Siren's Heart (Siren's Duet Book 1): Love at first sight

10. Chapter Ten - Millie

”Millie?” Naroa waves her hand in front of my face. ”Where”s that pretty head of yours at?”

”Sorry,” I say sheepishly and put away my phone, shaking my head at myself. I”ve been staring at it all day, jumping with each notification, thinking it’s a message from Luca. Fair to say, my mind was somewhere entirely else or rather, on someone else.

It”s finally Tuesday.

I”ve been a nervous wreck ever since Luca first messaged me. We’ve continued to message, small meaningless chats, wishing each other a good morning and good night.

It’s unreal how much time I spent checking my phone every few minutes, heart beating in my throat, just in case a new message from him came in, and I might or might not have counted down the damn hours to our date. There is only one left; I”m just putting that out there.

Right now, we”re in Kayla”s apartment. Naroa wanted to meet up and talk about something with us. What was it again? Ah, right–

”So, the new album,” she reiterates, satisfied that I’m finally paying attention to her. She keeps her eyes on me, like I”m a disobedient dog about to eat something I shouldn”t, and to my dismay, it works. My attention is on her. ”I know you”re busy with the halftime show, but I”d like you to start thinking about it. Come up with some lyrics, songs, whatever, so we have something to work with after the match is over.”

”Oh, I”m sure there will be more than enough material,” Kayla points out, shooting me a wide, toothy grin. Naroa follows her eyes, rubbing them with an annoyed sigh when she notices.

”I could give that right back at you, miss girlfriend,” I tease her.

Just like predicted, pictures of Kayla and Asher hit social media only minutes after they arrived at Fantasia. Two days later, she dropped a bomb on me: Asher and her had started dating in earnest.

I was shocked, to say the least. Baffled. Speechless. The double date proved that the both of them might be more similar than I thought, but I honestly assumed she was still too angry with Asher to even contemplate it, whether they vibed or not.

It’s kind of cool, though–a couple of besties dating another couple of besties.

When Naroa demanded a meeting so we could talk about ‘the situation,’ I couldn’t help but give in to my curiosity and have a look online at what ‘the situation’ actually is.

The internet is a beast I just can’t tame. When Kayla and I just started out, I loved reading comments and interacting with our fans there. There were the loveliest people who encouraged Kayla and me; they were our biggest cheerleaders as our careers picked up.

Then, more and more fans streamed in. And with them came the haters. Just like that–what felt like the snap of a finger–I couldn’t read comments on my posts without crying.

‘Go die fatty.’

‘Praying that someday I’ll be as delusional as you. You call that singing?’

‘Look at how she moves! My paralyzed grandma dances better than that.’

People are so fucking mean. And ruthless. I’m mostly numb to it by now, but I still don’t go out of my way to read it. But I was way too curious about what situation she was talking about; I couldn’t help but check. I’m trying to avoid social media – I post on it, of course, but I’ve stopped searching for Kayla’s or my name or reading the comments under our posts long ago.

This time, though? I just couldn”t help myself; I just had to see what was going on.

Paparazzi shots of Asher and Kayla were plastered all over the internet, starting from only minutes after they arrived at Fantasia, followed by an abundance of fan theories on when they met, how they got together, and, of course, people giving their unsolicited opinions, which were... overwhelmingly positive. Much to my surprise.

Not that I begrudge Kayla for it. No matter the reason, I’m happy if people are happy for her. I”m just confused, I guess. Whenever pics of my boyfriends and I leaked, it was all, ”What does he want with her?” But when it’s Kayla, it”s ”Oh my God, they are so perfect together.”

I don’t know how to feel about it. Kind of angry, but also… hurt?

Well, whatever. I shouldn”t care about what randos on the internet think about me, much less my relationship.

But that’s easier said than done.

What hurts the most, though, isn’t that people are happy for her and not for me. It’s that Kayla didn”t even talk to me. In the beginning of our friendship, I always knew when she had a crush. And now she just introduces me to a new relationship like ‘boom, here he is.’

