Sweet Hope

But I couldn’t… We couldn’t.

Squeezing her hand, I pulled it from my face and laid it at her side. Disappointment showed in her hurt expression, and I reluctantly moved to the middle of the gallery, giving us some space.

“Elpi?” Aliyana called from behind me. As I faced her, she was playing with a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her band. She looked so goddamn cute and innocent, looking at me with those huge exotic eyes, her long lashes fluttering against her high cheeks. “Are you okay to talk about the others?” she asked shyly.

No, I wanted to say. I’m done with all this exhibition shit, dredging up things from my past that I don’t ever wanna face.

Instead, I took a deep breath and nodded.

A relieved smile spread on her face, and she moved to stand beside me. I immediately felt her warmth, and the air became thick around us. Aliyana dipped her head and blushed, and I knew she felt the weird pull between us too.

Why did everything in my life have to be so fucking complicated?

“So which one should we do next?” she asked.

“I don’t care,” I said, my hands in pockets, feeling my smokes… I really wanted a damn smoke.

Aliyana started walking straight for my biggest piece, the piece, and I stopped dead in my tracks. It took Aliyana a second to realize I wasn’t behind her. In fact, I’d turned my back, feeling like a damn crack had splintered through my chest.

I couldn’t deal with facing what that sculpture meant to me right now.

“Elpi, what—”

“I’m not going there,” I snapped.

“Okay,” Aliyana said cautiously. “Do you want to choose another one?”

I closed my eyes and felt myself relax. Making myself scan the room, almost all the pieces tore me apart. All of them had meaning… meanings that were too hard to face. But I could get through a few.

Walking to a smaller piece, an hourglass with a hand reaching up through the sand, I motioned with a nudge of my head for Aliyana to join me.

“This one’s okay?” she asked, and I threw her a single nod. “Do we have a title?”

As I looked at the hand of the man drowning in the sand, I felt the suffocation, the impossible situation he was in… the heavy sand pulling him further and further down…

“Downfall,” I blurted out.

Just like before, I felt Aliyana’s eyes scrutinizing my face, probably trying to read me more, but this time I stayed stoic.

“Downfall,” she repeated, scribbling in her notepad. “And the inspiration?”

*****

After the sixth piece, I felt emotionally and physically drained.

“Do you want to call it quits for tonight?” Aliyana asked followed by a yawn.

Exhaling a relieved sigh, I ran my hands down my exhausted face. “Yeah,” I replied, and for the first time since I’d come into the gallery, my muscles seemed to lose tension… then began aching like fuck.

As I worked out the cricks in my neck, I heard Aliyana move beside me. I stared down at her. She was blushing.

She was affected by me… And I liked that more than I should have.

“So…” she said quietly, edging even closer. My palms began sweating as she approached. My heart thundering in my chest. “Thank you for doing this tonight. I can’t believe how powerful your words are against your already breathtaking works of art.”

I fought a smirk. Coming from any other curator, I was sure it would’ve been just a line to crawl up the sculptor’s ass, but not her. I saw in her eyes that she loved all this crap. And even crazier, she loved my work… the twisted, fucked-up sculptures from my mind.

How that was possible I had no idea. I was convinced if she actually knew who I was, what I’d done, she’d see the sculptures in a completely different light; repulsion, and a fucking lame attempt to gain forgiveness.

“It’s late, or early, depending on how you want to look at it,” she laughed and shyly stared at the floor.

I frowned, wondering why she was still talking. When she looked up at me through her long lashes, the view of her in face in the moonlight stole my breath. If I were a painter, I would’ve created a damn masterpiece off that one stunning memory alone.

“Are you hungry?” My frown deepened, and I watched her swallow. Her hand lifted to twirl that same loose strand of hair around her finger. “I… I mean, would you like to get breakfast with me? That is if you’re hungry?” she asked nervously.

I opened my mouth to say no, when my stomach growled. Truth was, I was fucking starving.