Three Sadie

An hour later I was standing in the Renaissance section of the Winthrop Sterling Art Museum, smiling and waiting like an eager little puppy at the pound. The other person in the program with me had a guided tour—lucky bastard. I sighed and looked around, the section was for the most point deserted. Since arriving I hadn't seen even one person step under the threshold. Usually the Renaissance got more traffic since we had the armor exhibit running, but no one seemed interested in it today, or the Masters.

Sighing, I looked to my right and stared at our copy of The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein the younger. The piece was almost unremarkable except for what looked to be a defect in the middle. It wasn't a defect. If you stood off center to the painting as I was it was very clearly a skull. I always thought Holbein didn't get enough respect.

As I turned back to facing forward I spied a sight that made my chest tight, as my heart beat frantically. Byron was there, looking good enough to eat in worn dark blue jeans and a leather jacket. On his head was a black beanie that hid his hair and made him look oh so adorable.

"Hello." He greeted me as he approached.

"H-hi." I felt like a moron as I blushed grinning at him. "Thank you for last night." I was careful to keep my voice quiet. The last thing I needed was someone to point out that I wasn't working.

"It was my pleasure." There was something about his smile that just made my insides melt. I was practically a puddle of goo at his feet as stalked around me.

"I…I'm sorry about the whole vomiting thing."

"It's okay. Care to show me around?"

"O-oh, of course." My blush deepened.

He probably thinks I'm a creeper now. This is clearly a coincidence that my romance starved brain is determined to make more out of.

"I love art museums."

"Do you?"

"Mhm. Too many forget about culture and its roots. It's somewhat sad that we've turned our backs on these art styles."

"That's not entirely true. I always found the photorealist paintings of Chuck Close to come very close to the works of Da Vinci and Holbein."

"But what about the works of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood?"

"Those are my favorite. But I'm sure you could have guessed that given the print of Waterhouse's Lady of Shalott I have over my bed."

"I had an inkling." He chuckled. "Why the Lady of Shalott? It's such a sad story."

"I know. There something about it that has always resonated with me I guess."

"Oh? Are you a fatalist then?"

"I don't know about that." I bit my bottom lip.

"Then why?"

"Maybe I feel a little like her. I guess most people in college are in some ways like her. Not in the whole suicidal way. People don't expect us to have mature emotions. We're supposed to be absorbing everything around us—like how the Lady of Shalott records the world around her—but we're not really expected to act on our more… grown up emotions like lust. Our job in college is to learn like hers is to record. And love and longing has the ability to ruin that entirely. I don't know if I'm making any sense."

"You're making sense. So are you her before or after seeing Launcelot?"

"I don't know." I pursed my lips. "Before probably, knowing me. I'm not like Jen. She falls in love so easily. I haven't gotten to really experience that. But I'd like to." I sighed and covered my face. "I don't know why I just told you that."

"I did ask. Don't worry, you're not going to scare me away. The L-word doesn't traumatize me." He glanced down at me and I caught for the first time the thin layer of blueish white that covered his skin.

Sunblock?

I pushed the thought away and we continued through the exhibit.

"Are you allowed to go to the Victorian exhibit?" He asked looking around at the empty room filled with paintings, sculptures and glass cases of armor.

"No, I have to stay here in case someone else shows up."

"What a pity." He smirked his eyes swept over the room again eyes falling on a piece of armor. "Tell me about this piece?"

I scrambled to match his long strides.

"It's from the English Renaissance, we don't have the name of the person it was made for but it is jousting armor. You can tell by the shield built into the arm guard. However, the heraldry has been chipped off entirely and on purpose. The rest of the armor is in pristine condition, except for the heraldic symbols which have all been defaced. It was made for a man about your height, and of similar built. You can tell it was a high ranking noble by the level of detail in the filigree around every edge. Aside from the paintings it's one of my favorite pieces."

"Why?"

"I like to wonder what kind of man wore the armor. You can tell by the visor he had to have been brave."

"Oh?"

"Mhm, you can tell where it's been mended just above the temple. He was fearless, that blow could have killed him. Given that it was repaired it clearly didn't but… I dunno there's something about knowing someone could literally stare down death to accomplish a task is kind of sexy." I giggled and blushed. "That's not what I usually tell people of course. Usually, I just say it's the ornate craftsmanship."

"How did the museum get it?"

"Anonymous donation with the Sala Corporation for a proxy, so that could mean anything." I shrugged and stared at Byron's reflection in the glass of the case super imposed over the armor.

"I think you like it because you're waiting for your Launcelot."

