Matchplay by Dakota Madison Page A

was also into making films and music.”
    “I like Andy Warhol but there’s already an Andy Warhol M useum in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania,” I said. “Who else did you come up with?”
    “Georgia O’Keefe. How can you not like a woman, who paints flowers that look like vaginas?”
    I stifled a laugh. “Vagina flowers? Really? That’s what you got from looking at her work?”
    He nodded. “Who wouldn’t?”
    I quickly scanned through our text book until I got to a photo of one of her ram’s head paintings. I held it up. “You think this one looks like a vagina?”
    Aaron considered the work. “Well, maybe not that one. But there are plenty of others.”
    “As much as I like the idea of honoring a female artist and as much as I like her work, there’s already a Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico.”
    Aaron crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I’ve come up with two ideas. I’d like to hear some ideas from you.”
    I gulped. I wasn’t sure if he’d like my idea, or if he’d even know much about her, but she was one of my favorite artists. Before I could even speak, Aaron held up a finger.
    “Wait . Let me guess who you’re going to select.”
    I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. He wasn’t the only one, who enjoye d a challenge. “Is this a bet?”
    He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
    I didn’t think there was any way he would be able to guess my first choice artist. She certainly wasn’t as familiar as Georgia O’Keeffe or as famous as Andy Warhol. “What do I win if you don’t guess correctly?” I said.
    “But I will,” he said confidently. “And when I win the bet, I want you to go out to dinner with me tonight.”
    I gulped. I didn’t think there was any way he could win but what if he did? The thought of going out with him scared the hell out of me. “Okay,” I said finally. “And if I win, I want you to tell me about The Tournament.”
    Now he was the one who gulped. A look of panic crossed his face and just as quickly he covered it up with his Mr. Calm and Collected façade. “What Tournament?’ he said.
    I gave one sharp laugh. “Oh, please. Don’t play dumb. I know about the game you guys in The Clubhouse are playing.”
    His face turned serious. He leaned in close to me and whi spered through clenched teeth. “I’m not sure what you think you know but I’m sure you’re wrong.”
    I rolled my eyes. “So you’re not trying to get into my pants so you can score points. I hear virgins are worth a lot these days.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I immediately regretted saying them.
    Aaron looked into my eyes with such intensity, I thought I could burn up in the heat of his gaze. I swallowed hard because I knew I was in trouble.
    “I would neve r do something like that to you—ever.”
    I looked into his eyes with what I hoped was equal intensity. “But you would do it to other girls?”
    His nonresponse to my question seemed to be the answer.
    I slammed my book shut. “I think we’ve done enough on the project for today.”
    When I rose to leave, Aaron hopped right up with me. “I don’t.”
    “You don’t what?” I challenged.
    “I don’t think we’ve done enough for today.”
    I sighed. “What do you want from me, Aaron?”
    “Mary Cassatt,” he said.
    My breath caught. “What?”
    “The artist you selected is Mary Cassatt.”
    He met my gaze with pure desire in his eyes. Shivers ran through my entire body. “How did you know that?” I barely managed to squeak out.
    “Because I know you,” he said simply.
    I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense. How could he have possibly known? How could he know me that well in just a few short weeks? The idea that there was some deeper conne ction between us chilled me to the core. I slumped back down into my chair. Aaron sat back down, too, but he didn’t take his eyes off of me.
    “I knew as soon as I saw her paintings,” he said. “The girls she paints, especially the