Read Matchplay for Free Online Page B

I tried not to read too much into it. I was there for one reason: to get the art history project completed.
    “I already reserved a meeting room,” he said when I a pproached. I had envisioned us sitting at a table out in the open not in one of the secluded meeting rooms. The idea of being alone with him both scared and excited me.
    “Follow me,” he continued as we headed into the building.
    I waited to see where he would sit before I selected my seat, as far across the table from him as I could get. He grinned when I sat down. Was he expecting me to throw myself at him like every other girl on campus? If so, he had a long wait. Eternity.
    I removed my art book from my backpack and looked at him. He was staring at me with those beautiful brown eyes. Then I noticed he didn’t have his book with him. He hadn’t even brought a book bag.
    “Where’s your text book?” I asked.
    “I thought we could share yours .” He winked.
    What was it with him and winking? I gulped. “Okay . I have some ideas about our project.”
    He leaned back in his chair and placed his interlaced hands behind his head as if he was getting comfortable. I found the move a bit offensive but I let it slide.
    “I’m all ears.” He still had a bit of a grin on his face. Did he think this was a big joke?
    I glared at him. “I was hoping you’d take this project a bit more seriously. Especially when I told you how important it is to me.”
    He sat in his chair. “You’re right. Tell me your ideas.”
    I searched his eyes and I thought I saw a bit of sincerity b ehind all of his bravado. I decided to forge ahead. “When I started high school, I already knew I wanted to major in art history in college. So I always tried to talk my parents into planning our family vacations around major art museums I wanted to visit. Because I’m an only child, they indulged me. The summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school, I begged my parents to take me to St. Petersburg, Florida for vacation. I wanted to visit the Salvador Dali museum. He’s one of my favorite artists. My mother fully supported the idea because she also wanted to go to the beach.”
    I had to take a breath. I fought back the tears I could feel welling in my eyes. I didn’t think telling the story was going to make me so emotional. I cleared my throat and continued. “It was the last vacation we took as a family,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was sharing the intimate details of the story, with Aaron of all people. I rarely talked with anyone about my mom. I was only planning to tell him about the Dali Museum.
    When I looked at Aaron, his eyes held a tenderness that I wasn’t expecting to see.
    “Why was it your last family vacation?” He asked the que stion so softly I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly.
    I studied Aaron’s face. I wondered if all the girls who threw themselves at him ever really saw him, the person inside, beyond the good looking package.
    “My mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer my junior year of high school. She just passed away in April.”
    “I’m sorry to hear about your mom,” he said softly. He put his hand out and I thought he might grab mine but at the last second he pulled away. “I have no idea what it’s like to lose a parent. I can only imagine.”
    I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. “I didn’t mean to drag you down with all of my baggage.”
    “It’s okay. You can talk to me whenever you want about whatever you want.”
    I nodded.
    Our eyes met and his intense gaze went right through me.
    “I mean it. Whenever. Whatever.”
    I could see that he was serious. “Thanks,” I whispered. Then I held up the book. Back to work. “The reason I brought up the Dali Museum was to use it as an example of a museum as a tribute to a single artist. I think that’s the direction we should take with our project. I think we should design a museum for a single artist.”
    He nodded. “I like it”
    “Of course, the