Karma had a funny way of showing its face. For me, it showed up in the waves of inspiration for painting I had, and that inspiration took the form of the hormonal little shit teenager I was 10 years ago. Sometimes I listened, but sometimes I screamed and slammed doors and yelled at my mom "fuck off you're ruining my life."

That was how my morning was going, and this rough acrylic piece I was working on gave me a big fat middle finger, just like 15-year-old me after being told I couldn't pierce my tongue. I got up from my stool and dropped my paintbrush into the glass of water on my desk. I sort of just rolled out of bed and stalked out of my house to the art shed, still in sweatpants and bedhead. Overthinking was bad for painting, and I figured maybe in my half-awake state I'd be able to sit in front of a canvas and not want to rip my hair out.

When you were miserable, the world around you looked ugly. Colors were dull and faded, and a shadow of storm clouds hung over your head, even on the brightest, most perfect day. Up until last month, my daily life consisted of all rain and no sun.

But as I lit a cigarette and left the shed, I genuinely felt the warmth on my back and saw the rays of the morning sun poking through the dismal clouds of my life. Slowly but surely, I felt salvageable. I felt like maybe the storm would end.

"Hey you."

Suddenly the warmth of the sun felt like it had engulfed my body in flames as I turned to face the source of the voice I'd grown to know so well. I'd still know it was her even if I was underwater. AJ leaned against the side of our fenced in yard that faced the street, with headphones hanging around her neck and sweat glistening like diamonds as it trickled down her tan, freckled chest.

"H-hey," I sputtered out, suddenly very aware of my frazzled appearance.

"Little early for you, isn't it?" she said with a grin.

"Are you sure it's not just a little late for you?" I returned her grin, walking up to her and leaning on the other side of the fence. "You creeping on me now?"

It was only there for a moment, but I liked the redness in her cheeks. It was the little piece of hope I clung to that maybe, just maybe, I had the same effect on her that she did on me.

"I mean...I-I actually run by your house every morning. I just...slept in today." She tilted her head, the flush in her cheeks fading away. "You painting?"

"Uh...trying," I replied with a forced chuckle. She opened the gate, my entire body stiffening up as she brushed past me.

"Can I see?" she asked, her smile so innocent but so alluring, she could have asked me to rob a bank and I'd do it. I wasn't overly private about my artwork, but it was still personal. But AJ scratched at the surface of my soul, practically begging me to let her in.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, leading her back to the shed. I was suddenly very aware of the smell of cigarettes and stale coffee and paint, and I shimmied past her into the shed before she could, stashing all my abstract sketches that may or may not have been her into a drawer in my desk.

"So what do you paint, exactly?" she brushed her hand over a stack of blank canvases by the door of the shed. "I mean like every painter has a...thing right?"

"Uh...landscape mostly, I guess. I use mostly acrylic paint, heavy strokes, not too much color..." I realized how badly I was just vomiting words at her and dropped into my stool with a sigh. "Sometimes I do...pictures of people, too...."

I would have kicked my own ass if I could.

"You mean like this?" She lifted a small, 8 by 8 inch canvas from a rack in the corner. "Is this supposed to be you?"

It was done with mostly blacks and grays, my eyes were too big and there was a big scribble of black above my head.

"It was actually a project I did." I gently lifted the canvas from her hands and laid it on my desk. I went back to the rack and grabbed the other four from the same project. "I saw this one artist who did self-portraits while on different kinds of drugs. This was purely for education research, of course."

AJ snickered. "Of course."

I tapped the one she had initially picked up. "Speedball. I slept for two days after coming down from that one."

She picked up another one, this one more vibrant in color and done with pastels. I usually hated the way those made my hands smell but I guess when I was tripping balls I didn't care.

"Shrooms," I said with a chuckle. "At least...I think they were."

"Well, you're talented, that's for sure. I don't know much about art, but...there's something about them. They're nice to look at."

"Thanks," I breathed out, feeling my face get hot.

She gave me a soft smile and nudged my arm. "Did you study art when you were in school?"

"Nah," I shook my head. "The only thing an art degree gets you is a job as a burnt out art teacher at a junior high school. I mean I took art classes and stuff for credits, but I uh...I actually study business management. Well, studied I guess. I hoped it could help me with the flower shop. Especially when my mom's done with it, I thought maybe I could...well, ya know."

I looked down at my bare feet.

