It’s a date.
He picks me up Saturday afternoon, but he hasn’t told me where we’re going. He said I should wear clothes I “don’t mind getting messy.” I’m nervous, but I follow his instructions. I’m wearing leggings and an old sweatshirt, plus a heavy coat I’ve thrown over it. The cold air still seeps in through my layers as I walk to his car. He’s got his heat blasting when I settle into the passenger seat.
“I wasn’t quite ready for this shift,” I tell him. “It’s frigid out there.”
“We’re going somewhere indoors,” he says. “I planned ahead.”
“Can I have a hint?”
“I’m pretty sure it will be right up your alley.” He glances at me. “I know you don’t like surprises, so I’ll tell you if you really want. I thought it might be fun if you didn’t know though.”
I wave a hand. “This sort of surprise is fun. I don’t like being caught off guard with important things is what I meant. Like if you tell me you’re secretly an assassin, I’m going to be upset.”
“If I were an assassin, I would have kept you in the loop. I promise.”
“Might be a bad idea to tell me, now I think about it,” I say. “I’m a gossipy harlot.”
“Noted. Though for the record, I’m not an assassin.”
“Well, damn.” I smile at him. “That could have been fun.”
Twenty minutes later we pull into a parking lot. The placehas the word “clay” in the name, and my heart rate kicks up a notch.
“Ooh, pottery! I’ve never done this.” I beam at him, and he sits up straight at my attention. “You were right, though. I love this kind of stuff.”
Despite the cold, his hand burns at the small of my back. I can feel it through the layers of clothing. He shifts closer to me.
It’s a special date-night class and we’re with a few other couples. There’s a woman in a neon blue apron ready to lead us back. She’s got a shock of bright red hair and green-framed glasses, and the overall effect reminds me of a fun, quirky elementary school teacher.
We follow her into little room with metal shelving. There’s a faint earthy smell in the air, and a tarp covering the floor. Grant and I seat ourselves at pottery wheels next to each other. We each get aprons, and as he’s tying mine for me, his fingers brush along the nape of my neck. I shiver.
We each get mounds of clay, and she shows us how to use the wheel, which is operated by a pedal at the bottom, and how to move and shape it. We mix water with the clay to help mold it, and as it spins, I can see why we’re wearing shabby clothes. Mud squishes through my fingers as I round the clay. Droplets of water and specks of brown fly off. The instructor has her own wheel and she directs us.
“Good thing I didn’t wear my new dress,” I say in a low murmur.
“Yeah? You get something new this week?” He looks at me. The way he’s caressing his clay with his hands has me studying his fingers.
“A sweaterdress. Hot pink, my favorite.” I lift my eyebrows a few times. “I’ll try it on for you later.”
He falters a bit at that. The wheel he’s working on stops and then starts again while his eyes are on me. “Yeah?”
I hold his stare. The other couples around us chat andlaugh, but I can only see Grant now. When the instructor comes around, I can barely tear my eyes from him.
“You can shape the edges of the bowl by drawing it up between your fingers,” she says. I follow her instructions, but my skin’s hot and my breath uneven. “Great job!” She beams at me, and I finally rip my gaze from Grant.
“You should get behind me,” I say to him as I shape the edges of my bowl. “We could have a Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore moment.”
He laughs. His fingers glide over his own clay, fashioning a misshapen bowl while he tries to adjust it so that it’s straight. “I’m sorry, what?”
My mouth drops open. “You’ve never seen Ghost?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry.”
“God.” I groan. “That’s one of the best scenes in all of cinema.”
“It was before my time.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “That’s the fun thing about movies. They last forever. And we’re watching it together.”
