Chapter 7

Rupert

Music fills the air and I'm almost tempted to sing along as I paint, but I'm not Erica, and that's a little bit too much for me. And I'm not sure that my singing along to cheesy pop songs is going to set the mood for Sami and D. From what my flatmate has been telling me, things are going pretty well between the two of them.

At least that makes my truce with Erica worthwhile, though there's a part of me that has actually enjoyed having her to talk to again. But maybe that's just nostalgia talking, I'm not entirely sure.

I turn around to get more paint and accidentally knock into the paint can. To my surprise, it teeters on the edge, and the whole world feels as if it's going in slow motion as it falls over the side of the scaffolding.

"Watch out!" I manage to call, before letting out a litany of curses.

"Ah!"

I lean over the edge of the scaffold and look down to see Erica standing there drenched in paint. She flicks her hands and sends globs of paint going everywhere.

I grimace. This isn't going to help much with our truce. I grab my hoodie and slip it on before shifting and hurrying down the scaffold. I could probably get down just as well in my human form, but there's something freeing about scampering down it as a weasel.

From up close, the paint is even worse, covering most of Erica's shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Erica," I say, not really knowing what else I can say. I'm almost relieved that we've tried to make a truce because then at least she doesn't think this is part of some elaborate ploy I have to make her life miserable. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine," she says, flicking her hands down and spraying paint everywhere. It's going to be a nightmare to clean up, and somehow, I doubt building services are going to be the ones who'll do it. I'll be expected to.

"You should take my hoodie," I say, shrugging it off and holding it out to her.

"I said I'm fine," she murmurs.

"You're not fine," I counter. "You're covered in paint."

"And there's probably a part of you that loves it."

I can't help the hint of a smile that plays at my lips. "All right, sure, the ten-year-old part."

"And the nineteen-year-old part."

"It's kind of funny. Though I'm not the one standing covered in paint."

"True. There's no one in the doorway, right?"

I shake my head.

"All right." She pulls her shirt over her head, revealing a skin-tight tank top underneath. It clings to her in a way that it definitely didn't when we were kids and there's a part of me that's definitely not immune to what I'm seeing.

She takes my hoodie from me and slips her arms through it. She's still got paint all over her face, and the hoodie is too big on her, but she looks kind of adorable in it. "Thanks."

I sigh. "Guess I should go get another tin of paint. I don't think I can paint up there from the floor."

She laughs. "Probably not, no."

"And I'll have to tell Robin." I grimace. Somehow telling the head of the ball committee about the mess I just made doesn't sound very fun at all.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Oh well, I guess it has to be done. We can rescue the bag from the paintbrushes from your shirt."

She nods. "Better than nothing."

I dump the paintbrushes onto the floor and hold the bag out for her. She wrinkles her nose in an adorable way as she tries to put the shirt inside.

"Why am I so bothered by a bit of paint?" she mutters.

"Because it's on you instead of the arch," I point out.

She shrugs. "And that's probably going to be true once we get painting anyway. I really should wear the same clothes every time we come to do prep in here."

"I hadn't thought of that. The wash will get out most of the paint though." I don't know if that's true, but it seems like the right thing to say.

"One of my flatmates is a witch, she'll be able to get it off for me if the washing machine fails," Erica responds, finally managing to get the shirt inside the rustling plastic. "I guess I'll just leave this here until we're done." She drops it down next to the paint can with a horrible wet sound, making me feel more than a little guilty that I knocked the paint can off in the first place.

"I'm really sorry, Erica," I say again.

"Did you do it on purpose?" she asks.

"Of course not."

"Exactly. And I could tell, because if you did, your aim would have been a lot better."

I chuckle. "I wouldn't count on that."

"You were the bowler for the school cricket team," she reminds me. "I saw you play enough times to know you're an excellent shot."

I raise an eyebrow. "You watched me play cricket?"

Her cheeks flame red, almost as bright as her hair. "My friend had a crush on the captain, she made me go to the games. I just noticed you were there. Nothing weird."

"Mmhmm, nothing weird at all."

She bites her bottom lip, looking as if she wants to say something else but thinks better of it. "So, I guess we should paint more. it's a good thing it wasn't the expensive glitter paint you spilt."

I give her a weak smile. "Luckily just the white paint."

"Oh, that's good. At least we're done with that and we don't have to tell Robin that we need a replacement tin."

I grimace. "I wouldn't want to have that conversation with them."

"They wouldn't be happy. And they still might not be if the paint doesn't clean up very easily," she points out. "I can try and clean some of it up with one of the dust sheets while you go talk to Robin?"

I nod. "Sounds like a plan." I don't particularly want to leave, and not just because I don't want to tell Robin that I made a mess, but also because there's a part of me that wants to spend time with Erica. She's going to be here when I get back, but there's still a part of me that doesn't want to leave the room.

"When you get back, I'll need you to tell me what we're supposed to be doing with the glitter paint," she says. "I wasn't able to attend Robin's briefing because of my last exam."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. How did it go?"

She shrugs. "Okay, I think. Or as well as any exam could go."

"Which in Erica-speak, it went amazing."

She laughs, flicking her hair over her shoulder and grimacing when she realises it's stuck together a bit because of the paint. "We'll see when our results are posted. I'm glad I can just ignore it all now and focus on things that aren't exams, at least until next time."

"And your way of celebrating is coming to prep for the end-of-year ball?"

"Yeah, starting to regret that one, but I didn't know when my exams were going to fall when I signed up. So here I am." She lifts her hands and shrugs in a way that suggests she's not really that bothered by it.

I guess I understand that. I could be spending my days partying like some of my flatmates are, but here I am, doing exactly what she is.

So maybe I understand her better than I think I do. Which isn't something I've thought about Erica Stubbs for a long time.