“Finished!â€? I exclaimed over the canvas that I had spent the last 2 weeks slaving over. I was messy and wet. My long brown hair was tied up in a little bun to keep it out of the sky blue paint and I was sure I had some of that perfect “grass greenâ€? spread across my cheek.
A shadow cast its self over the painting. “Gorgeousâ€? a voice whispered behind my ear. I turned slowly and flung myself at the tall handsome figure behind me. The smell of his minty cologne filled my nose.
“Hey Patrickâ€? I said as he pressed his lips against my forehead. “Ah Janeâ€? he lectured. “You have to stop insulting those dead artists!â€? “Poor Picasso and Monet, having their lives work shamed by an adorable high-school girl.â€? I spun so I was leaning, his hip to mine, and studied the painting again.
It was a landscape. Beautiful mountains pierced the sky blue background and a handsome boy sat with a young girl, reading under a lovely oak tree on a hill overlooking the river and mountains. It was probably the best painting I had done yet.