I frown, still focused on the wall. "Your what, too?"
"My best friend."
His words hang in the air, and I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for a reaction. I stay stubborn, brushing paint along the edge of the wall.
"I don't believe you," I say finally, my voice quiet.
Vince laughs, leaning back to look at the unfinished walls. "You're right," he says with mock seriousness. "I'm only saying that because I need your help finishing this room."
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to hold back a smile. "You're seriously the worst."
"You keep saying that, but here you are," he says, smirking. "I could just call someone to do this for us, you know. Like I did with the other rooms downstairs."
My mouth falls open. "You already paid someone to paint the rest of the house? Why are we even doing this, like it's some sort of emergency?"
He grins. "Because I like spending time with you."
The way he says it sends a twinge of something through me.
His hand moves, and for a moment I think he's going to touch me. The air between us crackles with possibility, the space between his fingers and my arm feeling charged, electric. I watch, frozen, as his hand hovers just inches from my arm, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him.
Then he pulls back, his fingers curling into a fist before relaxing at his side. The moment passes, and I let out a breath. My heart pounds against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that feels too loud in the quiet room.
I turn back to the wall, my brush moving in quick, precise strokes as if I can paint over the moment, cover it with layers of olive green until it disappears completely.
"What book are you reading?" I ask awkwardly, hoping to steer us into safer waters.
He laughs, pulling his hand back. "Nice deflection, but that line's mine. You can't take it."
"Okay, fine," I say with a grin. "Tell me something I don't know about you."
Vince fidgets with his left ear, clearly wrestling with some internal debate. "Alright," he finally says, "but it's personal. Promise you won't talk about it again after this."
I laugh before I can stop myself, and from the sheepish look on his face, he knows exactly why. "That's rich. Coming from the guy who just broke the same promise to me."
I reach out and give his shoulder a playful shove. He laughs too, running his fingers through his hair in that nervous way he does sometimes. The way he looks at me then, like I'm the only person in the room, sends butterflies tumbling through my stomach.
"That comment about the paint just kind of slipped out," he says. "It was supposed to stay in my head. Don't be mad. I'm sorry."
It's impossible to stay mad at Vince for long.
"My face really does feel like it turned this exact shade of green," I admit, glancing at the walls around us. "Thanks for that, by the way. I won't be able to unsee it every time I look at these rooms."
He laughs, and before I can react, he reaches out and gently brushes my hair out of my face.
His touch is barely there, a whisper against my skin. His fingertips graze my forehead, his thumb tracing the delicate arch of my eyebrow. I catch the smudge of olive green paint on hiswrist, the color matching the walls that surround us, and the memory of his mock-serious scolding when I'd spilled earlier bubbles up inside me.
"I promised, so tell me," I say, trying to find something, anything, to distract myself from the curve of his smile. I know I'm staring, probably with the world's most pathetic doe-eyed expression, but I can't help it. Everything about him in this moment makes me want to kiss him, no matter how hard I try to kill the sparks.
Vince hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not sure you'll like me much after I tell you."
"How is that possible?" I ask, laughing softly. "There's no way it's worse than what happened to me at dinner."
But he doesn't laugh. He isn't smiling anymore.
"Hey," I say gently, putting down my paintbrush. "You know I'm not judging you, right? Whatever it is, it's okay."
He nods but still seems to struggle. "It's just something I don't like about myself. I don't really talk about it."