It makes me feel kind of bad for always venting to her when I”m with someone new. What kind of friend am I to expect her to listen to my word-vomit when she doesn’t feel like she can talk to me in return?

”Ah yes, America”s dream couple,” Naroa chuckles as she scrolls through her phone. ”Thanks to the news, the remaining tickets for the match are now sold out. And we”re expecting an impressive TV audience hoping to catch a glimpse of the lovebirds.” She finds what she was looking for on her phone and looks up at us. ”Don”t feel obligated because of that, though. If you break up just before the match, people will tune in for the drama as well, alright? I”ll handle it.”

”Thanks, Naroa,” Kayla mumbles and crosses her arms in front of her chest. ”But I think for now, you”ll have to worry more about Millie”s smile blinding the whole damn city.”

”Right,” Naroa sighs and looks at me. Of course, when we went over the whole Kayla and Asher situation, we also filled her in on Luca and me. ”As long as it”s not in the news, I don”t really care, Millie.”

”I”m trying to keep everything under wraps for now.” I give her a solemn nod.

“Good, that’s good.” Naroa nods, furiously typing something into her phone. ”Makes life easier for me. Just let me know when you decide to go public, and I’ll handle it, alright?” she sighs. But I know it”s a sigh because she”s frustrated for us, not about us.

”Of course,” I promise and give her a cheerful nod. “Now, can I go?” I jump up and shift my weight from one foot to the other impatiently. ”Or is there anything else you need from me?”

”No, we”re done,” Naroa says with a chuckle and even Kayla looks at me, amused. ”Have fun on your date.”

”Will do!” I shout, already halfway out of the door.

”Nude lipstick or pink?” I hold both shades up to the camera of my phone. This is the third panic call I”ve made to Kayla in the past half hour as I”m getting ready for our date. Maybe asking her to come over while I get ready would have been easier.

But I like to pretend that I’m a strong, independent woman, capable of making my own fashion choices. Turns out only the first part of that is true. And I still feel like a burden for annoying her with it while she’s so self-assured that she doesn’t need it. Plus, the silence in my apartment manages to calm me down. I just know if she were here, I’d feel the need to fill it with chatter, which would make me more nervous in return.

”You look great. Just throw on some gloss.” To Kayla’s credit, she doesn’t sound annoyed at all.

”Well, which one?” I ruffle through all of the little tubes and pencils in my lip makeup kit and hold them in front of the camera to see. Yes, I have my own makeup bag just for lip products. ”I have like five to pick from.”

”Show me your outfit again.” I prop my phone up against my bathroom mirror and take a few steps back, doing a little twirl so she can see it from all sides.

I”m wearing a dark top, covered by a beige, oversized knitted sweater along with dark jeans. It”s fashionable, yet comfortable and easy to move in. I”ve decided to leave my hair more or less alone. Messing with my curls is bound to end in disaster, and I”m not risking that today of all days. Just in case it gets in the way, I have one of my pink scrunchies around my wrist–perfect for an impromptu messy bun.

”Do the second shade you showed me just now,” Kayla says resolutely after thinking about it for a moment.

I grab the little tube and spread the gloss on my lips. The gloss she picked is mostly sheer, only giving my lips a little bit of shine and sparkle along with the barest tint of pink.

”Okay, do we like it?” Grabbing the phone, I hold it in front of my face, doing kissy-lips and turning my head from left to right.

”Perfect.”

I take a breath to thank her, but I freeze.

Because my door buzzes.

”What?” My eyes grow wide, and I immediately check my watch. Holy moly, when did it become just shy of six o”clock? ”Fuck. Kayla.” I look at her, panic written across my face. Like a wave, it just crashed over me, and my heart rate and breathing are all over the place.

