Chapter 8 Ace
EIGHT
ACE
I enjoyed my lunch with Dallas more than I’d expected.
A lot more, actually. He was a tough nut to crack, as the saying went, and I was having fun trying to break through his shell.
By the time our lunch was over and his sweater had been returned, my heart was heavy at the thought that we probably wouldn't see each other again anytime soon.
Paloma stopped by our booth to deliver the check and I swiped it up as quickly as possible. Dallas also reached for it, our fingers brushing as he did, sending heat rocketing up my arm.
“I’ve got it.”
He shook his head. “No need.”
“I invited you. I’ll pay. Seriously.”
With a soft sigh, Dallas conceded and withdrew his hand. “Fine. I’ll get it next time, then.”
I raised my eyebrows and grinned. “Next time?”
His cheeks turned slightly pink and he looked at the empty plate in front of him. “If you’d like,” he murmured. He paused for a moment before continuing. “I’d like to take you out to dinner.
My stomach fluttered with excitement. Was he asking me for a date?
He cleared his throat. “I have a project idea I’d like to discuss with you, a collaboration between the university and the museum. I thought dinner might be a good time to… have that conversation.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. I’m happy to do that.” I tried to hide my disappointment. “That’d be great.”
He gave me a quick nod. “Great. Would tomorrow night be too soon?”
“Not at all. Where should we meet?”
“I was thinking… would you be willing to come to the museum? I could order takeout for us, we’d have plenty of room and privacy for conversation about this project I have in mind, and I can show you around the museum after. There’s something special about the museum after hours.”
A private tour of the museum after it closed? That sounded pretty date-like to me, but what did I know? “That would be perfect.”
The next day, I found myself feeling light and giddy every time I thought of our dinner plans.
I didn’t want to get overexcited or read too much into it, but either way, I was looking forward to spending time with Dallas again.
I was determined to get a laugh out of him.
Besides that, I was finding I genuinely enjoyed conversation with Dallas and being around him.
If he wasn’t interested in dating, that was fine.
I could still have a good time being his friend and colleague.
Shortly before five, I walked from the university to the museum, my work backpack on my back, and made my way to the visitor desk once again. The lady working the counter was older, with a white perm and a soft, friendly face. I recognized her from the previous day and greeted her by name.
“Sheila, how’s it going today?”
She smiled brightly and adjusted her glasses. “It’s good to see you again, Ace. What brings you back?”
“Dallas asked me to stop by.”
“Twice in one week? You must have made an impression on him.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “I sure hope so.”
“Do you remember where his office is?” When I nodded, Sheila continued. “Well, go right on down then.”
“Thanks again.” I worked my way to the basement offices by taking a nearby staircase, the door labeled “Staff Only,” and then headed down the long, echoey hallway, the patter of my sneakers the only sound I heard.
It didn’t take me long to find Dallas’s office again.
It was one of many doors on the hallway, but this one had a placard that bore his name.
The door was open and when I peered inside, I saw him focused on something at his desk, a stack of papers in front of him, a highlighter in one hand, a look of intense concentration on his face.
I could’ve watched him for a long time, but I knew I couldn’t get away with that if I didn’t want to come off as creepy. I knocked on the doorframe. “Dal?”
He looked up from his work and a smile broke over his face, his furrowed brow smoothing.
“Ace. It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you were able to make it.
” He gestured to a table off to the side this time, instead of the chair across from his desk.
“Should we get started?” The table had a small stack of books to one side, but was otherwise empty.
“Sure, I’d love to.” I settled into a chair with beige upholstery that reminded me of the kind my mom had picked for our dinner table when I was a kid, putting my backpack on the floor next to me and pulling out a chaotically overstuffed notebook and a pen. “What did you have in mind?”
Dallas joined me. “Here,” he said, pulling a book from the middle of the stack. “These books are about the history of Port Grandlin and the surrounding areas. This one in particular was written after Jake Hayes donated family letters to the museum. Do you know the story?”
I nodded. “He’s in construction, right? They found some of the letters when they were restoring an old house downtown for that TV show.”
“Exactly.” Dallas paged through the book until he found what he was looking for and slid the book across the table in my direction. “Here.”
I skimmed the pages that he’d opened the book to, which showed the beginning of a section on local history. I flipped through a few more of the pages, interested but confused. “This is great,” I said carefully, still uncertain.
He nodded, smile widening. “I thought we might be able to use this book as a starting point for an exhibit on local queer history.”
“Queer history?” Immediate excitement bubbled in my veins. This was definitely the kind of thing I was interested in, the kind of thing I wanted to draw more attention to.
“Exactly. You were telling me about your interest in offering a class on gender identities and it got me thinking about how we don’t have much of that displayed here. And then I started thinking about the Hayes exhibit and the idea began to build on itself.”
I closed the book in front of me and began to jot down some notes in my notebook. “That’s a great idea.”
“You like it?”
I gave Dallas a wide smile. “I love it.”