It was a calm Sunday morning, and Gaesha was standing outside the Louvre, bouncing a little on her toes.
She had on a bright red scarf that kept slipping down her shoulder, and her face was all lit up with a big, happy grin.
She was waiting for Kent, her heart doing little flips. He'd called her yesterday, his voice all quiet and kind of nervous, asking if she wanted to go to the museum with him.
She'd said yes so fast she didn't even let him finish talking.
Kent came walking up, his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets like he was trying to hide them.
"Hi," he said, his voice soft. "You're early."
"Always!" Gaesha said, her grin getting bigger. "I'm super excited. The Louvre! Have you been here before?"
"Yeah," Kent said, nodding. "Two times. You?"
"Nope, never," Gaesha said, her eyes wide. "It's big, right? Like, so much art everywhere?"
"Yeah," Kent said. "Biggest museum in the whole world."
"Wow, that's so cool," Gaesha said, almost bouncing again. "Come on, let's go inside!"
They walked toward the entrance, the glass pyramid up above catching the sunlight and sparkling like a giant diamond.
Inside, it was loud and busy—people walking all over, talking in different languages, their voices bouncing off the walls. Gaesha grabbed a map from a little stand, unfolding it with a crinkle.
"Okay, where do we go first?" she asked, looking at Kent.
"Paintings," Kent said. "They're upstairs."
"Alright, you lead the way," Gaesha said, waving her hand like he was in charge. "You're the boss today."
"No way," Kent said, shaking his head. "We're equal."
"That's sweet," Gaesha said, giggling. "But you know this place better. I'd probably get lost in, like, five seconds."
They started climbing the big staircase, Gaesha talking the whole time.
"I really love art," she said, her scarf slipping again. She tugged it back up. "I'm not good at making it, but I like looking at it. It's so pretty. What about you?"
"I draw," Kent said, his voice quiet like he didn't want to make a big deal of it. "I like it."
"I know you draw," Gaesha said, her smile soft. "You drew that picture of me. It's still my favorite thing ever."
"Stop it," Kent said, his ears turning a little pink. "It's not that great."
"It's the best," Gaesha said, nudging his arm. "Will you show me more of your drawings sometime? Please?"
"Maybe," Kent said, looking at the floor. "Be quiet now. Look around."
They got to a big hall full of paintings—huge ones, old ones, all bright and colorful. Gaesha's mouth dropped open.
"Oh my gosh, wow," she said, turning in a slow circle. "These are so pretty!"
"Yeah," Kent said, standing close to her. "Some are hundreds of years old."
"That's so wild," Gaesha said, her eyes big. "Like, people painted these forever ago." She pointed at a dark painting of a man with a serious face. "Who's this guy?"
"That's Rembrandt," Kent said. "It's a picture of himself."
"He looks kinda sad," Gaesha said, tilting her head. "Do you ever draw pictures of yourself?"
"No," Kent said, shaking his head. "I don't like my face."
"I like your face," Gaesha said, her voice warm. "It's nice. Really nice."
Kent looked away, his cheeks a little red now too. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Let's go to the next room."
They kept walking, Gaesha skipping a tiny bit because she was so happy.
"This is so fun," she said, looking at him. "You're fun."
"No," Kent said, but his lips twitched like he wanted to smile. "You're the fun one. I'm just… here."
"You're fun just being here," Gaesha said, laughing. "This is the best date I've ever been on."
"It's not a date," Kent said, his voice quick.
"Sure, okay," Gaesha said, winking at him. "You keep saying that."
They turned a corner, and Gaesha's scarf got caught under her shoe.
"Oh no, whoa!" she said, tripping forward, her arms flailing.
Kent moved fast, catching her with his arms around her waist.
"Careful," he said, holding her steady. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Gaesha said, laughing even though her heart was racing. "Thanks, hero. You're so quick."
"You're so clumsy," Kent said, letting go and stepping back, his hands in his pockets again.
"Always," Gaesha said, fixing her scarf. "Good thing you're here to save me."
"Yeah," Kent said, his voice softer now. "Come on, let's keep going."
They walked some more and got to the Mona Lisa. There was a huge crowd around it, people pushing and taking pictures with bright camera flashes.
