Page 17 of A Winter Crush
“Can you carry this board and place it on the shelf? Then bring the one next to it to me?”
Ori picked up the board and carried it, mindful not to trip, and placed it on the shelf.
“Is this the one you want me to bring over?” Ori asked.
“Yes. That one.”
Ori couldn’t help noticing how intensely Wareth watched Ori’s movements as if terrified Ori might damage the pottery. Ori placed the board on the table beside Wareth. Wareth nodded and started on them. Ori took his seat again and watched. He had no idea how long he sat there watching Wareth.
After Wareth finished trimming all the mugs, Ori set to the task of cleaning up the wheel. He picked up the trimmed clay and put it in a bucket. Pottery required many buckets.
“Can I ask you a question?” Ori asked.
Wareth, who was inspecting the mugs he’d just trimmed, nodded.
“Why did you dislike having me around so much at the start? It felt like you hated me.”
Wareth didn’t look at him and continued inspecting the mugs. Ori held back a sigh. He was about to give up when Wareth spoke.
“I didn’t hate you,” he said, voice so low that Ori almost didn’t hear. “But you’re…” He paused as if struggling to find the words. “You’re very… You’re too… You’re too young.”
Ori laughed in shock. That was not the answer he expected. “You didn’t like me because I’m young?”
“I never said I don’t like you.” He turned towards Ori, his face flushed. “You…you looked at me!” he blurted.
“I looked at you,” Ori repeated, completely perplexed. “I don’t understand. You don’t like those who are young looking at you?”
The red flush spread down Wareth’s neck.
“I’m sorry,” Ori said. “I just don’t understand.”
“I like my peace and quiet,” Wareth said. “I like things as they are. Safe. Calm. Constant. I don’t like change. And then you came in here, with your pretty silver eyes, and looked at me. I’m too old, to…for that sort of thing…I…” He gestured with his hands.
“I get it,” Ori said gently.
Wareth let out a breath, obviously relieved he wouldn’t have to keep trying to explain. And Ori did understand. Ori had come in here, staring at Wareth with obvious interest, filled with hope and desire. And that had shaken the delicate balance of Wareth’s studio.
At least he thinks my eyes are pretty. That’s some consolation.
“I should finish cleaning this up,” Ori said and went back to putting the scraps of clay into the bucket.
Wareth stood still, his watchful gaze weighing heavily on Ori, but finally went back to whatever he was doing on the shelves.
Ori tried not to feel hurt and rejected. He’d hoped, especially with Wareth warming to him, that maybe there could be more there, but not now. Ori would help until the Solstice, or whenever Sariah got better. He’d work hard. And make an effort to hide his interest.
Then he’d leave, and Wareth would have his peaceful studio back. One where Ori had no place.
ChapterEleven
This is torture. Everything about this is pure and absolute torture. And Ori doesn’t even have a clue what he is doing to me.
Initially, Wareth had thought Ori would continue to make eyes at him. That he would continue to look at him with clear intent. He had prepared himself somewhat for that. But no. Ori had stopped doing that. Instead, he’d worked. Worked and helped. He had behaved exactly how Wareth wanted him to behave.
And somehow that was so much worse.
At the moment, Ori sat cleaning Wareth’s tools. He held a wet rag in his hand, dark-grey tongue poking out between his lips, brows furrowed in concentration, as he attentively cleaned the clay from each tool. Wareth had to admit that Ori did a much better job than Sariah. He was far more thorough and attentive.
It shouldn’t be attractive. Ori was just working. He even looked a little silly. But there was something about his tongue moving as he worked diligently that gave Wareth all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. At least he wore the pants and the shirt. Wareth could live without that temptation. Bad enough without having to see Ori’s slender torso and his peaky nipples.
