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“That’s a stupid way to spell judged.”
“It is.”
I keep reading until I reach the notification date. “I want to do this.”
“I thought you might.”
Meredith looks around at the paintings leaning against the studio walls. “Which one are you thinking of submitting?”
“The green one.”
“The red one.”
I look at her. “You asked which one I’m thinking of submitting.”
“And now I’m telling you you’re wrong.”
“It’s my painting.”
“That doesn’t make you right about it.”
I consider that. “I think it does.”
Meredith laughs and points toward the red canvas. “That one has more energy.”
“The green one has more control.”
“Exactly.”
I’m still deciding whether that was an insult when she takes out her phone.
“Let’s photograph both. You don’t have to decide right now.”
That makes sense. We move the red and green canvases closer to the front windows for better light. Meredith knows enough about photographing art to keep the frame straight and avoid glare, and I know enough now to recognize when the colors on the screen look wrong. Between us, we get a photograph of each that I’m satisfied with.
She sends them to my phone so I can choose one for the application, then slips her phone back into her bag.
I expect her to leave. Instead, she leans one hip against the worktable.
“Can I ask you something that has nothing to do with art?”
“You just did.”
Her smile widens. “Would you have dinner with me?”
“Yes.”
Meredith’s eyebrows rise. I realize I answered too quickly.
“Dinner where?”
“Somewhere nicer than the Blue Plate diner.” She pauses. “And to be clear, I’m asking you on a date.”
The meaning lands all at once. I hadn’t realized she was interested in me that way.
“Oh.” That changes the question.
I noticed Meredith was attractive the first day I saw her in the park, although at the time I cared more about the fact that someone was interested in something I had made. Dark hair, good clothes, easy smile. She knows more about art than I do, and she talks to me like I’m Kell, not like I’m something unusual.
