Like An Artpiece

Her head snapped up, her expression caught between surprise and wariness as she nervously asked, "W-What do you mean?"

"You want to know what I think of you as a woman, right? Fine. I'll tell you." I said, crossing my arms, my tone deliberately casual.

Her jaw dropped slightly at the revelation, her cheeks coloring. "No, no, no—you don't have to do that!" She stammered, flailing her hands in protest, not expecting me to actually agree. "I was just being silly! Let's just move on!"

I grinned, the kind of grin that always got under her skin, and tilted my head as I asked, "Oh, now you're trying to back out? After you went and bared your soul like that?...Where's the fun in that?"

"Luca!" She exclaimed, her voice somewhere between scandalised and pleading.

"Too late." I said, holding up a hand to stop her protests. "You opened this door, and I'm walking through it."

Her lips parted, but no words came. She just sat there, frozen, her blush deepening as I took my time letting the silence build. I was enjoying this far too much, and we both knew it.

And, finally after a while, she let out a soft, resigned sigh.

"Fine." She muttered, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, her gaze flicking toward me with a hint of defiance. "You can tell me what you think. But just so we're clear..." She paused, giving me a pointed side-eye. "I'm only agreeing because you're insisting, not because I actually want to hear your opinion."

A wry smile spread across my lips, and I chuckled softly as I thought about her audacity to act in such a way. And before I could say anything in response, her entire demeanour changed.

Suddenly, she leaned forward, her reluctance evaporating in an instant as her excitement bubbled to the surface. She practically jumped out of her seat, closing the distance between us as her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"Okay, come on! Rate me already!" She demanded, her voice urgent and eager, her earlier reluctance replaced by an almost childlike enthusiasm.

"Wait, what?" I blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift.

"You heard me!" She shot back, crouching slightly so she was eye level with me, her hands gripping the edge of the couch. "How do I rank? On a scale of one to ten? And don't hold back—be honest!"

I raised an eyebrow, my smirk returning as I looked at her flushed face and asked, "You sure you don't want to pretend you're only 'humoring' me a little longer? You seem awfully eager now."

She pouted, her blush deepening as she leaned closer, her face only inches from mine. "Just answer the question, Luca! I' m not asking again!"

I let out a low laugh, shaking my head at her sudden urgency. "Alright, alright." I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. "If you're that desperate to know..."

"I'm not desperate!" She interjected quickly, though the excitement in her eyes betrayed her.

I chuckled again, holding her gaze as I let my words hang in the air. "Fine, Mom. You want my honest opinion? Then sit back and let me break it down for you."

Her eyes lit up immediately, and without missing a beat, she scooted closer to me, snuggling into my side like a child waiting for a bedtime story. "Okay, I'm ready! So?" She asked, her tone eager. "How do you rate me? What's my score?"

"Score? Seriously?" I raised an eyebrow, smirking.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Come on! Everyone's rated someone at least once. Even you must've done it before!"

"Mom, I'm not some high school kid rating women out of ten. I don't work like that." I sighed, shaking my head.

Her excitement faltered for a moment, a small pout forming on her lips as she said, "Well, what do you mean then? You said you'd tell me..."

I looked up at the ceiling in a thoughtful manner, crossing my arms as I gave her a thoughtful look. "What I mean is, like I said earlier, I don't see beauty as a number. I see it as art—something to admire, something to appreciate, something to respect. And, just like with art, there's no single scale for measuring it."

Her pout transformed into a radiant smile, her eyes gleaming with delight.

"Oh, so you're going to describe me like I'm a masterpiece? Go on, Luca, don't hold back!" She snuggled even closer, clearly thrilled at the idea of being showered with praise from me, something she probably knew I didn't hand out easily.

But before she could get too carried away in her thoughts, I raised a hand to stop her. "Hold on. I'm not just going to describe you, Mom."

"Oh? What else then?" Her expression shifted into one of intrigue, her curiosity piqued.

I smiled slyly, leaning forward just enough to hold her full attention as I said, "I'm going to prove something to you...I'm going to show you that no matter what angle I look at you from, I'll always see you as someone to admire—not lust after."

Her brows furrowed slightly, and she tilted her head as she asked, "Prove it? What do you mean by that?...And how exactly are you planning to do it? Is there some device that monitors your devious thoughts?"

I snuggled into the sofa, letting a small, confident smile creep onto my face. "It's simple..." I said, my tone calm but purposeful. "Instead of just describing your face—which, let's be honest, is the easiest thing to praise without raising eyebrows—I'll take it up a notch. I'll pick a part of your body that most men might...ogle at with less—than—noble intentions. And I'll prove to you that I can praise it in such a way that you won't feel uncomfortable or think for a second that I'm being inappropriate."

"...Instead, you'll see that I'm genuinely admiring it, as if it were a work of art."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes widening slightly.

"You're serious?" She murmured, half-disbelieving. "You're really going to go there and make it more difficult for yourself when you already struggle to wish out a single compliment towards me?"

"I am." I nodded firmly. "And at the end, it'll be up to you to decide whether my words crossed the line or if you truly felt like I was just appreciating you for who you are."

She paused for a moment, clearly mulling over my bold statement.

"You're really confident about this, aren't you?" She asked, her tone half-teasing but her curiosity unmistakable.

"Of course." I replied with a steady gaze. "I wouldn't bring it up if I wasn't sure I could do it."

She gave me a long, searching look before finally crossing her arms and leaning back slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. "Alright, then." She said. "This might actually be interesting. Go ahead and prove it. Let's see if you're really the 'art critic' you claim to be."

"So, you're intrigued?" I raised an eyebrow, sensing the challenge in her tone.

She nodded, her smile growing. "I am. After all, if you're right, this would definitely prove that you're not just ogling women. It would show that you genuinely see them as something to admire, like you said earlier...And I have to admit, I'm curious to see how far your 'charm' really goes."

"Then let's get started." I said confidently. "But remember, this isn't just about what I say—it's also about how you feel afterward. If anything I say makes you uncomfortable, I'll consider it a failure."

Her eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and intrigue. "Fine, I'll be the judge." She replied. "But don't think I'll go easy on you, Luca. You've got a lot to prove here."

"Challenge accepted." I smirked, feeling the weight of the moment settle between us.