I giggled uncontrollably, Jack whispering dirty words across my paint splattered neck. I swear, he had gotten every single color there and now they were thrown on living room walls, seeping across the old wooden floorboards.
I barely managed a ‘hello’, far too happy to care that someone was calling me at one in the morning. We were still painting.. or we were still surrounded by paint..
“Hey,” he said, and I whispered a little loudly, “Jack, stop it!”
But of course, I didn’t want him to stop. I never wanted him to leave.
“Hey, uhm.. can I call you back?” I asked, still didn’t know who I was even talking to..
“Sure, sure.” And then I knew.
“Wait, what’s going on? Are you okay? I mean-”
“I’m fine..” he told me, “Just wanted to check in..I guess. I mean, sorry. I gotta go. Bye.” And he hung up on me.
Jack picked me up and pressed me against the wet wall, smudging everything. I laughed again. Oh well.
He stopped kissing me then and with smiling eyes pressed the palm of my hand into the wet paint.