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Millie, meanwhile, lets out a soft chuckle, her eyes alight with amusement. “I like this one.”
The air in here is stifling compared to the December chill outside, so I shrug out of my coat and wait for Devon to do the same before taking them both over to a coatrack propped in the corner.
Millie arches an eyebrow at the knitted jumper I’m wearing, perhaps recognising it as one of Devon’s, before offering a soft smile and guiding us to a pair of stools, each set in front of pottery wheels. “Thanks so much for doing this. These classes are still a pretty new thing, and it just adds more legitimacy when I have more than one or two students.”
It turns out I’m not naturally gifted at every form of art. I’ve never tried pottery before, always preferring to lean into my strengths of painting and drawing, and now I can see that that was definitely a good call.
“You’re not moving fast enough,” Devon says. “It’s all in the hands.”
“You’ve never complained about the speed of my movements before,” I tease. “Or how I use my hands.”
I grin as Devon’s face burns furiously red.“Wes, people can hear you,”he whispers.
“Oh.” I glance up at our surroundings, as though I’m surprised to find other people there. Millie has ducked out for a moment, but there are two other people in the class—a couple I’m assuming—and they’re definitely sneaking covert looks at Devon and me as they attempt to mould their clay. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so cryptic. I was making a veiled reference to our sex life. Which is pretty epic if I do say so myself.”
“I am going tomurder you,”Devon growls.
I smirk at him. “That threat might actually have some merit if I thought you could last a day without having my cock in your arse.”
The next thing I know, there’s a glob of clay flying at me, hitting me square in the face. I stare at Devon, who doesn’t seem to be able to hide an incredibly self-satisfied grin. “Well, that was mature,” I deadpan, rubbing the back of my forearm over my face to clean off some of the clay, getting gunk all over my borrowed jumper.
“Hey, that’smyjumper!” Devon cries, clearly aghast.
I offer a savage grin. “Maybe you should have thought of that.”
He narrows his eyes at me, and this time I see it coming. I manage to swerve out of the way, just missing another clump of clay that goes sailing past my shoulder.
Okay, this means war. I delve my hands into the wet clay in front of me, getting them all good and messy, and then I shift to the side and dive on Devon, shoving my hands in his hair. “Oh, no!” I cry in a teasing voice. “Not the hair! Not that gorgeous hair!”
Devon struggles underneath me for a moment, before finally managing to dislodge my weight, rolling us over so he’s straddling me, my arms pinned above my head.
“Oh my god!” Millie cries, suddenly reappearing in the studio. “What the hell is going on in here?”
“He started it,” I say, with a nod at Devon.
“Tattletale,”he grumps, clambering to his feet and allowing me to stand.
“I don’t even want to know,” Millie says, looking exasperated. She turns to me, pointing at the stool I’d been sitting in. “You—sit down and behave for the rest of the class.” Then she rounds on Devon. “And you—you can sit way over here.” She grabs the edge of Devon’s pottery wheel and drags it over to the other side of the room, next to where the other couple are sitting. They’re no longer being discrete about looking at us; they’re now positively gaping. “I cannot believe I have to separate two grown men like I’m a fucking kindergarten teacher,” Millie mutters.
Reluctantly, Devon and I move to our assigned stools while Millie resumes her instruction of the class. I find it hard to concentrate, however, my eyes constantly roaming to where Devon is sitting, far away from me.
Finally, I crack and grab my phone from my pocket to send a text, not caring that I’m getting the screen or my jeans all dirty.
Me:This sucks. I can’t believe you got us in trouble with the teacher
Devon Montgomery:You’re the one who tackled me!
Me:I don’t like this. You’re too far away
Devon Montgomery:I’m literally in the same room as you
Me:I don’t like when we’re in the same room and I can’t touch you??
Devon glances up from his phone and catches my eye; the smile he offers is so sweet, I know he feels the exact same way about the situation as I do. He casts his eyes about the room, obviously noting that Millie is currently occupied with helping one of the two other students with her piece, and then stands from his stool, making a quick break across the room to sit next to me. He pulls his old stool up to my wheel and starts helping me to mould my clay.
“Rebel,” I murmur wryly. “You really are bad to the bone these days, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes.
