“Only if I get to snap a photo of you as a reward,” Zayne says with a smirk as he rises from his seat. I chuckle as his eyebrows dance playfully across his forehead.
After he takes the photos, Zayne tells me, “I’ll email you the files later.”
“Thanks,” I say, flashing him my best smile while he returns to his seat.
My phone buzzes again, the vibration drawing my focus back to my lap.
Seriously, get better friends.
The door’s small window still displays an empty corridor.
I tell myself I’m being irrational. There’s no way Phantom’s feeling that way about me. We’ve only just started hanging out. We’re barely even friends. There’s no way Phantom’s...jealous.
“You never told me where we’re going,” I tell Phantom as we walk down Main Street.
With a happy glint in their eyes, they say, “An art gallery.”
“No way.”
Phantom chuckles. “Yeah. Rockrose is too small for a museum, so this is the next best thing. If I had a car, I would’ve preferred a trip to Chicago though. I haven’t been to my favorite art museum in too long.”
“Yeah, me either,” I say, trying and failing to remember the last time I stepped foot in a museum. Fifth grade? Maybe sixth? Either way, it’s definitely been too long.
They hold the door open for me as we come to a small, minimalist shop front. The sign above the door reads ‘Lazy Cat’ in black, cursive script. The gallery is dimly lit, apart from the white walls, which are brightly illuminated by rows of ceiling track lighting, while soft instrumental music plays in the background.
At the sound of us entering, a short, elderly man with red-rimmed glasses and wiry gray hair appears through a door that reads ‘employees only.’
“Good evening,” he greets us cheerfully as he approaches. “It’s good to see you back so soon,” he comments to Phantom. “I see you’ve brought a friend this time.”
The man’s smile is kind and gentle. I like him already.
“I’m Maeve,” I say cheerfully, offering him my hand.
“Lovely to make your acquaintance,” he replies as heshakes my hand with a firm grip. “I’m Gerald, but do call me Gerry.” He has a slight Eastern European accent, but I can’t seem to place it.
“We’re here to view the new exhibit, and perhaps take a glance at what you’re working on in the back, if you’d be willing to show us.” If it were possible, I’d be convinced that Phantom’s eyes were actually glowing, alight with so much joy it’s difficult to force my gaze anywhere else.
“Of course,” Gerry says, waving his hand with a flourish toward the gallery walls. “Enjoy.”
I turn toward the walls as Gerry leaves us, returning to the back room once more.
“How did you find out about this place?” I ask Phantom as we wander to the wall nearest us.
“Let’s just say that Gerry’s an old family friend.”
“So cool,” I whisper as we approach the first painting. It’s a riot of red and orange arranged in a mess of triangles and diamonds. If I look at it all at once, it’s almost enough to make me dizzy, but if I focus my gaze on one section of the painting at a time, the details come alive. “Interesting.”
Phantom nods next to me.
We move on like that for what must be hours, passing paintings of landscapes, portraits, and abstracts, as well as sculptures, digital art demonstrations, and sketches. There’s so much diversity in the art displayed in the small studio that my head is spinning by the time we’ve come full circle and returned to the front.
“Which piece was your favorite?” Phantom asks, a spirited timbre to their voice.
“I loved so many of them,” I reply, trying to collect my thoughts, “but I think the digital art demonstration was my favorite. The way the technology can change the piece as the viewer interacts with it is fascinating, and so much fun.”
Phantom laughs. “Right.”
As he comes up behind us, Gerry asks, “Are you two ready for the VIP show?”
