He’d flattened his whole hand in the yellow and sat back. “Wow. You really know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve finger-painted a time or two. Watch it! You’re dripping!”
He looked down at the paint trickling down his forearm and quickly put it down at the top right corner of his page. “The sun.”
“Nice. I might’ve missed it if you hadn’t told me.”
“Don’t be a snob.” He grinned and moved back to dip his index finger in the red. “I have a better idea for a subject.”
I watched as he started making lines.
“Keep in mind your medium,” I said, lifting the white and pouring a drop on my fingertips, blending it under the wavy blue lines I’d made, creating a lighter blue. “You can’t be very precise with this type of painting. Go for more broad strokes.”
Slayde didn’t even look up. Wrinkling my nose, I studied what looked like a big red triangle.
“Mondrian liked to use large fields of color in his art,” I added, hoping to be encouraging.
“Which guy just threw paint everywhere?”
“Jackson Pollock?” I squinted up.
“Yeah, I’d like to try his technique sometime.”
“Yves Klein covered nude models in ultramarine blue and then had them roll around on the canvass.”
Slayde’s eyes flashed to me. “Why the hell did I set all this up out here? We need to take this back to my place. You’ve given me a great idea.”
“Oh, yeah?” I grinned, leaning across the canvasses. He met my lips halfway, and I put my painted hand on his cheek.
Pulling away a fraction, he laughed. “You’re going to get it now.” I felt his yellow-covered hand sliding down the neck of my floral sundress.
“Slayde! My dress...”
“It’s washable. Look.” He held up the bottle, and sure enough, Washable was printed on it.
“I guess that means the gloves are off.”
“You’re speak
ing my language now.” He sat back quickly, plunging both hands into the plates. “Get over here.”
Jumping up, I snatched the blue before taking off running down the boardwalk. He was right behind me, one hand dripping red the other bright yellow.
“Slayde!” I screamed, but he caught me, hands sliding up my thighs to my bare stomach beneath my dress.
“Where would be the most unexpected place I can get paint?”
The blue was open now, and I poured it on my hands. Too much gushed out, and it ran down my arms, but I spun around, pushing my hands under his tank. It was up and off, his torso, which was now covered in dark blue.
“All you need is a canvas,” I laughed.
In a sweep, I was over his shoulder, and he charged straight into the surf. The water was like ice. I screamed again, but he held me tight against his body, warming me with his heat. We were panting and laughing, my arms around his neck, our noses almost touching.
“It’s all washing off in the salt water.” I made a sad face, looking around us at the rainbow.
“It’s also non-toxic, so the fish are safe.”
“You thought of everything.” I grinned before kissing him hard on the mouth.