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She raised a brow. ‘Oh, god. Don’t say your only knowledge of mythology is based on Marvel films.’

He dipped his head in what was clearly admission, at least having the decency to look embarrassed. ‘They’re good!’

‘They’refine, but they don’t exactly stay true to the original material.’ A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, try as she may to conceal it, and he chuckled in response.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were alone together – and this time, not at a party, but in an empty drying room linked to an equally empty classroom. There was nobody here to keep her distracted, no way of escaping his intent focus.

And if he tried to touch her again, there would be nobody around to walk in on them. To stop it. She clearly couldn’t rely on herself for such things.

‘So, what is it with you and mythology? Why’d you love it so much?’ he questioned.

The discomfort of the dry air did nothing to calm her down, so she went back into the classroom, perching on the nearest desk when he followed.

‘Why’d you love art?’ she returned, avoiding his question because she wasn’t quite sure she knew the answer.

‘You know, it doesn’t always have to be tit for tat. We could just have a conversation.’ His chest bunched as he folded his arms,biceps made thicker, more difficult to ignore, where the short sleeves of his grey shirt stretched around muscle. It was difficult to believe she’d been so close to him just a few nights ago. Difficult to believe that he wasn’t just a memory better forgotten, but a real human, burly and overpowering and close enough to touch.

And also a twatface, she reminded herself, but somehow, it didn’t feel as relevant as it used to.

‘We could if I wanted to,’ she sniped finally, because he’d clearly noticed she was watching and this was her only way of regaining control. Because who would she be to him if she let him close enough to kiss her again?

‘What ifIwant to?’ For once, he wasn’t looking at her body or her lips or her glower. He was looking ather, his irises brown and murky under the dappled lighting. Dark enough to forget the green completely. Dark enough to swallow her whole.

She kicked her legs out like a child on a swing. Fine, she would play his game, but only because she was tired of being affected by him. She’d come here to practice throwing, not engage in more of…this.

‘I like mythology because the real world is busy and confusing and I always feel like I’m trailing just behind it.’ She didn’t realise it was true until it fell from her – too easily. She crossed one leg over the other, picking at a frayed hole in her work leggings. ‘I like to be lost in stories, especially ones that were created by people who came from a completely different society. They’re a reminder that all the loneliness and pain and everything that makes us human has always existed,and that it can be turned into something magical, something that has a purpose.’ She shook her head. She couldn’t remember why she was still speaking, but wasn’t that always the case? ‘I don’t know. Probably sounds silly.’

‘No, not at all. In fact…’ He raised his brows. ‘Can I steal that answer for why I like art?’

She laughed in surprise, though regarded him with a little scepticism. She doubted that Aiden had ever felt lost the way she had. ‘No. Get your own deep thoughts.’

He tossed his head back with a dramatic sigh. ‘Fine. I guess it was like you said at the café the other day. Liking art has never really been a choice for me.’

‘Yeah, figured.’ She couldn’t imagine a world where she was encouraged to make and learn about art rather than dissuaded from it. Her parents had never taken her to art lessons or bought her craft supplies, never even considered it. It wasn’t part of their lives, and hadn’t expected it to be part of hers.

‘That’s why I’m here,’ he said. ‘To make my own choice for once.’

That took her aback. It was why she was here, too, but acknowledging that would mean acknowledging that they had something in common. That he was a person beyond the privilege. ‘And the choice is… to do the exact same thing you’ve been doing for twenty years?’

‘Not quite. To people like my father, being a potter is a far cry from making it in the art industry. He wanted me to be like him, make money from other people’s art instead of my own, or at least produce something worth selling. Somewhere along the way,I realised how exhausting it is to only see art for its monetary value. I forgot how to love it the way we did as kids.’

‘Yeah. It can be easy to forget.’ Hadn’t she forgotten over the last few weeks? Art was becoming a chore, another responsibility she was barely hanging on to. The rest, she couldn’t pretend to understand. He was still lucky to have that upbringing. Still, something held her back from dismissing him. The way his shine dulled when he talked about his dad, or perhaps it was just the delicate tranquillity in the workshop. She didn’t want to shatter it. Not after the day she’d had.

Maybe, just tonight, she didn’t have to hate him.

Aiden hummed, and the space between them became a little too tranquil. A little too intimate.

To escape it, she hopped off the desk and returned to her own, where she’d already measured out a lump of clay. She didn’t know what she was aiming for with it. The cylinder she’d failed at last week would have been good enough. As she wedged her clay, she watched Aiden stare at his. And then, when she pretended to look down, at her. He’d moved to the opposite side of the desk seemingly just to do that. Probably to watch her fail again, she told herself, because the alternative would do nothing to help that self-sufficiency she was striving for.

Still, another question weighed on her as she kneaded the clay. ‘Do you still paint?’

‘Sometimes. Haven’t really known where to start recently.’ He planted his elbows on the desk, resting his forehead onto the paint-stained wood as though it could provide some answers.

Juniper would have loved to watch him suffer with the same cluelessness she often felt, but the answer to his problem seemed so obvious that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. ‘So, make a paint palette and brush holder. One of the painters I watch on YouTube uses ceramic materials all the time. They look nice and work well.’

Aiden’s eyes widened, and he lifted slowly. ‘You know what, Juniper Hodgson? You’re just a bit brilliant.’

‘A lot brilliant. I expect full credit.’ She tried to staunch the pride rising in her chest but, as much as she resented it, she was beginning to see why people flocked to him to feel important. Despite all of her hostility towards him, his soft smile and unnecessary gratitude had her feeling like she’d worked some sort of miracle. Like she wasn’t so terrible at everything after all.