“Because we weren’t sure; Angela said she thought you were but she wasn’t sure.”
Krysta had officially embarrassed her beyond repair. Angela wished she was a turtle who could crawl into her shell at the instance of any peril or in this case; extreme humiliation. Those few words said so much. They conveyed that Angela had been talking about him; that he had been on her radar. This, she did not want him to know.
“A good looking guy like you... I don’t believe it.” Krysta was flirting at her own boyfriend’s art opening.
“Michael gave her an uncomfortable smile.”
“Your boyfriend’s work is truly fantastic,” Irene said, looking past her at the works on the walls and engaged Krysta into conversation.
Michael took a few steps forward to take a closer look. Angela followed him with her almost empty glass of white. They stood beside one another in silence, their gazes fixed on the canvases. Angela didn’t quite know what to say.
“So you’ve been talking about me,” he teased.
Angela knew he would bring it up. It was not like him to beat around the bush. That was her department.
“Well... you know... Krysta’s my best friend. We talk about everything. She knows everything, right down to the last mundane detail.”
“Mundane detail... interesting. Is that what I am?”
“Oh no. I wish.”
He was making her uncomfortable again.
“Oh look at that, my glass is empty. Looks like I need a refill,” she told him as she ran off.
He followed her, leaving his sister in conversation with Krysta.
Angela got herself a second glass of wine.
“So did you know I would be here tonight?” he asked her.
She took a step back. “Of course not,” she said truthfully.
“But what are the odds? There are a lot of people in this city.”
“I guess we’re both art lovers.” She thought about it. What were the odds? Was it fate? Did she even believe in fate?
“Seriously, I’m not stalking you,” she joked.
She took a step closer. “You are a good-looking man but not that good-looking,” she said, smiling. She was flirting again, sending mixed signals. Her inhibitions were down. The wine had taken effect.
He liked it.
“Not stalking worthy?” he joked.
“I’m afraid not.”
They turned their attention to Adam’s art.
They were looking at a somewhat odd building which was quite familiar to Angela.
“I would definitely buy this one. This is my favorite one,” Angela told him.
“Why that one?”
“I love this building. This is the one on Front Street, downtown; the flatiron building. Its shape is so interesting, don’t you think?”
“It is; it’s great.”
