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She nods gratefully and I move through the crowd, easily parting them aside until I reach the delicate doors that open onto the terrace at the back of the building, where a railing looks out over a small piece of land dotted with sculptures. There are tables and chairs here, but I go to lean on the railing, turning to let her choose where she will stand.
I watch as she first strolls away from me, all the way down the terrace, and then back to stand at my side. I love to watch her walk away – but I also like every other angle of her. It seems like every moment I look at her, I want her more and more.
But I have to temper myself right now. The most important thing is that she’s alright. Hitting on her right now would be far from the gentlemanly thing – and I doubt she would appreciate it, either.
“Are you alright?” I ask her. “Can I get you a drink of water?”
She rests her hands on the railing and I realize that they’re shaking. “Yes,” she says. “Thank you. That would help.”
I turn to go and fetch it, even if I don’t want to leave her alone. I know I can expedite the request through one of the waiters walking around the exhibition and offering drinks to guests. Whatever she wants right now, she will have.
And if she happens to want the balls of those stupid boys on a platter, well, I probably wouldn’t object.
Chapter Five
Candy
Everything feels like it’s not real. Like I might be dreaming. I don’t know whether it’s the stress and the shock of being treated that way, or simply being close to him – my rescuer. Maybe it’s the party, the view over this little sculpture garden filled with fantastical shapes, this small patch of space in the middle of the city – which continues on beyond the walls. I couldn’t say. All I know is that I’m waiting to wake up and have this beautiful part of the dream shattered.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the cold glass of water from his hand. I take a sip immediately, feeling the cool liquid refresh me. It’s a clear evening, the temperature just fine, and I start to feel a little more like myself.
“I’m glad to help,” he says, leaning next to me on the railing again. “Did you get much of a chance to look around before all of that?”
“I did,” I nod, glancing back towards the gallery. From here in the darker area of the terrace, everyone moving around through the bright lights of the windows look like they’re performing in a play or on television. Completely removed from us. “It’s a great show.”
“Mm.” I look over to see him smiling a little, a mysterious look in his eyes. “I don’t know. Some of the pieces are a little… gauche.”
I gesture towards the piece I’d found kind of offensive before. “You mean like that one?”
He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I suppose you have to cater to all tastes at an event like this. But, yes. It’s not something I would want to hang up on the wall, let’s put it that way.”
I giggle, emboldened by his admission. I point at another painting that had caught my eye a mixed media piece with embroidered gold threads bringing life to a beautiful portrait of a young woman. “I prefer that kind of thing,” I say, spotting it through the window just briefly before someone else steps in front of our view. “The way the thread works against the paint is just stunning.”
“That’s my favorite of the lot,” he says, grinning. “The style is exquisite.”
“I did enjoy the brushwork as well,” I say, thinking about something else I saw recently. “It reminds me of this artist I follow online – she makes these paintings of women, utterly lifelike, and surrounds them with fruit and flowers.”
“Oh,” he exclaims, digging his phone out of his pocket. He taps on the screen a couple of times and brings up a page of work by the same artist I was describing. “This one?”
“Yes,” I say excitedly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“I’ve been following her for years,” he says, nodding. “What about this one? Have you seen this?”
He scrolls to another page, and I gasp in delight. “I haven’t come across this one before. What’s their handle? I should follow them – oh, look at that one, that’s just amazing.”
“You’re not just here for the party, then?” he asks, letting me examine the screen as I type out the handle into my own phone. “It sounds like you really appreciate this kind of stuff.”
“I do,” I say, smiling. I feel almost weightless, talking to him like this. To think that we actually have some tastes in common – it’s almost too good to be true. I wouldn’t have imagined that I would be able to hold any kind of coherent conversation with him, but here we are, and it just keeps getting better. “I’m an art study major with a minor in business studies.”