”Don”t, Millie,” she says warningly, and I force myself to stay still for a moment and breathe. ”Calm down. Take a deep breath. Everything”s going to be fine. If not, call me, and I”ll come get you.”

”What if it”s not like I imagined?” I gulp, pulling my lip between my teeth and destroying the gloss I just spread on them.

”Then the world moves on, and we”ll find you another prince charming.”

”Just like that? What if there isn’t one?”

”Yes, Millie. Just like that. But I’m sure you’re going to have your ‘happily ever after.’ Now go and have fun; try to ignore the rest.”

”Thank you, Kayla.” Tension seeps from my shoulders, and I shoot her a grateful smile.

”Always. Now go and open the door for lover boy.” And without waiting for another reply, she ends the call.

Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I walk out of my bathroom. On the way to my front door, I notice my pace picking up involuntarily until I’m almost running through my apartment, steps quick, just like my heart rate.

I am so excited, yet a wave of apprehension suddenly washes over me. The way he has already wormed his way into my heart and brain seems so quick. I couldn’t tell you how many crushes I’ve already had in my life, be it on celebrities, classmates, or friends. But none of them have managed to make my heart jump like this, cheering on the butterflies doing flight shows in my stomach.

God, I just hope this isn’t a setup to have my heart broken worse than ever before.

Quickly, I answer the buzz and tell our clerk to let Luca come upstairs. Leaving my front door slightly ajar, I eye the three pairs of sneakers I’ve brought to Philadelphia with me. Simple black ones should do it, right? On a random note, is there something like fashion tutoring? I’m beginning to think I could use it.

My head whips around at the tentative knock on my door, just as I”m finished tying my second shoe securely.

”Hi there,” I say cheerily and stand up with a wide smile, blushing when he steps into sight.

Fuck. He looks amazing.

He”s wearing a black cotton dress shirt over a regular t-shirt of the same color, and the fit is tight against his broad shoulders. He”s got his sleeves rolled up, showing off his very nice forearms. I take in his outfit until my eyes come to a stop at the bouquet in his hands. I didn’t think my face could light up any more, but apparently, I was wrong.

”Hi there,” he echoes with a lazy grin that makes his eyes light up, and I tear my eyes away from the flowers to look at his face. Blood rushes into my cheeks as he steps closer, leaning in to give me a soft kiss on my cheek. When he pulls back, my face feels ablaze, and before I can help it, my fingertips come to rest on the spot where his lips touched me.

Oh, I”m so done for.

”Hi,” I breathe softly, fully aware that I sound like I”m awestruck. I mean, I am, but I also sound like it. Thankfully, he ignores it and hands me the flowers instead.

”These are for you,” his eyes don”t meet mine, but that”s okay. I can”t help but stare at the bouquet. Sunflowers are one of my favorite kinds of flowers, and these are just beautiful. They”re accompanied by white baby breath, daisies, and some other greens, and it”s so simple yet looks so mind-blowing. ”When I saw them, they reminded me of your dress.”

”I love it,” I whisper and finally take them from him. ”Thank you.”

Finally, our eyes meet, and just like before, it”s like sparks ignite in the air between us. The hair on my neck rises, and I hear my pulse loudly echoing in my ear canal.

He clears his throat, and the sound awakens me, like a glass of ice-cold water splashing into my face. Flustered, I smile and lower my head to look at the ground.

”I”ll just put these in some water,” I press out and flee to the kitchen. His footsteps behind me tell me he”s following me leisurely, without a doubt scanning the area curiously. Opening the kitchen cupboards, I try to find a vase, but there doesn”t seem to be one. No wonder. That”s a highly specific item to have in a pre-furnished apartment.

I scan the room for something else to put them in when my eyes land on a fake bouquet in the corner. Quickly, I walk over to it, unceremoniously dump out the fake flowers and throw them on the small decoration table, then fill the vase with water and put my bouquet in there, shushing them a bit, before I face Luca again.

