Instantly, I beamed. He had cut his hair. It was shorter, but the top still fell over his forehead and the back was trimmed close to his head. He was in a dark blue suit, with a light blue dress shirt that was open at the collar.
He froze with his hand halfway through his hair. The way his gaze fell on me caused my insides to liquify, sending heated pulses to the muscles between my legs. His luscious eyes swept over me with hunger. He gallantly pulled me towards him, held on to my waist, and then kissed me senseless. I breathed out a soft moan into his mouth, draping my hands around his shoulders. I surrendered to him.
“You look spectacular,” he said against my lips and lowered his hand to cup my ass. “So incredibly sexy.”
I rolled my eyes covering up my coyness. His compliments always held sincerity to them. “You’re not too bad either.”
“Let’s get going,” he said, squeezing my butt cheek and I yelped, giggling.
Before I knew it, we were in North Park. Ezra helped me out of the car, and we strode through the bustling street anchored by galleries and shops. Alternative art lit the walls as the vibrant colors of the murals came to life. It was a wealthy street of unique art. This wasn’t a part of town I often visited but the murals were bewitching—stealing your sight—it was hard to look away.
However, I had to avert my eyes from the art when I heard the strum of a guitar. It took only a second to recognize the tune because it was my favorite. Beneath the Street Lights and the Moon by JP Cooper. I glanced up at Ezra, my face washed blank with confusion as if my brain couldn’t turn fast enough to take in the sights and sounds.
We took another ten steps, after which I fully seized the scene. There was a straight line of about twenty people all dressed in white, rocking from side to side, following the hum of the guitar. But when they opened their mouth and sang—as one—the first lyrics of the song, goosebumps covered my body and all the hairs on my arms were up. That was when I also observed that they were standing beneath the streetlights and the moon. Every muscle in my body was immobilized before a grin stretched from one side of my face to the other.
The melody filled the air without effort like the waves filling holes in beach sand. The sound rushed in and pulsed through me. At that moment, the music was my external heartbeat. I couldn’t look at Ezra because I didn’t want to cry. Ezra took me in his arms and we swayed in place.
I was in such an emotional state that I didn’t notice when the choir swapped songs. They seamlessly transitioned from one of my favorite songs to the next—Incredible by James TW.
Enchanted by the tuneful choir and Ezra’s woodsy cologne, I shut my eyes, embedding the moment into my mind while hoping it would never end. Then something soft brushed the side of my face and then again on my nose. I forced my eyes open and there were purple petals falling around me. I raised my face, searching for their source. All I saw were endless petals raining down on me.
Joy flowed through me, warming my skin akin to the rays of an early summer sun and tears pricked my eyes.
“I hate you so much,” I said, sniffling. “You were supposed to take me on a date, not make me cry.”
“You’re beautiful even when you cry.”
He scooped me up and spun me around while the roses continued to pour on us. When he set me down the choir had finished singing and the flowers had stopped pouring, the night was overtaken by another sound. The sound of applause. Lots of them. I looked around and a group of people had gathered around us. Cheering and whistling.
“Did she say yes?” someone screamed from the crowd.
“She did.” Ezra winked at me and I smacked his arm. He laughed and then kissed my lips ever so softly. “We still have to make our dinner reservations,” he spoke with his lips pressed against mine.
“There is more?”
“Of course, first dates must have a meal.” He glided away from my lips and held on to my hand as he took a bow for the crowd, I did the same and then we were on the move once more.
We reached a door, tall, wide and made out of wood. Ezra opened and motioned for me to step in. Before me, there was a long staircase leading to an upper floor. The walls on both sides were decorated with graffiti. At the top of the stairs, the first thing I laid eyes on, were the high ceilings, and all the artwork dispersed around the grand room with mahogany floors.
“This used to be a gallery,” he explained.
“What is it now?”
“Now, it’s mine. It was up for sale and I bought it with everything inside.”
The knowledge left me baffled, mainly because I was certain real estate like this didn’t come cheap.
“You can afford this?” I didn’t mean it to sound accusatory but my tone might had held a tinge of disbelief.
He simply nodded. “All of the art in here was made by locals trying to score their big break.” We strode around the various paintings and sculptures. “It didn’t cost as much as you might think.”
“Hmm.” Was all I managed. “Why did you buy it?”
“I wanted to turn it into a dance studio for kids.”
“You said wanted? You don’t want it anymore?”
“I still do but I don’t think I’ll be able to.” Worried lines creased his forehead. “I’ll most likely put it up for sale again if I can’t find someone who’ll step in for me.”
I was lost. He was giving me bits and pieces but not enough to understand what was going on. Since this was our first real date, I didn’t want to ruin the perfect night by bombarding him with questions. “You sure love kids.”
“They’re easy to deal with.” He shrugged. “Adults have way too many facets. They’re never just one and it can be hard figuring them out.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“At times it can be.”
“I disagree.” We stopped in front of an abstract painting and stared. “I see it as a defense mechanism. People who wear their hearts on their sleeves get hurt. A lot. Holding on to parts of yourself is the smart thing to do because most of the time it’s your fragile pieces that get broken. I think your whole heart, or truth should be reserved for those who truly deserve it, and not the entire world.”
Ezra squeezed my hand. “I get what you mean and I agree with that, but I wish everyone could see me. All of me. My failures, just as much as my virtues. I’m not perfect, Christina.”
“No one is.”
There was obviously something troubling him and there was no doubt it had something to do with his mysterious disappearances and phone calls. And by the way he spoke, whatever he was hiding was bad. My gut instinct warned me and due to that, I was reluctant to ask questions. For tonight at least, I wouldn’t press for more. The time would come when he’d have to tell me what was going on.
We moved to the next section. Our eyes locked on an unusual human form—gender indistinguishable—made from clay. It had a red bleeding heart at its center.
“You like this?” Ezra asked.
“I don’t get it.”
“This piece represents humankind regardless of gender, shapes or color. The heart represents emotions, the one thing that we all have in common. And the blood is universal. No matter what, we all bleed red.”