EVELYN
I woke up on Dave’s chest with my lips curling into a smile before I even realized it.
There was nothing particularly funny about waking up after a night like yesterday. My body ached, mostly my hands and knees, the remnants of paint dried onto my skin like an abstract masterpiece, the air still fresh with the scent of sweat and color. And yet, as soon as I opened my eyes and took in the sight before me, I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep me from bursting into laughter.
Dave, who spent all of last night claiming me like a canvas.
And now? He looked like a drunk Picasso painting.
His face was an absolute mess, with blue streaks running down his cheeks like war paint, red smeared over his forehead, pink streaks dried along his jaw, and for some weird reason, his right ear was entirely yellow.
God!! His usually perfect lips were stained in splotches of every color we had used when he wouldn't stop to trail kisses on my body. His black hair was tousled from sleep and had
