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“Let the past die,” she articulated, her voice suddenly deep. “Kill it if you must!”
I chuckled, but my heart was still heavy.
“He feels like a ghost,” I whispered. “A ghost who’s going to haunt me forever.”
“Then he’s just that. A figment of your past. You don’t need to live with the burden of that asshole’s memory forever.”
I nodded.
“By the way.” Chelsea leaned back and winked at me conspiratorially. She was about to say something outrageous; I could just tell.
“Have you signed up for the new hottest thing in town?”
I rolled my eyes immediately. “Oh, good God, you’re not getting me to hook up with someone online.”
“Oh, I’m about to do something much, much better.”
She handed her phone to me, and I saw a gleaming app, its interface all pink and purple.
Welcome to Naughty Lessons. Are you ready for the hottest class of your life?
4
Noah
Carrefourwas my sanctuary. Here, amid clay and earth, soil and water, I felt like my best self.
Nestled in a quiet corner a stone’s throw away from East Harbor, this place was a testament to my love for human form and creation.
Maybe it had to do with the earthy, musty aroma of clay or the sultry, seductive sound of my tools bringing a woman, her form so delicate and tender, to reality.
I’d created this space as a reflection of my own soul. There were large windows to let natural light in and highlight every intricate curve of my works on display.
As nature intended it, I showed it. The tilt of a lady’s hips, the way her collar bones could create history, the small curve of her mouth.
The lines of her figure, flowing like a river, at once generous and secretive.
Nature was lush, and so was she.
I wanted to commemorate it all.
Stepping in, I regarded the row of large tables with a frown. They were cluttered with tools and clay, a year’s worth of unfinished projects. I liked to work on multiple pieces at once, depending on what my mood craved.
A deep sigh escaped my lips as I walked into the kiln room where I fired my creations. The quiet hum of the kiln in the background could give me clarity on my worst days.
That was just the thing about creation.
I had psychology. That was my profession, and God willing; I enjoyed it. Hell, it gave me insight into minds and souls.
And it also showed me what I wanted to create.
There was a constant, unfulfilled fire in my heart because while the things I made best represented my craving for a pure heart, I had not found one.
I had my best friends. Elijah and Benji were my brothers.
But that’s as far as it went. The only other girl who’d come close to being perfectly imperfect was long gone. She still existed, but out of reach.
So, I lived through clay, trying to mold my urge for a heart of gold into the vessels I made.
