“And maybe you need to start following your own rules,” whispered Dom, though his eyes were filled with the same sort of hard determination he had, looking down at his clay a minute ago, now staring through me.
“Don’t be afraid if you need to start back over from the ground up,” advised Sheila from across the space. “We have all evening.”
My eyes peeked up through my lashes. I glanced toward Dom, who was reforming his clay to begin again alongside me.
10
Iwrestled the wobbly clay piece off the wheel and over into Sheila’s waiting clay-coated hands, making her life and heart lines more pronounced. The top line was deep and long, indicating that someone was in tune with their emotions, and others. Sometimes. Times like now, made me think that the entire palm reading practice was bullshit if Sheila couldn’t tell that despite my playing along for the past two hours, I was very much over this little artistic exercise.
“Look at you. And you said you wouldn’t be any good at this. Pshaw. I’ll probably see you back here next week.”
Yeah, probably not.
I glanced over as she took Dom’s mug from him, complete with tiny handle. I wasn’t sure how he’d ever get his fingers comfortably in it. Sheila lifted her shoulders in delight at the cup anyway, mooning over him more every few minutes we were in the workshop. He wasn’t focused on it though as he looked at me, staring at the way I narrowed my eyes at the graying woman trying to get her kicks.
I stood up from my seat. Reaching around, I found the knot of the apron in the center of my back. My nails picked at it, trying to find a hold to get it undone.
“Here.” Dom stood up and was behind me. “Let me get it.”
“I can do it.”
“I know. I doubt you want to break a nail.”
I let my hands fall to my sides. “Is that supposed to be some sort of joke at my expense?”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
I had just gotten them redone, and I was trying to save money toward maybe moving out or doing something with my life by not going as often. “Just untie me.”
“I got it,” he murmured. After a moment, the ties came loose around my waist, but before I could reach for the apron, Dom was already there. He lifted the neck up and over my head, careful of my hair.
I turned around the moment it was off, staring at him. He didn’t say a word as he draped it back across my station seat.
“Are you ready to go now?” he asked.
After a second, I took a step toward the door. He remained at my side the entire way. One step out the door, however, and I remembered why the heater inside was still running full blast in spring. The wind pulled at the ends of my hair and snuck up the hem of my shirt. Bumps rose all over my skin as I began to take hasty steps on the sidewalk toward the black car pulled up against the curb.
Dom watched me as I held back a shiver. “Happy we drove now?”
Again, I didn’t respond to his tease. He was right. I should’ve at least brought my jacket. He had recommended it to me before we left, and I’d hastily ignored it on principle. Dom opened the passenger door to his car, waiting until I was halfway in before skipping a step ahead of me to the other side.
I narrowed my eyes at the simple act of chivalry. He was the only person who had ever opened doors for me ever. I’d almost forgotten that.
Dom climbed in and started the engine. He reached toward the center console underneath the radio, humming a tune I couldn’t quite make out. He cranked the heat until it was flowing out of the vents. The temperature in the small space increased by the second as the car warmed.
Letting my limbs uncurl, I glanced out of the corner of my eye toward him as he got situated. “Are we going?”
“You need to buckle your seat belt.”
“Oh.” I looked down at myself. “Right.”
Reaching behind me, I yanked for the belt, pulling it across my body and clicking it into place. Turning toward him, already buckled in, I flourished my hand toward the act.
“Better?”
“Much,” he agreed, moving the car back onto the small street.
We rode through town. The lamplights were on down the street, and though there was some movement, it almost felt as if we were the only ones in Barnett still awake with the humming of unidentifiable lyrics and the rush of hot air singing through the plastic car vents. We came to the turn to go either up toward the university campus or across the short bridge to the isle. Slowing down, Dom took the turn as easily as he drove everywhere else. Only this time, I heard him breathe in, holding his breath until we got to the other side.
