I tugged Enola into an art gallery. She was putting up a fight about it because she wanted to do something I liked but I liked to see her smile and the wonder in her eyes when she was in a gallery. I put my arm over her shoulders and held her close as the man at the front desk smiled at her. She giggled quietly.
"What? Why are you laughing?" I asked nervously.
She beamed up at me, "You did the guy thing. The male asserting your territory thing." I lifted my eyebrow at her. She sighed, "He smiled at me and you put your arm around me." I blushed realizing that I had felt a pang of jealousy when the good looking, dark haired man smiled at her. She placed her hand on my chest and stroked my pec with her thumb, "I kind of liked it." I laughed quite loudly only to have Enola cover my mouth gently. She dropped her hand slowly after just a moment. "Come on, let's look around." I pulled her a little closer as we walked past the desk.
Enola pulled me excitedly into another room of the gallery. I laughed and followed her at an arm’s length.
"Harry, come on!" She whined, her eyes saddening, begging me to move at her speed. I walked a little faster for her. The excitement in her eyes was intoxicating to me. I wanted her to look like that every day. Finally she stopped dragging me. "Look at this." She grinned.
"Who is this?" I asked trying to get her talking. I loved the sound of her voice when she explained paintings and their artists to me.
"Veronese. HE was amazing. Look at his color. His brush strokes. I mean these people are so beautiful. Well, technically, she's a God, but still. Just look at this. The detail. It's truly incredible. I wish I could make things like this." She gushed as she stared at the painting titled Venus and Adonis. I folded my arms over my chest and watched her eyes roam every centimeter of the canvas. I smiled as I saw her being taken to another world. Enola tucked her hair behind her ear and chewed her bottom lip. "I mean to be able to see these kinds of things in your mind, such beautiful creatures." She murmured, tears springing to her eyes. I smiled a bit. I knew she wasn't crying out of sadness or anger. She was crying out of love and adoration. Her eyes stayed intense as she moved a little closer. "I wonder if he was in love like they were. Did he paint this out of knowledge or desire?" She asked looking up at me. I kept the smiled on my face. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Enola sounded self-conscious.
"You're cute when you're excited." I chuckled before kissing her hair.
"I was serious, Harry. Why would he paint something so intense? Did he feel it or do you think it was because he wanted to feel it?" She asked me with serious eyes. I turned my eyes to the canvas. I took in the bright colors and gentle brush strokes. The expressions on the faces and positions of the bodies.
"I think he felt it. You couldn't paint this and never have felt a love like that before." I answered.
The light returned to her eyes, "Have you ever been in love?" I thought deeply. I hadn't ever believed I was in love with the other girls I've dated. They were fun. Friends really. My mind drifted to the woman standing in front of me. The three days in Ireland. To me, that was love, granted it was short lived and a whirlwind. But when I thought of being in love, that's what I had always pictured.
I nodded, "I think I have."
Enola bit the inside of her cheek and murmured, "Must be nice." My brows furrowed. What kind of a response was that?