When I got to Noah’s house Friday morning, he wasn’t wearing his usual painting clothes. Instead he was dressed in a pair of dark slacks topped with a light purple, short-sleeved button-up shirt. The shirt brought out the violet in his eyes, making them stand out more than usual.
“Are we not painting today?” I asked, glancing down at my own paint colored clothes. Luckily I always brought a change of clothes so I could go to the gallery later so if I needed to change, I could.
“No, we’re not. I thought it would be nice to take a break. You’ve been working so hard here and at the gallery. I’d like to reward you for all that you’ve done so far,” Noah said and my cheeks turned red at the word ‘reward.’ Arthur used it so much that I now associated it with s*x.
Noah’s eyes dilated as he to
