Time flew by, and before I knew it, it was already five o'clock, leaving me with only two and a half hours to prepare for the art exhibition as the extra thirty minutes would be used to transport myself to the location as it's not close. Due to my busy schedule, I had only attended a few art exhibitions in the past, although I found art intriguing. Each person perceived art differently, and everyone had their own interpretation of it. Only the artist truly knew its intended meaning, allowing others to form their own opinions. While I couldn't claim expertise in art, my father happened to be an artist. Not only that, he was also an art professor who dedicated his life to inspiring aspiring artists to pursue their dreams, just as he had done. It had worked out well for him, as he eventually captured the attention of my mother. Their love story was a tale I cherished, and I loved hearing it whenever it was brought up. As the clock neared eight, I was enroute to the art exhibition in a uber as Elias had sent me a pin to the location. My red dress elegantly brushed the ground as I walked, accompanied by the click of my black heels on the sidewalk, the sound echoing through the street. A few couples strolled hand in hand along the sidewalk, engaged in whispered conversations. Elias awaited me outside the small building, and upon seeing me, he chuckled and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Well, don't you look stunning," he remarked, teasingly adding, "That low v-neck gives you a bit of a scandalous look." I playfully swatted him away. "Where's Adrian?" I eagerly inquired, my eyes searching for him beyond the open door. "He's inside," he replied with a smile. "Come on, let's go." I took his hand, and he led me into the crowded room, guiding me through the throngs of people. I hadn't realized there would be so many attendees and wondered if the artist was quite famous. Elias finally stopped when we reached the back of the building, and there, I spotted a slightly shorter man with blue eyes, his smile warming my heart. "You must be Adrian," I greeted him with a smile, extending my hand for a shake. "And you must be Calliope. Pleased to meet you," he replied, his thick accent carrying through the crowded room as he shook my hand. "You're even lovelier than Elias described." "You're even more handsome than Alex described. I guess he's not good with details," I chuckled, nudging Elias with my elbow.
A waiter passed by, offering glasses of champagne, and I accepted one, taking a small sip and widening my eyes in delight. "This is the best champagne I've ever had." "Adrian always insists on having the best," he chuckled, and my heart seemed to flutter at the mention of his name. "Is he the artist?"
"Indeed, he is. Why don't you take a look around, and we'll catch up later. The paintings convey different emotions, by the way," he added, nodding towards the artwork. Taking his advice, I began to explore the gallery, studying each painting with genuine interest.
Most of the paintings featured models, captured in a way that resembled photographs. Each model had a unique appearance, their beauty distinct from one another. None of them looked alike, and each painting seemed to convey a different emotion. It wasn't just emotions like sadness or anger but rather more nuanced feelings like lust or jealousy. Each piece intrigued me more than the last, pulling me deeper into contemplation as I tried to identify the emotion portrayed. The colors used were soft and almost creamy, evoking a sense of peace, while the expressions on the models' faces truly conveyed the intended emotion. The paintings appeared delicately executed, as if the artist had invested significant time and effort into each one. It seemed that the artist shared a personal connection with the models, and one model with curly black hair and soft looking brown skin appeared most frequently, making me wonder if this was the artist's muse. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize someone had approached me until their presence pulled me back to reality. "Do you like them?" the person asked, causing me to snap out of my reverie.
The person standing beside me immediately took my breath away. I couldn't tell if it was the way his neatly framed brown hair complemented his tanned, tattooed skin or their radiant beauty that made me feel as if I were underwater. He rolled-up sleeves revealed tattoos on his biceps, hinting at toughness, yet his facial features exuded gentleness. It was as if a painting had come to life, existing in the real world instead of on a canvas. Words were insufficient to describe his beauty, leaving me speechless. His green eyes seemed to delve into my soul, observing my every move and scanning my body, leaving me with a weight on my chest. A small smile formed on his lips as he looked at me, tilting his head slightly. "Did you hear what I said?" His accent resonated in my ears as their lips moved. "Sorry, what?" I managed to say, still captivated by the person standing before me. His smile widened, accompanied by a soft laugh, as they moved a bit closer. "I asked if you liked the paintings."
"Like what?" My mind was blank, overwhelmed by their presence.
"The paintings," they replied, shifting their attention to the artwork on the wall.
"Oh, those," I breathed out, feeling foolish. "I love them. They're so captivating. I'd love to meet the artist. It seems like they put immense effort and thought into each piece, effectively conveying emotions. I feel like I could gaze at them for days just to grasp their full meaning." Their smile grew as they turned their gaze back to me, revealing a dimple on their cheek. "Well, you're in luck." "How so?" I asked, curiosity piqued.
"I'm Dimitri Kouris . The artist."