Charcoal

She stepped easily into the garage. After smiling at his music choice she went to the stereo and turned it down. As soon as his singing along was audible he turned to greet her. Setting down the charcoal that was pinched in between his dirty fingers he stood up from the broken bench leaned up against the wall.

"Hey Beautiful," he said lazily, wiping his hands onto a dirty white towel. She grinned helplessly and went to hug his lengthy, muscular body.

"I thought I told you not to call me that," she whispered into his chest. He pecked the top of her head and sighed.

"It's the truth Baby," he murmured. He then wiped a piece of black hair from his forehead, leaving a streak of black on his pale skin.

"Such a mess," she said shaking her head. After licking her finger she wiped the pencil off his forehead and looked into those enchanting eyes.

"So tell me, why did you turn my music down?" he sneered looking at her gorgeous curly hair and plump lips.

"There is absolutely no reason that you should have that ridiculous emo music up that loud," she hissed as she seated herself on the hood of the car.

"Ah, easy… don't be sitting on Lucinda! She's a classic Hon," he said frantically, pulling her away from the hood of the car. She giggled and shrugged off her jacket.

"Its hot in here," she said pointedly, gulping down a sip of his water. He sized her up and just shook his head.

"No, that's just you."

"Lame," she countered, heedlessly. He stepped back and put his clean hand over his heart in mock disconcertion. After playfully slugging him in the arm she walked over to his makeshift desk with him on her tail.

"He has long hair," she commented. He nodded. "So do you."

"Yes… thank you, I was not aware," he replied tightening his short ponytail.

"Is it you?"

"Maybe."

"Who is she?" she said pointing to the artistic smears of the charcoal over paper.

"She, she's you," he answered. She smiled widely at the drawing.

"They're kissing," she stated.

"No, you're kissing."

"Who? Are you sure it isn't you?" she questioned again without a direct answer. He shrugged at her.

"He is whoever you want him to be. I didn't color it…"

"Why not, I love it when you paint them."

"You see beauty… the way something is perceived… its in the eye of the beholder. Color limit's the imagination. A simple black and white picture allows you the power to decide who it is your kissing. For all its worth though, its not a self portrait," he replied, sounding almost poetic even with the music blaring in the background.

"I see. It's a beautiful drawing," she complimented. He smiled in a thankful way. The garage was silent besides the stereo, which vibrated the whole room, making the windows rattle. They just stood there staring at each other. He moved towards her taking measured steps until he stood just in front of her.

"Well, who is he?" he asked. She got to the tips of her toes and tilted her head just so and they're lips met, in a short, but sweet kiss.

"Its you," she said certainly.

"I hoped so."