AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My heels click against the floor as I follow him. “Ours? You meanjustours?”
He nods once, then glances back at me. “There will be a guard on duty once we get into the gallery, but he’ll stay out of the way. Essentially, it’s just us.”
“You… rented out… The Met,” I say slowly, trying to wrap my head around what he’s saying. “Just for this. Just… for a date.”
“Correct.”
I blink and say nothing for a moment. He says it like it’s no big deal, but this is averybig deal.
I stop walking. Since my heels stop clicking, they give me away. Calvin stops and turns back to look at me, hiking an eyebrow in question.
It’s a rude question, I don’t even mean to ask it, but the words tumble out before I can stop them. “How richareyou?”
His lips quirk. “Rich enough.”
Then he gestures for me to come with him.
I want to know what it’s like to have a whole world-class museum to myself, so I do.
Moments later we’re approaching the tomb of Perneb and the beginning of the Egyptian art exhibit. I’ve been to the tomb before, but I didn’t stay long. The doorways are narrow and there are always a bunch of people to squeeze past. It made me feel claustrophobic, so I left before I even made it through the whole thing.
Tonight it’s just us, but Calvin takes up more space than he has a right to.
He takes the lead, too. As if we’re exploring some unknown, potentially dangerous area, he keeps me behind him as we walk through the tight spaces.
“Making sure the coast is clear?” I joke.
He glances back at me, his dark hair and dark clothes a striking contrast from the sand-colored walls and brighter images painted on the stone surface. “What? You don’t trust me to keep you safe?”
I roll my eyes. He’s the last person in the world I should trust to keep me safe, but the intimacy of the moment, the two of us alone in this ancient structure… something about it strikes a chord. Reminds me of that odd sensation I get sometimes that he would protect me from danger, he just can’t be bothered to stop damaging me himself.
“The chapel,” he says, looking around as we enter the room.
“Are you allowed in those?” I murmur, looking around instead of at him, but I can still see out of the corner of my eyes when his lips tug up with amusement.
“If the structure collapses, I guess we’ll have our answer,” he says lightly.
I move forward, gazing at the Egyptians painted all around. I reach out a hand to follow the pictures, to look at the record of all the offerings that were brought here for Perneb’s spirit.
“When I was a little girl, I found Egyptology very interesting,” I tell him. I don’t know why I tell him, but once I do, I keep going. “I had a vivid dream once that I was a boy living in an ancient Egyptian city and helping build the pyramids. After that, I always felt connected to that part of history. In my 7thgrade history class we had this project, we had to remake a relic from one of the ancient civilizations. I chose Egypt and made a replica sculpture with hieroglyphs that was so detailed and accurate, the principal asked if they could display it in a trophy cabinet in the library. I think it’s still on display there today.”
“You must be very artistic,” he remarks.
“I better be,” I say lightly, forgetting I never told him what my job is. There’s little point holding back now, so I explain, “I illustrate children’s books for a living.”
“Ah.” He nods, meeting my gaze as we move through the tomb. “An artist.” When I nod, he asks, “Is that what you wanted to do?”
“More or less. I love helping other people bring their stories to life for children to enjoy, but someday it would be nice to illustrate for myself. Maybe write my own books. I don’t know, I’m always working on project after project, so there’s never really time.” Somewhat uncomfortable sharing this ambition I’ve never shared with anyone before, I try to change the subject. “What were you like as a child?”
“Odd,” he says dryly.
I bite back a smile as I take the lead around the next corner. “You? Odd? I can’t imagine.”
“I wasn’t all that creative, but I was observant. Curious. I was always watching the world around me, trying to make sense of it. I didn’t really fit in with other kids. I had plenty of surface-level friends, but I think they made me feel lonelier than I probably would have without any.”
Hearing that drains the trace of amusement I felt when I asked. “Oh. Loneliness is no fun. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not,” he says, his tone cavalier as he catches me around the waist and presses me against the wall.
