Page 46 of The Friend Game

The power of Lexie’s gaze on me draws my attention to her. “Hardly,” she sniffs. “Mia, let’s go.”

Mia looks as if she wants to protest but then thinks better of it as her mother’s hand latches onto hers, tugging her forward.

I swear the whole room sighs in relief when they’re gone.

“Can we go back to doing pottery now?” Ellie asks.

“Uh,” I look to Luke, hoping for some direction. He’s got a worry crease on his forehead, which I take as a no. “I think we’re going to take a break from pottery for now.” I check my watch. “But good news– we’ve still got about twenty minutes left to work on those wreaths.”

There are a few groans, but eventually they all file out the door leaving Luke and I alone.

“I’m so sorry about that,” I hurry to say, because even though I disagree with Lexie Stone I’m fully aware that her opinion trumps mine here at Grace Canyon. And probably Luke’s too, if I had to guess. I may have just created a huge headache for him. Or gotten art club canceled.

“Hey, no, not your fault,” he assures me.

“Maybe not,” I agree, “but I think we both know an angry Lexie Stone is a dangerous thing.”

Luke’s gaze latches onto mine. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

My stomach flutters.He’ll handle it.What does that mean? And why did it sound so sexy coming out of his mouth in his big deep voice?

He turns to go and my heart sinks a little. I want to ask him to stay for the rest of art club, but I’ve caused enough trouble for him this afternoon.

And it’s all pottery's fault. I knew starting again would only lead to trouble. I am never going to sit at another pottery wheel again.

Luke pauses in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder at me. “Oh and by the way,” he flicks a finger between me and the wheel, “watching you work the clay on the wheel just now…” he trails off and I see his throat move as he swallows hard. “Breathtaking,” he finally says. And then he’s gone. Leaving me breathless. I clutch a hand to my chest and try not to swoon.

Okay. Maybe I won’t completely write off pottery after all.

Chapter 17

I DON’T KNOW WHAT he does, but Luke does in fact handle the situation. Over the next couple of weeks, I don’t hear another word from Lexie Stone or anyone else about the phallic pottery incident. Of course that includes Luke. I don’t hear another word from him about it either. Or a word from him about anything else for that matter.

It’s very depressing. Especially since Brooke started seeing some guy she met at the piano bar, and is therefore largely unavailable to the rest of the world. Thank God for Sydney who is equally unattached and has become my lunch companion at Grace Canyon. Her and Belinda– although Belinda often has other lunchtime commitments that seem to largely revolve around some online book clubs she’s a part of and phone calls with her husband.

It’s late Wednesday night, and I’m on my phone scrolling through Pinterest for holiday art ideas. Christmas in Arizona is kind of a strangetime, since everything is so decidedly not white. It makes all of the snow crafts I’m looking at feel a bit silly. Am I really going to have a bunch of AZ kids make a picture of an aerial view of a snowman when most of them have probably never evenseena real snowman?

I edit my search bar to saytropical Christmas craftsand I’m much happier with the results this populates. A pineapple Christmas tree! Now that’s more like it. I snuggle back against my pillow and start pinning.

A text from an unknown number interrupts my perusing, and I sit up with a squeak. Holly stirs from her spot on the foot of my bed, one eye popping open to stare at me.

“Eeeeee!” I squeal, earning myself a full-on glare from Holly. That dog loves her sleep. She’s a 12 hours a night, 9 hours a day kind of girl. “Sorry, Holly,” I appeaseher, “but this is Luke texting me! Remember him? The guy you’ve kissed and I haven’t?” Mm. Sobering thought.

I shake it away and focus back on my phone, adding his contact info before typing my reply.

I reread my sent message with a smile. A smile that slowly fades as his typing bubbles appear then disappear with no reply arriving. Oh gosh. My ribbing was too much. Now he’s trying to figure out a way to nicely cancel our March date. Which means, of the two of us, my dog will be the only one to ever kiss Luke Abbott. I quickly try to salvage the situation with a new text.

My only response is another round of gray typing bubbles. Why am I such an impulsive human being? New rule: Type out a text, then wait five minutes before sending it, thereby giving myself plenty of time to debate both the potential merits and pitfalls of sending said text.

Whoops. Did not wait five minutes and now I’m awkwardandsound totally cocky. Look at me, I’m so irresistible you need your subconscious to invent dreams where I’m a ridiculous human just to keep yourself from kissing me in the pottery wheel room.

I’m debating the merits of going completely off-grid, when a text from Luke finally arrives.

Wait–what?! I squeal so loudly Holly, who’d somehow managed to doze off again, startles awake once more and lets out a baleful howl.

“Sorry,” I tell her again, even though I’m not sorry. Luke thinks I’m irresistible!

Well, that’s basically what he’s saying, right?

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