Toujours, French
Always.
My nerves were getting the better of me.
I was breathing shallow, panicked breaths, my back pressed against the wall and my sweaty palms brushing against the metal of the coat rail. At least no one would find me here. At least people would think I didn’t even show.
The doors opened a sliver, and my heartbeat quickened when I heard approaching footsteps. And then she was standing in front of me, a big bright smile on her lips and a cheeky expression in her eyes.
“There you are,” she said, and I smiled guiltily at her. “Come on, I’ll make sure everything’s okay. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”
“Promise?” I asked her shakily, and she nodded, a smile tugging up the corners of her lips. “Promise me, Bebe.”
“Promise,” she nodded. “I promise it will be okay. Now, will you come out with me?”
I gave a slight nod of my head, and my hand found hers in the cloakroom. It was dark and stuffy in there, but it was less frightening than the gallery outside, where people were waiting to meet me.
Bebe held my hand firmly but gently, and she tugged me out of the corner I’d gotten myself into.
“Come on,” she said gently. “I’ll be here every step of the way. You know I will. Have I ever let you down?”
I thought of the past few months. Of my girl by my side through doctor appointments, through meeting Dr. Halen in her office every week. I thought of her showing me all her favorite places in the city, and how patient she’d been when I broke down in the middle of a bookstore. How she’d helped me, taken care of me, how she’d made sure I was alright. And I knew I trusted her more than I’d trusted anyone else before. I was willing to put my life in her hands if it came down to that.
“No,” I replied simply, a small grin on my face. “I trust you. Let’s go.”
She pulled me out of the cloakroom, and the light in the gallery was blinding, making me shield my eyes. But then I heard it, as we made our way front and center of the room. The applause. It was so fucking loud.
I looked up, my eyes focusing on the people around me.
The gallery was beautiful, modern and sleek, in monochromatic tones that ensured that the art stood out, not the furniture or the interior design of the room. It was a clean, open space and I loved it. It reminded me of my apartment in many ways.
There were countless people in the room, and as Bebe led me to the stage, I glanced at everyone in there. Men and women, of all sizes and colors and beautiful fucking shapes. I would have been uncomfortable as fuck in this room a few months ago. In fact, I would probably never have come there. But now, with Bebe by my side, a surprised smile lit up my face. Maybe this was where I was meant to be after all.
She didn’t stop until we reached the podium, and she handed me a microphone with a bright smile. She was wearing a tight little red dress with a flounce at the bottom, and black velvet heels. She looked so fucking stunning I wanted to make her drop down and spread her legs for me, so I could suck on her sweetness like a damn lollipop. I was head over heels in love with the girl. She awoke emotions inside me I didn’t even know I was capable of. She was incredible, incredible, incredible. And I loved her with every cell in my body.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Bebe said into her own microphone. “Miles Reilly!”
Once again, applause. And this time it was deafening.
I looked into their eyes, their expectant smiles edging me on. And for once I didn’t see demons, or monsters, or men out to get me. I saw the people, the stories, the personalities I was so desperate to catch in my own work. And I loved it.
I smiled wide and waved at the crowd and they cheered.
“I don’t know what to s-say,” I said shakily, my hand forming a fist.
This was hard. Fucking hard.
And then she was next to me, just like that, her hand wrapping around my own and her encouraging smile meant only for me. I fell in love again, every time I saw that sparkle in her eyes.
“I’m lucky enough to have my muse standing next to me,” I said, my eyes now only on hers, as if I was speaking to her the way I usually did when we were home alone. Her legs on my lap, chucking popcorn in my face as we watched a movie. Parting those legs to let me see her tight, wet little cunt. Fucking her, the bowl of popcorn overturned, the mess forgotten. Yeah, I was craving that. But I also knew I’d have it that night because now, Bebe Hall was mine. And I wasn’t letting go.
