She didn’t hesitate at all in giving me a reply. “Nope.”
We all burst out laughing again. After discussing our lack of dating possibilities for a few minutes longer, I finally started the first movie. A few hours later, after Miss Congeniality saved the beauty pageant and Kate and Leo sailed on the Titanic, Emily and Marissa headed home. I could hear them laughing in the hallway as I closed the door behind them. I think they were debating if they should stop by my next-door neighbor Matt’s apartment and introduce themselves, but I knew that was a plan that would never actually come to fruition. I smiled to myself as I walked back into the living room to turn off the lights before I headed to bed. As I glanced outside, I saw that it was just starting to snow. I stood looking out my balcony door for a few minutes, watching the snowflakes swirl in the light of the lampposts and softly fall into the courtyard of my apartment building. The scene looked beautiful lit up against the night sky. The snow reminded me of something, too, but I told myself that I wouldn’t think about that anymore tonight.
Chapter 5
The next afternoon, I decided to wander around a few museum exhibits in DC. I took the metro to the Smithsonian station and walked out onto the National Mall. If it had been spring or summer, crowds of people would have been milling about on a Saturday—crisscrossing the grassy areas, taking pictures, asking for directions. Today it was mostly locals wandering around. A few people were jogging down the paths along the Mall. It was cold out, and I could see their breaths fogging in the air as they ran past. I wondered why I had decided to come down here today of all days. It wasn’t the most pleasant of times to be wandering around outdoors. There was even a light dusting of snow on the grass from last night.
I pulled on my black leather gloves and tied my red scarf tighter around my neck, trying to prevent any of the cool air from blowing down my cream peacoat. At least I’d dressed warmly. I walked over to the café next to the National Gallery of Art’s sculpture garden and ordered a cappuccino. I sprinkled a little cinnamon on top before covering it with the plastic lid and taking a sip. Walking back outside, I decided to look around the outdoor sculpture garden for a few minutes to finish my coffee before going into the gallery, which was right across the street.
There was an ice skating rink in the middle of the sculpture garden, and a group of people were out there skating today. Surrounding the rink were a variety of unique, modern sculptures. In fact, I always thought that some of them were a little strange. There was one sculpture that looked like a giant mass of twisted metal shapes—circles, triangles, and a few lines thrown in for good measure. Another sculpture was shaped like a giant typewriter eraser—basically a rubbery wheel with a brush attached on top. I remembered that my mom had one of those when I was a kid, leftover from who knows when, but I doubted they even made them anymore. Modern art wasn’t my favorite, but it was interesting to look at just because it was so different. I continued walking around, looking at a few other sculptures. Not many people were near me, and I took a sip of my cappuccino as I read through the description on the plaque in front of a piece. I wandered over to another sculpture and was reading about the artist when I heard someone calling my name.
“Maddy?” the deep voice called out again, and I turned and looked around, trying to see who it belonged to. Suddenly Travis came bounding toward me with a big smile on his face. He looked more rugged than usual; as I studied him, I realized that he hadn’t shaved, and his jaw was covered with dark stubble. A black wool cap was pulled down over his hair, and he was wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket. I didn’t see anyone else around, so he must have been here alone.
“Hi Travis!” I called out, giving him a small wave. “It looks like you finally decided it was cold here.”
It had only taken him a few moments to walk over with his long stride, and he stared down at me with a bemused look in his brown eyes. “What?”
I looked up at him, noticing the trace of red on his cheeks. It was probably just from the cold, but it amused me that it looked like he was blushing. “Remember when you said that you didn’t need a coat because it wasn’t that cold here?” I asked. “You’re wearing a jacket, so I figured that you finally realized it was cold.” I thought back to that afternoon when our team had gone out to lunch, and Travis sat next to me in the booth. He’d walked to lunch wearing only his suit, claiming that it wasn’t cold yet here compared to New York. Of course he had worn a jacket and actual winter apparel when we’d gone skiing, so didn’t he realize that I was just teasing him?
“Huh—you remember that?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes. He stuffed both hands into his jacket pockets.
I shrugged, staring up at him expectantly as I waited for an answer.
“Well, there’s snow on the ground today. So I guess you were right—it is cold here.” He grinned, somehow amused that he was admitting I was right.
“Ah,” I said, nodding, as if I’d known his answer all along.
“So what are you up to?” he asked.
“I actually came to see an exhibit at the National Gallery of Art, but then I decided to wander around the sculpture garden for a little while. How about you?”
“I thought I’d get out and explore the city a bit today. I haven’t seen many of the museums here yet. I noticed all the people ice skating and saw the sculptures, so I thought I’d come check this out. I was just looking at that crazy sculpture of an old typewriter eraser when I saw you standing over here.”
I laughed when he mentioned my least favorite sculpture. “I never liked that one either.”
“It’s weird, right?” he asked, continuing to stare down at me. His brown eyes were so intense, I found myself having trouble concentrating on what he was saying.
“Definitely,” I agreed.
“So, how was your night?”
