CLASSY MOTHERF*****S.

Chapter Thirty: Art (mature)

I stood under the shower rinsing my hair off of the shampoo I used.

Luke's still at work and he just called me a few minutes..or was it an hour ago that he'll pick me up to go out on an Art Museum.

He's been talking me out about getting a college application but I still just hadn't made my mind yet.

It takes more pursuing and a lot of sex for me say yes.

I made my way to the dresser and settled for a white halter dress and matching red stilletos.

I didnt wear make up, just mascara and lipstick.

I wanted to curl my hair but decided that Im too lazy so I just straightened it up and tied it up in a high ponytail.

I need a haircut, my hair is almost down my waist. Its annoying at the same time.

I heard jiggling keys on the other side of the door.

Luke's here.

I made my way down, my red leather purse to match my shoes in hand.

"Hey, babe-" He looked at me once he stepped in.

"Hi, how's work?" I asked greeting him halfway as he snake his arms around my waist, placing a kiss on my forehead..something he's been doing a lot these days. I'm not complaining though, I like it.

"Work was work..tired but I can manage." He smiled, "Wow you look stunning today-"

I giggled, "Thanks," I looked up and stole a playful kiss on his lips. I couldn't resist it, I feel weak when he's not around. I always want to breathe the same air as him.

"You ready, Miss Beck? I'm sure you're going to like it!" He smiled and I nodded.

After half an hour or so we arrived an Art Museum. I have been into Art Museums before since my mother would join auctions and buy a masterpiece and show off. I would always leave her and stroll around the museum and try to express every art work I would pass by. I would feel sadness, I would feel joy, I would feel fear, lust, love, passion and confusion. Every work is breathtaking and beautiful.

Luke and I walked in, I would silently observe every art I pass by, sculpture, painting, photographs, sketches, and something weird but unique. Everything was beautiful and I'm very much happy.

We walked hand in hand, his fingers perfectly latched unto mine, filling in the missing gaps, lacing our fingers together. I love how rough and warm his hands are.

I felt butterflies fluttering inside my stomach and it was very intimidating.

I stood in front of a huge painting, huge enough to cover the whole wall.

"What do you think the artist felt when he painted this?" He asked all of a sudden, his eyes fixated on the masterpiece and I looked at him and looked back at the painting.

The whole canvas was painted black, dark shade of purple and blue. White paint was sprawled everywhere. It looked like the night sky with a blanket of stars over it in the naked eye but to me..it looks like the artist was depressed when he did this.

He was very sad, lovely, and was alone. The white paint is painted in only, one direction (A/N: istg don't!). I knew then what the piece was portraying.

"He's recovering." I exclaimed.

"Recovering?" Luke asked his focus now on me as I look at him and he looks at me.

"Yeah-" I bit my lip, "See, the whole canvas is black and other dark shade of colors. Its simple but wonderful. The painter was trying to recover, he only sees black but tries his best to see the light again." I sighed. "He was lost and is trying to find his way back."