Frida | ✕

the art lesson pt 1

"where are you
taking me?"

she glanced at him
lips biting her lower ones
as she held back her
smile

" it's a secret."

she muttered, eyes diverted
back to the car as she
sped

benedikt höwedes doesn't
like speeding
he prefers driving slowly
or taking the bicycle
for a spin
or walk where his feet
echoed against the
earth

but frida meyer enjoys
the speed with
windows down
the wind gushing into
her face and the
air intertwining itself
with her hair

and he knows speed
can murder
that girl

" are we in düsseldorf?"

she nodded
" we are."
the car stopped
his hand crept to her shoulder
brushing the strain away
her face

"you my friend,"
she smirked, ripping the
keys off the ignition
"are getting some art lesson."

she traded her pantyhose for
a pair of jeggings with a
loose cotton grey shirt
her drawstring hung from her
shoulders
she was a happy bundle of joy

" kunstsammlung,"
he muttered as he read
the letters.
"Schnell, we don't want
to be late."
she ushered him with her
hand which he took it and
they walked in

he insisted on paying
" this is all i can afford for
the art lesson i'm about to get."
he helped her fastened
the admission ticket in form
of the band
around her wrist
" it's more than a couple
of euros for my
art lesson, my love."

she winked and found
herself few steps away from him,
running into the brown door
he found himself
starstruck
marvelled
speechless

the arts might be hanging
from walls
to walls

the magnificent and highly detailed
sculptures might be erected
tall for his attention

but there she was
his own art
the one that captured him
the most
standing under a tall
sculpture of a goddess

the sun shone down to the
goddess; her
and benedikt knew this art
is too good to let go

" frida."

" athena is really beautiful."
she glanced over her shoulder
pointing at the sculpture,
he nodded
" she is."

" i want to be like her."
she turned around, ran her
hands down from the nape of
his neck along his arms
so softly
he closed his eyes to
her touch
" smart, brilliant yet beautiful
and desirable."

he opened his eyes,
" i could've said the same about you."
she laughed,
" oh, i am far from that."
she took his hand
their fingers interlaced

" i like arts after i found out
i was named after the most
powerful beautiful painter and
a fighter."

he smiled
" i guess the traits came along
with the name."
she blushed

" my mother is a director. she still
directs, both at work and home."
she said as she pointed to a
painting,
" that painting belongs to andy
warhol."

"andy warhol."
he repeated, as if he was trying
to carve the
name in his brain
"where was i?"
she asked and snapped her fingers
"ah yes and my father has an art
gallery in berlin and munich."

he smirked,
" ahh and what do you do?"
his arm around her shoulder as they
walked
" i actually have no clue."
she distanced herself from him, both
hands buried in her pockets
" what do you think benni?"
she stopped,
" what should i do?"

he took her hands and closed
their distance
" anything-"

closer

" -and i would always
be behind you."

she smiled, and he could
see the spread of
her freckles
on the bridges of her nose
and along her cheeks
and her forehead

and that moment she was so
beautiful as if
andy warhol, picasso, diego
rivera, jackson pollock,
michelangalo himself had
carved the woman

" i hope you're a man to your
words." she teased and she leaded
him away.

they entered a new gallery,
he missed the lettering above
the door but
he was fed by a wonderful
collection of paintings
of a girl.

"benedikt, meet frida kahlo."

she held her hands up
and suddenly he knew why
she's an art