”Beautiful.” I grin and lock my arm with his. ”I adore sunflowers. They always make me smile.”

”That makes sense,” he chuckles, walking to my front door to start our date. ”Because you”re like sunshine.”

”You”re making me blush,” I state the obvious, sneakily hiding my red face behind my hair as I lock up my apartment door. He’s probably just saying that because of the sunflowers on my dress. Right?

Our footsteps echo against the hallway walls as we make our way to the elevator, my short legs trying to keep up with him. I chuckle at the loud, out-of-rhythm beat of our footsteps.

”Where are we going?”

”First stop, food.” He nods, obviously proud of himself for what he’s planned. ”There”s this lovely mom-and-pop Italian restaurant halfway to where we”re going. I hope you like Italian?”

”Italian sounds wonderful,” I tell him, giggling when my stomach decides to chime in and growl. I feel his whole body relax a bit against my side, making me more relaxed in return. Good to know I”m not the only one nervous about this date.

Dinner is lovely. When Luca told me he hadn”t booked out the restaurant and just put in a regular reservation since the tables are pretty private anyway, I got worried for a second. Like Kayla and Naroa said, it’s way too early to publicize that we’re dating and let all the potential hate cloud what’s developing between us.

But despite my fears, the restaurant was pretty empty. Judging by the fact that the two owners, Maria and Giovanni, greeted Luca like a long-lost son, I’m starting to think that they might have something to do with us being the only ones in the restaurant after all.

I don”t really care, though, because I just had the most delicious lasagne of my life.

Now we”re back in his car. He opened my door for me like a gentleman and only then jumped into the driver’s seat to get us to our second destination. And I still have no idea where we’re going.

His big hand rests on my thigh, a warm, grounding weight, as he navigates through traffic. His other hand is on the steering wheel, and for some reason, I find it extremely sexy. There is just something about him navigating the streets so confidently. I can”t see his biceps since they’re covered by his dress shirt, but he looks hot doing it anyway.

I alternate between trying to find out where we’re going and being distracted by his hand, my whole leg tingling under his touch. My muscles are tense, like a guitar string, ever since he put his hand there. I fight the urge to squirm in my seat and focus on our surroundings.

”The zoo?” I guess as we drive past a sign pointing out that it”s somewhere around here.

”Nope,” he chuckles and turns the exact opposite way at the next intersection.

”The...” I squint my eyes to make out what”s written on the next sign before we drive past it. ”Museum of Art?”

”Also, no.” He laughs at the very, big relieved sigh I let out.

”Don”t get me wrong, I enjoy art, but I’m so full and comfy that I might have just fallen asleep.”

”I can manage that at museums even without having eaten beforehand,” he assures me, starting the blinker. ”We”re almost there.”

”Thank God. I”m dying of curiosity here.” My leg, the one not captured in his grasp, begins to bob up and down as I try to find an outlet for my nervousness.

”Well, we can”t have that.” He spots a parking space and expertly parks his car. Or, Asher”s car, as I”ve learned. He takes his hand off my thigh to park, and I’m almost disappointed…until I start watching him. I mean, the way the muscles in his neck strain when he turns to look through the rear window?

Unreal.

When he’s satisfied with the car’s position, he reaches over the console and gives my thigh a short squeeze. ”Wait for a second.”

I nod, and he jumps out of the car, only to open my door once he deems the passing traffic safe. My cheeks stretch in a wide grin. I”m perfectly capable of opening a car door myself, but it”s charming. I’m a sucker for acts of service as a love language. Well, I’m a sucker for any love language as long as I feel appreciated.

Climbing out of the very high car, I instinctively reach for his hand. He tenses when I first close my finger around his, and I glance up at him. Did I misjudge?

He looks tense, but the way he’s looking at our hands with his eyes crinkling into a smile has a warm cloud surrounding my heart. Only a moment later, the tension seeps out of him and he laces his finger with mine.

