Love to Hate You

Chapter Three

“How was the gig last night?” I ask Sean.

He’s seated cross legged on the ground beside me, watching as I open paint cans. Glancing up at him I rest the lid on the floor and reach across the can to get a paint mixing stick, hissing when I discover I’ve smudged black paint all along the underside of my forearm.

Chuckling he answers, “Alright, would have been better if you were there.”

He reaches behind him where I have a pile of rags littering the floor and snatches one up.

“Here, you’re making a mess.” He shakes his head, smiling at my attempts to wipe the paint off my arm with my opposite hand.

He grabs my arm and begins cleaning off the dark paint with the rag gently. I wrinkle my nose up when he’s done and scoff at him.

“I could have done that.”

He tosses the rag aside and raises his eyebrows high above the frames of his glasses.

“Yeah right—Reese, you just did it again!” he laughs when I look down and see yet more black paint on the underside of my arm.

“Rats!” I grumble and hold my hand out for the rag.

He shakes his head and takes my arm again, cleaning if off himself. I narrow my eyes at him while I watch him. He’s been like this for a while now, touchy feely and sweet. Austin’s noticed too because whenever he sees Sean and I together he winks. Yeah, way to make a girl feel uncomfortable.

When he finishes he sets the rag down close to him and notices I’m watching him.

“What?” he asks.

I shrug and avert my eyes to my set of paint brushes. I pick up the largest one, a thick square one someone might use to paint their house with, and decide it will work the best for the first coat of black paint.

“Tell me!” he whines, shaking my arm.

I step out of his reach and stand up, a small smile plastered on my face. I dip my brush in the paint and turn to the wall, randomly slapping on paint all along the boundaries I’m allowed for my mural.

He sighs and stands up as well.

“Reese! Tell me!” he moans, pouting behind my back.

“Sean! Quit being a girl!” I whine back teasingly, raising an eyebrow at him and turning back to my mural.

“I’m not being a girl!” he argues, crossing his arms.

“Are too, now shh!” I tell him, bending down to coat my brush with more paint.

“Tell me!” he whines again, being annoyingly persistent.

I sigh and turn around to face him.

“It’s nothing, you’re being a drama queen.” I say simply before turning back around.

He scoffs and whines. I think he’s done arguing with me until he creeps up behind me and bumps the hand holding the paint brush back so that it hits me in the face.

“Sean!” I gasp at the cold, thick paint dripping off of my chin.

He’s laughing his head off, backing away clutching his stomach.

 Reaching up, I try to wipe off the paint from my face, but I know I’m only smudging it and making it worse.

“Sean!” I screech, “Paint stains!”

This only causes him to laugh harder until he’s bent over in a giggle fit.

I scowl at him. He has no idea how mad I am right now. Paint stains, especially this kind of paint. To make it worse, it’s not just any paint. It’s black paint. Black! It’s going to look like I got punched or something.