Chapter 51
Blending colors is harder than it looks.
Maybe I’m simple, but I thought I could just put them one over the other, and they’d sort of…
bleed through. Yeah, that doesn’t work. So now I’ve raided the kitchen for bowls to put paint in to mix.
Paul isn’t happy with me for that, but it’s one time.
He’ll get over it. I tried to explain the problem to him, but he just shook his head and walked off.
Poor guy, no sense of adventure with colors. His loss.
Still, it’s coming together really well, minus a few hiccups like the blending and forgetting to tape off the edges…
then almost stepping in my paint tray. I think I’ve got it just about right, and honestly, some of the streakiness looks a lot like wispy cloud fluffs, so I’m calling them a win.
I started at the top yesterday, so it should be ok for me to start planning constellations this evening when I get home from work.
It’s been a few days since we saw Sarah.
I didn’t leave the house yesterday since I wasn’t scheduled for work, and I was trying to get a jump on this.
I wonder if she and Greg might like to come over and see the finished product tomorrow.
I should have just enough time to get a shower now before my shift.
My back and shoulders are sort of stiff.
I didn’t realize how many muscle groups painting used, so I don’t feel too bad about skipping arm day yesterday to work at home.
Maybe I can turn the basement into a weight room.
Wait…do we have a basement? I should probably check that.
I don’t like basements; they usually smell funny and are too cold, but maybe if we do, we can brighten it up with some new overhead lights.
This is something I should know, I realize that, but at the same time I’ve been kind of focused on the rest of the house and the nest since we moved in.
I’ve probably spent way too much time thinking about what to do in here, but when inspiration struck, I knew it was the right call, and even without the stars, it looks great.
Just like I imagined. Picking up all my empty bowls of paint, I carry them into the adjoining bathroom and set them on the bottom of the shower floor.
This should be the quickest way to get them washed.
We can still run them through the dishwasher later, and as long as Paul doesn’t find out, it’ll be fine.
I don’t want any more disapproving looks.
The guy is like my brother, and I hate when he gets upset with me.
I feel about six inches tall. It’s really unpleasant.
I lay them out on the floor along with my roller and brushes before turning on the cold water, then head back to my room to get cleaned up.
My mind wanders again to the tiny omega that was here a few days ago.
Paul has asked me three times for my shirt from that day so that he can get the laundry started, but I’m bogarting it in the back of my closet.
Since she was sleeping on me, her scent has soaked into it and I’m loath to wash her smell away.
If Al finds out, he’s gonna be pissed. Paul might understand, but he hates having dirty clothes lying around.
Which I can understand with gym clothes—those get massively funky after even a day, but this smells like strawberry shortcake, so it should be fine.
Sure, there’s a little Spencer stank around the pits, but it’ll be ok for now.
My gaze flicks over to the cuticle scissors in my nail care case and the thought briefly passes through my mind that I could just cut the sleeves off and that would get rid of most of my smell.
Then I could keep it longer, but that would be a waste of a shirt, and I know I couldn’t explain my way out of that.
The water heats while I brush my teeth and hair, getting a few globs of paint stuck in my comb and yanking out some strands.
I bring my hand up to rub at the sore spot only to realize there’s a long streak of teal paint stuck to my knuckles.
Fuck, I’ll never hear the end of it if I’ve left smears on any of the walls between here and the nest. I’ll check again when I’m clean.
The hot water feels amazing on my sore neck and shoulders as I scrub the speckles off my chest and face.
If I paint without a shirt on, then there’s less chance of messing up my clothes, but getting the dried stuff out of my chest hair is a pain in the neck.
Thankfully I’m not as fluffy as some guys, not enough that I have to shave or wax my torso.
That just looks painful. I wonder if Sarah likes the hairless look, or if she’s more into the wooly booger thing with a chest pelt that needs conditioning and a comb.
I can’t pull that off—Paul probably can, but thankfully his hair is so light-colored, it’s probably not obvious.
And I think Al either shaves completely or just has no body hair.
It’s not like I’m looking at them naked, but we live together and shared a bathroom for years. You tend to see stuff.