It feels monumental, like more than just holding hands. And I love it.

”This way,” he says happily and begins walking, slowing down when he realizes how quickly I need to walk to keep up with him. His eyes are on the buildings we walk by, presumably as he checks their numbers and the phone in his hand.

”Here,” he says finally, and he stops in front of an archway, revealing an alley and a small shop at the end of it. I narrow my eyes, trying to read the sign on it from afar.

”Pottery?” I ask, feeling a rush of excitement building in my gut. I’ve never tried my hand at pottery!

”Yup,” he tells me with a proud grin on his face. ”Since you said you like creating with your hands, I figured: let”s get them dirty.” Then he fucking winks at me. Holy smokes.

Happiness tingles in the pit of my stomach, and I want to jump up and down, press my lips against his, and hug him as tightly as I can. A man who listens? Just propose to me now. Seriously.

I can”t stop the giggle from bubbling out of me and squeeze his hand. ”It’s like you’re reading my mind,” I say in awe. “I”ve always wanted to try it. I”m so excited!”

”Then let”s go!”

It’s a tight fit walking next to each other in this alley, but we manage, our shoulders bumping against each other, making me giggle.

A soft jingle announces our entrance as we open the door to the studio. The first thing I see are walls lined with huge shelves holding various products. There are the cutest mugs and plates in various stages of creation and adorable little ashtrays that look like flowers. I don”t smoke, but if I did, I”d definitely need one of those.

I come to a stand when I spot a finished cup. It”s so big, perfect for cozy hot chocolate evenings in winter, and has cute heart-shaped protrusions colored in red, pink, and the most striking gold glaze for accents.

Luca gently tugs at my arm, and we walk further inside until we find a woman carrying a tray of finished ware around.

”Ah, there you are!” She greets us with a warm grin. She’s probably in her early fifties, and I can’t tell you why, but she just has incredible mom-energy.

Her kind eyes scan the two of us curiously, and her eyes grow soft when they stop at our intertwined hands.

“I’m Millie,” I let go of Luca’s hand to offer it to her, and she shakes it with a firm grip. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Mary.”

“Likewise, love.”

Luca introduces himself as well and immediately reaches for my hand again once they’ve finished their handshake.

”Well, come over here, you lovebirds. I”m Mary and I”ll be your instructor for today.” She catches my eyes for a moment and winks at me, before setting down her tray and guiding us over to a small room with two pottery wheels set up to face each other.

”I will give you a short introduction, and then I”ll leave you to yourselves. Sound alright?” The two of us nod, and she gives us a satisfied grin. ”Wonderful.”

We take a seat at one pottery wheel each, getting comfortable as she sits down in front of a third one in the front of the room. Looking around, I see several more propped up against the wall. She must give courses here regularly.

The speculation intensifies when she expertly explains how to start and stop the wheels. She lets us demonstrate that we understand how to operate it, then reaches for a clump of clay and throws it onto her wheel with a satisfying spattering sound. Then she starts forming a mug.

And she makes it look so effortless. A voice inside my head whispers, ”Damn, that looks easy,” but then again, she explains that she”s been throwing pottery for more than twenty years already. I’m still very convinced that I can do it. Fascinated, I watch her as she creates a lovely mug within only five minutes, her fingers and a sponge dancing over the clay with ease and grace.

”Alright, now it”s your turn,” she announces and hands each of us our own slab of clay. ”Today you”re throwing your mugs, and then you”ll come back in a week or two to paint them.”

When I look at Luca, I notice a satisfied grin on his face.

”Oh, you’re so smooth!” I exclaim, playfully punching his arm. So I guess I know what we”ll be doing for our next date.

”What can I say? I was confident we”d go out again,” he replies, chuckling. Mary watches our exchange with a fond look in her eyes, before she leaves the two of us alone to continue with her own work

Luca grins at me confidently when he slams his pile of clay onto the wheel. I shake my head and take off my sweater before I begin. Mary has the weird ovens that they will go into running, and it feels like a record-breaking summer in here: stuffy and warm. Also, it’s too cute to get covered in clay.

