Page 23 of A Winter Crush
As carefully as he could, he centred the clay. Then pushed his fingers into the middle, opening it up. He stared intensely, his eyes straining. He cupped the clay in his hands, the substance wet and fragile. He pulled the sides up with his fingers, thinning them. Gently. Gently. Just as Wareth had shown him.
Finally, he leaned back, staring in amazement.
“I did it!” Ori cried. “I made a mug!”
Smiling, Wareth put down the clay he was working on and came forward. “Looks good.”
Ori beamed.
“Now you want to wire it off and put it on the board next to you.”
Ori had seen Wareth do this before. He picked up the thin metal wire that was attached to a button. He slid the wire along the board. It bit into the clay, and he pulled. But instead of cutting the clay beneath the mug, it went straight through it, creating a hole in the bottom of it.
“Oh no,” he whispered, horrified. He’d worked so hard to make it, and now there was a gaping hole through the bottom. In a split second, he’d ruined it.
Wareth placed his hand on Ori’s shoulder. A firm, steady weight.
“It’s all right,” Wareth said. “I know the feeling.”
“Really?” Ori yanked the now-ruined mug off the wheel and threw it into the bucket. “I’ve watched you work. I can’t believe you were ever this bad.”
“At first, I’d throw at the wheel from morning until night. It all collapsed or was wonky. Finally, they got better. I was so proud to present my first few to my teacher.” Wareth chuckled. “Then my teacher grabbed the wire, cut them in half from top to bottom. He showed me where it was too thick or thin. Where it needed to be taller or narrower.” He scratched his neck. “Then he sent me back to the wheel. Wouldn’t let me put anything in the kiln until it met his standard. Said that was how I’d learn.”
“It will be ages until any of mine are good enough to go in the kiln.”
“Nah. When you have one that survives, we’ll put it in.” He squeezed Ori’s shoulder one last time, then pulled his hand back. Ori missed the weight. Wareth smiled. He’d given Ori a lot of smiles the past couple of days. Still, each one felt like a gift.
“I’ll go wedge some more balls and go again,” Ori said.
“It’s getting late. Won’t your aunties worry?”
“After yesterday, I told them that I might be late when I’m working here,” Ori said, standing. He stood close to Wareth, only a breath away. He looked up into Wareth’s dark-brown eyes. “Unless you want me to leave? I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s fine. You keep practising. I’ll finish up the handles. They’re for the Solstice mugs.” But he didn’t move. Just stood staring at Ori.
Energy buzzed between them, strange and exciting. Something was happening here, changing between them.
“You sure I’m not bothering you?” Ori asked, feeling a little light-headed.
Wareth shook his head. “It’s nice having you around.” Wareth dropped his gaze to Ori’s lips.
They were so close Ori could lean forward and take Wareth’s lips with his own. Wareth turned away. He walked back to his work and continued to pull handles, not looking at Ori.
Ori shouldn’t feel disappointed. Wareth had been clear. He didn’t want Ori, and Ori had to accept that.
ChapterFifteen
Ori impressed Wareth. Even after destroying the mug, Ori didn’t give up, showing just how determined and persistent the young oread was. Ori could have stopped for the day, but instead, he stood at the wedging table, making new balls of clay, ready to go again.
Wareth now knew how poorly he’d judged Ori. He had assumed that because Ori was young and pretty, he must be flighty and flippant. True, Ori smiled lots and laughed easily. His bright eyes often brimmed with excitement and earnestness, but he had depths that Wareth hadn’t imagined. And that unnerved Wareth. It made Ori dangerous. Because Wareth liked Ori.
When Wareth could just tell himself that Ori was too young, too different, too immature, it was easy to dislike him and disregard his feelings as mere lust. But the more time they spent together, the more Wareth found himself enjoying Ori’s presence.
And the more that happened, the more Wareth started to create pictures in his mind, pictures of what it would be like if Wareth and Ori were actually together. They’d work, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence, but always at ease with each other. Afterwards, they’d eat dinner by the stove, exchanging hungry glances. Then Wareth would lift Ori and carry him to their room.
I shouldn’t be thinking like this.
Finished wedging, Ori picked up the wooden board and took it to the wheel. He glanced at Wareth. Wareth looked away, blushing at having been caught staring.
