Page 94 of Should the Sky Fall

Dawson snorts. “Depends on who you ask. Not really lessons. More like an excuse for girls to get together and pop open a few bottles of wine. It’s called Paint ‘n’ Sip. Or Sip ‘n’ Paint. Take your pick.”

“Oh. So it’s not for men?”

Dawson laughs. “It’s for anybody. As long as they’re over eighteen, I think. But it’s mostly popular among women.”

Well, Cal might not be a woman, but he’s intrigued. “We could go some day.”

Dawson does a double take. “You want to paint?”

Cal shrugs. “It looks like it could be fun.”

“It’s overpriced for what it is,” Dawson says, voice tight.

“Can’t we afford that?” Cal asks, confused.

“We can. It’s the principle.

“Oh.” Cal’s shoulders droop. “I see.”

“You really want to try this?” Dawson asks, sounding dubious.

Cal gives him a reluctant nod. “Only if you come with me.” Maybe it’s not fair to put that pressure on Dawson, but what’s the point of doing this without him?

“Fine,” Dawson finally relents, though he doesn’t seem happy about it. “But I’m not drinking.”

Cal shrugs again. “Neither am I.” He’s made it clear several times that he has no interest in picking up his old habit, and that hasn’t changed.

“Alright. I’ll book us a session if there’s anything good,” Dawson promises, steering Cal away from the studio.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Cal says. “What art did you do?”

“I dabbled in pretty much everything. My favorites were acrylics and watercolor. The more color, the better. I tried digital art but it’s not the same.”

“That would fit nicely in our sterile apartment.”

Dawson’s eyes narrow. Oh yes, he knows very well where Cal is going with this. “Or it would clash.”

“I don’t believe that. Maybe after we paint something, we can hang it up?”

“I haven’t painted anything in a long time. As for you, your art is limited to the pencil, ruler, and compass.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.” Cal makes a face, pulling a chuckle out of Dawson. “Do you still have some of your old paintings?”

A muscle in Dawson’s cheek jumps. “There might be some in the storage room.”

“If there are, can we hang them up?”

Dawson takes a deep breath, stopping to look at Cal. “Cal, I told you—”

“That it doesn’t fit the apartment, yes.” Cal rolls his eyes. “It would seem that anything that’s not bleak and has personality wouldn’t.”

Stunned by the mini outburst, Dawson stares at him, then laughs. “Tell me how you really feel.” He shakes his head. “You are pretty insistent.”

“And stubborn, yes. We’ve established that.”

“And now he sasses me too.”

“I’ll stop if you want. But you’re smiling.”