Page 13 of Kiln Me Softly

Aiden watched the rain patter against the windows of the library, the dreary bruised sky matching his mood perfectly.

He’d been both dreading and anticipating this meeting with Juniper since he’d woken up to go for a run at the crack of dawn this morning, only it looked like he’d been stood up.

Between that and still having no idea of what to focus on for his part of the collaboration piece, that familiar black cloud was hovering just over his head again.

It didn’t help that he’d been left high and dry on Saturday night.

One minute, Juniper had been his. The next, she’d been distant as ever, leaving him alone with a hard on that no amount of cold showers could have fixed.

By the time he’d gone back downstairs, she and Tilly had gone, and Luc had been eager to disappear, too.

Aiden didn’t know what he was doing. Of all the people at that party, why was she the only one he’d wanted?

And why didn’t she want him at all?

She had, momentarily. But like her moods, it had been fleeting. So fleeting it barely felt real, especially now that she was obviously avoiding him.

He slammed his laptop shut, giving up on waiting. It had been half an hour, and she couldn’t blame fire alarms or geese this time. She was wasting his time. And she had the gall to say it was him who wasn’t trying.

Just as he began to pack up, the heavy thuds of boots disrupted the tranquillity. Juniper dashed out of the lift and straight towards Aiden.

A little too late.

He sat back down, throwing his bag on the floor again. ‘What time d’you call this, Hodge?’

‘I know. I’m late.’ She blew out a tired breath and slumped into the chair opposite, laying out her belongings on the table.

‘That’s okay. I accept your apology.’ He leaned lazily back in his chair, tugging on the ends of his rain-knotted hair. If she could act indifferent, so could he.

And yet it still stung when she refused to acknowledge his words, focusing on getting her notebook and pen ready. ‘So, did you properly decide on your theme, yet?’

‘That’s it? Nothing about how our little sexcapade was cut short this weekend?’

Juniper shushed him with a tight hand around his mouth, glancing around as though worried someone would overhear despite the fact that they were in a quieter corner of the massive library.

It reminded him of the one at Elmington, stacked with more textbooks than any ceramicist surely needed, with a domed roof that might have poured in daylight if there was any to be found.

The shelves and stair railings were all elegant dark mahogany, the storeys marked by balconies on each floor that spanned the perimeter of the building.

It was because of that that he didn’t like it much.

It felt too big, too ostentatious, a place he might lose himself in again.

He wondered if there would ever be a place where that risk didn’t seem possible; maybe he was too easy to lose, too fragile, and he was just waiting for everyone to find out.

Including Juniper, who at least glared at him like he wasn’t made of glass. ‘Don’t say sexcapade!’

‘Well, how would you describe it?’ he invited with a wide, smarmy grin. He could play her game if he had to. Besides, for all her complaints about his arrogance, she’d seemed to like it just fine when he was tasting her. And, fuck, had she tasted perfect.

‘A mistake,’ she said brusquely. ‘A very, very big mistake. One that won’t happen again.’

He tried to rub away the disappointment in his sternum, hoping that his mask remained in place. ‘I recall you enjoying yourself quite a lot. Besides, I don’t see what’s wrong with two friends—’

‘We’re not friends!’ she blurted, brows connecting into a perfect zig zag.

So it had all been pointless. The olive branch, the trying, the everything. It was for the best, probably. Did he honestly want to be hung up on a handful like her, someone who hated his guts and never filtered her unkind words?

The thought didn’t quell the ache, nor the exhilaration that still plagued him from having his hands on her, his mouth on her.

He hadn’t felt alive like that in a long time – and not just alive, but known .

For a moment, he’d been sure she’d seen him for who he really was, not who she wanted him to be: the enemy.

He’d been wrong, clearly. She’d just wanted him for a good time, like everybody else, and now she was back to kicking him away like he was dirt on her shoe.

He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and opened his laptop. ‘Fine. In that case, next time you’re going to be late, warn me. Don’t like having my time wasted.’ He unlocked his phone, opened the contacts list, and threw it in her general direction. ‘Going to need your number.’

‘I didn’t know I was going to be late.’ Her tone was cutting, but it bounced straight off his carefully built walls. She typed in her number, then sent a text to herself to make sure she had his, too.

‘You never do,’ he remarked. ‘Another pattern I’ve noticed about you.’

‘Oh, so now that sex is out of the question, you’re going to be pissy with me?’

‘I’m going to be pissy with you because that’s how you are with me,’ he retorted. ‘And because I’ve been waiting here for the last half an hour. Are we doing this project or not?’

She hunched her shoulders, elbows planted on the desk. ‘Fine. What’s the plan?’

‘I’m going with art,’ he said, flicking his laptop around to show her the images of paintings that he’d collected.

‘I found these pieces over the weekend. I think our research paper can be about the representation of human nature in mythology, and how that’s translated on canvas.

’ He didn’t give her time to really look at the paintings, instead flicking to the slides.

‘My pieces will focus on classical compositions where the canvas is replaced by clay.’

He could only take her silence as surprise, especially when she nodded slowly. ‘Okay. And our joint pieces?’

‘We can combine that with elements of mythological sculptures, I’m sure.’

‘Sculpting is my strong suit,’ she admitted, worrying on her bottom lip.

‘Here.’ He pulled his sketchbook out of his bag without much enthusiasm, turning it to the first page, where his messy graphite lines and colouring pencils blossomed across the thick white paper.

Her brows disappeared into her messy fringe. ‘You drew these?’

In an effort to try to forget Juniper, he’d spent the rest of the weekend doodling potential ideas for their pieces, with sketches of everything from earthenware to tiles.

In truth, he wasn’t well-acquainted enough with pottery to know which would work best yet, but he assumed Chris’s lessons would soon provide some ideas.

He smirked. ‘Are you surprised that I’m actually good at the subject I’m studying?’

When her expression darkened, he knew he’d made a mistake. ‘Unlike me, you mean?’

‘No, that’s not what I meant at all.’ He had every faith that Juniper would pick up her throwing skills soon.

She didn’t seem to believe him, scratching the edges of her pencil as she stared out at the blurred lights of campus. ‘They’re good ideas. Better than anything I’ve come up with yet.’

‘Juni…’ Something was wrong, something beyond her struggles with the wheel. He’d never seen her like this before, like she wasn’t even here.

But then she snapped back to attention, checking her phone with newfound energy. ‘I have to leave early.’

‘You only just got here!’ His voice rose, and this time, he was unable to control it.

To her credit, she offered him a guilty grimace. ‘I know, but work threw a shift at me out of nowhere.’

‘What about throwing class?’

She was already packing up, eyes cast down. A clump of mascara spotted the space below her lashes, and he fought the urge to wipe it away. ‘I’ll catch up.’

He didn’t like it. Not at all. She was already behind, and now she was skipping their workshops?

But he knew better than to point it out, so he only said, ‘I’ll cover for you with Chris, then.’

‘No need. I don’t need your help.’ She slung her bag over her shoulder and left without a goodbye.

Aiden gritted his teeth and kicked the leg of the chair she’d just been sitting in out of frustration. He couldn’t bloody win with her, and she seemed to be intent on keeping it that way.