For a second he looked almost wistful, like he had wanted to be with me last night. I was sure that he didn’t want to spend Friday night watching a bunch of girly movies with my friends though. Was he feeling wistful because yesterday was Valentine’s Day? Or just because he didn’t know many people here yet and wanted something fun to do on a Friday night?
“Oh, it was fun,” I said casually. “We had some wine, watched a bunch of chick-flicks….”
“Ugh—chick-flicks!” Travis teased.
“And what did you do last night that was so much better?” I asked, taking a sip of my cappuccino.
“Not much actually,” he said with a wry smile. “Ordered a pizza, had a few beers…and I watched an action movie. Definitely better than those chick-flicks.”
“Right,” I scoffed. “Typical guy response.” I smiled to let him know I was just kidding.
“Hmmm…you might be right,” he mused. He paused a moment, as if deciding to go on or not. “Actually, my ex-girlfriend texted me while I was watching it—although she wasn’t really someone that I wanted to hear from.”
“Did you just break up?”
“No, we broke up last summer.” His voice had taken on a serious tone. I searched his face for any kind of indication that he was still interested in her, but his countenance seemed perfectly neutral—comfortable, like it didn’t matter at all that he was discussing his ex-girlfriend with me. I wondered if that meant his relationship with her really was over—ancient history. That seemed to be the case. “She just sent me a message because it was Valentine’s Day. We don’t keep in touch, and I didn’t bother texting her back. I actually think she was out at a bar with her friends and sent it to me then—sort of like drunk-dialing.”
“Drunk texting?” I asked with a grin.
“Exactly. So I guess you didn’t have any ex-boyfriends calling you last night?”
“No, nothing like that,” I said, shaking my head. “My ex and I are definitely over.”
Travis nodded thoughtfully, seeming to note that piece of information. “Do you mind if I join you to check out the National Gallery?”
“Not at all. You haven’t be
en there yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I want to see a special exhibit, but I can show you some of my favorite pieces in the permanent collection there, too—if you want.”
“That’d be great,” Travis said, smiling.
We exited the sculpture garden and walked over to the intersection to cross the street. I tossed my cup into the trashcan as a crowd of people started to gather, waiting for the light to change. There was a group of students there, seemingly on some type of school trip. A teenage boy squeezed by me, pushing me against Travis. I saw him watching the boy, as if annoyed by the fact that he had shoved by me, but then he glanced down to make sure I was okay. As the “walk” sign lit up, people surged forward. Travis easily moved ahead, but as people around me elbowed by, I started to fall behind. He turned back to look for me and saw me struggling to keep up with him. He reached back, and his hand gently grabbed my arm, tugging me toward him.
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly.
“That crowd looked like they were going to swallow you whole,” he chuckled in amazement.
“You’re lucky that you’re so tall; you can just push through people.”
Travis laughed harder as we continued across the street. He had let go but held his arm protectively around me, so that his hand barely grazed my shoulder, as we walked along. “I never thought of it that way. But you’re little, so I guess I need to look out for you.”
I laughed and glanced up at him. He was already gazing down at me, a smile playing on his lips, and as I looked into his brown eyes, I felt a tiny flutter in my heart.
***
The West Building of the National Gallery of Art has always been one of my favorite spaces in DC. The grand white structure is located on Constitution Avenue, right on the National Mall. It stretches down the city block and is rectangular with a dome perched at the center. After walking into the building, you enter into a large rotunda, where thick, white marble columns surround a fountain in the center. The space is vast and dimly lit. I always feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief inside as I leave the rush of the city behind.
Travis followed me to the center of the room, near the fountain, looking around in awe. “Wow, this is really beautiful.”
“I know,” I said, nodding in agreement. “It’s one of my favorite buildings in DC.”
“I can see why.”
“At Christmastime they have poinsettias displayed all around the fountain. It looks really amazing to see all the red flowers against the white marble.”
We stood there a little while longer before I pulled Travis over to the Impressionist Gallery, explaining that they were my absolute favorite paintings. Travis seemed to appreciate them as well. I showed him some of my favorite Impressionist pieces, pointing out the muted colors of Monet’s landscapes and the soft features in Renoir’s women and children. I remembered coming here during college to take notes on various paintings for my Art History class. I’d sat on a bench in front of a Titian painting with my notebook and tried to write down all the various techniques seen in the painting that we’d been taught in class. I had no talent for painting, but I absolutely loved studying the artwork. The colors, the artistry, the symbolism in the pieces—it all fascinated me.
“What’s your favorite painting?” Travis asked quietly, so as not to disturb the other patrons.
“Here?” I asked, looking around.
Travis studied me for a moment before answering. “Here, and your actual favorite painting.”
I turned to him and smiled. “My favorite painting here is that one of Monet’s with water lilies.”
Travis walked over to the painting that I was pointing to and stood in front of it. I followed him and heard him read the title out loud. “The Japanese Footbridge,” he said softly, mostly to himself. “I like it,” he said, agreeing with my choice. Then he glanced down at me. “And your actual favorite painting?”
“It’s not here,” I said with a smile. “It’s in the Phillip’s Collection. But my absolute favorite painting is Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party.”
“Where’s the Phillip’s Collection?”
“Near Dupont Circle.”
