Page 85 of On the Edge

taking a bunch of pottery/ceramics/painting things

Henri

What! But this is incredible! I am happy you will be doing what you want. You did not enjoy Creative Communications.

This is such a grossly incorrect statement, it’s laughable. The class was a drag, sure, but the company more than madeup for it. I’d subscribe to a lifetime of Creative Communications courses if it meant Henri was sitting next to me.

Atlas

thanks I’m excited it should be fun

they have open wheel nights over in the studio

My heart is pounding as I type. The moment the instructor had mentioned that we were free to come in during the open session—and free to bring a guest—my thoughts had immediately gone to Henri. It had taken a Herculean amount of self-control to refrain from texting him right then and there, asking if he’d like to join me. That was two weeks ago, when classes started.

Today, I’ve decided to say fuck self-control and ask him if he wants to join. The thought of Henri leaned over a pottery wheel, hands mucked up with clay and lips pinched in concentration is enough to get me half-hard and aching with want.

Henri

What does this mean? Open wheel nights?

Atlas

sorry

like a pottery wheel

it’s just nights when the studio is open for us to come fuck around and make stuff and we are allowed to bring guests

you should come with me sometime

Locking my phone, I drop it down onto the bed beside me and breathe out hard. I’ve seen the man’s dick, for fuck’s sake,I shouldnotbe nervous about asking to spend time together in a classroom. The chime of my phone startles me. Two measured, deep breaths and I check it.

Henri

When and where?

Shall I wear the khaki?

25

Henri

Zeke is sittingon the floor in the living room, books spread out around him, and laptop balanced on his knee. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, he glances up at me, smiles, and does a double take.

“Are you going out?” he asks, sounding startled. Rightly so, too. I’ve only gone two places since the semester has started: school and hockey practice.

“Yes. I am going to make pottery with Atlas.”

Zeke’s already round eyes widen further. “Really? Like a date?”

“Oh, well, I do not think so,” I hedge, smoothing my hands nervously down the front of my blue polo shirt. “I think it is only a fun thing to do with friends.”

“Huh,” he replies, mouth twisted as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “Pottery, you said?”

I sigh, because I know exactly why he’s asking. “I do notthink I have the correct clothing. But Atlas tells me we will be wearing aprons, so I think perhaps this will be fine?”

“You can always do a load of laundry when you get back.”

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