Re: AHS: Sam A & Cris M
Yeah, Cris was no artist—he didn't have that enigmatic quality others seemed to prize so much: creatividad. Give him a pencil and he could draw you a straight line as a variety of shapes—square, parallelogram, rectangle, octagon. He could even do you a circle, if you didn't mind it being kinda wobbly and off to one side. A paintbrush and paints made even that iffy. So, yeah, no, nothing like what Sam had showed him on the phone. His mind just didn't work that way. It didn't show him girls underwater, didn't bestow some kinda sense of drowning yourself. He wasn't particularly organized or structured either, if that's what was considered the opposite of creative. He didn't dream in regimens. But, what Sam did? Thoughtless scribble of charcoal or detailed expression with oils, both were way beyond someone like Cris.
He laughed at her question about painting him up like one of her girls and gave an adamant, "No."
Tie over his shoulder, hands around her heel, he smiled in the face of that straw. Until she named it as what she wanted to put to canvas.
"Yeah?" He asked, nicking the black straw and sticking it in the syrupy slush of his havanero. Cris looked at the remnants of his drink, eyebrows high. He nodded after a moment. Why not? "Yeah, I'll let you. Adelante."
He had questions—why? was she gonna give him eyebrows?—, but he didn't ask them. It wasn't her he worried about. Barefoot, white peek of panties beneath petals of black, lips a cupid's bow—he believed this was all fun for her. Another man in the seat of that borrowed (and it was borrowed) sea-froth green car, another man with her clove under his heel, another watching her whisper with the girl with brown, brown eyes. It was a game, and she was young enough. He'd never been like that himself, and that—not her—was what worried him.
Yeah, no, he wasn't in love with the Jersey girl he'd just met. So don't go thinking something like that. But, papi didn't play with fuego often, and right now, it was like he could see the burn coming, but put his hand in the flame anyway. Why not?