Page 13 of Pour Decisions (Stryker Family #3)

KATRINA

Why have I not thought of blind friend dates before?

It’s perfect. Sometimes you just want to get out of your comfort zone and meet someone you might pass up on if you saw them first. Or sometimes you just need someone to do something with when your other friends aren’t available.

Plus, I know that Nana wouldn’t set me up with a serial killer.

I pull up to the address that Nana sent me—the community center.

She didn’t tell me what she had planned for us.

She just gave me the address, the color of her grandson’s t-shirt (forest green), and a code word (papaya) to say when her grandson approaches me.

I told her the color of the shirt I’m wearing (dark purple).

I hesitated when she said she was sending her grandson, but she promised he’d only have platonic intentions. I’m not sure how she knows that, but I trust her. I can sense she has my best interests at heart even though we just met.

I hop out of my car and head to the front door.

A calendar of events is posted next to it, so I scan what’s going on.

Most of the stuff is normal—two-step classes, craft groups, things like that.

But tonight is called “Clay and Your Inner Animal…Plus Wine!”, whatever the hell that means.

I’m guessing it means sculpture is involved in one way or another.

Great. I don’t have a single visually artistic bone in my body. But maybe Nana’s grandson doesn’t either, so it’ll be fun. I doubt everyone going will be an expert at whatever the theme is. Being terrible at something with other people is more fun than trying to be perfect.

I lean against the wall to wait, watching people go inside. It’s an eclectic mix, leaning more toward the eccentric side—older people with dyed hair, young goths. People who aren’t at all like JD, which is why seeing him pull up makes me pause.

Maybe he’s here by mistake? But I can’t imagine him taking a weeknight to do anything but work or something, so maybe he’s just dropping something off.

But he gets out, looking at his phone as he walks to the door. My heart rate picks up the way it always does when he’s around. I’ve only seen him in brief moments around the house today, so I let myself check him out.

He’s wearing a dark green shirt, and my heart stops. This can’t be happening. Is forest green the same thing as dark green to Nana? JD finally notices me and stops dead in his tracks, checking his phone, then looking back up to me.

“If I say papaya, will you know what I mean?” he asks with a near-sigh. I slowly nod. “Fucking hell.”

“Well, hi to you too.” I tuck my phone into my purse.

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…so you’re the friend that Nana randomly met at the farmers’ market? The friend who wants to try something new?”

“And you’re the grandson who has a stick up his ass and hasn’t relaxed since birth?” I ask. “Her words, not mine.”

“I guess so.” He doesn’t even react to Nana’s description of him, which has me holding back a smile. Until a few more things click in my head.

“Wait, did your Nana know…” I gesture vaguely between us. He mentioned his grandma when we were together and how she’d broken her hip hiking up a volcano or something. I never got to meet her.

“Possibly.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I told her about you and showed her pictures, but that was a long time ago. But she did tell me that this was strictly platonic, so I don’t think she’s trying to push us back together. It might just be chance.”

He says it like us being back together is the worst thing that could happen. His tone stings even though he’s probably not trying to be an asshole.

What am I thinking? Of course us being together again would be a hot mess. But that doesn’t mean the sort-of rejection doesn’t sting on top of what he already did in the past.

“Good.” I swallow and glance at the time on the big clock on the building’s face. The class starts soon. “I think this would be a good way to make things less…awkward at home.”

“I agree,” he says. “Plus, I think Nana would be disappointed if we didn’t.”

I nod, relief washing over me. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I want to at least try to make things okay between us. He’s apologized and shown his remorse through his actions, and while it doesn’t erase everything, it’s a start to something new.

I don’t want to spend time holding grudges, no matter how justified they might be. If I were apologetic toward someone and making an effort to help them the way JD is being toward me, I’d want them to extend me a little grace and try to rebuild our relationship.

We can be friends. Or friendly—as friendly as he can be, anyway.

“What are we supposed to be doing?” he asks.

“She didn’t tell you?” I gesture to the sign. “The class is called Clay and Your Inner Animal…Plus Wine!”

He closes his eyes for a second, exasperated. “What does that even mean?”

“Don’t know, but I’m excited to find out.” I hold back a laugh looking at his completely unamused face. “Let’s find our inner animals with clay.”

He gestures for me to go inside first, and we follow the signs to the classroom.

It’s half full, with large square tables that seat four sprinkled around the room.

