Harmon led her to a small room on the third floor.It was dimly lit, with lights mimicking the night sky dancing on the high ceiling.Bust statues of women lined the walls, each with their features playfully lit up by the dimmed lights.“This part of the exhibit will open on the third day,” he told her.
“It’s exquisite,” she said, breathless, looking up at the ceiling with a faint smile on her face.The sculptures were all so well-made.
“Here’s one that reminds me of you,” he said, sauntering toward a sculpture of a young-looking woman.She had a steady, knowing intelligence in her stare.
“What about her reminds you of me?”she asked.
Harmon didn’t speak; instead, she heard him move and position himself behind her.Her heart pounded, her skin warming in a sharp, almost painful anticipation, as though it had been waiting for him.When his hand drew her hair to one side, she let out a soft breath, nearly losing herself as his warmth met her bare shoulders and his lips brushed the curve of her nape.She turned to face him, only to find a restrained longing burning in his gaze.
“Please…” He was so tall he bent over and ended up kneeling.His forehead leaned against her stomach, and Sal rested back on the heavy statue behind her.“I want you…” he pleaded.His voice was gruff and wanting; his hands inching up her dress.
Sal closed her eyes, the restraint leaving her bones while she felt his hands claw at the sides of her thighs, earnestly yearning for her.She breathed heavily to tame her wildly beating heart.Her legs trembled at his touch, and her skin prickled at the sound of his labored breaths.She bent over and shifted her weight onto her knees.Now both of them were kneeling as she cradled his face in the palms of her hands.She looked at him tenderly.“Hold me then, Harmon.”
Harmon looked into her eyes.He nearly lunged, and their lips clashed—wildly, ravishingly.Harmon lifted her in his arms, and she let out a startled yelp.His mouth traveled to her neck, and then to her chest as he straddled her legs around his hips and pinned her against the wall.He removed his coat and threw it across the room.When he lifted her dress, a nervousness ran through her, and she placed her hands on his with some urgency, and their lips parted.“Wait,” she said, breathless, his grip remaining tight as she straddled him.
Harmon exhaled, burying his face in the space between her neck and her chest.“I’m sorry…I got carried away,” he said, releasing another deep breath and looking up at her.She imagined all the ways Harmon would rip into her and make her beg for release if she let him, but she doused that fire and willed herself all the restraint left in her body.
She cupped his face so his gaze met hers.“I’ve never made out in a museum before.”She kissed his forehead and let out a lighthearted giggle.She looked into his eyes and felt a tender longing emanating from them, as if he were pleading to be loved, to be chosen, and she could not look away.“I love you, Harmon Moon,” she whispered.
His eyes rounded slightly.“Does this mean you and I are a couple?”he said as he pecked her on the lips once more.
“Yes,” she said, kissing him back, her heart dancing.
“I’ve already won then,” he said, kissing her again and easing her onto her feet.Then, a phone rang through the room.His coat lit up from a few feet away.He walked over to it and picked up the phone.Sal couldn’t hear clearly who he was talking to except for a few mumbles.After a brief exchange over the phone, he glanced her way, a smile already forming as he ended the call.
“Baron’s looking for me,” he said.“I need to give a speech, and then there’s some dancing afterward.”
“You go ahead.I’ll freshen up and see you in time for your speech,” she said, realizing her makeup must’ve been ruined.“All right.I’ll find you in the crowd,” he said, guiding her to the door.He lifted her hand for a brief kiss, then buttoned his vest as he disappeared down the hall.
***
Sal made her way to the old session hall’s upper balcony, catching sight of Harmon on the dais below.It was time for his opening speech.
They had retrofitted the grand hall with its soaring ceiling into a beautiful ballroom where guests could mingle and appreciate the mural of Carlos Francisco’s “Filipino Struggles Through History.”If any of the artgoers preferred to see curated paintings from other global artists, they could view the art pieces on the balcony gallery.The second-floor balcony wrapped around the hall, its railings and balustrades allowing onlookers to peer down at the dancers and guests mingling below.The way Harmon revitalized the museum, all while maintaining its original essence, was impressive and admittedly on a whole other level from what she was used to.Sal stood on the balcony, watching him eagerly as the lights dimmed and Harmon’s tall, handsome figure commanded everyone’s presence.
She could see him searching the crowd for her; first among the people from below, and then when he looked up at the balcony, almost instantly, he found her—like they were two magnets that would find each other no matter where they went.From across the distance, he caught her eye and let a warm grin spread across his face, dimples settling at the corners.In the crowd, Sal answered with a smile of her own, dipping her head in acknowledgment.
For a short while, Harmon simply stood there, measuring his audience.Then, at last, he began.“Many of you don’t know this, but my father was Filipino,” he revealed, and the hall erupted in whispers.Sal leaned over the railing and listened keenly as he continued.“I didn’t know him well as I grew older, but I feel the influence of his blood within me, and it called me to the Philippines.”He paused and locked eyes with Sal again.“I believe all of us are mosaics of every person who has touched our lives.Every act of kindness made us, every injustice we witnessed deeply cut us, every dream fully realized fueled us, and each time, we gather to celebrate not what differs between us, but what binds us.”
“Art is a language that knows no barriers.It speaks to everyone and is the most universal form of expression.At theMidnight Masters, I celebrate my Filipino and Korean roots and all the influences that made me, a boy of little means, into the man who today fluently speaks a universal language.A language of the arts, from masters locally to masters globally.And to the people fueled by their inspiration, welcome.I hope you all enjoy.”He bowed, paying homage to his Korean roots, and riotous applause came forth.
“This is his best show yet!”enthused one of the artgoers.
It was impossible not to get caught up in his speech and feel overwhelmed by it all.
Then a familiar and warm presence came to stand next to her.“Pretty good speech.”She turned to see Rafa.He leaned over the railing and smiled at her with the same wry grin she knew so well.“But of course, I’m biased, Sal.No one can best you.”
Her heart felt split in two.Sal blinked away tears at the realization that she missed him, that her heart longed for his stable and grounding energy too.Harmon was pure vibration, caprice, and seduction, but Rafa was all stillness.The ballroom lit up with warm lights as the orchestra resounded through the massive hall.
“Let’s dance?”he asked, offering his hand.
Sal rested her fingers in his palms and felt an immeasurable sense of comfort, followed by a stabbing pain in her gut, realizing that this comfort would not last.She was going to break his heart.
It was impossible to shake the feeling that she’d just given up everything for Harmon under a ceiling of stars.How dreadful, and how elating, it was to feel all this love in these hallowed spaces.
RAFA
Rafa escorted Sal to the lower ballroom.He guided Sal’s hand into his own as he gently rested his other hand on her waist.“Don’t worry,” he said, knowing she disliked dancing, “just follow my lead.”And so, off they went, dancing casually amid a sea of waltzing artgoers.
