The Ideal Arguement

“Art museum,” she said while pressing the elevator button. Nothing happened.

“Car show,” he replied. The elevator still had not arrived and he pressed the button, holding it down hard.

“Museum,”

“Show,”
“I can’t believe they put us on the twentieth floor.” She was pounding on the button and the metal doors alternatively.

“Stop changing the subject. I want to go to the car show.”

“Oh, okay, you want to burn brain cells, drink beer, and drool over steel and rubber. I want to show you beautiful things and enrich your mind.” She leaned against the wall crossly.

“I get to see your beautiful face every day! I can’t take any more beauty!”

She responded to the compliment with a slight smile. He opened his arms to embrace her, thinking the argument was over, but just then the elevator doors opened. By the time they stepped inside she had recovered herself and thought of a clever point.

“If you get too used to a beautiful thing it doesn’t seem beautiful anymore. Some people have flowers outside their window that they hardly notice and someone walks by and thinks they’re the prettiest thing in the world. Oh! Better let me refresh your ideas on beauty before someone comes along, thinks I’m more beautiful than you do, and snatches me up!”

She was laughing hysterically, but there was a note of something like taunting or curiosity in her expression and tone. The elevator had begun its descent but it was slow and rickety, it often stopped and stalled between floors.

His eyes softened.

“No one could think you’re more beautiful than I do. Besides, I just want to see that great new foreign car-” she cut him off midsentence, laughing again.

“Ha, why, because you think I’m way more beautiful than I actually am and you know it?”

“No, because I love you.” His eyes got the most curious look to them. They seemed to soften and light up at the same time; they were eyes that only saw her. She gave him the exact same glimpse at the exact same time, but they were too busy pretending to be angry at each other to notice.

“Ohh, so you wouldn’t think I was pretty if you didn’t love me? It’s just emotionally biased delusion!”

He looked frustrated and defeated. She just smiled as the elevator sputtered down the shaft.

“So….art museum?” she asked knowingly. He grabbed her lightly by the waist and smiled.

“Sure, if it’ll make you happy. Will it? I really just want you to be happy.” She thought for a moment.

“It’ll only be fun if you’re there. So car show it is.”

“No, I should probably learn more about art.’

“I should probably learn about cars. I really want to go.”

He ran his fingers up and down her back, smiling. She reached up on her tippy-toes and he gave her a light kiss on the lips that gave her goosebumps.

“I’d rather go look at art and have you be happy.”

“And I’d rather you be happy.” She insisted. He laughed at her determination and kissed her again, this time more deeply. Her hands tousled his hair.

“So both?” he suggested, stroking her neck.

“How about neither?” her eyes glowed mischievously and she smiled the smile that he loved. Just as he responded with the smile that she loved the doors opened to the lobby. They quickly pressed the 20 button, kissing the whole way up until he murmured,

“I love you,”
“I love you more,” she replied, and the hotel door clicked shut behind them before his denial could be heard.