Sculpting supplies are in the middle of each one, and we take two seats at an open table.

A plump middle-aged man in a tie-dye button-down shirt is at the front, looking through some smaller sculpture tools.

“Okay, I think this is everyone who signed up,” the man at the front says. “My name is Hugh, and I’m going to help you delve deep tonight. Deep into your wells of self-expression through the physical art of sculpture.”

I can’t resist taking a glance at JD and have to hold back a snort. His micro-expressions of displeasure always get me.

“As you can see, each of you has the tools you need.” Hugh wanders around between the tables. He smells like patchouli and weed.

“I’ve never done any sculpture before,” a middle-aged woman says, almost panicked.

“It’s okay. We’re here to experience , not perfect.

I’m going to prompt all of you with a particular emotion, and you’ll dig deep within yourself to find an animal that evokes that feeling for you.

Then, we’ll sculpt it.” He stops in front of the table that has bottles of wine on it.

“And we’ll experience a range of wines as well as inspiration. ”

“Or is he just going to get us drunk so we can play with clay?” one of the women sitting across from us says in a not-so-quiet whisper. I snort.

“Intoxication can allow you to lose your inhibitions, but please drink responsibly. It’s more of a flight than an opportunity to get drunk,” Hugh says, grabbing a bottle and giving the woman a pointed glance.

“Our first wine is a pinot noir. Your first emotion prompt is bewilderment. Find your animal and sculpt. I’ll give you all fifteen minutes—constraint breeds creativity. ”

“Bewilderment? How fitting.” JD’s eyebrows creep up higher and higher as Hugh heavily pours our “flights”. Hugh is playing fast and loose with the definition of sample. At least he gives us all bottled water too.

Hugh hands out the wines and turns on some jazz that sounds like someone falling down the stairs while holding a bunch of instruments in a garbage can. He disappears into the hallway.

“Bewilderment…” I grab a lump of clay and cock my head to the side, sipping my wine. It’s an odd wine, so the prompt is fitting. “Couldn’t I just leave it as a blob? Like a Ditto?”

“Ditto is a Pokémon,” JD says, as if this isn’t obvious.

“Aren’t Pokémon animals? In the Pokémon world?” I start shaping it into a wavy blob. “Could you eat one? You totally could.”

“It sounds like you would try to.” He frowns as he pulls a few chunks of clay off the big one in the middle of the table.

“It’s a world where there are rodents who can create electricity. Who’s to say I couldn’t eat any of them?”

“Why is this where your head goes, Katrina?”

His face is mostly serious, but I recognize the tinge of amusement in his eyes. It brings me back to when we first met and clicked immediately, despite being so different. A tiny sprig of hope pops up in my chest. Maybe we can actually have fun tonight.

In a completely platonic way, of course.

“Because I’m a little hungry.” I take a sip of water. “And I should have eaten a proper meal before I got here. So I guess I’m just going to go off the rails with this thing.”

“Regardless, I don’t think it matters here.” JD starts shaping his clay into a blimp shape. “We could do literally anything and I don’t think Hugh would notice.”

Hugh returns, the scent of weed following him like a dress train. I make my blob more into the shape of a Ditto, and I watch JD’s big hands awkwardly shape what looks like a dog.

“Is that Bubba?” I ask.

“No, it’s Wes’s dog, Murphy. He’s generally bewildered by everything.” JD’s frown deepens as he tries to shape what I assume are ears on a block of clay. He sighs and takes a long drink of his wine. “Fucking hell, this looks bad.”

“If Hugh doesn’t notice anything, then does it matter?” I sip my wine too, slower than he does.

“It matters to me.” JD grunts, then sits back. “I can’t believe Nana chose this. She knows I’m not artistic in the slightest.”

“Maybe she chose this because it’s outside of your comfort zone completely.” I carve a face into my blob. Close enough. “It’s out of mine.”

“You dance.” He glances at me for a moment. “Or did dance.”

“My knee scar?” I ask. He nods. “Yeah, I can still dance. Not nearly as well as I did before, but an injury brought me to physical therapy. In a lot of ways, it was just what I needed. But either way, dancing and whatever we’re doing aren’t the same.”

“They’re both art. Different kinds, but still.” He rests his hands on the table and sighs. “What the fuck is this?”

I hold back a snort and look at what he’s created. It’s sort of dog-like, if the dog got melted.