"You're a good person Kai."

When I looked back up at her, I fell into the sea of her eyes, and even though I should have been gasping for air, I was perfectly alright with drowning.

"I...no..." I shook my head.

"Yes. Yes you are." She put her hands on my shoulders. "But you've gotta take control of that and own it."

"I know."

She was close. She was too close. The tension between us was almost tangible, like I could reach out and grab it with my bare hands. Being too close to her was like being too close to the sun.

"Anyway..." AJ took a step back from me, taking the air right out of my lungs with her. "You have so many paintings. Why don't you sell any of these, or try and get them put in a gallery?"

I ran my hand over the unfinished painting in front of me. "I paint just for myself. I don't really want them in someone else's hands. They're a part of me, you know?"

She clicked her tongue. "You're really something else."

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

AJ wasn't often at a loss for words, but her silence made my legs jitter.

"No. You're just...you." She shook her head. "Anyway, I have an idea."

"Oh boy..." I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her a playful grin. "Already sounds like trouble."

"I think you should paint me." Her words hit me like a freight train.

"No," I sputtered out immediately. "No. I can't."

"Why not?" she pouted at me. "I think it would be so great."

"I..." I tried to find the words, but the way she looked at me with her eyes wide and her lip jutted out, I couldn't say no to her if someone held a gun to my head. "Alright, alright, fine. Something small though, and if I don't like it, it gets scrapped."

Without warning she flung her arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug. I barely had time to process it before she pulled away, making her way back towards the gate.

"I'm going to change, I'll be right back!" she called over her shoulder, and suddenly I was overcome with the urge to vomit.

✗✗✗

AJ came back an hour later, and even though I had tried to look like a somewhat clean, productive member of society, I was never fully prepared for her, and the idea of having her sit down so I could stare at her and attempt to make art set my teeth chattering. She skipped back into the yard with her chocolate brown hair swaying and shining in the sunlight, like it was threaded with actual gold.

I had her sit down in a folding lawn chair so I could sit in my stool across from her with a small canvas. "I'm so excited," she grinned. "I've never been painted before."

"It's boring." I shrugged. "At least it is for you. Don't move, don't talk until I'm done."

I tried to let my mind wander a little while I mixed the colors of her skin. I didn't want to get too hyper-focused on her, because then I'd just lose myself. Every so often she'd try and repress a slight giggle, smiling up at me while I desperately tried to keep my cool. Were girls so oblivious when they had a guy head over heels? Or could she see right through me, right at my lucidly aching heart?

I picked a small canvas so I didn't have to spend too much time working on it, and acrylic paint dried pretty fast. Her hair was easy - spicy and wild, warm shades. Her eyes were harder. I wanted an ocean in a storm, but the kind of ocean you dreamt about getting lost on. I found myself silently thanking whatever god there was for art, so I could study this girl in front of me so intimately, learn every freckle and every contour, without ever even touching her.

I did heavier strokes, messy but with a purpose. It took me over an hour just to fill an 8 by 8 inch canvas, but in the end...I didn't hate it.

"Okay," I sighed out, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand so I didn't get blue paint on my face. "I think it's done."

A smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she slid off the stool. "Can I see it?"

I tensed up as she stood beside me, tilting her head as she studied it.

"I love you," she breathed out.

"What?" All the blood drained from my face.

"I said I love it." She turned to me, her smile now full and beaming. "It's perfect."

My entire body ached as she leaned over me, so close I could smell the fresh linen of her clothes and the coconut smell of her hair. It reminded me of the first time I ever saw her, hovering over me when I was passed out on the beach. If only I knew then what I know now.

The world came to a screeching halt as she gently pressed her lips to my cheek. She pulled away, but still close enough that I could feel her breath on my skin.

"Thank you," she whispered.

I took a deep breath, like the one you take before you jump off a cliff, then brought my lips to hers.

At first it was soft, like we were freshmen in high school playing 7 minutes in heaven, trying to figure each other out. But before I knew it, her thighs were around my waist, my paint-stained hands grazing the sliver of bare skin above her jean shorts. I pulled her in closer to me, close enough that I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, but it still wasn't close enough.

Her fingers traced my jaw, leaving little trails of heat everywhere she touched as she ran her tongue along the inside of my mouth. I probably tasted like paint and cigarettes, but she kissed me like I was made of everything good in the world.