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‘What’s this?’ Aiden swiped the National Ceramics Contest pamphlet before she had time to realise it was still on her desk, eyeing up the front cover.

She snatched it back quickly and shoved it in her bag. ‘None of your beeswax.’

‘Are you entering it?’

‘No,’ she lied, because if she didn’t, she was afraid she’d have to tell him why.

He didn’t look convinced, but he sat anyway, his stool an inch closer to her desk than it had been last term. ‘If you are,’ he said, ‘I reckon you’ll win.’

Juniper pressed her lips together, unsure how to respond. How did he always know exactly what to say? It wasn’t fair. She was trying so hard to not fall for him, and one sentence could make her all… gooey. It was a completely different heat from last term, the first time she’d seen him on the throwing wheel. The desire was still there, but the edges had smoothed to make room for something else, something that kept evolving whenever she learned new things about him. Something shecouldn’tfocus on right now.

‘Right, gang,’ Chris said from the front of the classroom when everyone was seated. ‘Well done on pit-firing the other day. You should now have your pieces ready to finish off as you please. Try to do a good job, if you can. These aren’t part of your final grade, but you can use them in your end-of-year portfolio if they don’t end up a mess like Tom’s.’

‘Oi! It was meant to turn out like this,’ Tom said, wielding his broken pot, and a few people laughed. At least she hadn’t been the only one to screw up.

‘Now, as you know, we have a trip planned to Stoke-on-Trent next weekend to see how the profeshes do it. That means professionals,’ he explained when everybody looked baffled. ‘God, get down with the kids.’

A few groans sounded that time. Rightly so.

Juniper’s was for a different reason. She couldn’taffordto go to Stoke-on-Trent. The train fare wasn’t covered by the university, and a return ticket wasn’t cheap. Not to mention, she would miss more work shifts and lose time she needed to spend on her project.

‘Is this trip optional?’ Juniper asked.

Aiden shot her a questioning look.

Christopher gasped. ‘Absolutely not. You can’t miss a visit to the pottery capital of the UK. Besides, we’ve already booked the hotel.’

Great. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to afford to stay at RACA for long enough to enter the ceramics contest at all.

‘Are we going on the train?’ Owen asked from the back of the classroom.

‘Yes. You do not want to see me on a coach.’ With a grimace, Chris smoothed down his blazer. ‘Travel sick.’

He ran through the itinerary: a tour of Middleport Factory as well as a couple of other museums, plus some independent businesses the following day. Juniper mourned the version of her that would be excited for those things. Anxiety loomed too close to for that.

Once Chris left them to their own devices, it was only seconds before Aiden turned around to face her. ‘Why don’t you want to go to Stoke?’

Wantto. As thoughwanthad anything to do with it. That question alone made her realise that he just didn’t get it. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, because he could. Because he had money. Maybe they had more in common than she’d known, and maybe his honesty the other night had brought them closer, but their differences would always be there to throw them apart again.

That was why she lied. ‘I do. Just… work shifts, and everything.’

‘Pfft. Sack work. It’ll be waiting for you when we get back.’

She didn’t even have the energy to get angry at that, though a fresh spark of resentment made itself known. She wished she didn’t have to feel it anymore. Wished they could just be wrapped up in their little bubble of banter and sex forever, without any reminders of their polar opposite lives. Even now, finally on common ground, she’d always be the one trailing behind. ‘You have no idea, do you?’

‘No idea of what?’ A strand of his hair flopped over his forehead, making it almost impossible to remember why she’d been angry.

Was it worth it anymore? He was just confirming what she’d always known. Maybe he’d struggled at Elmington, and maybe he had issues with his father, but he still lived in his fancy flat, his future steady and certain. He had no idea that some people worked to survive. Some people were holding on by the skin of their teeth.

‘Nothing. Never mind.’

He dipped his head, his knuckles feathering over hers on the table, breath sifting through the hair she was trying to use as a curtain between them.‘If you’re worried about Cerberus, I can get someone to check in. I’m sure there’s a hamster sitter somewhere in London.’

Ugh. It would have been easier if he wasn’t so caring. Easier if he didn’t know her well enough to see at leastsomeof her worries.

And he didn’t give up there, vying for a smile with another silly comment: ‘If you’re lucky, I’ll let you have the window seat on the train.’

She forced one, because even when he pissed her off, she knew he was trying. Nobody had ever tried like that for her before.