Taking a Chance: A Novella by Becky Monson

Author:Becky Monson [Monson, Becky]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-11-16T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

“I would not have pegged you as a contemporary art kind of guy,” I say as we stand outside the doors of the Museum of Modern Art. It’s been about a decade since I last stood at this spot. The last time I was here was for a tenth-grade class trip.

He pauses, his palm on the handle of the entrance, his brow furrowed. “What kind of thing did you peg me for?” Some of his bangs fall in his face as he talks, and he pushes them back.

“Hmm,” I say, putting a finger to my chin as I ponder. “A serial killer?”

“Only on Tuesdays,” he quips as he opens the door and a blast of cold air-conditioning hits my face.

We get in the back of the line, which isn’t that long for a weekend at this time of year. It only takes a few minutes in line before Jay purchases us tickets (even though I throw a tantrum because he paid for mine without asking) and we enter the main exhibit area. Jay heads toward the elevators, and I feel panic race through me. I don’t think this building is very tall, but I’m not really keen on elevators today.

“They have escalators,” I say, pointing over to the left of us.

“Yes, but this is a short elevator ride. It’s good practice,” he says, nodding toward the pewter-colored doors just ahead of us.

I blow air out of my lips and let my shoulders sag. My poor attempt at a pout. I doubt it was even remotely cute, but I wasn’t really going for that.

“We’re just going to the fifth floor,” he says as we take the few steps needed to arrive at our destination.

I swallow loudly. “Just the fifth floor?”

“Yes, I promise,” he says, a soft smile on his lips as he presses the up arrow.

We enter the elevator and I breathe deeply. Normally I wouldn’t even care about a five-floor climb. But today, I care. Maybe I have PTSD.

“Why do bees hum?” Jay asks as the elevator starts to move up.

“Oh gosh, please, not more dad jokes,” I say with a roll of my eyes. My dad offers crappy jokes and puns all the time, and it used to drive Elena and me insane. For some reason, they aren’t so bad coming from Jay. Don’t get me wrong, they’re totally not funny, but I just can’t bring myself to mind. Also, it’s kind of cute.

“Humor me,” he says.

“Okay, why do bees hum?” I ask, my voice flat, keeping up the pretense. He doesn’t need to know it doesn’t bother me.

“Because they don’t know the words,” he says. He gives me a double-eyebrow lift.

“Yeah, that was terrible,” I say, even though I’m fighting a grin.

“Don’t worry, there’s more,” he says with a smile that I can’t help but enjoy. Jay has a spectacular smile. It doesn’t just go to his eyes—it’s like it goes all the way to the sky. Big and broad with nice white teeth. He should be in an advert for toothpaste.

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