68. Aarya
Aarya
He’s leaning against his blacked-out SUV looking like an absolute snack in charcoal-gray slacks and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His thick hair is styled neatly instead of the usual messy mop from being smushed under his helmet.
I smirk as I make my way down the stairs of my apartment building. “Five minutes early just as I suspected.”
“If you’re not early, you’re late.” His dark eyes make a slow perusal of my long-sleeve black dress, and I don’t miss the way his jaw ticks when he reaches my bare thighs peeking out of the thigh-high black boots. “You look incredible.”
“Had to look good for the paparazzi.”
He dips down and presses his lips to my cheek, letting his mouth linger by my ear. “So, this dress isn’t for me?”
“Not unless you’re planning on taking it off me, Big Man.”
He glances up at the sky like he’s saying a silent prayer.
But it’s a lie. This dress is totally meant to drive him crazy.
He swings open the door to the back seat and before he follows me into the car. “Sam, this is Aarya, my girlfriend.”
I flinch at the word girlfriend. It sounds so foreign. I’ve never been a girlfriend before. I know we need to use terms like this, but it’s definitely going to take some getting used to.
“Hey, Sam.” I wave at him in the rear-view mirror. “Thanks for driving us around tonight. Any chance you’ll tell me where we’re going?”
Sam chuckles as he pulls away from the curb. “But that would ruin the surprise.”
“Damnit, he got to you too.” I glare at Alexander. “I hate surprises.”
He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “This will be a good surprise, I promise.”
The way he’s looking at me is as if he knows the reason I hate surprises is because I’ve only had bad ones.
I shift in my seat and stare out the window, trying to figure out where we’re going.
We take the Liberty Bridge into Manhattan, with endless possibilities there.
I watch Sam’s turns, trying to figure it out for nearly thirty minutes.
But it’s not until we turn onto 5th Avenue and slow to a stop in front of vast steps peppered with paparazzi pointing cameras in our direction that it hits me.
My lips part and my heart thumps a furious rhythm in my chest. “We’re going to the MET?”
He nods. “I rented it out for the evening.”
“You rented... the MET?”
He chuckles. “The whole museum just for us.”
“I love this museum.”
“I figured you would.”
I blink between the museum and him, my brain not fully computing the fact that this man rented out the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
For me.
It’s not dinner or a movie. It’s not drinks at a bar. It’s not a, “You up?” text at 1AM.
It’s thoughtful and sweet.
It’s clever.
It’s one of my favorite places in the world, yet I’ve never told him that.
But I don’t have time to let it all sink in, because we have to get out of the quiet vehicle.
“It’s going to be a little bright out there,” Alexander warns. “Just hold my hand, keep your head down, and don’t answer any questions. Understand?”
I nod, nerves buzzing under my skin. “Yes.”
Celeste leaked the news that Alexander Krum would be stepping out with his never-before-seen girlfriend, ensuring that our picture would make it onto the news to get the city talking. It’s only now that it dawns on me that my simple life is about to become a lot less private.
Am I ready for this?
Alexander watches me with those keen dark eyes. “You ready, spitfire?”
“Ready,” I lie.
Sam steps around the front of the SUV and swings open our door. Alexander slides out first, and there’s a frenzy of clicks and flashes as the paparazzi descend upon us. I clasp Alexander’s hand, and he tugs me close, guiding me up the museum stairs.
“Krum, who is this woman?”
“Is this your girlfriend?”
“How long have you been dating?”
“Kiss her!”
Flashes go off like lightning around us, making it hard to see. I grip tight onto Alexander, praying that I don’t miss a step and fall in front of all these people.
“I don’t remember there being so many stairs here,” I mutter.
Alexander chuckles. “Almost there.”
Finally at the top, we push through the glass doors and once it closes behind us, silence blankets us again.
A security guard greets us with a smile. “Good Evening, Mr. Krum. Enjoy your night.”
Alexander shakes his hand. “Thank you, Billy.”
“Wow.” My eyes bounce around the entrance. “I’ve never seen it this empty before.”
“It’s all yours tonight.” Alexander squeezes my hand, and I don’t know if he realizes that he’s still holding onto it even though the paparazzi can’t see us. “Anywhere in particular you want to start, or should we just wander around?”
“Wander. Definitely wander.”
He smiles as he leads me further into the museum. “I’ve never been here before.”
