Her hair was soft as silk as it lay on the arm he had carefully placed on her shoulders. Every time she said something she turned her head towards him and the hair, so blond that it was almost white, brushed softly over his tanned skin.
The first time he had seen her, that evening when they both started an art course in a small studio in the center of Madrid, he had been blinded by that unusual beauty. The art teacher had talked about colors; basic colors, how to mix colors and how they would experiment with colors throughout the course, but all he could think about was the absence of color, that sun-like whiteness of her hair and skin. He thought about how he wanted to draw a painting of her, with butterflies scattered all over that blond, silky hair.
He was amazed about how much they had talked tonight, him and her. He who had barely talked to her at all during the eight weeks they had had their weekly art class. He knew his English was good enough to talk to this foreign girl and normally he had no problem talking to anyone, neither boys nor girls, but as soon as this girl turned her unusually light blue eyes towards him the words would get stuck and he would end up smiling sheepishly at her. She would always smile back but it was not until tonight that they had actually talked. So much that they had not noticed when the rest of the group had left the bar where they had gathered to celebrate that they had concluded the art classes.
And now they were here, where the taxi had left them, just in front of his parents' house. He had told her about the big party that was going on there to celebrate his brother's graduation and how his family had complained when he had chosen to go out with the art class group instead of being at home this special day. That's when she had suggested it. That they would join the party - to both celebrate the conclusion of their art classes and his brother's graduation.
He had been so thrilled at the prospect of being with her a bit longer, being in her light, that he had agreed without thinking, stopped a taxi outside of the bar where they had had a few drinks and some tapas and told the taxi driver the address.
He kept his arm around her shoulder as they both looked at the high fence that surrounded the estate. He noticed her surprised look. This place was very different from where they had just been, in the busy narrow streets around Sol in Madrid. Now they were in La Moraleja, and on top of it in the calm and posh part of it where his family had lived ever since his parents had made a fortune in the IT security business, making the whole family depending on firms specializing in personal ditto.
The girl with the butterfly hair, he still had not made the painting he had imagined when he first saw her but he knew that one day he would, stood next to him, the blue eyes wide open. Even though he was still ridiculously happy that she was here next to him, he started feeling uncomfortable. This was a bad idea. He had acted on impulse, he had not thought about this brother. His very special brother. What had he been thinking? Bringing his queen of light here was really a very bad idea.
Part 2 of this story is here.
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