Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Hand in hand, right now, we are walking into this museum exhibit he wanted to bring me to, and I am so excited. Anytime I get to see new art and discover new artists I am like a kid in a candy store. “Watch your step, baby.” he opens the door for me without letting my hand go. That is another thing I love about him: he never stops touching me. It is either his hands, mouth, or body that is touching me or on me, and I love it.
“It’s just one step,” I respond, giggling. He smiles and shakes his head at me.
“One step is one too many if you can hurt yourself.” He kisses the tip of my nose before once again holding my hand in his, with his other hand guiding me into the museum.
“Whoa!” I utter, looking around me. This palace is amazing. Almost all of the art is installations of sorts, meant to be viewed from various angles. “These are amazing.” He gives me an opportunity to look at each of them, but I can feel the buzzing in him because it flows through me. After a few minutes, we walk into a room that has only one installation in it, which means it is a featured one.
“This is the one I wanted you to see.” Nodding, I let go of his hand to get a good look at it. The card introduces the work, and the artist is in front of it, but I always look at the art first, interpret my own thoughts, and see how close I am to it.
“This…wow. I can see the artist thought about it. The lines of the string seem to tether to something, almost as if it is holding something fragile and precious. But I can’t…I can’t quite get the rest of it.”
“It is meant to be viewed from below it.” As soon as he says it, I can see it. It is obvious tether is something underneath the light. “Shall we?” He gives me a chance to lie down first.
Under it, I wait for him to join me so I can move closer to him. When he is finally settled, I give the art my full attention. “Holy crap. How did he do this?” It is made entirely of wire and foam the only variations are int he color of each material. Looking at it like this, I know I am looking at the stars but not as they would be viewed from outside. This is more the stars viewed through the gaze of a lover. My eyes begin tracing each line, and then I see it.
“Yeah, I know,” he whispers in my ear. I can’t look at him because the tears are falling, and right now, I want to stare at what is obviously me. This is made as if he is looking down at me, seeing the stars from my point of view. To someone who doesn’t know, they would never see it, but I can make out the hat I wear every day to class. That’s it. It is my hat, but I get it.
“When did you…” he pulls my hand and places it on his chest.
“I started it the first day you joined the class. I knew, baby. I knew.” A few tears drench my face and suddenly, he is concerned. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m happy. But why didn’t you tell me we were coming to see yours? This is so exciting. You have your own showcase,” I say, kissing him.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a typical artist, right?” I nod because I understand.
“Yeah, we don’t ever talk about our art because, to us, it is never finished.”
“Exactly.”
We spend another hour exploring the museum and walking around before he pulls me out to go to dinner. We pull up to the Chinese place, and when we are seated, his face turns serious. “So, tell me about this charity?” I hunch my shoulders because the hell if I know.
“I’m not really sure which one this is. However, I can promise you it is going to be a bunch of snobby people passing judgment on everyone else. It will be boring, pretentious, and downright icky.” I really wish he would change his mind about going.
“Sounds fun. Listen, don’t worry about me. I can handle my own.” He seems so sure of himself and it’s not that I don’t believe him, it's just… it's my parents. They are the worst. Not to mention, I need to tell him about Armstrong. Thank goodness he is not going be there. He goes to a charity event a few times a year as the President of the United States, but this one seems a little...low on his priority list.
“Don’t worry, baby. Everything will be alright.” That’s easy for him to say. He is not the one about to have the man I love be humiliated or, even worse, see me being humiliated as well. I just hope he still wants to be with me after this.