When I lift the hem, I feel Luca”s eyes on me, his heated gaze leaving a hot trail, where they wander over my exposed skin where my top rides up my stomach a bit. Throwing the garment on a table behind us, I shoot him a wink and quickly adjust my cleavage, since the top slid down a bit as well, exposing bits of my beige bra.

Now, I finally throw the clay onto my spinning wheel, watching from the corner of my eyes as Luca squirms in his seat.

Then I watch the spinning mud. Mary made it look so intuitive, but honestly, I have no idea where to even start. Experimentally, I press against the sides to make it a uniform clump at firms. It feels wet, cold, and heavy in my hands, and unsurprisingly, it’s really hard to smooth it into shape.

But bitch, I am stronger.

Pinching my tongue between my lips. I get to work. First, she made it into a kind of hill in the middle of the wheel. Then she pushed it to become long and thin if I remember correctly. So I try to do that.

When Luca starts chuckling beside me, I look up. ”What?”

”Nothing.” He bites his lip in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his grin, then eyes my clay.

”Oh, come on,” I start giggling when I realize how phallic it looks. ”Penis jokes? On the first date?”

”Hey, you said it. I just laughed,” he points out and raises his clay-clad hands in a defensive gesture. I flick a bit of dirty water on my fingers in his direction, making him break into gentle laughter.

”Well, the joke”s on you; maybe I”m making... a penis-mug,” I say with narrow eyes, but I can”t stop the corners of my mouth from betraying me.

”If you want something penis-shaped today, I”m sure we can come up with something.”

I tilt my head and lazily look him up and down, eyebrow raised daringly. Looks like he does have a dirtier side. It”s a very nice change from the gentlemanly side he”s shown me so far. And, I mean, he”s hot. It”d be a lie to say that I haven’t thought about sex with him. The way his face would look, flushed between my legs, my hands buried in his hair.

I’ve thought about it quite a bit if I’m being honest.

”How about we finish our mugs and revisit that conversation then?” I wink at him, meeting dark eyes full of heat. He shifts in his seat, and I chuckle when I see why he feels uncomfortable sitting down. He can’t even reach down to adjust himself, or the clay remnants he’d leave on his pants would announce it to anyone.

I purse my lips to contain a grin, and force my attention back to my wheel.

Just like Mary showed us, I push the penis-shaped clay down with my palm and open it up in the middle. The first time I try, the shape just flops to the side, turning flabby. Ignoring Luca”s chuckle, I try again and finally, it works out. Then it falls into itself when I try to pull it further up, probably because the walls become too thin.

But I”m determined. The third time”s the charm and all that. Surprise! The saying proves true. Finally, I have something resembling a mug spinning in the center of my wheel.

”Yay!” I clap into my hands for a quick celebration, giggling when I realize I’ve just doused myself in droplets of muddy water.

”That looks great!” Luca says, peering over at what I”m doing. As for him, he already has a full structure standing in front of him. Handle and everything.

”How are you so quick?”

”Natural talent,” he says with a wink, and I narrow my eyes at him with a pout on my lips. ”And it’s not the first time I’ve worked with clay, to be completely honest. Want me to help you out?”

”No way,” I laugh and shield my wonky mug with my arms. ”You stay in your spot, mister! I might be slow, but I”m... uh, very meticulous? Hope you”ve got time. Because those ornamental mugs right by the entrance looked cute as hell, and I really want to make one.”

”I”ve got all the time in the world for you, Sunshine.”

Sunshine? I tilt my head, rolling the nickname over in my head. That”s a new one. I”ve been ”Sweetheart,’ ”Babe,’ and ”Honey” by boyfriends, but Sunshine... I like it. It makes my heart skip a beat, and my stomach feels all fizzy.

