Untouchable (Private 3) - Page 24

Josh lifted one of the jars from the tray and walked to the center

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of the small room. He dipped one of his larger brushes into the jar.

"This is what I do when my headspace becomes . . . unlivable," he told me.

Then he dipped the brush in the paint, came out with a big glob, and flung it at the canvas. Half the paint hit the canvas--a huge, red slash across the stark white. The other half of the paint hit the wall. Now I understood where the splatters had come from.

"Try it," Josh shouted.

"Are you insane?" I asked. His eyes flashed at me and something inside of me paused. Hesitated. I looked around. "I mean, they're gonna freak when they see what you're doing to this place."

"They don't care!" Josh smiled and shrugged and I wondered if I'd imagined the sudden darkness I'd thought I'd seen. "I'm the poor, pathetic roommate of the dead guy." He paused for a moment and his expression shifted, as if he'd just realized how callous he'd sounded. "No one cares what I do," he added.

My heart pounded in sympathy for him. "That's not true."

He focused on me as if suddenly remembering I was there. "No! I don't mean literally. I just mean . . . forget it. Come on, Reed. Try this! I swear it'll help."

He took my hand and pressed a brush into it. My breath started to race at his nearness and his excitement. Josh was energized. I craved that. I craved the idea of feeling anything even remotely positive. I pushed myself up and grabbed a jar of blue paint. I dipped the brush into it and looked at Josh.

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"Now fling it," he instructed.

I grinned. Suddenly I couldn't help it. Being with Josh made me grin. There it was. So what if it was disloyal? If it was cruel? Right then, I just wanted to keep smiling. So I lifted my arm and flung. Most of my paint hit the wall. The easel only took a drop. Somehow the rest of it splashed Josh in the face.

I took one look at him and cracked up laughing. It felt so, so good to laugh. Josh slowly wiped the paint from his nose with his fingertips, making a nice, wide smear across his cheek.

"Oh my God! You're right! I do feel better," I said.

It hurt to laugh, like I was using a muscle that hadn't been exercised in too long. Josh turned around and I was hit in the face with a smattering of green. Kid was so quick I never even saw it coming.

"Touche," I said, wiping my forehead.

I grabbed another vat of paint and hit him again. He hit me with a blob of red right in the center of my black sweater. I screeched and doused him in yellow. Suddenly we were both laughing and attacking. Before I knew it, Josh was swiping at me with a brush, making random slashes on my clothes. I had paint in my hair, on my shoes, all over my favorite jeans. But I didn't even care. This was the best time I had had in days. The lightest I had felt since Thomas's funeral. Even on my nonbudget, I could sacrifice some clothing for that.

Josh came at me with a brush. I straight-armed his shoulder and held him back, wheezing for breath. He grabbed my waist, twisted me around. I escaped his grasp and headed for the wall.

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Josh was everywhere. His hands, his fingers, his breath, his laughter, his weight. It was all one blur, and all of it sent my heart rate skyrocketing.

He was going to grab me and kiss me. Every inch of me was throbbing and I knew he felt it too. He had to. I gripped the sleeve of his shirt and didn't let go. Our bodies were pressed together as the vertical wrestling match started to wane. I could feel his breath on my neck as I slowly straightened up. I looked him in the eye.

Come on. Do it. Please. I just want to keep this feeling going. I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back. . . .

"I think you'd look good in purple," Josh said huskily, teasingly, backing me toward the wall. "What do you think?"

My stomach hurt from laughing and I was out of breath. "Don't. Don't you dare," I said, watching the brush in his hand.

Josh, of course, kept coming.

"Reed, hold still! You have to let an artist do his work!"

He lifted the brush.

"Josh! No! Come on!" I laughed, pressing my hands into his chest. "Haven't you done enough damage already?"

Tags: Kate Brian Private
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