The line moves forward, and we advance with it. More silence follows.
“So,” I say, at the same moment he asks, “Is this?—”
We both stop.
“Sorry, go ahead,” I say.
“No, please. You.”
“I insist.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “I was going to ask if this is your first time here.”
“At this museum? Yes.” I tilt my head. “What about you? First time?”
“First museum,” he says. “Ever.”
I check his face for the punchline. Nothing.
“Ever? In your whole life?”
“In my whole life.”
“Wow.” Now I’m curious. “Not even with a school trip?”
His gaze goes distant, like he's looking at something I can't see. “I missed that.”
The way he says it closes a door. I leave it shut.
“Well, you picked an interesting one to start with.” I gesture at the glass and steel towering above us. “Contemporary art is an acquired taste.”
“Is that a warning?”
“More like managing expectations.” I smile. “If you hate everything, don’t blame me. I just gave you the ticket.”
He tips his head in my direction. “I won’t hold you liable for any art-induced distress.”
I blink.Did he just joke?
He clears his throat and looks away, as if he’s surprised himself.
“Right,” I say, biting back a grin. “Good. That’s... good.”
The ticket scanner waves us forward. My ticket, then his, and then we are through the doors into the lobby.
I turn to Kai. I don't want him to feel obligated to stick with me.
“Well. Enjoy your first exhibit.” I smile, perhaps too brightly. “You’re lucky. There’s nothing like experiencing something for the first time.”
I don’t wait for him to offer a polite excuse to leave. I give a little wave and hurry toward the west wing. My heart is hammering for no good reason.
God, was that wave cringey? It felt cringey.
I keep walking, trying to lose myself in the colorful halls of the museum, even as the scent of sandalwood seems to linger in the air behind me.
CHAPTER 4
THE CALL
