All in One - Milady

Ch. 1: There was One

Natalie ended it with a bow. She took a seat, as an idea came.

"I found something," Nneka said. She held up a picture of the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. "I think this fits everyone's interest as the final countdown."

Stella and Natalie sat around her, looking through the photos attached and agreed.

"So where are we going first?" Natalie asked.

"The museum. First culture than food, right?" Stella asked.

They nodded.

Natalie grabbed her bags, and the arms of her friends rushed to get their bags before she locked the door.

She was the only one with a key. It was a way to force them to go outside and have fun. Not like they didn't, she was just being extra cautious.

Outside they linked their arms to each other as they headed towards the museum.

When they finally made it, Natalie gave them a quick and simple speech, mainly directed towards Nneka.

"Alright kudos, outside by 4 pm. Until then I want everyone to enjoy the art and love in the air. And I mean any type of love." she winked at Nneka. "Besides that, no exception to the rules, be out by 4 pm on the dot, or I will drag you out."

She was serious. As a group of girls travelling together in a foreign land, it was best to make sure everyone knew where each other was the whole time. And that meant keeping strike rules to maintain peace and each other's safety.

"One hour, capish?" She held her right hand up, asking for an okay.

They nodded, copying her as they repeated right after her. "Capish."

And just like that, they separated on their own little journeys in different directions.

Nneka walked around a bit, reading, and looking at the different art pieces. She would mentally trace over the sculptures in her head over and over again. The first half went by quick, and then the second half became scary.

It wasn't the pieces or anything, but she felt like going outside. As if something was calling her towards the door.

Outside, there was a bridge hovering over a large body of water that surround the museum. She took in a deep breath and stared at the architect of the museum building itself, as its reflection pushed her back.

Nneka waited by the pool of water at the end of the bridge. Her hands played with the water until a loud yell brought her attention and others around her too.

She turned around to see a man. Tall, surfer-like brown-haired man rushing to grab as much paper that had fallen into the pool of water. Instantly, she got up and lightly jogged to his side.

"Can I help you?" she asked. She tilted her head to look down at his face. He looked up as a smile crept upon his face, stretching from ear to ear. Before he could say anything, she bent down and helped him. Nneka picked up the scattered pens and wet notebook.

"I don't know if you can save this," she said.

He grabbed the notebook from her and lightly shook it. Examining the pages he sighs and walks towards the bridge and places the notebook faced down.

Nneka finished picking up the remaining of his stuff and put it into his brown satchel. Walking up to him, she handed him the bag, and he dusted it off.

"My papers thank you," he said.

"No problem." she smiled. "I couldn't really tell what they were. If I can ask, were they drawings?"

He pushed his hair back, then kneeled to the ground. He glanced up at her, shielding his eyes from the burning song. "Do you want to see them?"

She kneed in front of him, watching as he shuffled through his bag for a dry page.

He handed one to her.

"This one?"

He raised a brow, "Oui."

It was a drawing of a piece of the sculptures that Nneka had just seen. Her eyes were lit, recalling the piece inside and drawing the image that stood right in front of her.

It was beautiful to her. To anyone with eyes honestly.

And he could see how much she loved it. The way he watched her finger hover over the page, tracing the space above the drawing, the air. Her eyes widened by the resemblance that it had.

"I feel like you know this is amazing," she told him.

He scoffed, walking back to his sheets, that he prayed deep down internally would be dry enough. When he came back, she handled the drawing back to him, thanking him.

"Elliot by the way," he held his hand out and she happily shook it. His thumb rubbed the side of her hand, but she didn't notice. She was too consumed by his brown eyes that her heart was beating faster than she could handle, but all she could do was sit on the beauty of the man she just helped.

His brown hair flew lightly in the wind, and his eyes were warm like honey.

She really liked honey.

He bent his head down, looking at her eyes, and she realized she was taking too long.

"Nneka." she finally said.

"Nneka? And that is..."

"It's Nigerian. I'm Nigerian. And you're French.

"It's the accent."

"Yes, but think of it as people of taste."

"Vraiment."

"Well, it was nice to meet you."

"It was nice to have someone to help me."

She slightly bowed her head, taking her hand back. Elliot wanted to say something, invite or anything, but he couldn't. They walked away, each taking turns to look back at each other, and then they were no longer in the same line of sight.

When she couldn't see him anymore, she squealed like a little girl. Her legs jumped up and down, as she fanned herself from the interaction itself.

And right before she could calm herself down, she fell.

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