“And here’s another fun fact,” Michael continues. “The piece of stone used for the David had been discarded by other artists for being too flawed. But Michelangelo saw its potential. He carved it freehand, with no model, claiming that he was revealing the form that was already inside as opposed to designing it himself.”

I look up at the statue of an underestimated boy about to fight a giant with nothing but a slingshot. The knowledge that the stone he was created from was equally underestimated adds an additional layer to my appreciation.

Am I underestimated? Or do I just suck?

Considering that many people are relying on me to accomplish a crucial task, but instead I’m getting my flirt on—I’m leaning toward the latter.

“That’s really cool,” I say. “Seeing something’s truest potential instead of its most negative outcome. Unfortunately, I’m a chronic cynic.”

“Is that so? Then what’s this interaction’s most negative outcome?” He motions his hands between us.

“You turn out to be a kidnapper who’s hoping to add my teeth to the collection hidden behind your bedroom mirror?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes widen. “Okay. Thank you for reminding me of the realities of being a woman alone in a big city. My answer was going to be you leaving before I get the chance to ask you out. But you’re right, molar harvesting is a lot worse.”

I tuck escaping waves of brown hair behind my ear. I heard correctly: the hot, smart dude wants to ask me out. “Well, I can’t possibly go out with you now that I know what you keep behind your mirror!” I say.

Michael steps closer. “Or instead of planning for the most negative outcome, you could consider the positive potential.”

My breath hitches. “Well,” I say. “What do you think the most positive outcome of our interaction could be?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed.” He winks. “Starting with more titillating discussions of sculpture.”

“You think you’re joking, but that sounds excellent to me.”

He grins. “In that case…” He motions for me to follow him as he heads away from David and down the corridor. It’s lined with statues of men. But they’re incomplete, their shapes emerging from rough, unfinished stone.

“These are Michelangelo’s Prisoners,” Michael explains. “He deliberately left them unfinished to represent the struggle of humanity.”

Prisoners. Like they’re trapped in the rock, trying to escape. God, don’t I feel just like that sometimes. Like I could just break free if—

“Sometimes I feel just like that,” Michael says. Our eyes meet, and I’m flooded with the warmth of shared experience.