“You never know, Scott,” Jake said, grinning. “Maybe she’ll be the one to make me finally appreciate art.”
“I am breathless with anticipation,” Scott laughed. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“You will,” Jake said with more conviction than he felt.
He spent the trip to Casey’s in a mildly anxious state. He was very worried that he’d reveal his lack of knowledge at the completely wrong time, completely shattering his chances with her. He was also excited to see her, which almost eclipsed his anxiety.
When the limo pulled up to the curb, he saw Casey immediately. Jake’s breath caught in his chest as his eyes drank in her curvy, full figure, neatly wrapped in a snug, knee-length white dress. She was wearing sparkly sandals with low heels and carried a silver purse that hung from her shoulder by a glittery strap.
As she strode toward him, Jake was mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the way her long chestnut hair hung over her shoulders. The sun was just starting to set, and the angled light caught in her hair, making it glow with gold and hints of red. All over her, small hints of silver and diamond reflected that shimmer, making her seem to shine from head to toe.
Jake was breathless, his voice caught somewhere deep in his throat. His heart pounded so hard, he felt it in his temples, and when Casey paused in front of him and smiled, he was struck all over again by her beauty.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?” She opened her hands a little, stretching into a slight pose. Jake felt his gaze drawn to her body again and fought to make his attention respectful and not stare at her like a creepy old man.
“You look amazing,” he said, controlling himself with effort. “Let’s go, shall we?”
“We shall,” she said, laughing softly. “Do you always revert to formal language when you’re nervous?”
“How did you know I was nervous?” he asked, surprised.
She winked. “I didn’t. Until you just told me.”
Jake laughed softly. There was so much to admire about her, and Jake was enjoying the feeling of being constantly surprised.
I can’t wait to discover everything about her.
This made his anxiety rise all over again. As he learned about her, she would also learn about him. It was inevitable. Sooner or later, she’d find out he had no understanding of art at all.
They arrived at the museum, and Jake directed the driver to come back in a few hours. As they entered the foyer, Jake began to feel freaked out even worse than before. To combat his fear, he strode up to the nearest painting, glancing at the brass tag as he tried to think of something smart to say.
“Ah, an original,” he said in a lofty tone. He wasn’t sure he could pronounce the artist’s name, so he didn’t even try. “This is a fine piece.”
Casey leaned forward, squinting as she looked up and down. Finally, she nodded, stepping back.
“Yes, it’s a classic,” her voice was rich with approval. “The lines are just typical of this artist’s style.”
An old man sitting on a bench nearby gave them an odd look. Jake ignored him. So far, Casey hadn’t caught on, so he must be doing okay.
They headed down the nearest corridor, and Jake was relieved to see a few paintings by Monet. At least he knew a few things about this artist. “The forerunner of impressionism,” he said, gesturing at the nearest painting. “Did you know he was blind?”
“Of course,” Casey said, nodding. “Quite incredible, don’t you think? I’ve often wondered how he even knew what colors he was using.”
Two women nearby chuckled and looked over, whispering to each other. Jake felt a moment of panic.
Wait, was he blind? Maybe, just vision impaired? I don’t know! Is Casey making fun of me? Is everyone?
Jake had a horrible moment where he remembered screwing up an essay on famous composers. He’d said that Mozart was deaf, not Beethoven. The teacher had let it run on for a few minutes until the entire class burst out laughing. Jake had never forgotten it.
As they hurried toward the next corridor, Casey looked around appreciatively, her expression relaxed and her body language at ease. Jake could see she was in her element, and he knew he had to do better if he wanted to impress her.
“Pointillism,” he said, blessing every boring art conversation he’d ever had to sit through with his family. “This is … ah …” Jake floundered, desperately trying to think of the artist’s name. For a moment, he wished he’d gotten an earpiece so Scott could have walked him through this.
Because that always works out so well in the movies.
“Yeah, I know this one,” Casey said. “It’s a representation of a flower garden, but they used dots instead of strokes. Like a printer or LCD monitor.”
An older lady who was looking at the painting gave Casey a downright hostile look. Casey didn’t notice, but Jake was really starting to get worried. It felt like Casey was calling him out, and he wasn’t even noticing.