Gaesha wiggled through, Kent right behind her. "There she is!" Gaesha said, pointing. "She's so tiny!"
"Yeah," Kent said, standing close so they wouldn't get separated. "Smaller than people think."
Gaesha stared at the painting—the lady with dark hair and that sneaky little smile.
"She's smirking," Gaesha said, squinting. "Like she knows a secret or something."
"Maybe," Kent said, looking too. "What do you think she's thinking?"
"I think she's laughing at us," Gaesha said, grinning. "Like, 'Ha, you guys got wet from pigeons outside!'"
Kent made a funny noise, like a snort. "Could be," he said.
"You laugh at her too," Gaesha said, poking his arm. "Come on, do it."
"No," Kent said, shaking his head. "She's serious."
"No way," Gaesha said. "She's totally teasing us. Look at her eyes—they're all sparkly."
Kent tilted his head, looking closer. "Okay, maybe," he said. "A little bit."
"See? I'm right," Gaesha said, bouncing on her toes again. "She thinks we're funny. Me tripping, you catching me."
"You trip a lot," Kent said, his voice dry.
"And you catch me a lot," Gaesha said, smiling big. "That's teamwork."
"Yeah," Kent said, his voice really soft now, like he meant it. "Teamwork."
They moved back to let other people see the painting, Gaesha's shoulder brushing Kent's arm.
"What's next?" she asked, folding her map even though it was all crumpled now.
"Sculptures," Kent said. "They're downstairs."
"Cool, let's go," Gaesha said. "You're my guide, remember?"
They headed down the stairs, Gaesha still talking because she couldn't help it.
"I'd be such a bad artist," she said, laughing. "I'd probably spill paint all over the floor."
"You spill enough already," Kent said, his eyes crinkling a little. "Flour, éclairs, everything."
"That's so true," Gaesha said, giggling. "You'd be a good artist, though. You've got steady hands."
"Maybe," Kent said, shrugging. "I like drawing lines."
"I like messes," Gaesha said, her voice happy. "We're so different."
"Yeah," Kent said, looking at her. "But it works."
"It really does," Gaesha said, her smile soft and warm.
They got to the sculpture hall, and it was quieter there, full of white statues that looked like they were frozen in time.
Gaesha stopped by one—a lady with no arms, standing tall and smooth.
"Who's this?" she asked, curious.
"That's Venus," Kent said. "She's from old Greek times."
"She's so pretty," Gaesha said, looking up at her. "Even though she's broken."
"Yeah," Kent said, his voice quiet. "Like you."
"Me?" Gaesha said, turning to him, her eyebrows up. "I'm not broken."
"No," Kent said, his face serious. "I mean pretty. Messy, but pretty."
Gaesha's cheeks got warm, and she smiled. "Kent," she said. "That's so sweet."
"I'm not sweet," Kent said, looking away. "I'm just honest."
"It's the same thing," Gaesha said, her voice soft. "Thank you."
They kept walking, stopping to look at other statues. Gaesha laughed at one that looked like a chubby baby with a silly face.
"That's so funny," she said. Another one was a man with a big nose, and she pointed at it. "Hey, that's you," she teased.
"No way," Kent said, shaking his head. "You're the baby."
"Rude!" Gaesha said, laughing so hard she almost tripped again. "I'm way cuter than that."
"Maybe," Kent said, and this time he smiled—a small one, but a real one that made Gaesha's heart feel warm.
They left the Louvre when the sun was setting, the sky turning pink and orange outside. Gaesha's legs were tired, but she was so happy she didn't care.
"This was the best day," she said, looking at Kent. "Thanks for bringing me."
"You're welcome," Kent said, his hands back in his pockets. "You didn't trip too much."
"You caught me when I did," Gaesha said, her voice soft. "You always do."
"Yeah," Kent said, looking at her with those quiet eyes. "Always."
They stood there for a second, the museum behind them, the air cool and crisp. Gaesha tucked her scarf tighter, her heart full.
She liked this—being with Kent, laughing, tripping, knowing he'd be there.
It felt right, like they fit together, even if they were so different. She hoped he felt it too.