“I used to come here all the time when I was younger. My mom would be dating some loser, and I wanted to get out of our tiny apartment. So, I’d come here and stare at the artwork for hours, in my own little peaceful world.”
He frowns like that upsets him.
“I haven’t been here in forever though. I’ve been so busy working that I haven’t taken the time to come back. There are so many new exhibits I’ve heard about.”
“Why do you love art?”
A small smile tugs at my lips as I gaze at the paintings before us.
“I love how much it represents. An artist feels so much emotion—whether it’s anger, sadness, heartbreak, joy, love—that they need to get out and express it in these incredible art forms. They say so much more than words can.
It’s like you’re looking at a piece of someone’s soul. ”
We stop walking, and Alexander turns his attention to me. “Have you created any art?”
“I used to paint.” I hike a shoulder. “Nothing that great.”
“I’d like to see it one day.”
I roll my eyes. “In the words of my mother, it’s just shitty kid art.”
“I happen to like kid art.” He dips his head to make sure I’m looking into his eyes. “And nothing you do is shitty, Aarya.”
Warmth spreads throughout my body, but I clear my throat and avert my eyes from his intense gaze. “Come on, Big Man.”
We spend the next hour walking around, and Alexander listens intently while I tell him about each of the exhibits. He asks questions like he actually cares, and I have to hand it to him, he’s a great actor. It must be all the time spent listening to Giuliana’s endless rambling.
I point up ahead at the room we’re approaching. “This is my favorite spot in the entire museum. It’s called—”
My feet stop and my heart falters.
The American Wing is a beautiful skylit courtyard with balconies and multi-levels filled with sculptures and paintings. I’ve seen it countless times during the day, but never at night—and never the way it looks right now.
A small round table covered in a white linen tablecloth sits in the center of the courtyard.
Different sized LED candles flicker everywhere, casting a romantic glow around the table.
A massive bouquet of red roses lays across one of the two chairs, and metal tins cover the plates at each place setting.
“What is this?” I whisper.
“This is dinner.” Alexander’s deep voice slides over me like hot butter. “I didn’t get to enjoy the meal with you when Giuliana broke her arm, so I wanted a do-over. This looked like the perfect spot.”
Dinner...inside the museum.
The museum he rented out for our date.
“Wow.” I inch closer to the table, in awe at how beautiful the setup looks. “But the paparazzi can’t see all of this.”
“This isn’t for them.” He lifts my hand and presses a soft kiss to the top of it. “The pictures outside might be for them, but this night is for you.”
My throat is tight, making it difficult to swallow. “This is too much.”
“You’re wrong.” Alexander leads me toward my seat. “This is exactly what you deserve.”
He pulls out my chair before I can get to it, and I lift the bouquet from the seat to my nose. “These are beautiful.”
“I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers you liked, but the color reminded me of your lips.”
I smirk as I lower myself into the seat. “You looking at my lips, Big Man?”
He takes the flowers from me wearing a smirk of his own. “Only about as often as you look at mine.”
So, all the time then. Got it.
I watch as Alexander pops the cork on a bottle of red wine and pours it into my empty glass. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, tapping on his screen, before soft music plays somewhere in the background.
“When did you have time to do all this?”
He hikes a shoulder like it’s no big deal. “Before I came to pick you up. Dinner was delivered about five minutes ago, so it’s hot.”
He uncovers the plate in front of me, and my mouth waters at the sight of a perfectly-cooked steak, accompanied by potatoes and vegetables.
“You do this for all your first dates?” I ask, eyeing him as he takes a seat across from me.
“Haven’t been on many first dates since I joined the Goldfinches, but I think all first dates should be something special.”
I know he’s pulling out all the stops tonight to make a show for the media, but something tells me Alexander is truly this romantic regardless of who’s watching.
We cut into our steaks, and a serene quiet blankets us while we enjoy our meals together. I can’t stop my gaze from wandering around the room, hoping to commit every second of this moment to my memory forever.
“How’s the food?” he asks.
“So good.” My eyes meet the concern in his. “Everything is so good, Alex.”
A small smile blooms on his face as he lets out a quiet laugh.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “I just really like it when you say my name.”
I didn’t even realize I called him Alex.
“Not Big Man, not a silly hockey nickname. Just Alex,” he explains.