Portrait of Us by A. Destiny Page A

expectant.
    He laughed and held up his hands. “Hey, I don’t have all the answers. This is a new installation since I’ve been here.”
    â€œHow often do you come to this gallery?” I suddenly found myself wanting to know more about him. Who his family was,where he lived, what he did when he wasn’t playing basketball or taking our class.
    â€œAs often as I can. At least a couple of times a month.” He chuckled. “My uncle’s girlfriend owns this gallery, so she lets me visit whenever I want. For free.”
    Interesting. “It’s good to have connections,” I teased. “Do you ever come here with anyone?” My face burst into flames when I realized how that could sound. “Um, I mean, like friends or family or whatever.” Wow, way to be weird, Corinne.
    He angled just a fraction toward me and peered down into my eyes. His pupils were wide and dark, and the irises were just a slim blue line around them. I saw him swallow. “You’re the first person I’ve come here with.” His voice was low but intense.
    I drew in a steadying breath, my heart thundering in my chest. I’d sworn I wasn’t going to give any further thought to this stupid, simple crush I had on him, but the way he was looking at me right now . . . I couldn’t resist the pull.
    I stepped just a hair closer; heat poured from his body. A small flutter at the base of his throat showed his heart rate matched mine.
    â€œSo glad to see you again, Matthew,” a tall slender woman interrupted us. Her brown hair was pulled into a messy bun on her head and she wore a flowing dark blue dress.
    I jerked in surprise but tried to recover my cool. Her scrutiny hit me in full force as she took me in with her eyes. Must be his uncle’s girlfriend. I thrust out my hand. “Hi, I’m Corinne.”
    â€œBrianna, this is my art project partner,” Matthew said smoothly, so much so that I wondered if I’d imagined that moment between us.
    Her smile widened, and she shook my hand. “Glad to meet you. We heard about your project. Good luck in the competition!”
    â€œThanks,” I said, keeping my attention off Matthew and firmly on her. “We’re trying to get inspiration and decide what we’re going to do our project on. We can’t seem to agree.”
    â€œIt can be hard,” she said with a knowing nod. “But once you find your inspiration, I’m sure it will flow.” She gave Matthew a wide, warm smile. “He’s a smart one. You’re lucky to be paired with him. He’ll work hard, and he’s truly gifted. Rare to see such profound talent in a guy his age.”
    Matthew’s face turned a bright shade of crimson. “I’m no more talented than anyone else in our class.” He cleared his throat and turned to me. “Teni has a piece on display if you want to see it.”
    The more time I spent around Matthew, the more I started to realize Brianna was right. There was something special about him—his perspective on the world, his intensity. It made me realize how very safe I played it. Because there was something safe about classical art. When you looked at a piece, you essentially knew what you were going to get. No big surprises—the image was clearly rendered on canvas with little to debate. Yeah, there might be symbolic layers in there, but the meaning of the paintings weren’t greatly altered depending on who was looking at it.
    I nodded and followed him to see Teni’s bold-colored painting of two African girls. They wore simple dresses and had wide smiles on their faces, white teeth gleaming in golden sunshine. Somehow Teni had managed to blend the classic and the modern in her approach—I could see the girls clearly, knew what the subject matter was, but the unusual, varied lines that formed their figures gave the piece freshness. Matthew and I could definitely learn