"Do you want any help?" Elijah inquires as I open the can of 'linen white' on the floor.
"No thanks. You pay, I paint," I quip as I finally get the lid open. "Do you mind opening a window though? I forgot how strong this paint is." I wave a hand in front of my face, somehow thinking it'll help the smell.
He walks over and opens the window before leaning against it, watching me as I prop myself up on my knees and about to pour the paint into the tray.
Painting, it's such a comfort for me. I love it. Though sadly, just like writers, I'm having painter's block, if that's even a thing. I spent all last night trying to come up with ideas, but I failed. I know what I want to do but for some reason, I don't know.
Before I pour the paint, I face Elijah.
"Wait, actually- do you know the last time the walls and trims were wiped down?"
He pushes himself off the wall, "Uh, no. I don't think so."
"Crap," I mumble under my breath.
"Oh, sorry. Was I supposed to do that?" Elijah's tone is genuinely apologetic as he walks closer to me.
I reach out to touch his leg, right below his knee. "No, it's alright." I smile as I look up at him.
He looks down at my hand and tilts his head a bit in confusion. I copy his movements and realize what I did— what I'm doing. Shit, I'm still touching him. I'm on my knees, touching him. Stop touching him!
I pull my hand away and stand up, clearing my throat. "Uh, I mean- yes. You're supposed to wipe down the walls before. By you I mean me. I'll clean them. It's easy, I just need water, soap, a washcloth, and a sponge."
Elijah opens his mouth to speak but I unintentionally interrupt him. "Not like dish soap though, I hate the way it feels. I think I have like a sensory issue. That's why I make Sage do the dishes and then I unload. It's weird, I'm weird. Anyways—"
"Lavender, it's okay." He touches my arm. "I'll go get what you need." Elijah gives me a quick... smile I want to say, then leaves the room.
I forgot I talk when I'm nervous. Why do I do that? He doesn't care about what type of soap I can use.
I awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, rocking back and forth on my heels. Moments pass of me just staring into space until Elijah comes back with a bucket of soap water, sponges, and washcloths.
"And, don't worry. I used a little hand soap." He walks next to me and nudges me on the shoulder with his own. "Lavender scented."
Our shoulders are still touching. "Thanks." I smile as my eyes study his face.
"I'll help clean, it'll go by quicker," he offers.
"Are you sure? It's not that much work."
He stares at me and pokes his cheek with his tongue. "You really don't like asking for help, do you?"
And with that, suddenly I'm ten years old crying again because mommy doesn't have time to help me with my math homework but she has time to yell that I'm helpless.
"Uh—" I sniffle and kneel down to dip the washcloth in the water, walking over to the wall on my knees—"I find it easier to just do things myself. It's faster and in the long run, I'm not disappointed."
"Well, you may not want me to help but I do. So..."
I hear him ringing out the extra water in the sponge and then walking over to the wall next to me.
I focus on the wall trim and wipe the dust and dirt. This house has been empty for a couple of months now. I tried to beg Harper to get it but since she lives quite literally down the street, there was no need. When I imagined someone moving next door, I thought maybe a kid my age. A new friend, or friends with benefits. I got one out of three.
I finish the trims then go to get a sponge. As I squeeze the extra water out, my eyes drift up to Elijah. He's moved onto a different wall now and he lifts his arm to wipe the top. As he's doing so, his black shirt rides up slightly, showing the waistband of his boxers and a bit of his toned back. Holy shit.
I am getting frustrated. Sexually? maybe.
I suddenly remember the guy I'm 'eye-fucking' from behind is the boy I detest the most. If he wasn't always trying to prove he was better than me, perhaps we could've been actual friends. Or maybe I'm the one who tries to prove I'm better...
Either way, he's an asshole and I'm only being nice to him because I'm going to be over for a while.
We finish the last wall together and drop the sponges back in the bucket.
"I'm hungry, I know we both didn't get lunch so I'll run and get something. What are you craving?" Elijah asks me.
"Oh, I'm not hungry." I get back on my knees and pour the paint into the tray.
"I think you're lying. Me, personally, I'm craving noodles. How about Chinese?"
I put the cover on the roller frame and dip it in the paint. "Um, okay. I'll just take some rice, thanks."
"Okay, sure. Be back soon."
