. But I didn’t, and he pulled away.

“Going out, then?” he wondered, taking a few steps aside to grab three clean brushes from a table.

“Yes, with a few friends. But first we watch a movie and order pizza or something,” I told him, smiling. “You? Any plans for the night? It’s Friday, after all.”

“I have a painting to finish, so I’ll be here.” That meant, he’d be here all night. Maybe even until the morning.

“What are you working on?” I asked, turning toward him, and tilting my head to the side.

I watched as he walked over to a bigger canvas that was covered, and before he pulled the cotton sheet off of it, he said, “It’s a piece I’m doing for the hospital. They requested it February, and I told them I would finish it by May. So, I better hurry.”

My eyes locked on the painting. A serene landscape in different shades of green, a flower field in the distance, and also a lake. The sky wasn’t painted yet, but without having to ask, I knew exactly what color it would end up being.

“Oh my…” I stood up and walked closer to him, taking in every little detail. “This is beautiful, Will.”

He didn’t reply right away. He knew how talented he was, and what kind of emotions his paintings could spark in people. He just watched the painting, the smallest smile on his lips. “It’s a memory,” he said, his voice quieter now. “From when I lived in Montana. I was only a kid, but I remember sitting right there, looking straight ahead until the sun went down behind the lake. They told me it didn’t matter what kind of landscape I painted, as long as it put a smile on people’s faces.”

I noticed then that I was smiling, too. “It definitely does.”

His eyes locked on mine, and his smile grew. “Glad you like it. I must say…” His gaze moved to my unfinished painting, then back to me. “Yours put a smile on my face too when I peeked under the sheet. It looks…calm yet uncertain. Like a storm slowly brewing.”

I pressed my lips together and shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not so sure what I was feeling or thinking when I started it. But I like where it’s going.”

“That’s what’s important.” He gave me another smile. “As long as you don’t lose the inspiration, it’s all good.”

Just hearing him talk could make me reach a climax.

I bit my tongue to not say something stupid. I cleared my throat instead and took in his painting again. “Can I come see the painting when it’s done? Before it goes to the hospital?”

“Of course. It’ll be here until Wednesday, I’m sure.”

I nodded, smiling at him again. “Okay. So…I should go.”

“Yeah, no worries.”

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