Page 71 of Balancing Act
“You’re still amazing to me.”
Her cheeks flushed as the furnace’s heat mixed with the sudden intensity between them. Jamie’s eyes lingered, hercompliment hanging in the air like the shimmer of molten glass. Beth wanted to say something—anything—but her thoughts felt tangled, and the warmth spreading through her body did nothing to help.
Jamie’s attention shifted back to her own work, but Beth was acutely aware of every movement she made. Jamie’s strong hands guided the glass with ease. A bead of sweat slid down her neck, and Beth watched as it disappeared beneath the neckline of her tank top. Beth’s throat went dry as she tried to focus on her sculpture.
The shape of her glass hardly mattered—her gaze kept wandering in Jamie’s direction, watching her every movement. It wasn’t just Jamie’s broad shoulders or the way her tank top clung to her skin; it was the ease with which Jamie moved, the way she fit so naturally into the world Beth had built for herself.
“Careful.” Marcie’s voice broke through the haze. “You don’t want it to cool down too quickly, or you’ll lose the shape.”
Beth blinked, nodding as she adjusted the pipe, trying to focus. She heard Jamie chuckle softly beside her. She could tell Jamie was enjoying this—her little flustered moment. It was playful teasing, but not in a way that made Beth self-conscious. Instead, it only added to the growing connection between them. She couldn’t help but marvel at the unintended irony of the two of them glassblowing—working with such a temperamental medium after everything they had been through to get here.
“I think mine’s turning into a blob,” Beth muttered, trying to regain her composure as she twisted the pipe in her hands.
“Looks like we’re making matching blobs, then,” Jamie teased, and she brushed shoulders with her, flashing that cheeky grin.
Beth couldn’t help but giggle, grateful for Jamie’s lightheartedness. They worked in tandem, their sculptures slowly taking shape—or, at least, some kind of shape. Both werefar from creating masterpieces, but it was freeing not having to worry about being perfect. They shared a few more laughs, teasing each other about the amateur nature of their work.
As the lesson wrapped up, Marcie gave them a warm smile. “You two did great for your first time,” she said, though Beth could tell the comment was more encouraging than truthful.
“Thanks, Marcie,” Jamie replied, with a grin. “We’ll pretend this was what we were going for all along.”
They set their pieces aside to cool, and as they stepped away from the furnace’s heat, the warmth between them only seemed to intensify. Jamie wiped her brow with the back of her hand, the slight sheen of sweat catching the light. Beth’s pulse quickened again, and she had to force herself to look anywhere but at Jamie’s glistening skin.
“So, what do you think?” Jamie asked, her voice a little quieter now, more hesitant. Seeing Jamie this uncertain was strange, yet somehow, it made Beth want her even more.
She blinked, unsure whether Jamie was asking about the date or the glassblowing itself. She decided to answer both. “I think it was amazing. The glassblowing, and spending time with you.”
A soft, dopey smile spread across her cheeks at the confirmation. Jamie cleared her throat. “I, uh—have another part of the date planned, if you’re up for it.”
Beth tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh? More surprises?”
“How about we head back to your place? I’ve got everything for pineapple pizza as promised. Van life isn’t great for cooking for two.”
“You want to cook at my place?” Beth asked.
“If that’s okay with you,” Jamie added quickly. “I promise, I’ve got it all planned out.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Back at her house, Beth couldn’t help but find it strange how normal everything felt now after months of emotional push and pull between her and Jamie. And yet, despite the traces of excitement from their kiss earlier, there was something deeply comfortable about it all—like they were settling into a rhythm that neither of them quite expected to find but both welcomed—like they each could finally exhale around the other.
Jamie stood at her kitchen counter, hands dusted with flour as she kneaded dough. The smell of garlic and fresh vegetables filled the air, making the space feel cozy.
The sound of the dough slapping softly against the countertop was rhythmic, almost soothing. She watched Jamie move confidently, muscles flexing as she stretched the dough into a perfect circle. The sound of her movements broken only by the quiet clink of a spoon as Jamie spread tomato sauce in even swirls. Beth leaned against the counter, watching her appreciatively. She could smell the faint hint of Jamie’s shampoo, mingling with the scent of baking bread. Everything about this moment felt right—too right, almost—and Beth’s heart swelled with the realization that this wasn’t a fling or a temporary situationship. This could be it.
“You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” Beth teased lightly.
Jamie glanced up, that familiar soft grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Told you I would make you the best pizza of your life. But, come on, pineapple? Really?” Jamie’s smile widened, catching Beth’s eyes as she tossed a few slices of fresh pineapple into a bowl.
Beth grinned, feeling that flutter in her chest again. “You’re the one making it. I feel like I should be the one teasing you for caving.”
Jamie laughed softly, but didn’t say anything.
“I like what I like,” Beth teased, shrugging her shoulders.
Jamie shook her head in mock defeat. “Guess I really like the girl who likes pineapple on her pizza.”
Beth smiled as the warmth of their banter filled the space. She walked over to the counter where Jamie was working, unable to resist the pull any longer.