❝ ɢᴜɪʟᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍᴇ ᴜs ɪɴ ᴡᴀʏs
sʜᴀᴍᴇ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ❞
~~~
🇬 🇦 🇧 🇷 🇮 🇪 🇱 🇱 🇦 :
Protective arms tighten around my waist, and I feel him place his chin on my shoulder. “Okay, open up.” He whispers, his breath fanning my earlobe. My eyes flutter open, and a reflection of Hunter and I stare back at us.
“I don't—” He places a finger underneath my chin and tilts my head upward. A soft gasp parts my lips as I take in the white spiral that is the building. A familiarity washes over me. I know this place. I've seen it in pictures mom used to show me.
“I remember you telling me how your mom wanted to take you here when you were old enough to understand art better,” he says in a gentle whisper. “And since she can't do that right now… I thought I would take you instead.”
My lips pull into a soft smile as I turn my head to look at him. His grey eyes sparkle in the sidewalk light, and he gives me that mouth-watering dimpled smile.
“Thank you,” I whisper through a lump of emotion. He brushes hair out of my face and cups my cheek. When I lean into his touch, his eyes soften, turning them a darker shade of grey.
“You're welcome, baby.” I just about melt at the raspiness in his voice.
“You're insane for driving us five hours outside the valley just for a museum.” His finger brushes along my cheek.
“If it makes you happy, I'll gladly do it.” He drags me along with him into the art museum. I fall in step with him after he pays, and his arm slithers around my waist as we walk into the art exhibit.
“You never told me why this museum specifically,” he mutters from beside me as my eyes take in the stunning paintings around us.
“My mom actually sold one of her paintings to the owner.”
“She did? That's so cool.” He lets me go so that I can move closer to a painting that catches my eye.
It's an abstract painting of a couple. Or at least I'm assuming it's a couple. The girl stands on one end of the painting, her arm, which is made of stunning swirls, is outstretched to the boy who stands on the other end. Where he looks up at the moon, unfazed with the blobs that make up the world around him, the girl is focused on him. Almost as if he were her world. My eyes find the painting label.
Love is tragedy.
I hate how it brings my feelings for Kaz to the surface. But that's the thing about art, it's supposed to provoke something deep within you.
“You think we'll find her painting here?” My head snaps to him as he pulls me out of my thoughts. I feel his hand slip into mine.
“Probably,” I say softly. “She sold it a couple of years ago. Maybe they still have it up.”
We walk down the rows of paintings and along two floors before we split up to make the hunt for mom's painting go faster. I get distracted once again by a simple painting of the moon. What stopped me was how realistic the artist made the painting look.
The shading they'd done with paint to make the shadows and craters made the outline of the full moon stand out more. Around it sits glistening metallic flecks of paint, representing the stars in a deep midnight sky. There are trees around as well. A stunning emerald and sage forest. But, I guess the artist made a point to give the moon her moment.
My body tenses slightly as arms slither around my waist, but I relax against a firm chest when his soft scent engulfs me.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” At my words, his arms tighten around me, and he rests his chin on my shoulder. His favorite position, I realise.
“Mhm,” he hums against my ear. “But not as beautiful as your mom's one.” My spine straightens, and excitement flows through my veins. I turn to him then, my eyes wide, and my lips stretched into a bright smile.
“You found it?” I ask. He mirrors my smile, his gunmetal eyes sparkling. Instead of answering, he tugs me along to the next floor. When we get close, he covers my eyes with his hand and slowly walks me toward the painting. My heart stutters in my chest with excitement.
He drops his hand, and a soft gasp parts my lips. A gorgeous oil painting stares back at me. An oil painting of Aurora. She wears a bright red lace dress, her light blonde curls cascading over her shoulders. Her piercing, crystal blue eyes could catch the attention of any onlooker, and even though her skin is painted pale, her cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink.
Her lips are pulled into a soft smile, and in her hands, she holds a bouquet of gardenias. Behind her are grey clouds littering the sky. But it seems the main focus is her. My eyes move to the label.
An angel.
By Liz. L.T.
For my darling Rory; the light in my darkest days.
YOU ARE READING
The Heart Wants What It Wants
Teen Fiction❝ She wanted a fresh start, He wanted normalcy, But their past had other plans. ❞ ~~~ For the majority of her life, Gabriella had to endure all the things a child should never have to experience. After nearly two years of planning to start afresh...
