SHAYLA'S P.O.V
"Can I remove the blindfold yet?" Cameron questioned.
"No!" I responded quickly, the brush hanging loosely from between my index and middle finger, my thumb covered in a shade of blue. I sighed. "Or maybe yes. I want to add color to your eyes — I can't seem to get it right. Maybe you'll have to open the blindfold indeed and stare at me so I can color the eyes."
He chuckled. "Hey, babe, cut yourself some slack! You're painting after years."
"That's no excuse for a painting done ill," I exclaimed, already on my feet — wal