He leaves and I notice a speaker in the corner of the room. Music. I smile to myself and pull out my phone to connect it. I put on my favorite; 'Snap Out Of It by Arctic Monkeys'.
I pick up the paint roller sitting in the color and head straight to the wall. I'm thinking of maybe painting one green. I just know for a fact I want to paint a giraffe looking over the crib.
I start bobbing my head and moving my hips to the music. I move the roller up and down, trying to make my streaks as smooth as possible. I get so into the music I use the roller as a microphone and dance with my feet.
The paint is already almost completely covering the wall. My shoulders bop up and down as my hand works their magic.
I hum under the melody and start on the other half of the wall. With music, I can get anything done fast. It's sorta like my way of escaping.
My playlist continues to shuffle and I move onto the second wall. I'm so focused on making my streaks steady, I get scared by the tap on my shoulder.
I turn around in a panic with the paint roller right in front of me. My mouth widens when I realize I just painted the boy who had just bought me food.
"I am so sorry," I try to hide in a laugh behind my hand.
Elijah looks down at his now white-painted shirt and then at me. He softly sighs. "It's alright." He lifts his shirt a bit to wipe his painted chin and I unintentionally look down. Is that... a faint V-line I see?
He lets go of his shirt and my eyes immediately meet his. He gives me a vague smile. "I should've learned from the time you slapped me."
My face forms an awkward look as I apologize again.
"Well, take a break. I brought food and drinks." He gestures for me to sit down on the non-painted wall and I oblige. "I hope you still like strawberry soda."
The corners of my mouth quirked up. "I do." How does he remember that? Why does he remember that?
Elijah kneels in front of me and takes out my food, one by one. "Just so I don't hear your annoying ass, I got you more food."
I open my mouth to say something but he cuts me off. "And don't give me a nasty look or anything because you know it's true. Rice fills nobody up. You're mean when you're hungry, and that must be half the time because you're mean a lot."
I furrow my eyebrows slightly. Does he know?
"I got you noodles and egg rolls as well. I know you're not a huge fan of meat but you can have some of my orange chicken if you want. Even if you don't eat everything, just take it home. You might want it later."
He talks like he cares about me. I'm too preoccupied with his genuine tone to notice all the food in front of me. Why is he being so nice to me? What did he do? What did I do? I don't like his sincerity. Something's off.
"Thanks," I mumble before taking a sip of my strawberry soda.
He sits next to me and opens up his takeout container of noodles.
I can't even take a bite because I'm still focused on what Elijah said. Are my eating habits that obvious? Oh no. Oh no. No no no no—
"Hey," Elijah's hands are waving around in front of my flushed face. "are you alright?"
I take a quiet deep breath, "Uh, yeah. No, it is just—" Quick, think of an excuse! "painting a whole wall is a lot of work so I am kind of hot."
He gives me a concerned look before setting his food down and standing up to turn on the ceiling fan. "Better?" He sits back down.
I just give him a small smile and nod.
The rice container is sitting right in my hands but I can't seem to take a bite. God, why am I like this? This is so embarrassing.
Motherfucking food. I've always struggled with eating. I either eat too much or don't eat at all. Both ways, I can't stop feeling guilty for giving my body what it needs and it sucks, so much.
"You know, I'm just gonna take it home. This paint smell is making me nauseous." I place my food back into the bag he brought and set it aside.
I stand and walk up to the wall I painted. "Is this okay?" I ask, pointing at it.
Elijah freezes and stares at me. He stays like that for a couple of seconds before I finally narrow my eyes at him. "What? Do you like the color or not?"
I see his eyes widen for a split second. "Oh! Yes, yes the color's nice."
I give him a strange look, "Okay, weirdo."
"Just come sit, take a break. You got a lot done, surprisingly."
I turn to look at my work, "Of course, I'm great with my hands." Luckily he can't see my face, because the expression I just pulled is not pretty. 'What?', I mouth to myself. I did not mean for that to sound that way.
I clear my throat softly and wander back over to Elijah. I sit and lean against the wall as I put my legs straight, crossing my ankles.
We sit in... comfortable silence with a random playlist still playing on low in the background.
I softly sigh and rest my eyes for a moment before Elijah interrupts the silence between us. "Are you excited about Paris?"
My eyes open as I face him. "Definitely. You know, I've been studying all the paintings that are in the Louvre Museum. There are so many and they're beautiful."