My mind turns back to Sarah. I wouldn’t mind sharing a bathroom with her, not that I’m trying to be a perv, but she doesn’t strike me as the type to leave a whole bunch of stuff on the counters.
Plus, walking into a steamy room that smells like strawberry shortcake seems like it would be a nice way to wake up.
My dick perks up at the thought of the sweet omega in the shower, and I want to punch myself for thinking of her that way without her permission.
It seems…I don’t know…rude? Turning the water all the way to cold, I blast myself with a freezing shot, making my chub wither.
Take that!
Holy fuck, my balls are freezing now.
Getting out and grabbing a towel real quick, I sneak out of my bedroom and back to the nest. Nobody else should be home right now since Paul and Al went grocery shopping, but I don’t want them to get home before I finish cleaning up my painting stuff.
I turn off the shower in the nest bathroom and use my thumbs to scrape off any leftover paint flecks on the kitchen bowls before I take them back downstairs and load up the dishwasher, since I was just fingering all of them… oh, that sounds messed up in my head.
With those put away and the brushes lining the sink to dry, I pull on some underwear and my gym clothes, layering sweats over the top.
The weather probably won’t be too bad today, but I don’t want to risk freezing my ass off on the ride to work.
My bicycle is in the garage—it was hard to find one that fits me right, and I had to save up for a couple of months to get it, but then I was able to get a paper route to help save more money.
It’s an awkward dichotomy that you have to have transportation to get a job to have money to afford transportation.
That doesn’t just apply to first jobs either, I think as I stare over at Paul’s cruiser.
They took Nadine to get groceries, and an involuntary chuckle slips out when I think about Al and his tiny car.
Clearly, it’s a sturdy little thing, since it got him all the way here from L.A.
but it’s older than he is and it looks like a hunched-up cat rolling down the road.
I kinda want to buy some of those cat-eye headlight covers for it and see how long it takes him to notice…
but then I’d probably also need some sort of antenna for the tail, and that one would be obvious.
This rather random train of thought lasts till I get to work and see Kelly’s car in the staff parking lot.
There aren’t a lot of people who work here, but if I had a car, it would be a nice bonus to always have a spot to park close by.
As it is, I hoist my bike onto my shoulder and carry it into the break room with me since I don’t want anybody running off with it.
Somebody tried to once, but not a lot of people can reach the ground when it’s set upright and the kid sort of rolled it into the grass and fell over once he realized it wasn’t going to work.
I threatened to call his parents and he hasn’t tried anything since. Not that I’ll take the chance.
After depositing my mighty steed, I wave to Kelly and Teddy at the front desk before heading to the changing room.
I have my own locker too, which is really cool, but even though I wore my work clothes under my riding clothes—’cause road rash is a bitch—I still don’t want to risk mooning somebody if my shorts come down with my sweats, so it’s better to just go to the designated changing area.
I am not expecting the beta—Greg—that appears when the locker next to mine closes.
“Hey, Spence. How you do—um, my dude, your ear is aqua.” His voice is kind even though he’s laughing, and I can feel my ears getting hot.
At least the paint probably covers up the blush.
Thankfully, he just goes with it, slapping me lightly on the arm.
“Come on, Sarah’s been waiting for you, impatiently.
” He must see the sudden panic in my eyes because he continues.
“No, nope, none of that. She can just fucking wait. You aren’t late or anything; she just seems to have missed you.
You’ll be fine. Just calm down, take some deep breaths.
Think of what you want to say before you walk out there. You got this!”
While he’s talking, he’s spinning me around and pushing my locker closed with my sweats in it before he starts gently shoving me towards the door.
He laughs again at whatever is on his mind.
“That being said, it doesn’t do well to make my girl wait any longer than necessary.
She can be a spiteful little thing when disappointed.
Just like her damned rabbit. It’s not like I don’t love Shaggy, but they are both kind of an acquired taste.
” He pushes a little harder as we get to the door and I almost trip over my own feet and stumble right into the subject of discussion, who’s looking up at me with a huge smile.