“I believe my next exhibition will be quite different,” I went on. “Because if it was up to me, I’d only have photos of her. She’s that incredible.”
A collective ‘aww’ went through the room, but I wasn’t done yet.
“So, in many ways,” I said. “What you are seeing today signifies my past. And my future is standing beside me. Without further ado, I’d like to show you my work.”
Everyone whooped, and several people in black outfits approached the canvases that were covered with sheets. On the count of three, they pulled the sheets down, revealing my work to the guests. There was complete silence, but the only reaction I cared about was Bebe’s.
I looked right into her face as she glanced around the room, letting go of the microphone. I saw how crestfallen she was, how much she hated it. The images of those women, naked, overlaid with all the things that signified them. She turned her hurt gaze to me, her bottom lip trembling, and I took her hand in mine. She let me take it reluctantly, and I led her to the biggest canvas, my masterpiece.
She gasped when she saw it and I smiled to myself.
It was a portrait of Bebe, one I’d taken months earlier. She had her arms in front of her body, hiding her naked tits. Her middle was visible, her sleek, taut stomach so sexy I wanted to lick it. The rest of her was covered in a rumpled white sheet. She had some hair in her face and was trying to pull it back, laughing as she did it and looking straight into the camera.
Just like all my other work, this one was a double exposure as well.
I’d struggled for months on what to pair with Bebe, but I knew I’d hit the nail on the head.
Her picture’s overlay was a photo she’d taken of me. Shirtless, with my hands extended protectively in front of me, shielding my face from everyone. Because she was a part of me. And I was a part of her. Together, we made a whole.
She looked at me, and her eyes were filled with tears.
“For you,” I said brokenly, and she gasped, running into my arms.
No other words needed to be said. We simply hugged, and the crowd cheered and applauded, but for once in my life, I didn’t give a shit. I wanted them all to see how much I loved this beautiful, stunning, exquisite girl. I wanted them to know how much I cared.
The next second, several people joined our hug and I laughed as I saw all the people joining us. Her parents, Arden’s parents, Nick, and finally, her best friend, the girl who’d been her rock these past few months, and who’d become such a staple in my apartment I always joked around I should just give her a key.
“I’m so proud of you!” Arden told me with a bright smile. “What a beautiful collection, and the centerpiece… Wow.”
We smiled at one another and I felt the genuine love coming from her. I liked this girl, a lot. She was as good for Bebe as she was for me. And her boyfriend was nice as well.
Bebe’s mom was so excited her cheeks were blushing fiercely, and her father kept clapping me on the back as he congratulated me. In that moment, surrounded by friends and family and my girl’s hand in mine, I felt complete.
For the first time in years, I didn’t feel alone.
One look into Bebe’s eyes… Those brown, beautiful pools of dirty little secrets and whispered promises.
And I was complete.
I pulled her against me, her body willingly bending against my own.
“You,” I breathed against her lips, not giving a shit who was watching. “You’ve changed my fucking life. And I’m never letting you go.”
“Miles,” she breathed.
“You need to be mine,” I said. “I want you to be mine completely. I want you to wear the sign of it. I want my baby in your fucking belly. I want my ring on your finger. I want you beside me. Now, and forever.”
She blinked the tears away as I dropped down to one knee, bringing out a little box from my pocket. The ring inside was something I’d gotten three months ago after she’d helped me clean out the dirty room, a week after my last bleach bath. I hadn’t taken one since.
It was platinum, with a big diamond because I knew my little magpie liked shiny things.
My anxiety was sky high. I could barely breathe. But I had to do this.
I popped the box open with shaky fingers and smiled at my girl.
“Will you make me the luckiest man alive?” I said.
“Yes,” she whispered, and I slipped the ring on her finger while the whole damn place cheered.
And for once in my life, I wanted them to see every last bit of it.
Because there was nothing more beautiful than the girl in front of me, my ring glistening on her finger as she threw herself around my shoulders.
Nothing more beautiful than us.