“Yeah. I mean, I know I made that snarky comment about the beard, but it’s more than that. At the time, I didn’t understand it. But he was always trying to one-up you. I think that’s really the only reason he ever wanted me.”

“But why would he be jealous? Bearing in mind this was ten years ago and we were teenagers, but he got you.”

I sigh softly. “I wish he hadn’t in the end. But, Cam, you had me first. Anyway”—I shake my head—“you’re right, that was a lifetime ago. So, now what?”

Cameron brightens and I’m struck all over again with how good-looking he’s become. He was always cute—all swoopy hair and eyes twinkling with mischief—but now he’s something else altogether. Sexy and self-assured. “I guess we’re doing this, for real.”

“I guess we are. In case I forget to say it later: thanks, Cameron. I know you have lots of reasons to come back, but I appreciate it, nevertheless.”

“Of course.”

We replace our masks and soon our brushstrokes are matching. I’m humming under my breath and a little surprised to realize how relaxed I feel with him next to me. I can’t even work with my dad next to me most days. It’s why I built my own shop. But somehow, Cameron’s presence doesn’t feel like a disruption.

“Full disclosure, and you can’t ever tell Lyle this because he’s a fucker, but that video clip he showed us may have played a part in my decision.”

I snort. “You’re joking. That was so cheesy! It reeked of desperation.”

His green eyes twinkle with humor above his mask. “I know, but it worked!” Cameron runs his free hand through his hair, mussing the waves. “It reminded me of what we were.”

I press my lips together, stifling a suddenly shaky exhale. After a beat, I scoff, “Two hormonal kids with a crush.”

His expression is unreadable. “Be that as it may, it reminded me how well we worked together. And how much fun we have on-screen. And that we’ve always had a natural chemistry.”

My heartbeat picks up. “You think?”

“I do.” He puts his brush down and gestures widely. “Fine. Honesty time. Would I like to work with you again? I wasn’t sure before,” he says. “But ringing that bell and seeing you kind of clinched it for me. You’ve got stain in your hair, it smells like french fries in here, and you’re listening to—is this Bryan Adams?”

“It’s vocal standards!”