Page 12 of Blue Eyes & Paris Vibes

“Have you learned a pamphlet by heart?” I ask him, eyes widening. Does he seriously just have that kind of background knowledge on the scene depicted here up his sleeve? I look around but there’s no other badge to elaborate, so he’s definitely not reading it off somewhere.

“Art used to be my favorite subject in school.”

“Please,” I scoff, shaking my head. “If your school was anything like mine, you painted bananas and maybe occasionally watched fifty-year old documentaries on Da Vinci. You’re trying to tell me thatcoincidentallyyour teacher taught about this very specific painting I’ve never heard of before seeing it here?”

“Well, you caught me,” he admits with his hands raised in defence and a chuckle falling from his lips. “I just like art and reading.” He shrugs shyly. "And my memory’s sharper than you give me credit for."

“I knew it,” I tease him and poke his arm jokingly. “You’re an art nerd! Well, that’s great for me, because I’m too lazy to return downstairs to get myself an audio guide. How about you just tell me some background about the interesting paintings?”

“How do you define interesting?” He raises his eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Whether I like them or not.” I grin and give him the biggest puppy eyes I can muster. “It’s probably not going to be too many, just the ones that catch my eye. And preferably some less…” I gesture at one depicting a scene from the bible that even I recognize. “…religious and more historical.”

“Alright, then let’s head over to the French paintings.”

We smile at each other for a moment and then he leads the way to the French paintings because, apparently, he doesn’t only remember history very well but also the layout of the Louvre. I’m pretty sure I would have gotten lost at least twice on my way there.

“I come here whenever I’m in Paris, which is at least once a year,” he explains casually and leads me past a room I walked past before. That explains it, I guess.

I have a map of the Louvre on my phone and I’m not afraid to use it, but I would much prefer to not have to stare at my phone so often while I’m in the presence of century-old paintings. It just doesn’t seem right to stare at a phone screen while facing these intricate artworks, like I’m disrespecting the ghosts of their creators.

He leads me through the Mona Lisa room again.

“Stop.” I just saw a painting of dogs. Those warrant a picture. After I snap one, we continue further until we reach a room with red walls and a painting that reaches from the floor up to the very,veryhigh ceiling.

“What the hell?” I whisper in awe as I come to a stop, laying back my head to try and take the painting in. “How big is this?”

“Roughly six meters high and ten meters wide,” he says, not sounding impressed at all. But I’m flabbergasted. How do you even paint that? I mean the logistics must have been a challenge and it still lookssolifelike.

“This is one of the interesting ones,” I let him know and pull on his sleeve, before I step a bit closer. “Tell me about it, oh walking art history book. Please.”

The painting is absolutely massive, yet packed with the smallest, intricate details. At its center, a woman kneels on an elegant pillow in front of three large steps. A man holds up a crown in front of her, while in the background, a stern-looking figure in church robes, who I’m assuming is a pope or bishop, holds a large golden cross. Surrounding these three are crowds of people, even standing on balconies, all gathered in a grand, expansive room.

“Hmm, let’s see.” Reed taps his chin, eyes dancing over the painting. “It’s Napoleon’s coronation, painted by Jacques-Louis David, and commissioned by Napoleon himself. It took him a bit longer than two years to paint.”

“No wonder,” I whisper, almost losing my balance as I try to lean my head back more to see the top. “It’s so intricate I thought it would be more like five years.”

“The coronation took place in Notre Dame. The guy holding the crown is Napoleon.” He points at him. “The unfriendly-looking guy holding the cross is Pope Pius the… seventh, I think?” He scratches his chin as he thinks, looking very handsome doing so. “The woman kneeling is Joséphine de Beauharnais, Napoleon’s wife. The girls behind her are his sisters and the child in front of them is Napoleon’s son—” He points at the figures as he explains about them and I can’t help but stare. He has really pretty forearms and hands.

Get a grip, Abby. You can’t just crush on the next best guy who has intellectandgood looks.

“Oh wow. The whole family was there, huh?” I clear my throat.

“Fun fact: not everyone in the painting was actually there in real life. See that woman sitting on the throne?” He points to a figure in the stands. “That’s Napoleon’s mother. And the guys all the way on the left?” He gestures toward two men. “Those are his brothers. Neither of them attended the coronation because Napoleon and his brothers had a falling out and his mother didn’t attend as a way to protest the friction between them.”

“Wow,” I say and shake my head. “If my brother were to ever get crowned for something, there’s no way I’d miss out on the fun, even if we argued.”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t look very fun.” He takes a critical look at it. “But what do I know, maybe official ceremonies were a quicker and more entertaining back then.”

“True,” I agree and take a few steps back, trying to get a better look of the whole thing. “I wish I could have seen Notre Dame from inside yesterday. It looks stunning.”

“Is it still closed?”

“Yeah, of course. I read somewhere that it’s not supposed to be back open for another year or so.” I purse my lips in a pout. “What a shame. I guess I’ll have to come back here.”

“You don’t look very thrilled about that.” He laughs. “Not a fan of Paris?”

“I am, kind of. Maybe.” I shrug, making him chuckle. “Maybe I’ll come during a less… romantic time though. Spring seems to draw out all the lovebirds.” I roll my eyes when I realize that at least five couples are in here, holding hands and whispering to each other. “Anyways, is that what Notre Dame looked like from inside?” I point towards the painting.

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