"...and that, my friend, is why beanbags are awesome." I finished, popping a bubble that had developed on the paint. Jace chuckled. "You're a weird girl."
"True." I said nodding. "But you're weird too."
"We're a pair of weirdos." He agreed, smoothing a space. The house was really coming together. We were painting the main outside while Jacob and his dad and Art had gone to Home Depot for another plumbing wrench.
We worked in silence for a little bit longer, then, out of pure boredom, I flicked some paint at Jace. He threw his hands up. "Zoe! What the hell?"
"I'm bored." I shrugged. He narrowed his eyes. "That's it? You're BORED?"
"Yep."
He scowled and climbed down from the ladder. "Jace? What are you doing?"
He climbed up my ladder and snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me down. I shook a little but landed on to feet. I whirled. "Are you on some--"
He interrupted by crashing his lips on mine.
I melted into a soft puddle of goop. My hands found the back of his neck to grip, barely noticing Amy's sound of disgust, revelling in the heat--
Sploosh!
The warm paint went all over my hair, down my overalls. It's a good thing I had my eyes closed. I growled and bit his lip hard, stepping back and wiping a hand over my head.
"Oh my god. You got it in my HAIR."
He smirked. "Don't hyperventilate."
I was, in fact, hyperventilating. I glared at him, giving him a look of pure malice. "Do you know how hard it is to get this stuff out of my hair, Jace McArthur?"
He flinched. I wasn't finished. "AND MY CLOTHES! OH MY GOD!"
"There's no need--"
"Be quiet." I snapped. He fell silent, then said, "I could help you wash it out in the shower."
I socked him in the stomach and stomped off, my teeth gritted. "Dad, I need the keys."
"For wha...whoa. What happened to you?"
"Jace was being an idiot. I need the keys to go home and--"
"Wash it out. Got it. Here." He handed the truck keys to me. I nodded a thanks and headed to the car, trying not to drip paint on the floor. I got a trash bag from where they were on the ground and ripped a hole in the top, putting it over my head. I got in and cranked it up. The passenger door opened and Jace slid in, looking at me apologetically. "Sorry."
I threw the car into gear and didn't say a word, driving home. All I knew was, if the paint dried, he would catch hell.
I pulled up at my house and killed the ignition, getting out of the car and walking up to the door. I went inside. The house was empty, because everybody was somewhere else.
It seemed too quiet, no werewolves or werebears or hybrids running around. Even Riley was out hunting down innocent chipmunks. (I once made the mistake of asking her what she did while we were gone.)
I went straight to the first bathroom on the first floor, grabbing some shampoo from the cabinet and turning on the bathwater until it was lukewarm. I knelt down and tipped my head under it, wetting it then putting a globful of shampoo in my hair.
Jace was nowhere to be seen. Good. I probably would have killed him in my fury.
I was frustratedly trying to get the thick, goopy white out of my hair when I heard footsteps and someone sit down on the edge of the tub.
