It’sa good thing the entry to the exhibition is just a few feet away because on the way here, it started snowing, and I hadn’t thought to buy her something to put on over the dress.
I am an idiot.
I round the truck to open the door for her, lifting her out of it.
It took us about half an hour to get there, and the drive was pleasant. As I told her about the artist, an old friend from art school, she listened intently, and I found that I liked talking to her about the subject. I already knew she was smart, but when talking with her about different art styles and epochs, I discovered this girl is interesting and educated. I had no idea I could fall for her even more.
We enter the gallery, and I grab her a glass of champagne from the server offering them. Since I’m driving, I select a glass of water.
“You don’t drink?” she asks, taking the glass from me.
“Not when I drive and have precious cargo.” I shrug, watching how her full lips form around the glass to take a sip before she scrunches up her pretty nose and purses her lips. “What?” I can’t help but smile at her in amusement.
“I don’t know what I’d expected, but not that.” She shudders. “Why do people drink that? It’s bitter.”
I take the glass from her and hand it to the next server with empty glasses on his tray. “Let’s have a look around,” I propose, placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her farther into the exhibition.
It is centered around dark canvases with white and gray portraits on them. The people in the portraits are screaming, and the upper half of their faces are smudged. They’re only recognizable from the nose down.
“Oh my God, those are stunning,” Carolina admires, walking over to one where the man on the canvas looks especially pained.
“I knew you would be into that,” I remark with a smile, loving that she seems to like them.
“Hayes, long time no see,” a voice greets from behind me, and I have to rein in a huff before I turn.
“Bishop,” I greet, looking over at the blond, conceited snob I haven’t seen in a few years. He still looks exactly the same as he did in art school.
“What a surprise to see you here. I thought you gave up canvases for human skin,” he comments with a sly smirk. I’m just about to answer when he turns to Carolina, stretching out his hand for her to shake. “Since Hayes seems to have forgotten his manners, I will introduce myself. Daniel Bishop, I recently bought this art museum.”
Well, shit, we sure as fuck wouldn’t have come here if I had known that.
Bishop’s hand is still outstretched to Carolina, who shoots me a quick glance. She seems to sense that I don’t like this guybecause she slips her bored face on and only looks him up and down without taking his hand.
God, how I love this woman.
Bishop awkwardly takes his hand back, turning to me. “Well, Phillips outdid himself with this exhibition, don’t you think? People really like the anger and despair in his work.”
Carolina turns and walks farther into the room, looking at the paintings, so I do too, walking behind her while Bishop trails us from canvas to canvas, making me hate him even more.
I wanted to spend time with Carolina, not being chased by the ghosts of my past.
She comes to stand before a painting that is completely black, other than a mix of gray, with a hand outstretched to the viewer. If you look closely, you can make out a face in the shadows, eyes crying. The painting is titledSave Me.
Carolina tilts her head, examining it closely. As I take her in, I watch many emotions cross her face. If we were alone, I would ask her what the painting is moving inside her.
But we are not, and the asshat has to make another comment. “I remember your style was also pretty dark and twisted, right?” Carolina turns to look at me, then at him. He smirks at her with a knowing look like he will divulge privy news. “This could be Hayes’ exhibition, but he decided to drop out of art school to open that silly little tattoo studio.”
She steps over, standing half in front of me and crosses her arms. “That tattoo studio is the best in New York.” She takes a look around. “And you staying in art school brought you what? A silly little art museum in Brooklyn? Or was that Daddy’s money?” He simply smirks at her, but I notice the slightest flash of irritation in his eyes. “I mean, we all start somewhere, right?” she asks him, then takes my hand, pulling me down the hallway.
I have to bite my tongue not to laugh.
That guy is still followingus when I stop to look at another painting. He stands on my left while Xander is on my right.
I realize I’m still holding Xander’s hand and take a step to the side, letting him go.
“Feisty, I like beautiful women who can speak their minds,” the guy leans down to say softly into my ear, making me lean away from him.
Xander fixes him over my head with a stare. But he simply smirks at Xander, obviously just wanting to use me to upset him, before he adds, “You have to give me this, though. This silly little art museum is a nice place to bring a date.”
