I didn't want to protect myself anymore. I leaned into him, my clay-covered hands coming up to cup his face, heedless of the mess I was making. My mouth opened beneath his with a sigh that came from somewhere deep and desperate, somewhere I'd kept locked away for so long I'd forgotten it existed. He made a sound—half groan, half relief—and deepened the kiss, his hands sliding into my hair, pulling me closer.
He tasted like wine and warmth. Like safety and wanting and something I'd spent so long convincing myself I didn't deserve. His lips were soft but sure, knowing exactly how much pressure, exactly what angle, exactly when to pull back and when to press forward. I kissed him back like I was drowning and he was air, like I could pour five years of loneliness into this one momentand finally, finally feel whole. My hands fisted in his hair, clay and all. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me off my stool and into his lap with a gracelessness that made us both laugh against each other's mouths. The laughter faded into something deeper, hungrier, and I lost track of time entirely.
When we finally broke apart, I was trembling.
"Wow," I whispered. My voice sounded strange to my own ears—breathless, dazed, younger somehow.
"Yeah." He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath coming as ragged as my own. His eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide, the blue barely visible at the edges. "Wow."
"Is this—" I swallowed hard, the old fears creeping back in despite the warmth still flooding my veins. "Is this okay? I mean, with the pack, and everything?—"
"This is exactly okay." He kissed me again, softer this time, a promise more than a passion. His thumbs traced gentle circles on my hips, grounding and reassuring. "This is how it's supposed to work. You get to know us individually, figure out what you feel for each of us. There's no jealousy, Daphne. Only gratitude. That you're letting us in at all."
The word settled into my chest like a seed taking root, warm and terrifying and full of impossible potential. The smile that spread across my face felt unfamiliar—too wide, too hopeful, too vulnerable. Like a flower blooming in fast-forward, petals unfurling toward a sun it had always been reaching for.
We stayed at the studio until nearly midnight. The cleaning took almost as long as the pottery itself. Clay had gotteneverywhere, on the floors, on the walls, somehow on the ceiling in one inexplicable spot that neither of us could explain. We laughed ourselves breathless mopping and scrubbing, flicking water at each other, stealing kisses that tasted like wine and possibility.
Levi fired my lopsided bowl in the kiln, walking me through the process with the patience of a natural teacher. "It'll need to cool overnight, but I'll pick it up tomorrow and bring it to you. Assuming," he added with exaggerated gravity, "that it survives the firing. Some don't, you know. They explode."
"If my bowl explodes, I'm going to take it as a sign from the universe." I told him with a grin.
"A sign of what?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
"That I should stick to plants." I laughed and he just shook his head.
We finished the wine sitting on the floor with our backs against the wheel pedestals, the brick wall cool against my shoulders, our legs stretched out and tangled together. The chocolates from Marguerite's were even better than I'd imagined, salted caramel that dissolved on my tongue, rich and sweet and perfectly balanced.
"These are incredible," I said around a mouthful. "How did you know these were my favorites?"
"I didn't, technically. I just asked Viola if it would be something you would like." He shrugged, but there was something vulnerable beneath the casual gesture. "Figured it was worth a shot."
It shouldn't have mattered so much. It was just chocolate, just a small gesture, just attention that anyone might pay. But no one ever had. Not like this. Not with this much care. I leaned over and kissed him again, tasting chocolate and wine and something sweeter underneath
An hour later, I was home and Levi walked me to my door, his hand warm at the small of my back. The porch light cast a golden glow around us, moths batting softly against the bulb, the night sounds of the forest a gentle chorus beyond the clearing.
I turned to face him, suddenly reluctant to let the night end. His face was half in shadow, half in light, and I found myselfmemorizing the details, the curve of his jaw, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the softness in his eyes when he looked at me.
"Levi?" I breathed, voice soft.
"Yeah?" He hummed giving me a small smile.
"This was perfect. All of it." I rose on my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering longer than necessary, breathing him in one last time. Cinnamon and woodsmoke and clay andhim. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Daphne." His voice was rough, catching on my name like it was something precious. "I mean that. Anytime." I watched him drive away, his taillights disappearing down the gravel road, swallowed by the darkness and the trees. The engine sound faded slowly, replaced by cricket song and owl call and the whisper of wind through the pines.
I touched my lips, still tingling from his kisses.
This is dangerous, I thought again, the familiar warning rising up through the warmth.This is so, so dangerous.
But danger had started to feel different lately. Less like a threat to avoid and more like a threshold to cross. Less like falling and more like flying. I changed into pajamas, washed the remaining clay from my face and hands, and climbed into bed. The sheets were cool against my skin, the mattress familiar, the darkness soft around me. Though sleep felt far away, my mind still spinning like a pottery wheel, replaying every moment of the evening in vivid detail.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Then again. Then twice more.
I smiled before I even reached for it, already knowing what I'd find.
Levi: Made it home. Can confirm: still thinking about that kiss. Kisses. Plural. Many kisses. All excellent.
Oliver: Levi's floating around the house like a lovesick puppy. I assume the date went well?
