Page 14 of Blue Eyes & Paris Vibes

He leads me closer to the statues, his hand still at the small of my back. And I have to admit, I really like it there. I almost can’t focus on the statues, much too distracted by the warmth of his hand, his low voice as he explains about the artworks.

“And there’s the first butt,” I say and giggle, quickly whipping out my phone to take a picture to send to Max. Only seconds later, he answers with aubergine and water drops emojis that make me grimace.

Me: Ehw. Don’t disrespect the ART.

Max: That ass is art alright.

I shake my head, a grin tugging on my lips. I’m pretty sure I knew Max was gay before he realized it himself, and supporting him and being there for him is one thing, but the intricate details he felt compelled to tell me about each and every of his sexual encounters was a whole different can of worms.

There is just some stuff a sister doesn’t need to know about her brother. Thankfully, he’s calmed down since he got together with his boyfriend. Accidentally calling his boyfriend daddy in my presence out of instinct, I can deal with, but I really didn’t need to know about his encounter with a guy that was into knife play.

He’s not too wrong about that ass though. It’s a nice, marble ass. Then I take a step back to get a better look of the whole statue and not only its backside and let Reed lead me through the room.

“These poses are so dramatic,” I say seriously as we walk past a statue with an especially over-the-top expression. It’s of a man, completely naked except for a cloth draped across his upper body, which he’s gripping tightly in one hand. His other arm is raised behind his head, elbow sticking up to the sky, while his head tilts back and his eyes are closed like he’s about to fall asleep standing up.

Reed steps a little closer, and I try not to pout when he lets go of me. “I think he’s supposed to be dying,” he says with a chuckle.

“No way,” I giggle, walking over to read the plaque. “Michelangelo.Dying Slave.Are you serious?”

“Maybe people just died more dramatically than they do today,” Reed shrugs, and I bite my lip from smiling when his hand lands on the small of my back again as we continue looking at the statues.

“I’ve got to say, I’m very impressed with the foliage though. The way it’s conveniently placed in a gravity defying way is just amazing.”

“That’s the beauty of art,” Reed points out. “You can create whatever you want to, gravity be damned.”

“I know, it just boggles my mind.” I chuckle, then come to a standstill. “Oh wow.”

Her dress looks like it’s blowing in the wind, as though she’s walking straight into a strong breeze, making it hard to believe that it’s actually made of stone. It looks so lifelike, so light I can’t stop looking at it. She also has large wings, with feathers that look extremely detailed, even from way down here. The statue stands high up on a huge stone base, like she’s standing on a windy cliff, overseeing the whole room.

“Is she missing her head and arms or are they left off intentionally?” I ask Reed in a whisper. It sure looks like they broke off, but who knows? Artists do some strange things to their artwork after all. Maybe this is a symbolism I just don’t understand.

“They’re actually missing,” he explains in a whisper. This one is catching the attention of a lot of visitors who are mumbling among their groups. “As are her feet, even though you can’t really see them from down here. She’s Nike, the Goddess of victory. It’s supposed to show her as though she just landed with only the heels of her feet on the ground.”

“Wow.” I whistle softly. “Do you know what her arms looked like?”

“They think she used to hold a spear or a cross in one hand, and a trumpet in the other—you know, one of those really long ones, I forget what they’re called. For a long time, the statue wasn’t even in one piece. They only recently put more of her back together after finding new parts.”

“That’s so cool,” I whisper, eyes jumping all over the statue, not knowing where to look. It’s all so impressive. “Why didn’t they repair her though and add the arms?”

“I think they only cleaned her up. They didn’t want to add any brand-new elements; that’s probably blasphemous in the art community.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I still wish I could see her in her full glory.”

Reed

“IthinkI’veseenmore dicks in the last two hours than I’ve seen in my whole life,” she says as we walk out of the museum, looking up at me with a grin tugging at her lips. “And now I’m starving.” Her smile turns sly, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes. “For food,” she adds quickly with a wink, as if I needed clarification.

“I know a place nearby,” I propose, watching her face for a reaction. “That is, if it’s okay I’m crashing your day.” I know I wouldn’t want to spend a day with the guy who ran me over and I later watched screaming at front desk workers, but I can’t help but hope that she’ll say yes.

Because I’m growing tired of spending my vacations either at work or alone. And this was without a doubt the most fun I ever had visiting the Louvre.

“I did,” she shrugs and my heart sinks, “but this seems more fun. So crash away, buddy.” She glances up at me. “You know, the great thing about vacations is, there are no plans that can’t be changed if you really want to.” Our eyes meet and my heart starts beating rapidly in my chest, an unspoken ‘and I really want to’ hovering in the air between us.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper vacation,” I admit with a low chuckle. “I’m still re-learning how to relax.”

We exit the museum near the glass pyramid entrance, almost getting blinded by the bright sunlight reflecting off the panels. I love how it looks when I get here in the morning, just before the sun rises, when it’s illuminated in a warm orange from below, a stark contrast to the centuries old buildings that constitute the rest of the museum.

We head past it, my hand instinctively finding the small of her back, and I notice her staring at the massive line building outside the security gates, stretching over most of the courtyard, and catch a small smile playing at her lips.

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