A Month to Love

A Month to Love (9)

I crouched down beside her to get a closer look. For some reason I imagined her to be a sloppy painter, probably because her handwriting was pretty awful, but no it was very neat and tidy. Steady handed despite her overall clumsiness. She had a lot of contradictory traits, it made it kind of difficult to work out what her reaction would be in most situations. Maybe that’s why I liked bugging her so much.

‘This is actually pretty good,’ I told her. ‘I assumed you’d be a lot messier at painting.’

‘I nearly was at your freaking interruption,’ she grumbled at me before picking up her paintbrush again and letting out a breath.

‘What’s life without the surprises?’ I asked, smiling at her irritation.

I was in a strangely energetic mood and she was a great source of entertainment. And I did say the next time she came over she lost all her guest rights. Now she was classed as a regular.

‘You missed a spot,’ I pointed out when she didn’t reply.

She scowled at me again and snatched up a spare paintbrush from the floor, forcing it into my hand.

‘Stop complaining and help if you’re going to whine,’ she ordered, making me laugh.

I’d never seen her concentrating hard before seeing as she never gave a shit about school work. Seemed she didn’t enjoy constant little interruptions. What would she do if I gave her a big interruption?

I decided to test this out by dipping the brush into the red paint and swiping it across her cheek. Her reaction was almost comical as she reached up and touched it in confusion. Her face got annoyed again as she saw the paint on her fingers.

I forgot my rule about underestimating her, however, and when I laughed, she took advantage of my distraction. Her hand shot out and she grabbed a fistful of my shirt before attacking my face with her own brush.

‘That’s mean,’ I complained, pushing her off before she poked my eyes out.

‘Well, you did it first,’ she replied, leaning forward and using my clean white shirt that I’d put on less than half an hour ago to wipe the paint off her face.

‘Guys, we need to finish the banners before tomorrow so that they can dry overnight!’ Remi said, making me glance over at her. ‘Stop flirting about and get on with it!’

Flirting about? Well, maybe I was a little but I doubted Raegan was anywhere close to flirting with me. I was in a childish pulling-her-pigtails kind of mood whereas she was probably just getting irritated by my presence.

‘That last part sounded kind of dirty,’ I noted, earning a middle finger from Remi and a snort of laughter from Tara.

I was still looking over at them when I felt Raegan hit my chest so when I looked down and saw a huge red streak of paint across the front of my shirt, I couldn’t tell whether she’d done it on purpose or not.

But my mind was made up.

‘Believe it or not, I actually didn’t mean to do that,’ Raegan said as if reading my mind.

That had been happening a lot recently. She seemed to often know what I was about to ask or say. If she was that perceptive then how did she not notice me practically drooling after her? I hadn’t exactly bothered to hide it very well.

‘And I didn’t mean to do this.’

I could have been super evil and poured the paint over her head. But that would mean getting it in her eyes and mouth and I really just wasn’t that cruel. Instead, I tossed the pot a little lower so it got the ends of her hair and neck before quickly dripping down her own shirt. Our clothes were definitely no longer salvageable.