Page 22 of Well, Actually
“I’ll give you two time to explore on your own,” Anya says, backing toward the exit. “I’ll return in an hour to walk you back to the entrance.”
I nod in gratitude, eyes still fixed on Cooper and head spinning as I try to map out all that I want to revisit, how many moments I can spare at the altar of each statue without missing anything.
Breaking my gaze from his feels like the snap of a rubber band, and I shake myself as I look around. I start atThe Kiss, a marble rendering of a man and woman embracing.
It’s devastating, the seductive grip of the man’s hands on her bare hip, the tips of his marble fingertips dimpling her smooth flesh, her arm thrown around his neck as she begs him closer, the deep pockmarks in the base of the foundation of the piece emphasizing the carnal humanity of art and beauty.
I slip my heels off and hook the straps around my crooked finger, standing on my bare feet as the grandeur of the sculpture expands and expands and expands, my thoughts quieting as I process the reality that something this beautiful exists.
Cooper walks up next to me, and I wonder if he’s holding his breath too, if he’s feeling the alteration in his body from seeing something so wonderfully made.
He ducks low, his breath brushing my cheek as he says, “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”
I turn to him, moving so abruptly that my nose crashes into his, both of us wincing.
“What do you mean?” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose as I look at him. “She said we have an hour.”
Cooper’s expression is pained, but he steps toward the exit. “I know, and I really am sorry, I can see how much you’re loving this, but we have… well, we have another reservation we have to get to.”
I gape at him. “Are you joking?” My gaze darts around the room and its magnificent contents. “What could be more important than this?”
“I… I’m sorry. We can’t miss the next thing.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I don’t want to leave,” I say like an insolent child, gesturing at the sculpture next to me.
Cooper’s shoulders droop, his expression turning desperate. “Eva, we have a timetable we have to stick to.”
“Oh my god, don’t get hysterical.”
“I’m not hysterical!” he cries hysterically. “We just… we have to get to the next thing.”
Cooper grips my elbow, leading me toward the exit. With pure disbelief, I shoot one more hungry look over my shoulder. He ushers me out of the museum, offering a brief thanks to our tour guide as I consider begging her to save me and let me live here forever.
The cold pavement hits my toes when we step outside, and Cooper spares me a second to slip my heels back on before he drags me down the steps and back to the street.
He leads me by the hand across a few blocks, my heartbreaking the further we get from the museum, the jarring hustle of the real world feeling like a thousand cuts on my skin.
“You really will love this,” Cooper says like he’s trying to convince himself.
Eventually, he pushes through the doors of a high-rise building, marching us straight to the elevator bank.
“I’m sorry I cut that short,” he says as we wait in front of the golden doors, my solemn expression reflected back at me. “But this will be even better. I promise.”
I stare at him, unable to conjure the energy to glare. The elevator dings, and we step on. With a sinking stomach and a painful squirt of adrenaline, I watch Cooper hit the button for the sixty-ninth floor, the highest in the building. My heart is beating so hard in my throat that I don’t even have the wherewithal to say a mentalnoice.
My pulse pounds in my palms and the arches of my feet as we climb higher and higher, a shrill ringing starting somewhere in the back of my skull.
“W-what… Where are we going?” I ask through a dry throat.
“It’s going to be amazing,” Cooper replies, completely oblivious to the prickling panic locking up my joints, the sweat beading at my upper lip. The walls of the space tilt toward me, trapping me in a golden cage racing toward the sky. After an eternity and all too soon, the elevator jolts to a stop, the doors sliding open, my warped reflection disappearing in a wave.
The floor is empty, only a few doors on either side of us, most of the space taken up by a short staircase and an ominous-looking door at its peak.
Every instinct in my body tells me to curl into a ball and lie on the floor, but Cooper grabs my limp, clammy hand, smiling and talking as he leads us up the stairs; I don’t hear a word, my ears filled with a buzzing panic that makes it hard to put one foot in front of the other.
