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Olivia giggled.
"Thank you for choosing this dress for me. Shall we?" she asks, reaching out her hand.
I take it and pull her towards the door, my eyes not leaving her.
"We shall."
.
Olivia makes my life a living hell on the drive. She keeps asking for our destination, something I wanted to keep as a surprise. In an attempt to distract her, I ask her to search for games we can play on the way. After a few rounds of "guess the animal" we finally come close enough for me to hint at our destination.
"Olivia, do you remember when you told me you love art the first time we met as strangers?"
"Yes."
"And do you remember when you talked about ballet?"
"Yes?" Olivia's voice turns suspicious.
"Well, let's just say I listened."
"Ethan, what did you do?"
"Nothing."
Olivia's gasp forces me to laugh as she catches sight of the gallery before us. She remains silent with shock till I show the guard our tickets and she jumps me with a tight hug around my torso.
"You, idiot. You are amazing, thank you!"
I laugh as I wrap my arms around her and swing us from side to side.
"I knew you'd love it."
The rest of the day, we navigate through the gallery halls as Olivia grabs my arms and pulls me from one exhibit to the next, commenting about the different paintings and sculptures she sees. We stay for a presentation retelling the stories of different ballets, and Olivia holds my hand the entire time.
Some moments I catch myself simply staring at the beauty before me, feeling in awe that she decided to give me a chance like this. I never thought I would feel this way about anybody, yet here I am with Olivia, following her around as she observes every exhibit with passion.
I step in beside her and listen to her observations. I find that this is something she does often when she is looking at something new. She analyzes it and then talks about it to anyone willing to listen, and I find myself wanting to be that someone for as long as she'll let me.
I take the liberty to take some candid photos of her smiling. I even catch her tearing up while viewing one painting, in particular, showing a ballerina in the middle of her dance, her feet bleeding, and her hands stretching out to the skies as if reaching for something unattainable. Her face is marked with sorrow and desperation as if she is trying to achieve something for the final time. and immediately rushes to dry her tears. She catches my hand on her cheek and smiles before interlacing our fingers together, refusing to let go.
"Thank you, Ethan. This means the world to me."
I smile down at her while stroking her pink cheek.
"If giving you the world means to make you this happy then I would do anything to give it to you."
"Shut up."
"Why? It brings out the red I love so much, and this dress makes it even better."
Olivia scoffs.
"Do you like the dress or me?"
I lean my forehead against hers.
"This dress is just a piece of fabric. You're the one that makes it look pretty."
