Artemisia
I continue to rub my clothes in the streaming cold water, but I can’t seem to get the paint off.
This is the worst.
Feeling on the verge of crying, I’m glad that they are letting me clean up the mess alone. Even if their concerned looks made me think that they wouldn’t trust me to take care of it by myself.
And maybe they were right.
I keep rubbing my fingers red, but the paint stays on my clothes.
With a deep sigh, I sit on my heels, the cold water seeping into my skin reaching my bones like needles.
Damn it.
“Is everything alright?”
As soon as he asked me, his mouth-watering scent reaches me. I must have been rather panicky to miss that.
Breathing him in gets me to calm down immediately, my heart mending slowly.
“Yeah,” I breathe out and distort my face. “Ac
