ᴀ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪꜱᴇ | 𝘓𝘰𝘶 𝘹 𝘋𝘦𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘦

fifteen

Ａ ＮＩＧＨＴ ＩＮ ＰＡＲＡＤＩＳＥ

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ something about the October air that sent Lou to a fuzzy feeling. The way her loafers were making a sound against the marbled floor of the museum was like a beat, dropping off every second, and so did her heart, as Debbie Ocean, was walking ahead of her, tightly holding her hand as if she would get lost in the sea of strangers.

In the hushed galleries, the art hung like chapters from forgotten stories, waiting to be read and interpreted. Lou couldn't help but think of a romance novel she had once read, a tale of two souls finding each other amidst the canvases of a museum. A smile played at the corners of her lips, a fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, she and Debbie were starring in their own version of that story. But then again, fantasies were just that—fleeting and intangible.

Breaking her reverie, Debbie turned her gaze towards Lou, a divine smile gracing her lips—an image so perfect that words alone couldn't quite capture its beauty.

"My brother used to bring me here," Debbie revealed, her voice an echo of fond reminiscence.

"Is that why you brought me?" Lou's lips curled into a smile, curious and playful.

Debbie began walking, letting go of Lou's hand. In her mind, the blonde wanted to tell her to not let go of her hand, to hold her still, until the night is over. It was just one moment, and Lou was again craving the way Debbie's hand felt when they held hands. She walked forward, too, following the woman.

Debbie's laughter was a symphony of delight, a sound that seemed to resonate within Lou's chest. "Maybe. I thought you'd appreciate the beauty within these walls."

Lou's heart fluttered anew, her mind still grappling with the impulse to ask Debbie to keep holding her hand, to remain connected until the night surrendered to dawn. It was a fleeting desire, born from a longing that she dared not voice aloud.

"I reckoned you were the type of girl who would appreciate art, Debbie added. Lou's heart once again raced. Was Debbie good at observing people? Or does she observe Lou because she finds her interesting? Seeing beneath the surface? Lou's thoughts spiraled with delusions that were too shameful for Debbie to know about.

Lou matched her steps, their pace slowing to allow them to walk side by side. "You've got me figured out, Debbie Ocean, haven't you?"

Debbie's eyes held a glint of playfulness as she regarded Lou. "I have my ways of observing, Lou Miller." A smile curved Debbie's lips, a smile that seemed to hold a world of meaning. "You're like a character sprung from the pages of a novel, imbued with the spirit of poetry and art."

Lou's heart performed a quiet dance of joy within her chest, the compliment sinking into her like a sweet melody. "Well, you've got a keen eye, Ocean. Not everyone can read me so well."

"You're welcome. Come on," Debbie says as they continue their leisurely stroll through the museum.

Lou's voice emerged like a gentle sigh in the midst of the hallowed silence, her words weaving into the tapestry of the museum's ambiance. "You do love art as well, obviously, because you would not have led me here if you didn't," she observed, her tone soft and knowing, as if she had uncovered a well-guarded secret.