“He doesn't have a drug problem.”
“He doesn't? Oh well,” I shrug. “He’s lucky that’s all that happened to him.”
She rolls her eyes at me but I can tell that deep down, she’s flattered, maybe even pleased. She’s lucky I didn’t do anything to that girl who was there, I thought it would be overkill.
“Get him back into school.”
“What, why?” I sound like a petulant little child.
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Because it’s wrong—”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy it…even a little bit?” I cut her off, smirking.
She blushes a little before recollecting herself. “Clearly you’ve rubbed off on me too much. Bring him back, Juliette.”
I groan. “Fine, I’ll try.”
She smiles at that, pecking me on my lips as a reward, which makes me want to reinstate every single person I’ve ever gotten expelled from Richmond.
“You ready for our first date?” I change the subject
“Yeah. What are we doing?”
“Come with me,” I answer by pulling her hand and walking her towards and into my art room, my pottery wheel in the middle of it.
“Do you have a teacher kink? Is that why you keep teaching me stuff?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Why? Wanna be my good little student?” I tease her and peck her lips before walking over to my cupboards. I take out two aprons and hand one to her.
“I wouldn't be opposed to that idea,” she says, trying to tie her own apron, but I snatch it out of her hand and tie it for her instead.
“I just want you to be able to do things you weren't able to do before,” I mumble against her neck as I tie the apron around her.
She turns around and stares at me as if I’ve hung the moon. “Softie,” she mumbles.
Only for her.
I sigh deeply. “I know this isn’t an ideal first date…being stuck in my house because I’m too scared for people to see us.” My voice cracks a little as I finish talking, but I can’t help it.
She’s out—and proud about it too—while I’m terrified. I might have been honest with myself, but the thought of being honest with anyone else is horrifying. I don’t even care about anyone at school, but word spreads fast and I don’t want my mother to find out.
She cups my face. “Anytime I spend with you is perfect, whether that’s behind closed doors or not.” The sincerity in the words makes my heart beat violently and I pull her into another kiss.
It aches a little to kiss her, knowing I can’t give her what she truly deserves. So, I apologize for my cowardice through the kiss, hoping she accepts it.
“What do you wanna make?” I whisper, once I leave her lips.
“A bowl?” she asks rather than says it, looking disoriented for a second.
My cocky self smiles at that. “Good choice.”
She sits down as I begin readying all the materials and using some string to cut some clay up for her. She just watches me with this look in her eye that burns my very soul.
“Okay, put your fingers there,” I instruct her, watching her eyes widen in awe.
Watching her try and mould clay with her hands is fascinating. I used to love doing this with my father. However, I didn’t think I would ever do it again until she told me that I should.
Now I’m here, using it again for the first time in a long time, with her. It doesn’t matter that she’s horrible at it, that she keeps failing to make anything, what matters is that there’s a glint in her eyes, a childlike curiosity which makes me feel ten times lighter.
