Harry, Harry, Harry... Louis

Chapter 11

"Well, thanks for coming with me today, everyone missed you."

"Yeah. I did too." That's true. I did miss my friends, except I've had something else on my mind for the past week, which is distracting me from everything else in my life.

I get off my bike and lean it against the white fence that leads to the backyard. I look at Jeanne, who's still on her bike, but has both her feet on the gravel pavement.

"Sorry I was so.. weird today. I've had a lot on my mind."

"I know. Ever since we left your house this afternoon, you've been in your head." She answers.

"I'm sorry. It's stupid really, it will pass soon I'm sure."

Another moment of silence.

"Well..." She looks at my lips then back to my eyes.

I take a step forward and lean in to give her a gentle kiss on the lips. I don't want to make out with her now. Not when every time I close my eyes, all I can picture is a blue-eyed boy.

"Good night. See you soon Jeanne" I reach out my hand and tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Bonne nuit Harry. À bientôt" She starts pedaling away.

I sigh deeply. I need to go in my room and write my thoughts down in my journal. Maybe that'll help.

I walk through the backyard and push open the door leading to the living room.

"You've been out for a while." I hear Louis speak from across the room. He's sitting in one of the red velvet chairs.

I freeze. Even in the dim light, I could see his blues eyes looking into mine.

"I was at a friend's house." I answer in a defensive tone. "Why are you down here?" I ask quickly.

"No need to attack me kid. I just wanted to read. Your parents went to their friends' house for diner. I wanted to enjoy the whole house to myself a bit."

"Oh." I notice the book on the coffee table.

"That's my dad's art history book" I say as I walk to go sit in the other vacant chair.

"It is? I found it in your library." He takes it and opens it to the page where he's at.

It's weird with Louis. One minute I'm about to shit my pants because of how nervous I am to be around him and the next we're having a casual conversation.

"I haven't read a lot if I'm being honest. I mostly just look at the pictures" He flips back a couple pages and brings the book closer to me. He points to a painting.

"I love that one. I think that's it's called-"

"David with the Head of Goliath, by Caravage, painted in 1610." I say casually.

"How do you know that?" He turns his face to look at me completely.

"Whenever we had a rainy-day during summer, my dad used to pick up that book and explain to me certain paintings in it. He's always had a love for art and its history, and I guess that was his way of passing it down to me. I can't tell how many hours he spent teaching about all of the currents and the famous painters. It did work though, because now I could easily recite to you this entire book" I explain, keeping my eyes on his.

He looks me with wide eyes, fascinated. I take his silence as a signal to keep talking.

"For example, with that painting, I know that it's part of Baroque art, which was the main current during religious wars. The paintings made at the time were made to shock people. That's why it has that sort of disgusting greasiness to it. It looks dirty, almost as if you could smell Goliath's head through the painting." I point to the head "Notice the work of perspective? The head is meant to look as if it's coming out of the painting, to give it that realness to it." I point to David. "He's all small and fragile. He looks like a young boy with hardly any muscle attached to his bones. Compared to Goliath, he's weak. Yet, he still managed to kill him. This painting was meant to show to people that even the underdogs can succeed. You don't need to be the strongest man to win. These sorts of paintings were supposed to encourage everyone to engage in the war. It's kind of fucked up when you think about it." I look at him again.

His head rests in his hand. His eyes have this shimmer in them that I've never seen before. It's beautiful.

"Wow. I'm impressed." He says as he leans his back to the chair.

"It's nothing really." I feel cheeks heat up. Silence washes over us both.

I should leave. He probably wants to be left alone now.

I put both my hands on the chair handles and push myself up. I suddenly feel a hand grab my wrist.

"Wait." I look down to see him still seated. "I have a proposition for you."

"What proposition?" I ask, intrigued.

"Well it's more of a favor. As you know, I've been doing research for my book by watching movies. I want to go beyond that. I want to explore other forms of art and prove that art in general is society's mirror. I need your help for that though. You just told me that you already know all about art history. Teach it to me."

My eyes widen.

"You want me to teach you about art history? How?"

"Not all at once, obviously. We could meet up for an hour, everyday, and you could explain to me one significative painting at a time."

I remain silent, still taking it all in. Also, he still hasn't let go of my wrist.

"You can say no. It's totally fine if you don't want to." He rushes out.

I can feel that he's nervous.

Louis being nervous. Never thought I'd see that.

"No, of course I want to. It would be my pleasure." I answer with a reassuring smile.

He squeezes my wrist lightly.

"Thank you so much. It means a lot."

He starts rubbing circles with his thumb over my skin. That same heat that I've felt before flows through my whole body. I stop breathing. His touch is soft and comforting. It's seems like nothing yet it feels like everything.

I'm not sure how to feel about it.

He notices what he's doing and let's go of my wrist.

"So, tomorrow at 1:30 pm on the terrace?" He asks.

"Sure"

"Perfect"

This is awkward.

"Well, I'm going to bed. Good night Louis."

"Good night Harry."

I walk out of the living room and rush to my room.

As I sit on my head, I realize that I've just accepted to spend an hour a day playing teacher-student with Louis.

What have I gottenmyself into?

Hope that everyone is doing well!!

I love you all so much:,)