He watches me as I speak. I like when he— people do that. It makes me feel heard.
"I'm sure they are." He gets a fork full of noodles before biting into it. "Nerd," I hear him whisper.
My mouth widens and my eyes narrow. I lean closer to him and smack the back of his head.
"Ow!" Elijah grabs his head. "I was kidding! I think it's good that you're so passionate about something."
My expression softens. I hate these feelings. Go away feelings.
I gape at him before coming to my senses. "You can leave now, thank you for the food."
He scoffs playfully. "Fine. Only because I have to pick up Giselle from preschool though." He picks up his food, probably to take it with him or put it in the fridge. "Don't eat any more paint while I'm gone."
I jolt my head back and my face knits together with confusion until he points at his cheek. I wipe my face to feel dried paint right where he said. The paint must've gotten everywhere when I was using the roller as a microphone. Damn.
I look back up to explain but he's already gone. I take one last sip of my drink before getting back to painting the walls and turning my music back up.
I finish the second wall and I can feel my stomach hurt. I don't want to waste Elijah's money or food, so I decide to sit back down and take a bite of the rice.
I take a couple more spoonfuls and get back to painting. I begin on the right wall with the window that overlooks the pool. I've swam in it before when I was paid by to housesit a few summers ago but I never got a chance to go into the new hot tub they installed.
It's kinda sad really. Clarence, one of the old men who lived here before the Rivera's, his husband Otto died so he sold their house and moved in with his daughter to help her out with her new baby. I know he and Otto were together since their junior year, you can tell they really loved each other.
Sometimes, I wish for that kind of love. Fulfilling, genuine, and happy. Other times I wish for anything but. Loving someone is an influential thing. That means they have the power to destroy you at any point... and that scares me.
I'm still trying to find myself, to love myself so I know committing to anyone would be a really bad idea. I think I would hurt them in the process and I don't want to be responsible for the thing that I fear most. At the end of the day, it's just you.
But I know deep down that I'll always want to be loved, always want to be wanted, and honestly, that is such a lonely feeling.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and focus around the window, making sure not to paint the glass.
I finish around the window but now my back hurts and I have to pee so I set down my roller back in the tray and walk down the hall to try to find a bathroom.
It's been so long that I forgot where all the rooms are so I go down the hall from memory and open the door to what I think is the toilet. I open the door to find a bedroom. I'm about to shut the door before I see a few posters that catch my attention on the wall.
Instead, I push the door open and walk in. Oops.
The wall is covered in cool posters and albums above the bed, most of the ones I like, might I add. Of course, this intrigues me even more so I turn around to see small photo polaroids, spread out on the dresser.
I pick them up and see a bunch of photos of the family. In one, there are three little kids, maybe Cameron, Daphne, and Elijah, all staring at the camera eating cupcakes with blue frosting all over their guilty innocent faces. Cute.
In another, there's Elijah in a suit and tie twirling around Giselle who's in a fancy dress. I smile and continue looking at the few friends and family photos that are spread in my hand.
"What are you doing in my room?" a voice questions.
I jump as I throw down the pictures to see Elijah leaning against the open door with his arms crossed over his chest. He changed into a white T-shirt.
"What are you doing?" I ask back.
"Don't answer my question with a question."
"Don't answer my question by telling me that I'm asking a question to your question."
His unamused expression turns into a confused one. "What?"
I give him a blank stare and walk past him. "I have to pee."
I try the door at the end of the hall and successfully open it to find a toilet. I lock the door and relieve myself before washing my hands and going back to the nursery.
Half an hour passes and I finish the last linen white wall. This time, I open a can of sage green and pour it into a new tray while I quietly laugh to myself.
Dipping a new brush in the liquid, I paint the wall with the door green, an accent wall.
I hum along to the random song shuffled off my playlist as I start above the trim by hand.
The door opens and I turn my head to see Giselle walking in.
"Giselle, I told you she's busy. You can't go in there." Elijah follows behind her.
"Laffy Taffy!"
"Hi, pretty!" I smile at her.
"Are you painting? Can I help?" She goes up the grab a paintbrush but Elijah grabs her mid-run by the waist and throws her over his shoulder.
"Let's go paint a picture of our own for Mama."
"Okay." She mumbles.
"Okay!" He mocks her.
I mouth a 'thank you' and he gives me a closed-lip smile before shutting the door behind him.
***