“It’s in DC?”
“Yeah, sort of the northwest area,” I said nodding.
“We’ll have to go there sometime. I’d love to see it.”
“It’s a date,” I replied, suddenly stopping myself when I realized what I’d just said. If Travis had caught on, he didn’t give any indication. “Well, you know what I mean,” I continued. “Shall we go see some other exhibits?”
Travis and I spent the rest of the afternoon at the National Gallery. We walked over to the East Building to see the special exhibition, but we also spent some more time in the main building, admiring the Italian Renaissance paintings and few other things along the way that caught our eye. As we walked out of the museum at 5:00, the streetlights were already on, providing a warm glow against the darkening sky. The air was crisp, and I could smell the smoky scent of wood burning, coming from somewhere else in the city. I shivered in the winter air, crossing my arms across my chest.
“Wow, I hate winter,” I said. “I’m so ready for it to be springtime.”
Travis grinned as he looked down at me. “Oh come on,” he teased. “This isn’t that bad.”
I smiled up at him. “It’s not that good either.”
He laughed, and the twinkle was back in his eyes again. “Well, I’m starving. Do you want to get something to eat?”
“Sure, that sounds good. What do you feel like?”
“Oh, I like everything.”
“There’s a good tapas place not too far from here,” I said, pointing in the direction that we needed to go.
“Tapas sounds good. Let’s try it,” Travis agreed, rubbing his hands together.
I remembered that his hands were in his pockets earlier in the sculpture garden. “Don’t you have any gloves?” I asked.
“I forgot them,” he replied. “I’m okay though.” He shoved his hands in his pockets again, and we started walking. People were bustling about on the street, coming back from running errands or heading out for an early dinner. One man walked by carrying a bouquet of red roses, and I wondered if he was having his Valentine’s celebration a day late. We crossed the street and a cab honked at us, even though the crosswalk light was in our favor. “Wow, that’s the first time I’ve gotten honked at all day,” Travis joked. “Drivers are so much ruder in New York.”
“That’s terrible,” I said.
“Oh, you get used to it after a while.”
We walked a short way down the block and arrived in front of the restaurant. The covered patio area was empty—the tables and chairs all pulled inside for winter. I’d spent many a happy hour there on warm summer evenings, but the area certainly didn’t look inviting now. Travis opened the door for me, and together we walked inside. The restaurant was warmly lit, with large, colorful Spanish paintings on the walls, wrought-iron tables with blue mosaic tops, and an earth-colored tile floor.
“Table for two,” Travis said when we approached the hostess stand.
The hostess picked up two menus and guided us to a cozy table by the window. I unwrapped my scarf and slid off my coat, draping them over the back of my chair. Travis sat down across from me, shrugging out of his leather jacket. He had on a forest green sweater, and as I watched his face—taking in his strong jaw and dark brown eyes—I was reminded again how handsome he was. We’d been walking around looking at paintings all afternoon, so this was the first chance I had all day to really focus on him.
After handing us each a menu, the hostess walked away. Just then a few teenage girls walking by the window peeked in at us. I wondered what they were looking at since we had just gotten there; it wasn’t like they could be admiring our dinner. They saw me watching them and jumped back as I laughed. “We don’t even have any food for them to look at,” I said.
“Maybe we just look really interesting,” Travis
said with a grin.
I raised my eyebrows doubtfully at him, still laughing.
“Maybe they liked your outfit?”
I glanced down at my fitted black cashmere sweater. Although I liked it, I doubted it was my sweater they were looking it. More likely they had been checking out Travis. But I looked back up at him and said, smiling, “You must be right. Why wouldn’t they want to stop in the cold to see what I was wearing?”
He laughed and then picked up his menu. “So what’s good here?” he asked.
“They have really good sangria,” I immediately replied.
“Do you want to get a pitcher?”
“Sure, that sounds great.”
I told him how I liked to come here in the summer and sit out in the patio area, drinking sangria into the evening and people-watching. We’d even come here after work a few times for happy hour. Travis seemed to be spending more time with our group lately, and as I told him about it, I wondered if he would be joining us for our after-work activities this summer. I turned my attention back to the menu, and we discussed various combinations of what we should order. I pointed out a few things to him that I had tried before. Eventually we picked out a selection of tapas to share and gave our order to the waitress.
“So how do you like living here so far?” I asked.
“It’s great. I like DC—it’s a lot smaller than New York, but I like it here. I guess the only hard thing is not really knowing people.”
“Yeah, I think it would be hard to move somewhere that you don’t know anyone.”
“Have you always lived here?”
I nodded, taking a sip of my sangria. “I’m from Northern Virginia. I didn’t always live in Arlington, but close enough, you know? I already knew tons of people when I moved there. That was pretty brave of you to just move here to DC without knowing anyone.”
“I guess I was ready for a change,” Travis said easily.
“Tired of New York?”
“Well, I’d been there since college—in the city, I mean. And as I said earlier, my ex and I broke up last summer. Neither of us were happy in the end, so it was the right thing to do. But still, I felt ready for a bigger change. Maybe I was just ready to start over somewhere new.”
First Sight Page 6
