Page 135 of Should the Sky Fall

“Dawson?”

Dawson jolts at the sound of his name. “Yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Uh-huh, just thinking.” He gives Cal a tense smile. “How are you doing?”

“This doesn’t look right.” Cal points at the patches.

Dawson gives them a sweeping glance. “Don’t mix too much water in, or it will be see-through. Go over it again, but let it dry first.”

Dawson is so smart. No wonder his paintings are so beautiful.

Cal listens to his advice, and it works. He’s relieved when he sees Dawson’s started to paint as well, his brush flying over the canvas effortlessly. He’s a natural.

Once the sky is finished, they move on to the sand. That part isn’t as much fun, and the colors are boring. It gets harder when they have to outline the dunes. Dawson tells him it will all come together in the end, but Cal doesn’t see that happening.

After that comes shading, which is the worst so far. When it’s time to add the camel and the cacti, Cal just gives up and makes peace with the fact he’s painting a blob.

When they’re adding some finishing touches to the paintings, Jo stops by their seats and goes wide-eyed when she sees Dawson’s work.

“Look at you, that’s amazing!”

“Thanks,” Dawson mumbles, a shy smile appearing on his lips. “It’s been a while.”

“Well, you still got it, let me tell you.”

She’s right. His painting even surpasses the original, so vibrant and precise.

“Oh. Wow,” Jo says when she moves onto Cal. “That’s…interesting.”

Cal lets out a frustrated huff. Yeah, he knows it’s terrible. But itishis first time and—

“Oh my god,” Dawson cries, sputtering a laugh. “Is that a dick?”

“What? No. Where?”

“This!” He points at one of the cacti. “That’s a cactus dick, Cal.”

“No, it isn’t,” Cal defends, studying the cactus. “It’s just a cactus.”

“It’s a dick,” Dawson insists, giggling like one of the girls a few seats over. “It’s a green dick with spikes. You even gave it balls, look!” He points at the two protrusions on each side. Cal just painted what he saw in the original! “What were you thinking about, huh?”

“Not dick!”

The rest of the session, though short, is painful. Dawson continues teasing him, and Cal tries his best to ignore him while blushing beet red. He might as well spread the red paint over his face; no one would be able to tell the difference.

“This was fun,” Dawson announces after the paintings have dried and they’ve added their initials. He packs up what remains of their snacks and throws the backpack over his shoulder.

“No, it wasn’t,” Cal grunts.

“Aww, don’t be like that.” Dawson pokes him in the ribs. “I like your dick. We’re so hanging this up.”

“Absolutely not!”

Dawson gives him a haughty look, crossing his arms on his chest. “Fine. But if we don’t hang up yours, we won’t hang up mine either.”

Cal scowls. He wants Dawson’s painting in their apartment. “You’re playing dirty.”