Page 64 of The Scars We Heal

It had been a few days since we’d gone boot shopping with Whit, and Jake asked me if I wanted to get out of the house with him.

“I couldn’t figure it out, and then I got frustrated,” I admitted, a hot flush creeping into my cheeks. “I’m just glad my mom let me use some of her yarn and I didn’t spend a ton of money on supplies just to abandon the hobby later.” With a snort, I added, “There’s only so much I can make from filling out random surveys online. I’ve been job searching, but none of them really align with my schedule.”

“They can’t all be winners, I guess. I’m sure you’ll find a job soon, but what hobby are you going to try next?”

As though the universe was listening to our conversation, we passed by a pottery place. Our eyes met at the same time, and a wicked grin spread across his face.

“Pottery?” I threw it out there, testing the waters.

“I probably won’t be any good at it, but why not? Let’s do it together.” He took my hand in his, dragging me back to the pottery shop, and when he let go, the absence of his touch lingered on my skin. A flyer in the window advertised classes daily. “Well, would you look at that? They even have classes. I think it was meant to be, Cait.”

“Hi! Welcome to The Sagebrush Studio. Are you here for one of our beginner classes?” The front desk employee flashed us a bright smile, her strawberry blonde hair tied into two braids.

Jake nodded, approaching the desk. “We are.”

“Great! The classes are thirty-five dollars per person.”

I reached into my purse for my wallet, but Jake had already handed the employee his credit card.

I tapped him on the arm until he looked at me. “I can pay for my own,” I insisted.

He nudged me gently with his elbow, flashing me a grin. “I know you can.”

Crossing my arms, I raised my brows. “So, let me pay.”

Laughing, he threw an arm around my shoulders. “Just because you can pay for the class, doesn’t mean you should have to, Cait. Let me do this for you. We’re going to have fun, okay?”

“We have some aprons you can use over there, and then the class is just through that door, all right? Have fun!” The employee pointed to the aprons and then a door at the back of the building.

I was glad I wore a T-shirt I wasn’t super attached to and jeans today, because the moment we stepped into the classroom, I knew this was going to get dirty fast.

Jake and I took our seats at two pottery wheels next to each other, joining a few other people who were attending the class. Jake took the middle wheel, so I didn’t have to sit next to a stranger, as nice as the older man looked, and I offered him a grateful smile.

Gradually, more people filed into the room to fill the stations. By the time the instructor walked in, we were all eager and ready to make some pottery, or at least I hoped I was ready.

“Good afternoon! Welcome to The Sagebrush Studio’s beginner pottery class! Excited to see some new faces today as well as some familiar ones. I’m Jamie if we haven’t already had the chance to meet.”

Jamie talked us through what the class would cover and the basic steps of throwing pottery before instructing us to grab a small piece of clay around one to two pounds to start with.

Jake bumped me gently with his hip as we walked together to grab our clay, wedging and weighing the pieces on the scale to the perfect amount. I settled on a small amount around one pound, while Jake took a pound and a half of clay.

Jamie walked us through the first steps of sealing the clay to the disc that would spin along with the wheel.

I worried my lip between my teeth as I added some water to the base of the clay and used my thumb to press the clay into the wood, smoothing it out as I gently pressed on the foot pedal to spin the wheel. The next step was to form the clay into a cone shape. After watching Jamie’s demonstration, I was still a bit unsure, but everyone else looked like they were struggling, too, so at least I wasn’t alone.

“Hey.” Jake nudged me with his elbow. “Look at this.” He pointed to his clay, which was formed into a long, vaguely phallic shape. Then, being the boy he was, he pressed his foot to the pedal, making the penis-shaped clay whip around as it spun.

I closed my eyes and looked down, suppressing a laugh before turning on my stern Mom voice. “Stop doing that. You’re going to get us kicked out of the class.”

He winked then started forming the clay correctly again, pushing the clay down with a flat palm like Jamie taught, then repeating the action of shaping into a cone and pushing down until the clay wasn’t wobbling anymore.

“How are you so good at this?” I hissed, looking at my sad attempt at centering my clay. No matter what I tried to do to make it flat and stable, it still drooped to one side.

“Don’t know. Beginner’s luck?”

“Can you help me then?” I pleaded. Even though I should have just raised my hand for help, I didn’t want Jamie to see my sad attempt.

Looking around at our peers and making sure Jamie wasn’t around, he got up from his station and stood behind me. His arms wrapped around my body, and he placed his hands over mine on the clay, helping me form it into the correct shape.