Page 33 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
Probably not.
I try not to think too highly of myself, but this is one of my more brilliant ideas. And by brilliant I mean stupid. For me. It is absolutely going to help Brooklyn if she pays attention, but I know before I’ve even started that I’m setting myself up for disaster.
Admitting this means also admitting something I’m not ready to admit, so as I carry Brooklyn on my back into the gallery, I pretend there’s absolutely no danger lurking ahead of me. I’m good at that, pretending I can’t see something staring me in the face.
I probably shouldn’t count that as a skill I want to have when that’s the very thing that ended my marriage.
“Are you ever going to explain yourself,” Brooklyn asks, “or do I just have to interpret?”
Okay, Ineedto admit it, at least to myself, or I’m never going to make it through this morning.
I am attracted to Brooklyn Briggs.
There. I acknowledged the truth, and I can put it behind me because nothing is going to come of it. Brooklyn and I are never going to be more than friends, if we even manage that, and that’s okay. I can be attracted to her without acting on that attraction and therefore putting my friendship with Houston in danger. I’m not ready for a new relationship after Natalie, and Brooklyn deserves someone who can show her how valuable she is.
That isn’t me.
“Would you relax?” I tell her and stop in front of the first painting I come across. It’s a rather gruesome battle scene, not exactly helpful to my lesson. I grimace. “You need to ease into this one.”
Otherwise known as I need to make sure my plan isn’t going to bite me in the butt.
“Tell me about what you see in this painting, Queens.”
Brooklyn adjusts her hold around my collar bone as she looks at it. I can feel each of her breaths, and my hands are tucked around her thighs to hold her up, only a thin layer of fabric between my fingers and her skin. I got rather familiar with these legs of hers yesterday, and I have to resist the urge to try to find the mole behind her knee that I discovered while she was asleep and my hands were exploring her leg as I massaged. Her skin is so soft, and at one point I forgot I was touching her because it felt so natural to have my hands on her.
Okay, wow, that sounds creepy. And I am so not doing a good job of moving on from the whole attraction thing.
I probably should have asked the front desk if they had a wheelchair or something, but it feels too late for that now.
“I see a lot of blood,” she says finally, and her voice mimics the roll of her eyes. “Jordan, if you’re trying to teach me how to like art because Mark likes art, you’re going to have to actually teach me. I’m a science girl. Art has never been my thing.”
I move deeper into the gallery, trying to find the best place for my demonstration. “You’re telling me there’s not a sort of beauty in a chemical reaction?”
“I guess there is.”
“What is your favorite lesson to teach your kids?”
She thinks for a second. “Stoichiometry.”
Yep, I have no idea what that is. “Why is that your favorite?”
“Because it’s a really difficult concept, but when it finally clicks in their heads and they see the way it ties a lot of things together, I feel like I’ve done something good.”
I gently set her down in front of a bench that coincidentally sits in front of a painting that depicts a man and woman in the middle of a dance without touching each other. Perfect. “Art is about finding beauty and emotion in whatever is in front of you,” I tell her. “Some people see it in stoik-whatever. Some people see it in architecture. Some people see it in other people. You don’t have to know anything about paint strokes or history for something to make you feel.”
When I turn to face her, she’s gaping at me, like she had no idea I could ever say something like that. I honestly can’t tell if she’s impressed or confused, but she’s something.
Then she snaps out of it, shaking her head and turning to the painting in front of us. “I guess that’s a pretty good lesson, though I have no idea what it has to do with temptation.”
“Oh, art appreciation isn’t why we are here. That was a bonus lesson.”
She literally gulps. “So what’s the real lesson?”
“I already told you.”
One delicate eyebrow rises. She didn’t put on any makeup today, but that doesn’t make her any less beautiful. “Temptation?”
She has no idea how much she embodies that word.
