Unleashing My Boyfriend's Brother Desires

Cold blues

The sea of people that gather into the gallery is almost overwhelming. I could see plenty of familiar faces: students and teachers from the university I was working for, friends and acquaintances, but there were just as many strangers and unknown faces. Some look more approachable while some lose themselves in front of the paintings, clearly contemplating, not willing to be disturbed by a simple chit chat.

I walk around, trying to at least say hi to everyone, but I stop at a particular group of closer friends, and we clink our glasses of sparkling wine together and toast for a surprisingly successful show.

"It's been so long since we got together like this-" someone says, but their voice feels drowned out by the lively buzz around us.

"We should go out after this!" someone else proposes and I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

Each and every time we 'go out' after anything, there's plenty of alcohol involved and I wasn't sure I was quite ready for such a get-together.

Just as I am about to counter the proposal, something catches my eye. Or someone. A tall figure, with broad shoulders.. a glass of champagne in their hand-

At first, I think it's Aaron. A playful smile crosses my lips and I wondered if I could get close enough and surprise him. It was a bit unusual that he didn't come say hi, but only a few moments later I register that wasn't the man I expected to be. The smile on my lips fades and my heart skips a beat, while my stomach does a somersault, the sparkling wine suddenly too strong to be enjoyed anymore.

I swallow back bile and follow the man with my eyes, as he slowly comes to a stop in front of one of the smallest paintings. The latest painting...

My whole body tenses and suddenly my dress feels uncomfortable.

I don't register what everyone else is saying around me and, right now, I don't care if anyone notices that I have completely lost myself to my own thoughts as the world around me drowns and my attention belongs to the man and the painting he ws admiring.

After long moments that feel like a whole eternity, I down my drink and shove the empty glass in the hands of someone nearby, unbothered by the fact that right now, beside me, could be a total stranger. The alcohol kicked enough courage within me that I decide to be the bigger person and have a friendly chat.

I stop at a generous distance from the man, in front of the painting, both arms behind my back as my gaze focuses on the painting.

The painting was not something very interesting or graphic. It was an impressionistic painting of a still sea that met the shore with gentle waves of foam, that used certain colors that reminded me of the eyes that were watching the painting right now.

We spend dozens of minutes like this, to the point I start to consider stepping away, the courage kick from the alcohol slowly wearing off.

"I wonder-" Alexander's low voice suddenly pierced the heavy silence.

My head instinctively turns to him and I find myself gawking at the man, like a child lost in wonder.

"What inspiration did the artist use for such a thing..." he hums, before sipping from his glass of champagne and turning his head to face me. His eyes almost immediately move over my face and then down to my dress, before he looks up at me, taking me in quite fast, which leaves me almost breathless when I notice the hint of a side smile on his lips.

It was a matter of a few seconds that I could look into his eyes. My heart skips another beat and my cheeks heat and color a different shade of red than my dress. I look back at the painting and breathe in deeply, trying to shake off the instinct to simply run away.

"Well..." I start speaking, but my throat feels dry and I cough lightly. Did he pick on it? did he pick that I have used his eyes as a muse? Did he pick on the fact that I have been obsessively trying to capture the depth, stillness and coldness of his eyes? "I wonder that as well." I answer, a soft, almost dreamy smile curling on my lips as I find myself daydreaming about none other but the man beside me.

*** Alexander's POV ***

Among the sea of people, only one catches my attention. I spot her right from the entrance of the gallery. Under a soft light, talkign about her works, about herself... But even without the light, I was certain I'd have picked her from the crowd immediately. With her spaghetti strap silk red dress, with her hair curled in generous waves and her subtle make-up that accentuated the little angles of her face... With her red stained lips and her almost cheerful laugh-

But I choose to stay away. I choose to keep my distance. I choose to not interfere. It had already been hard to make it all the way here without being seen by a camera. I didn't need the extra attention. This was her night, not mine.

So, I take one of the glasses from the nearby tray of champagne and blend in.

I might not have been the most cultured man in the room, and I didn't want to pretend to be. I had little idea of art, of the process of art- But one painting catches my attention.

Deep and cold shades of blue, strokes of light and puffy foam.. the picture of a sea at night, with an almost eerie and warm light cast from the moon-

I can feel someone near me, but the spell of the painting is far too great to be able to break it right now. I gawk until I feel like I lose myself into the cold waters-

But the spell breaks when the person beside me moves lightly. Red-

Selena.

My head turns and I find myself admiring the artist now.

The art- and the artist. Quite a lovely sight.

I slowly turn my head back to the painting and as I do, I realise what it reminds me of.

Talia. My heart feels a little heavy and I shift my weight on one of my legs as my head tilts to the side and I take in the painting from a different angle.

"How much-" I find myself asking, my voice low, a little lost in the idea of this being a lovely memoir of Talia.... Did she do it on purpose?

"Excuse me?" she asks and we look at one another again.

She seems almost shocked at my question and I can only wonder why was it so hard to understand.

"For the painting. Is it for sale?" I ask again and Selena slowly looks back to the painting, her pale cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

"I don't think I can sale this to you-" she confesses, slowly bringing her hands in front of her.

My brows come together in a gentle frown and I can't help but wonder if this was a matter of shame. Was she afraid to name her price?

"Well, not right now." I hum and look down at the glass of champagne - or to be more specific, at the gold and old wedding band that sat on my finger. "How about we meet up tomorrow and discuss about the price? Or maybe tonight over dinner?" i propose and Selena seems to grow a little uncomfortable.

She glances at me, then at a small group of friends that sat at a distance, clearly too lost in their own little world to notice that she was in someone else's company. For all they cared, she was right there, laughing and cheering with them.

"Dinner sounds nice." she answers after a few moments of silence. "Let's get out through the back door-" she gestures to one of the closed doors that blended almost perfectly with the wall.

Dinner and decent company. What could a man want more?

As we walk away, I glance once more towards the painting and my excitement dims a little. There were certain things a man did want more...