”So, how are you enjoying the preparations for the match?” I ask him, trying to make conversation as I attempt to make my mug less wonky. He hands me one of the tools Mary left for us, and I use it to shape the outside. Yes, that works a lot better!

”It”s exhausting, I”m not gonna lie,” he says, now intently focused on his wheel again. It makes a cute crease appear between his eyebrows and a muscle in his jaw tick. ”But it”s just as fun.”

”You”ve known Asher for a while now, right?”

”We met nine years ago.” Nostalgia drips from his voice, and his answer is accompanied by a heavy sigh. ”I love him like a brother, but he’s the most annoying person I know. It”s like ribbing people is his calling. Just today, he decided to make his jersey number fifty-five, only because he knows his dad will watch the game, and he loves reminding him of how old he is. It’s going to drive him up the wall. I can almost guarantee that.”

”Seriously?” I chuckle and lay the tool down again, deeming the mug shape acceptable now. ”That’s so vile. Which number did you pick?”

”Thirteen. I figured right now I”m lucky enough.” I look up, and blood shoots into my cheeks when I see his intense gaze on me.

”You”re such a sweet-talker,” I point out with an embarrassed smile and admit more quietly, ”I like it.”

”If you like that, you should hear me in bed.” And gone is the cute moment. I pull a piece of clay off the chunk Mary left for us and chuck it his way. When it hits him on the shoulder, he picks it off and laughs.

”Don”t make me horny when I”m trying to be cute and artsy,” I whine and shake my head disapprovingly, squirming in my seat. Now I want to hear him in bed. I bet he”s not as sweet when it gets hot and heavy between the sheets. I can”t wait to find out.

”So, how are your rehearsals going?” He steers the conversation towards a safe topic again.

”They”re alright.” I shrug while smoothing out the last imperfections of my mug before I form the handle. “We”re mainly going through the choreography and learning the song mash-up we”re performing. Next week, we”re going to start practicing all the camera interactions.”

”Camera interactions?”

”Hmm.” I roll a piece of clay into a long string and then press it into the side of my mug in a protruding heart shape, smoothing out the edges with my fingertip. ”Where to look while they”re filming us, where the camera people will be walking so we don’t run into them, which cameras to look into and which ones we”re supposed to ignore. Stuff like that.”

”I never knew that was a thing.” He sounds amazed, looking at me with wide eyes as he leans back in his seat. “But then again, basically all I do at work is ignore cameras, so there”s that.”

”I wish we could just do that. It would make our performance so much easier.” I sigh and roll out another piece of clay to push it into a smaller heart shape on the mug. ”I hate it. It”s hard enough to focus on our songs and the choreography. I don”t need the cameras, too.”

”Totally understandable.” From the corner of my eye, I see him nod empathetically. ”I feel the same. It”s hard enough to catch a damn ball, and I still don”t know how the hell I”m supposed to realize everything else that”s happening on the field and know what to do.”

”Which position will you be playing?” I turn my mug. What could I put on the other side?

”Halfback,” he whines and lifts his hand to bury his face in his palms, realizing at the last second that they’re full of clay, and he almost rubs them into his eyes.

”I have no idea what that means,” I admit, pushing some clay flat and pinching it into a heart shape. Yes, I like that.

”Basically, someone tosses me the ball, and I run as far as can as I understand it.” I see him reach for the clump of clay and break off a little piece to add to his mug. ”At least that”s what Asher told me. He”s making it sound all easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, but I bet it”s going to end in a bunch of bruises and a bruised ego.”

”I”m sure you”ll be fine. Or, at least, I”m sure your ego will stay intact.” I push the tiny clay heart into the mug and eye it. Yes. Beautiful. ”I”ll make sure to cheer you on from the sidelines.”

”Thank you. I hope they”ll let us watch the halftime show so I can do the same.”

I look up, smiling at him widely. ”Yeah. I”d love that.”