Page 23 of Pour Decisions
CHAPTER EIGHT
KATRINA
Why haveI not thought of blind friend dates before? It’s perfect. Sometimes you just want to get out of your comfort zone and meet someone you might pass up on if you saw them first. Or sometimes you just need someone to do something with when your other friends aren’t available. Plus, I know that Nana wouldn’t set me up with a serial killer.
I pull up to the address that Nana sent me—the community center. She didn’t tell me what she had planned for us. She just gave me the address, the color of her grandson’s t-shirt (forest green), and a code word (papaya) to say when her grandson approaches me. I told her the color of the shirt I’m wearing (dark purple).
I hesitated when she said she was sending her grandson, but she promised he’d only have platonic intentions. I’m not sure how she knows that, but I trust her. I can sense she has my best interests at heart even though we just met.
I hop out of my car and head to the front door. A calendar of events is posted next to it, so I scan what’s going on. Most of the stuff is normal—two-step classes, craft groups, things like that. But tonight is called “Clay and Your Inner Animal…Plus Wine!”,whatever the hell that means. I’m guessing it means sculpture is involved in one way or another.
Great. I don’t have a single visually artistic bone in my body. But maybe Nana’s grandson doesn’t either, so it’ll be fun. I doubt everyone going will be an expert at whatever the theme is. Being terrible at something with other people is more fun than trying to be perfect.
I lean against the wall to wait, watching people go inside. It’s an eclectic mix, leaning more toward the eccentric side—older people with dyed hair, young goths. People who aren’t at all like JD, which is why seeing him pull up makes me pause.
Maybe he’s here by mistake? But I can’t imagine him taking a weeknight to do anything but work or something, so maybe he’s just dropping something off.
But he gets out, looking at his phone as he walks to the door. My heart rate picks up the way it always does when he’s around. I’ve only seen him in brief moments around the house today, so I let myself check him out.
He’s wearing a dark green shirt, and my heart stops. This can’t be happening. Is forest green the same thing as dark green to Nana? JD finally notices me and stops dead in his tracks, checking his phone, then looking back up to me.
“If I say papaya, will you know what I mean?” he asks with a near-sigh. I slowly nod. “Fucking hell.”
“Well, hi to you too.” I tuck my phone into my purse.
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…so you’re the friend that Nana randomly met at the farmers’ market? The friend who wants to try something new?”
“And you’re the grandson who has a stick up his ass and hasn’t relaxed since birth?” I ask. “Her words, not mine.”
“I guess so.” He doesn’t even react to Nana’s description of him, which has me holding back a smile. Until a few more things click in my head.
“Wait, did your Nana know…” I gesture vaguely between us. He mentioned his grandma when we were together and how she’d broken her hip hiking up a volcano or something. I never got to meet her.
“Possibly.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I told her about you and showed her pictures, but that was a long time ago. But she did tell me that this was strictly platonic, so I don’t think she’s trying to push us back together. It might just be chance.”
He says it like us being back together is the worst thing that could happen. His tone stings even though he’s probably not trying to be an asshole.
What am I thinking? Of course us being together again would be a hot mess. But that doesn’t mean the sort-of rejection doesn’t sting on top of what he already did in the past.
“Good.” I swallow and glance at the time on the big clock on the building’s face. The class starts soon. “I think this would be a good way to make things less…awkward at home.”
“I agree,” he says. “Plus, I think Nana would be disappointed if we didn’t.”
I nod, relief washing over me. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I want to at leasttryto make things okay between us. He’s apologized and shown his remorse through his actions, and while it doesn’t erase everything, it’s a start to something new.
I don’t want to spend time holding grudges, no matter how justified they might be. If I were apologetic toward someone and making an effort to help them the way JD is being toward me, I’d want them to extend me a little grace and try to rebuild our relationship.
We can be friends. Or friendly—as friendly as he can be, anyway.
“What are we supposed to be doing?” he asks.
“She didn’t tell you?” I gesture to the sign. “The class is called Clay and Your Inner Animal…Plus Wine!”
He closes his eyes for a second, exasperated. “What does that even mean?”
“Don’t know, but I’m excited to find out.” I hold back a laugh looking at his completely unamused face. “Let’s find our inner animals with clay.”
He gestures for me to go inside first, and we follow the signs to the classroom. It’s half full, with large square tables that seat four sprinkled around the room. Sculpting supplies are in the middle of each one, and we take two seats at an open table. A plump middle-aged man in a tie-dye button-down shirt is at the front, looking through some smaller sculpture tools.
