Page 108 of Overdue I Love You's
Someone tell Austin to stick to his day job.
“Do you think it’s from your list?” I ask Dean. I have a feeling it’s from mine, but you can never be too sure.
“Don’t think so,” he replies. His brows cramp as he traces the riddle.
“Um,” I read it again. “Give me a slapandturn me aroundcould be pottery.”
“Pottery?” I sense his bemusement.
Glaring, “Yes.Pottery. It’s on my list.”
Lois sighs and shuffles backwards. “You got it, but maybe actlike you don’t know what it is. Go around the city, get confused.”
“We’re not idiots,” Dean scowls. “Anyone could get this.”
I’m pretty sure I hear Lois’ swallow. “Well, whatever then.” She connects the address to the car and then we’re driving to the city.
When I play around with the radio, Lois tells me to stop.
When I roll the window down, she tells me to put it back up.
When I look at Dean, she tells me to look out the window.
Is this how Ate feels when she takes me with her and Easton?
“Why’s pottery on your list?” Dean asks. He looks undeniably sexy with one hand on the wheel. He’s done it a thousand times before but seeing him drive with confidence is a new turn on.
The question pulls me to the past. Depression is an evil creature and I watched it slip its contagious saliva inMa’smouth as a child. I can count on one hand how many times I saw my mother smile and all of the reasons had to do with the wheel in our basement. “My mom used to be a potter,” it comes out thick. Heavy. Laden with unresolved emotions. “I wanted to feel the happiness she felt when she made—uh, I don’t know—a pot or a bowl, or a cup. She loved it. Still does.”
“You’ve never done it with her?” His tone deepens with curiosity.
“No,” I shake my head. “She’s not the type to ask.”
“But you could’ve, right?”
It hits me right in the chest. Not a bullseye, the arrows cut through it. Piercing me wide open with nowhere to rest.I never tried with Ma either.
“Yawn,” Lois shuts the camera. “You need to be having interesting conversations. The world doesn’t need to know about your mommy issues, Nova. And Dean? Please. Ask a worthwhile question. Or talk about yourself, Jesus. Can’t do anything right, these contestants.”
Dean’s jaw tenses.
I rest a hand on his thigh. When he glances at me, his gaze softensand the tick in his jaw loosens. A win is a win.
Thirty minutes later, Dean parks in front of a cute shop.Pottering Away.
Pots of fake flowers decorate the windows from outside.
Excitement buzzes through my skull.
“I’ll go set up inside,” Lois dashes out of the car.
“She’s a piss off,” Dean mutters.
I chuckle. “At least she isn’t forcing us to hold hands and kiss.”
It’s meant to be a joke, but Dean’s eyes turn molten.
“She’d gain points if she asked us to do that.”
