just too polite to say anything.
I’m not sure how to decipher his next words. “ Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 10
CHRIS
I had wanted to touch her again from the first moment that I had stepped into the apartment. And over omelets, coffee, and toast, she had been laughing and the guarded look in her eyes was almost totally gone, and I just hadn’t been able to stop myself.
She looked at me like I was some kind of perv. I had passed it off as nothing more than trying to save her from the embarrassment of getting jam all over her face, but then she had laughed again, a bright, clear sound tha t sounded like bells and mentioned something about being a social pariah . She was just so cute, so unselfconscious that I did it again. She was probably thinking about whether she was going to have to use her pepper spray to get rid of me .
Jesus, what was wrong with me? Even Sophia had never twisted me up in knots lik e this. I wanted to beat Sophia at her own game, wanted to conquer the feeling of her skin next to mine that had haunted me for too long. The feelings I had for her were tied up in envy and anger and lust and bitterness. But the way I was feeling about Hallie was something else entirely.
I had never met anyone who was so comfortable in her own skin , who made me feel like everything I had to say was meaningful and fascinating . There was no pretense to her ; it was like she had never thought about being anyone other than her most authentic self. Being with her made me feel like maybe there was an authentic me hiding somewhere inside, too.
I thro w some money down on the table as she grabs her coat.
“Look,” she starts , hesitantly. “It’s been great, I me an, last night and this morning. Y ou probably saved me from talking to myself all day, and that wouldn’t have been a pretty sight, but I should be okay now and I know you must be busy. I need to go to the museum anyways, to get a start on this art history project for next semester and…”
I cut her off. “I’ll come with you.”
She’s startled. “What?”
“I don’t have too much going on today, so if you don’t mind, I’ll come with you. Where do you want to go? The Met? MoMA? The Cloisters?” I was personally hoping she would pick the Cloisters, because it would guarantee a long train ride, but any of them would work.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that or anything, I mean…”
She would come up with an excuse unless I cut her off again. “I want to.”
“Well, ok, then.” She stutters slightly, stumbling over her words. “ I say, let’s go for MoMA. I like modern art as much as anyone else, I guess.”
Forty-five minutes later, after an intense debate over whether or the subway tunnels would collapse if enough zombies decided that they wanted to ride the train (she claimed yes; I countered with the fact that the subways basically contained a number of zombies on any given day), we were standing in front of a giant Cubist painting.
The museum is crowded with people, but we’ve managed to find a nearly empty room. The only other patrons are a white-haired couple holding hands and a few students sketching in the corner.
“I cou ld totally paint that,” she says, after giving the atrocious orange and purple monstrosity a long look.
“Ahhh…another talent.”
“Oh, no, I struggle with stick figures. ” She giggles. “Seriously, they’re a challenge for me. But I mean, come on. This guy is practically painting stick figures anyway. If he added some little guys in the corner, someone would probably say that he’s making a statement about the crushing weight of modern life on the human psyche or something.”
“That’s a profound statement.” I glance at her out of the corner of my eye.
“Oh, I’m just getting warmed up. Everybody’s a critic, especially when they have zero talents of their own.”
“What about that one?” I point to a gigantic sculpture that seemed to contain nothing but a
I’m not sure how to decipher his next words. “ Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 10
CHRIS
I had wanted to touch her again from the first moment that I had stepped into the apartment. And over omelets, coffee, and toast, she had been laughing and the guarded look in her eyes was almost totally gone, and I just hadn’t been able to stop myself.
She looked at me like I was some kind of perv. I had passed it off as nothing more than trying to save her from the embarrassment of getting jam all over her face, but then she had laughed again, a bright, clear sound tha t sounded like bells and mentioned something about being a social pariah . She was just so cute, so unselfconscious that I did it again. She was probably thinking about whether she was going to have to use her pepper spray to get rid of me .
Jesus, what was wrong with me? Even Sophia had never twisted me up in knots lik e this. I wanted to beat Sophia at her own game, wanted to conquer the feeling of her skin next to mine that had haunted me for too long. The feelings I had for her were tied up in envy and anger and lust and bitterness. But the way I was feeling about Hallie was something else entirely.
I had never met anyone who was so comfortable in her own skin , who made me feel like everything I had to say was meaningful and fascinating . There was no pretense to her ; it was like she had never thought about being anyone other than her most authentic self. Being with her made me feel like maybe there was an authentic me hiding somewhere inside, too.
I thro w some money down on the table as she grabs her coat.
“Look,” she starts , hesitantly. “It’s been great, I me an, last night and this morning. Y ou probably saved me from talking to myself all day, and that wouldn’t have been a pretty sight, but I should be okay now and I know you must be busy. I need to go to the museum anyways, to get a start on this art history project for next semester and…”
I cut her off. “I’ll come with you.”
She’s startled. “What?”
“I don’t have too much going on today, so if you don’t mind, I’ll come with you. Where do you want to go? The Met? MoMA? The Cloisters?” I was personally hoping she would pick the Cloisters, because it would guarantee a long train ride, but any of them would work.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that or anything, I mean…”
She would come up with an excuse unless I cut her off again. “I want to.”
“Well, ok, then.” She stutters slightly, stumbling over her words. “ I say, let’s go for MoMA. I like modern art as much as anyone else, I guess.”
Forty-five minutes later, after an intense debate over whether or the subway tunnels would collapse if enough zombies decided that they wanted to ride the train (she claimed yes; I countered with the fact that the subways basically contained a number of zombies on any given day), we were standing in front of a giant Cubist painting.
The museum is crowded with people, but we’ve managed to find a nearly empty room. The only other patrons are a white-haired couple holding hands and a few students sketching in the corner.
“I cou ld totally paint that,” she says, after giving the atrocious orange and purple monstrosity a long look.
“Ahhh…another talent.”
“Oh, no, I struggle with stick figures. ” She giggles. “Seriously, they’re a challenge for me. But I mean, come on. This guy is practically painting stick figures anyway. If he added some little guys in the corner, someone would probably say that he’s making a statement about the crushing weight of modern life on the human psyche or something.”
“That’s a profound statement.” I glance at her out of the corner of my eye.
“Oh, I’m just getting warmed up. Everybody’s a critic, especially when they have zero talents of their own.”
“What about that one?” I point to a gigantic sculpture that seemed to contain nothing but a
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