Page 22 of A Winter Crush
“Ori! You’re on the pottery wheel!” A voice startled him, and he looked up.
Sariah stood in the doorway, mouth open in shock.
“I…,” Ori said.
She looked back and forth between Wareth and Ori, waiting for an explanation.
“He wanted a go,” Wareth said, voice defensive.
“I wanted to have a go! But you never let me,” Sariah cried out, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I don’t know if I should be jealous or not.”
Wareth didn’t respond, ignoring Sariah’s comment and continuing to pull handles, but his cheeks flushed.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Are you on track with the Solstice mugs and plates?”
“We are.”
“See, aren’t you glad you took on Ori?”
After a brief pause, Wareth nodded. “He’s been a big help.”
Ori’s chest puffed up at Wareth’s words.
“Really?” Sariah smiled broadly.
“How’s your arm?” Wareth asked, obviously changing topics. “Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”
“I’m fine, Wareth.” She held up her bandaged wrist. “It’s much better. Pain and swelling are almost completely gone. And you know I have no problem walking. I just wanted to stop in and see how everything is going.” She smirked. “But it looks like everything is going well. Very well.”
The flush spread from Wareth’s cheeks to his neck.
Sariah laughed. She turned to Ori and watched him as he struggled with the clay. “I’d ask if he was treating you decently, but that he’s letting you touch his precious pottery wheel says it all.” She looked at Wareth, who seemed to be doing his best to ignore Sariah. “Anyway, I don’t want to disturb you two. I’ll say goodbye and come back again soon.” She waved and exited the studio.
“Goodbye, Sariah,” Ori said.
Wareth mumbled what may have been a goodbye.
For several minutes, they worked silently.
“Can I ask you a question?” Ori asked.
Wareth nodded.
“Why did you let me use your wheel?”
ChapterFourteen
Wareth didn’t answer straightaway, but Ori didn’t rush him. He’d learned that Wareth often took a while to respond, especially if the question made him uncomfortable. And every question seemed to make Wareth uncomfortable, particularly if it was even slightly personal.
“Sariah never really wanted to have a go. Not really. She just thought it’d be fun.” He took a breath. “But you always seemed to understand.” He broke off a handle and placed it on a board. “I’ve always found solace working with clay. Even when—” He shook his head. “Sometimes I like to lose myself in it. Forget whatever’s going on. Forget everything. Then it’s just me and the clay. When you watched me and asked me questions, you seemed to get it.”
Wareth raised his eyes and met Ori’s gaze, and for a moment, they stared at each other, the air growing thick and heady between them. Ori found it difficult to draw breath. Wareth swallowed, looking away as if the connection was too strong to bear.
After a second of watching Wareth work and thinking over Wareth’s words, Ori turned his attention back to the wheel. He didn’t have any particular form in mind. Wareth said he should just try to make something that didn’t collapse.
Slamming the last ball of clay onto the wheel, he leaned forward, kicking the disk into motion.
This time, I am going to successfully make a mug. Or a bowl. I’m going to successfully make something.
