Page 69 of Objection to Love

Shooting him a dry look, she looked at the pamphlet. “This is an abstract representation of a lotus flower—meaning rebirth, enlightenment, and peace in various cultures—on fire,” she glanced at Garrett, who had a hand covering his mouth, “to represent the mortal struggle. In the distance, the artist has painted an eagle flying overhead—to represent the strength of mankind.”

A strangled laugh escaped Garrett. “They missed the exorcism.”

Em bit her lips together, moving slowly in a circle past all the paintings and occasionally referencing her pamphlet. Garrett trailed behind her, and she didn’t dare look at his face. She could appreciate the skill that went into each piece of artwork. But the meaning, and oftentimes even the subject of the painting, went completely over her head.

What did that say about her? Was she uncultured?

“Should we go to the next room?” Garrett asked into her ear.

“Sure,” she replied quietly. “It’s gotta be better than this one.”

“And here I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

Their voices were hushed, as were everyone else’s in the room. Which made it even harder not to laugh out loud.

She saw the title of the next room the second they walked in. A massive banner filling the entire back wall read “humanity,” with all the space around it covered in the same word but various sizes and scripts. They walked all the way into the room. Then turned around.

Garrett’s bark of laughter echoed through the room, and Em’s eyes widened to twice their normal size.

“Sorry,” Garrett said to the few people near them. He didn’t sound sorry. They glared at him.

“Those look like…” Em couldn’t even say it.

“Nude paintings,” Garrett finished. “With… staplers? No, that guy has a potted plant. Are they all just holding random household objects?” His voice was strangled.

“Oh, my gosh. That one has a mop.” These were not at all the classical, tasteful paintings one might expect in an art exhibit.

Garrett looked to the ceiling. “Oh, jeez, they’re up there too. We can’t escape them.”

Em looked up, then down. Then turned around completely. Garrett turned with her, their shoulders together.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered urgently to him. Her face was bright red, she was sure. “I had no clue this was one of the exhibits.”

Garrett’s laugh rumbled through him, and Em could feel it against her, though she couldn’t hear it. “Should we go into the next room?” he asked.

She shook her head and turned back around. “No. This was a horrible activity choice.”

“So you want to leave?”

She nodded, and together they hurtled forward and didn’t stop walking until they reached the exit.

They made it to the car without speaking, but neither got in. Em’s face still burned, and she was avoiding Garrett’s eyes. Of all the things they could have done tonight, she had to take him to anartexhibit? When neither of them even liked art? And then they’d ended up in a room full of naked paintings holding various, random objects. How long would it take to erase those from her mind?

She peeked at Garrett, who was watching her gravely. “I’m so sorry.”

His expression didn’t change. “Me too.”

“Why areyousorry?”

“Because that was a pretty hard way to learn that we’re uncultured swine.”

A beat of silence. Then they both started laughing. Several people gave them pointed looks of affront at their display of mirth outside such a serious, tasteful event.

Garrett grabbed Em’s hand. “Come on,” he said between laughs, “I have an idea.”

She hurried beside him to the edge of the street. He punched the button to signal the crosswalk.

“Where are we going?” she asked, still smiling broadly.

---