Page 127 of So I'll Know
I roll my eyes.
I did not stalk him.
She texts me a winking emoji, and I scoff and walk into the building, smile at the doorman, and head up the elevator to my condo. Once I’m inside, I immediately go to my closet. I pull everything off until I’m in nothing but my boxers, then grab my denim overalls and pull them on, not bothering with a shirt, then walk through my closet to my studio.
I open a tub where I keep a small amount of clay, take out a mound, unwrap it, and sit at the wheel, placing it in the middle of the plate. I start up the motor, a soft whirring sound filling the room.
If I’m being honest, I’m not really that good at this part. I’ve only successfully made bowls, and while they’re functional, they have many obvious imperfections. It’s painting the pieces that really makes them unique. I wouldn’t even be selling them if Miss Grace hadn’t insisted on putting them in her shop.
I’m just starting to shape the piece, my fingers pushing into the middle of the softening clay, when I hear Jeremy enter behind me.
“I guess the doorman knows you now.” I stop the wheel and spin on my stool to face him. He’s wearing yoga pants and a cropped T-shirt, showing his tight, flat abs. His silver hair falls untamed over his forehead, and he has his thumb pressed to his lips, chewing uncertainly on a silver-polished nail. Jeremy hasn’t seen me work in here yet. I tend to do it when I can’t sleep to quiet my mind.
The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “What’re you wearing?”
I look down. “These are my pottery overalls.”
He approaches me and fingers the fabric, running his hand over the black Dickies label. Then he straddles my lap, wrapping his lithe legs around my thighs and circling his arms around my neck. Our noses brush, and he cants his head to the side.
“Does throwing pottery shirtless help with your creative process?” he asks, his teal eyes mischievous as he trails a finger through my chest hair.
I chuckle, my hands sliding up his legs and around his back. “No, but it does help with my laundry.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes. “As if you do your own laundry.” I purse my lips. He has a point. “What’re you making?”
“I don’t really know. I just needed to blow off some steam, and the feeling of the clay against my fingers is soothing.” I bring my hand up, pushing some of Jeremy’s hair behind his ear, and wince when I leave a gray streak of clay by his eyebrow. “Sorry,” I murmur.
He smiles softly, and my breath catches at the adoration in his eyes. It makes me feel as high as a kite but also scared shitless—like whatever we have is finite and fragile.
“Will you show me?”
I nod. “Okay, but you have to take off your shirt.” His eyes narrow, and I give him an innocent smile. “I happen to knowthat you do, in fact, do your own laundry. And I like this shirt, so let’s not ruin it.”
Jeremy scoffs. “That’s because it was yours.”
I eye him hungrily. “You look good in my clothes.”
Jeremy pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it back toward my closet. I turn him around so that he’s perched on my thighs with his back to my front. He shivers when his shoulder blades graze the metal on my overall straps. Then, I turn the stool so we’re facing the wheel.
“Didn’t you say that weshouldn’trecreate that scene fromGhost?”
“You’re still wearing pants, Starlight. I think your dick is safe.”
He elbows me in the stomach, and I grunt before leaning forward to nip his bare shoulder. I flick the motor on, and the clay I was shaping starts to spin.
“The key is to have soft, steady hands,” I explain. “If you’re heavy-handed, you’ll ruin the piece.” I reach around his smaller frame and cup my fingers around the clay. “Watch me first.”
I let it run through my fingers until I’m satisfied the sides are smooth and I have a squat cylinder, and then I take my thumbs and gently hold them in the middle of the material. Jeremy’s eyes widen as he watches the clay shift, flattening into a bowl-like shape.
I stop the wheel and look at him, speaking into his ear. “Do you want to try?”
“Do you have more clay?”
“You can use this.” I flatten it and start rolling it into a ball.
Jeremy gasps. “You ruined it!”
I laugh. “I can make another one.” I place the clay in the center of the wheel again and start it up. “Go ahead.”
