It turns out I don’t suck at drawing lines. It really was as easy as Aiden made it sound. We worked from box to box, each of us taking a row and working side by side from top to bottom so we were never stepping on the wet paint we left behind. It started out slow and with some shaky lines, until I got the hang of using the spray paint; but as I gained confidence I got faster, and even though I’m pretty sure Aiden was hanging back for me, I kept pace with him. When I get to a particularly difficult box, filled with the intersecting lines of the bird’s tail feathers, I offer the can back to Aiden, but he waves it off.

“Our fingers are going to be white forever.” I look at his solid white fingertip and then hold up my own.

“Probably should have brought gloves,” he says apologetically.

“Nah, it’s kind of cool. I’ll look mysterious, walking around town with one white fingertip.”

“They’ll think you’re a vandal,” he says.

“You think?”

Aiden laughs. “No, I don’t.”

I smack his arm, and the line he’s drawing curves off to the side. “Oops!”

Aiden doesn’t move his paint can, and I think maybe he’s upset, but then he just adds another line and connects everything together. “Fixed it,” he says. Then he turns on me and sprays paint across my forearm in one quick movement. “Now you look like a vandal.”

I gasp, and then lunge at Aiden with my paint-covered finger. Before he can stop me, I wipe it across his cheek. He grabs my wrist and holds it away from his face. “I like it,” I say, admiring the white streak that runs across his cheekbone. “It really brightens up your face,” I joke.

“I bet it does.” He’s still holding my wrist and he pulls me closer to him. I’m in front of him, just my arm separating us, the paint can dangling in my other. I look up at him and he smiles. I’m thinking about his lips, and wondering when he’s going to kiss me again, when I hear the sound of the spray paint, and feel it tickle my neck. I gasp.

“You didn’t,” I say, grabbing at my ponytail. The very ends are dusted white. I shake my can at my side and Aiden’s hand goes to mine, stopping me.

“Truce.”

“You can’t call a truce when you’re winning.” I meet his eyes and he smiles.

“Fine.” He drops his spray can and raises his hands like he’s surrendering. “You get one more. Then, truce.”