“Maybe I am,” I say.
“Really? What’s on your mind?” He takes a glass of champagne from a passing server.
“World peace,” I tell him.
“Hilarious,” he says with a smirk. “What’s your favorite collection in here?”
“You ask that like you already have an answer.”
“I do.” He nods toward the wall. “This one. The subway series has captured me, and I’ve not been able to walk away from it.”
I sip my champagne and keep my expression bored. I’m convinced he doesn’t know I painted it. “Really? There are plenty of incredible artists in the gallery tonight.”
“Sure, but this has me mesmerized.” He takes a sip. “It’s almost like the artist painted people who had no idea anyone was watching. It’s almost intrusive, like pieces of their souls were stolen and put on canvas. You can almost feel what each individual was carrying with them, all the weight of their life that they thought was invisible. I would’ve purchased the entire collection if someone hadn’t beaten me to it.”
“Oh. That’s a shame,” I say.
“It’s a tragedy. I’m very bitter about it.” He says it like he actually means it.
“I’m partial to this collection as well,” I admit, almost sad to let it go. However, the money earned will be donated to charity, which makes me happy.
He clinks his glass against mine. “You have excellent taste.”
“Or maybe you have basic tastes.” I challenge him.
He laughs. “Thanks for the honesty.”
“Anytime.”
He doesn't look offended. He seems entertained. “What do you see when you look at these paintings?”
“Life. I don’t see people in vulnerable states. I see emotions in color. Anyone can paint a face, but the eyes are where the truth lies.”
He tilts his head at me, intrigued. “I think the best art evokes emotion and tells a story without words.” He pauses. “There’s beauty in that, but I’d also argue some things are universally beautiful and don’t need interpretation, like sunsets and the ocean.” He glances down at himself. “A man in a well-tailored suit.”
“Humble.” I roll my eyes.
“Always.” He grins and extends his hand. “I’m Louis.”
“Addison.”
“Nice to meet you.” He clinks his glass against mine and takes a sip.
He’s quiet for a moment, studying me like I’ve said too much.
“What?” I ask, wondering if I was too animated.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t expecting to have the most interesting conversation of my year tonight.”
I relax. “Life is full of surprises.”
“It certainly is.” He smiles, and it’s different from before. Less polished. “I have a feeling you’re full of them.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
There’s something about his accent that catches my attention. I’ve been so focused on what he was saying that I didn’t really clock it until now.
“Where are you from?” I ask.
