Page 50 of Grin and Bear It

“OK.” He brought us to the walls of paint swatches. “So pick some colours you like—”

“Umm… no,” I interrupted him. He blinked, then inclined his head towards me in query, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Cole, you saw the colour I picked for inside the house.”

“It was a… brave choice,” he said, then grinned. “What made you pickthatbloody colour?”

I flushed then, and although my cheeks felt red hot, I managed a wry half-smile.

“I thought it was going to be a greyish green.”

“It’s definitely green,” he said with a smile before turning back to the swatches. “So it didn’t turn out the way you expected? Did you paint sample patches on the wall?”

“Yep. It didn’t look that bad, at first, but when we started painting…”

“Meh, live and learn, I always say. Okay, so, if greens with a grey undertone are what you’re after, I would go with something like this.”

He pulled down a few different swatches and fanned them out, holding them for me to inspect. I looked at them critically, wrinkling my nose and shaking my head.

“They look so washed-out and pale.”

“When they’re this small they do,” he said, flicking the pieces of cardboard against his other hand. “But on a wall? All of the walls in the one space? It’s a whole lot more colour, which is the problem with swatches versus actually painting.” He ran his eyes across the wall of swatches and then pointed to the top row. “These at the top are the most saturated colours, the ones with the most pigment. Choose the ones that draw your eye and then I can dial them back, find something that will work with the look of your house, and we can start coming up with some possible combos.”

He didn’t realise what he was asking. I was never afraid of colour, well, except in my clothing. I hated bright coloured clothes, but everything else? I’d been the kid who used every colour in the crayon box when colouring in, which was fine for a picture but terrible for a house.

Cole was watching me with an eagle eye which should’ve been flattering, but I was starting to feel like I had involuntarily stumbled onto a test, and that it was one I would surely fail. He smiled slightly, sidling closer before speaking almost directly into my ear.

“Just close your eyes.”

The low buzz of his voice, the closeness of his body felt insanely intimate. Then someone pushed past us with a trolley, and the sounds of a family chattering reminding me of just where I was. I stiffened, not wanting to look silly, and made a move to pull away, but he put a hand on the small of my back and spoke low in my ear again. The centring feeling from the touch of his hand was reinforced by the tone of his voice.

“Just close your eyes and grab a card: ‘pick a card, any card’. Anything. It doesn’t matter which colour.”

I would have felt stupid saying no, so I did as he said, though that felt just as awkward. I grabbed whichever swatch was closest before opening my eyes and looking at it in horror.

“OK, tell me we don’t have to paint the house that colour.” I showed him the deep goldenrod yellow.

“That one? No.” He ran his finger down the line of cards from the most saturated shade at the top of the colour wall to a very pale golden yellow with a slight greyish undertone. “But this, this.” He grabbed a warm grey. “And this?” He held the two other colours up and added a crisp white. “This could work.”

“Shit…” While it wasn’t a colour scheme that I would want to live with, I could see how it worked. “You’re really good at this.” His smile was a genuine one, as he put the swatches back. “OK, if that’s the case, thenthis…” I plucked out a colour similar to the one I’d painted the walls, and handed it to him. “This is what I was going for.”

“OK. So, let’s see. Hmmm. Try this,” he said, picking a much more washed out version of the original colour, a lot of grey in it, then a deeper warm grey and a soft cream that was almost tan.

It didn’t make the kid in me happy. She wanted all of the bright colours, even if my nowadays-self found it hard to live with that sort of over the top stimulation. But this? Rather than looking garish and ugly, the colours seemed muted, restrained.

Adult.

He watched me nod my head, considering the combination.

“We’d need to lay different tiles. The ones you have don’t suit this colour scheme,” he said. “But you need new tiles anyway. They’re starting to lift in places. And it looks like the original owners did the job themselves because they’re as crooked as hell.”

That they were. Every time we tried to move a table or chair, the bottom of the legs caught on the uneven surfaces of the tiles.

“But you don’t have to choose right now. Grab a few colours you like, or ones that you don’t, and we can talk about them over a coffee.”

“Because thisisa date,” I said, slightly shocked at my forwardness. That feeling didn’t hang around, as I was rewarded instantly by a sharp smile.

“You bet this is a date.” He shook his head slightly. “I gotta admit, I’m not real good with the fancy shit. Though if that’s what you want…”

“Go somewhere that I have to wear uncomfortable clothing and eat weird food? That’s not my cup of tea.”

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