Playing the Playboys

Chapter 28: The Paint

You'll never know how much I miss you
The day that they took you
I wish it was me instead

I lied flat on the floor while I sang the opening song of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

"If I hear that song one more time I swear to God—"

"HOT DOG HOT DOG HOT DIGGIDY DOG!" I sang louder to piss of Zachary, who was giving me his infamous death glare.

"That's it," he threw his hands up, his face showing pure annoyance. "You're not allowed to paint the last one."

I gasped, sitting up. "You monster."

We (Actually, only Zachary since he told me I'd just ruin it. He promised he'd let me paint the last one though) were still working on my tapestry since we kind of got a little distracted earlier. After our short hug session, Zachary stood up awkwardly and headed down to get us ice cream.

We ate a lot of ice cream.

"That's what you get for being annoying," he deadpanned. He dropped his pencil and raised up the yellow paint before dipping in his paint brush in it. "You don't get to do the fun part."

I frowned as he smoothly painted a sunflower, annoyed at how easy he made painting look. It was probably for the best to not let me touch anything art related, but I still wanted to have a go.

"Please let me paint," I pleaded, eyeing at the pretty looking flowers he managed to paint at a short period of time. "It looks so much fun!"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You won't sing that stupid song again?"

"Never." I promised, holding out my hand to him like a little kid asking for candy.

He sighed gruffly and handed me over a paint brush and yellow paint. "Fine, but remember the techniques—never mind."

I had already started painting a flower, and so far so good. It didn't look like it was puked on by a dizzy toddler yet.

"That's actually not half bad—oh, wait, no don't—" he inhaled sharply, grimacing at the mistake I had just done. "Don't go over the lines."

I smiled sheepishly, raising up my paint brush. "Oops."

He sighed impatiently again before standing up from his place and sitting down beside me. Without saying anything, he traced over my mishap, a piece of his hair falling to his face from focusing too hard. I leaned over and swiped the hair away from his face before giggling at what I just did.

"What?" he asked as I stared at the yellow paint on his forehead.

"Nothing." I stifled a laugh, trying to avert my gaze from his piercing ones.

"You got paint on my face, didn't you?"

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" I exclaimed, putting my hand over my heart.

He shot me a flat look and touched my forehead.

I shot him a glare.

"You started it," he shrugged.

"Oh, grow up." I tried wiping it off my face, but based on Zachary's
snicker, I only made it worse.