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“These are for you.” He held the flowers out. They were an arrangement of light pink roses and peonies.
“Thank you so much, Beckham. You really didn’t have to.”
I took them and brought them up to my nose, taking in the fresh flower scent that I loved.
“No one’s ever given me flowers before.”
“I wasn’t sure if it was a dated thing to do or not.”
“It’s not,” I assured him. “It’s a special thing is what it is.”
I looked into those blue eyes and found myself falling headfirst. I had to look away, back down at the gorgeous and fragrant flowers in my hand.
“Let’s go put them in your car so you don’t have to hold them. You parked in the same car park as me, right?” Beckham asked, pointing a finger toward the garage building. I nodded and led him to where I’d parked, chatting about our day the entire way. It was hot out, but my car was parked underneath cover, so I wasn’t worried that the flowers would start a bonfire by the time we got back.
I delicately set the flowers on the front seat. Beckham was standing close behind me. When I turned, there were only a few inches separating us. I took a breath, frozen, feeling his body so close to mine. I could almost feel our legs becoming tangled, our hard bodies pressing together.
“Ready for some art?” Beckham said, taking a step back. I wanted to say “no, fuck the art, come over here and let’s fog up my windows,” but instead, what I actually said was “Yesssss, let’s go!”.
The Wynwood Walls was a relatively new area in Miami that was beginning to attract people from all around the world. It used to be an area known less for its beautiful art and more for its high crime rate and lack of things to do. No one really went to Wynwood until 2009, when an urban developer saw potential in the area and bought out almost two dozen properties so he could revitalize them and create a walkable and entertaining neighborhood. The cluster of run-down buildings and warehouses had evolved into delicious restaurants and bars, along with cool tattoo shops and art galleries. Then, of course, there were the actual Wynwood Walls, which was a walk through larger-than-life art murals painted on red-bricked walls that seemed to try and reach up into the cloud-filled sky.
Things really took off when the annual Art Basel festival named Wynwood its home, drawing celebrities of all kinds. From basketball players to movie stars to the majestic and ephemeral Queen Bey herself, a lot of people enjoyed walking through the Wynwood Walls.
Today, there was no Beyoncé sighting, but there were plenty of other people walking around, admiring the stunning murals and walking through the museum. Beckham and I joined the moving crowd, walking through the gardens and pointing out pieces we each liked. Most of the walls were covered from bottom to top in blasts of color.
“Check that one out,” I said, pointing at one wall that had a row of elephant butts pointed at us, each elephant a different color of the rainbow. “Elephants are one of my favorite animals, but I’m not sure I’m too fond of this angle.”
Beckham took a step back and put a finger to his lips, as if he were a renowned art enthusiast examining a rare piece. “Hmm. Yes… I do feel like we’re about to be shat on. But in an artistic way, at least.”
“At least,” I echoed, laughing along as we continued walking down the path.
“So what does Oliver Jamison Brightly do on his spare time, besides stare at elephant arses.”
“Excuse me,” I said, putting a hand to my chest, “That’s actuallyallI do, thank you very much.”
Beckham laughed as we continued walking down the path. The Miami sun wasn’t as harsh in the early evening, so the heat was bearable as we walked. “Seriously, though, I haven’t had all that much time to do anything. Not until recently. All of my undergrad was spent studying and trying to get into vet school. Then vet school comes around and all of my time is spent studying and trying to stay in vet school.”
“You’re at the finish line, though, right?”
I nod. “Yup, thankgawd. I’m so excited to just get out into the real world and leave all this school stuff behind. I don’t want to spend the entirety of my youth buried in books and debt.”
“It’s better than how I spent my younger years.”
“And how was that?” We stopped in front of a sculpture of a dolphin made out of bobby pins and paper clips.
“Boozing, drugs, running away from crap I should have faced head on. You know, that kind of stuff.”
I tore my eyes from the shiny dolphin seemingly hanging in thin air. Beckham was looking at the sculpture, but he turned when he felt my eyes on him.
“What were you running from?” I wanted to know. It felt like Beckham was holding on to a book I’d been dying to read for my entire life. I wanted to know everything, from the beginning to the middle to the very end.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Annnndthe book snapped shut.
“Are you still running?” I asked, not wanting to drop the topic. I felt pushy.
“You can say that, yeah.”