I nervously fanned my fingers through my hair. "I hope I'm not. He doesn't return her affection. I'm always reminded by Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Launcelot and Shalott engraving, with him leaning over her body on the boat he's not really interested in her and she destroys her life for him." I pursed my lips. "Maybe I'm sick of Launcelot's?" I smirked.

"Had your heart broken a lot?"

"Have you?"

"More times than I care to admit."

"Same. I don't know what it is but the people I find myself interested in usually want nothing to do with me. Or they're not interested in anything more than…"

He nodded his corners turning in a little frown. "Ah, I understand completely." He turned his attention back to the armor for a minute and frowned a little. "So what do you think about the man who wore the armor other than him being brave?"

"And rich?"

"And that of course." He chuckled.

"I don't know."

"What have you imagined?"

"Well that's kind of personal."

"You're adorable when you blush." He purred, his voice full of hidden secrets and darkness.

"Thank you." I set my teeth into my bottom lip. "I just imagine him being the stereotypical knight in shining armor, you know. Chivalric and all of that nonsense. With a lady that he loved from a far and that it was because of her that he got that ding in the helm." I sighed. "But I know none of that was true. Chances were he was probably a dick."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. Because he was wealthy and his crest was defaced. He clearly pissed someone off."

"Ah. I like your fantasy more than that."

"It's not a fantasy exactly." My eyes met his in the glass and he smiled.

"Fine, your imaginings. Whatever you want to call it's better than 'he was a dick'. Maybe he just did something wrong or taboo?"

"Maybe. Or maybe he was a vampire." I giggled and shook my head.

"Possible, you did say it was donated by the Sala corporation."

"Well, they act as intermediaries and brokers for a lot of non-vampire related stuff too." I shrugged.

"I guess."

"It would make sense if he were a vampire. If they found out they would have defaced it then for witchcraft." It was my turn frown.

"Don't frown." He touched my shoulder the simple touch drew my attention full on I turned and looked at him. The world stopped again, and the silence was all consuming. "If he's a vampire I'm sure he survived whatever happened," his voice echoed through my very soul making me tremble. I shook my head and blinked a few times.

I'm clearly still hung over.

"Yeah, you're probably right." I flashed him a smile and glanced at the clock. It had been almost three hours. I turned back to him and decided to try again. "Would you feel like getting coffee or dinner when I get off?" I bit my bottom lip hard in anticipation of failure and rejection.

"I'm sorry, I can't. Maybe next time."

Of course.

I sighed heavily and swallowed.

"I'm sorry. I should probably stop doing that." I laughed nervously.

"Stop doing what?"

"Trying to make more of this."

"What are you making it more of?"

"I don't know. I just thought…"

"You thought what?"

"That you were maybe interested in me? I know it's crazy. You're probably married, or gay, or just plain not interested in me." Again I giggled like a lunatic.

"No, it's not that I'm not interested. I just have something I have to take care of."

"Will you at least let me give you my number?"

"I did say next time didn't I?" He cracked another glorious smile and took out his phone. I gave him my number and he texted me with a smile emoji. "There, now you have my number." I couldn't stop something deep down inside of me from doing back flips like a crazy person. Though I was admittedly waiting for the other shoe to drop at the same time I excited, really excited to attempt to pursue something with him.

"So why do you like the armor so much?"

"I dunno. It's a good looking suit of armor?" He shrugged and laughed a little, a tinge of nervousness tainting the supple sexy sound.

"So when will you have free next?" I pushed like the pushy pusher I was.

"I don't know, probably sometime later in the week if that's okay. I'm sure you'll see me around."

"Are you sure? Because I haven't seen you around before last night?"

"Really? I've seen you." Something about the way he said it made my spine tingle and gooseflesh prickle and pucker my skin. I swallowed, completely disarmed by those three little words that made my brain refuse to function.

"Oh?" It was all I could come up with, eloquence had long since abandoned me. I had become one of those silly people who stares at a guy and does nothing but giggle and act like they've been lobotomized.

"Mhm." The sound rumbled his throat and made my knees weak as those eyes of his smoldered like blue flame.

"Well, clearly I should be more observant." Again, more nervous psychotic laughter.

"I have to go, but I'm sure we'll see each other again. Good night, Sadie." He smiled at me and started to leave.

"Bye." I called after him. He turned around and waved continuing to walk backward for a few steps before turning back round again and disappearing around a corner.

After the little encounter I found myself practically scaling the walls waiting for eight o'clock to come. It seemed like time was weighted against me as I paced the deserted wing of the museum. No one else came giving me ample time to live in my head and bask in the high of actually having a guy interested in me who didn't seem to be a complete and total dick. Aside from being agitated that I couldn't call Jen and gush about my meeting with I was full of a new found nervous energy. I didn't know what to do with myself—I actually hoped that someone would show up, but no one did.