Chapter 31
TORIN
Icouldn’t count how many times August had expressed his concerns about my little obsession with Noah, and every damn time I’d brushed him off.
Assured him that it was purely an artistic muse and nothing more.
Honestly, I’d believed that too…until I walked in on him and Minho making out on the couch late at night.
That moment, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
Noah was far more than just an artistic muse.
I liked him. Enough that seeing him kissing Minho fucking hurt, and I hadn’t been prepared for that.
It hit me by surprise, and then I didn’t really know how to deal with that new insight so I just…
avoided the issue. Both issues, really, Noah and Minho, even though Minnie had tried to corner me at least a dozen times.
Probably wanting to make sure I wouldn’t tell Ace.
I would never do that. Because if Ace thought the team was in danger due to romantic entanglements, he’d remove one of them. And it’d almost certainly be Noah.
Thank fuck they’d mic’ed us up at the same time as cuffing our wrists and ankles together or Minnie would have 100 percent used that opportunity to corner me on the subject.
What the hell could I have said, though? That I was happy for him? I wasn’t. I was devastated. But I couldn’t even be mad at my friend, because not even I knew how hard I was crushing on Short Stack until that moment.
“You doing okay?” August asked as we drove back to our house after the absurd milking game. We shared a van with Ace and Xavier, but I missed simply looking at Noah. He had such pretty facial features. I’d never get tired of drawing him.
I nodded, refocusing on my best friend and noting his worried frown. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious, then he sighed. “No reason. Ignore me, I’m just…reading too much into everything at the moment. Are you hitting the studio this afternoon? You were going to work on that new vase, right?”
“Yeah, I think so. I need to film content, anyway.” And I needed a break from drawing and painting. I needed to clear my mind and work with clay for a bit, see if that helped me gain some perspective. Distance. I needed distance. “You?”
August grimaced, nodding. “Yeah, same. Content, I mean. I won’t disrupt your creativity by trying my hand at pottery again. I’ll probably head out to Yorba Linda and film some long-range target shooting with the camera crew.” He didn’t look thrilled about it, though, and it made me sad.
“You don’t have to,” I said softly for probably the ten thousandth time. “You could do anything you wanted. Just walk away from this life.” He’d heard it all before, and the answer never changed.
“Ah, but it’s the only thing I’m good at, Tor. Can’t let all that natural talent go to waste now, can I?” He said it like he always did, with a smile that didn’t come close to meeting his eyes.
August was a sharpshooter. A one-in-a-million kind of marksman with raw talent for hitting any target, with any projectile, whether it be guns, knives, or arrows…
but he hated doing it. Childhood trauma would do that to a guy, but I wished he would find something that actually made him happy.
So far, in the years I’d known him, he only seemed to actually relax since joining Team Olympus.
It was the family environment and dumb games that made his smile touch his eyes, but now he felt double the pressure to maintain his platform as a trick shooter.
I didn’t push it with him, instead trying to shift my mind onto the project I wanted to work on today. There was a huge lump of clay sitting in my art studio just begging to be transformed into something beautiful, and I was pretty sure today was the day.
The milkmaid filming had taken up the whole morning, so when I got to the studio on the top floor of the house—technically the attic—it was bathed in midafternoon sun. Stunning.
Determined as I was to change the course of my own obsession, I ignored my painting and sketching supplies and pulled out the lump of clay I’d been thinking about.
Setting up my work station, I hummed a song that was stuck in my head, so I turned on the sound system to play music.
I’d remove sound from the recording and overlay some trending track before uploading, so it didn’t matter that I was playing Z’s unreleased music.
My phone went onto the little magnetic tripod on the far side of my pottery station, and I pressed record before sitting down on my work stool.
I hummed along with Z’s voice on the speakers as I unwrapped my lump of material and started the laborious process of wedging the clay.
It was a huge piece of clay, so it would require a whole lot more wedging than usual, but fans seemed to love that part of the process so I took my time.
Just like when I made bread—except this dough was a lot tougher to knead—my forearms took the brunt of the work as I systematically worked the clay, ensuring there were no air bubbles and it was fully blended together.
Around ten minutes in, when I’d worked up a decent sweat, the studio door opened and someone slipped quietly inside.
I figured it was August, coming to tell me he was heading out, but I was startled to find Noah lurking awkwardly near the door.
“Short Stack,” I said in surprise.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were filming,” he replied in a whisper, gesturing to my phone on the tripod. “I can come back later.”
I shook my head quickly, my heart racing for some reason. “No, you’re fine. I’ll edit this footage later and remove all the sound. What’s up?” Casual. Nice. Nailed it.
“Oh, um…” Noah seemed to hesitate, like he wasn’t sure what he actually wanted to say, and I took pity on him.
“You wanted to talk about the other night?” I guessed, dropping my gaze back to my clay to avoid showing how weird I was being about the whole thing. “About you and Min?”
Noah cleared his throat, drifting a couple steps closer but carefully staying behind the camera view. “Yeah. I just…uh…it wasn’t what it maybe seemed, and I wanted to, um, clear the air in case you thought that…uh…”
“So…” I kept my eyes lowered and focused on the clay getting smoothly amalgamated under the heel of my hand. “You weren’t making out?”
Noah gave a choking sound that made me flick a quick glance in his direction. “Um, okay, yes, we were. But it was a mistake and won’t be happening again so, um, if we could pretend nothing happened then I’d be super grateful.”
That wasn’t what I’d expected. I paused my work and frowned over the camera at Noah. “Why?”
One of his light brows lifted, and those intense blue eyes flickered with confusion. “Why do I want to pretend nothing happened? Uh, it seems—”
“No,” I cut him off, now offended on behalf of Minho. “Why was it a mistake? Are you not attracted to him?” I refused to believe that; Minnie was fucking gorgeous. Literally everyone with a pulse was a little bit attracted to him.
Noah’s eyes almost seemed to pop out of his head as he shook his head. “What? No, I am. I’m not fucking blind. But—” He broke off with a frustrated sound. “It was a mistake, so there’s just no need for anyone else to know what happened.”
“Because nothing happened,” I murmured, playing along and noticing how Noah’s shoulders seemed to lower with relief while I started kneading the clay again. “I wouldn’t tell Ace, if that’s your only concern.”
Noah puffed a breath. “It’s not. But thank you.”
Interesting. If it wasn’t just fear of Ace finding out, what was it that had him so certain it was a mistake?
Any fool could see how close he and Minnie had become over the last few weeks; it was almost a natural progression for them to become more romantically entangled, even if Minho had never dated a guy before.
Was that it, perhaps? Was Min second-guessing his attraction toward Short Stack? I’d kick his ass if he was.
“Um…so…we’re cool?” Noah asked when I said nothing back, shuffling his feet awkwardly and running a hand through his shaggy platinum hair.
I wet my lips, pretending to focus on my clay when I was really watching him from under my lashes. “Yep, nothing happened.”
He nodded, seemingly reluctant to leave. “What are you listening to? I like it.”
I smiled, satisfied that I’d wedged my clay as much as it was ever going to need. “It’s Z’s unreleased tracks. So when I said I’d remove the audio, you know I meant it.”
“Ah, got it. Well, it’s really good. He should think about releasing it.” Another awkward pause. “Um, I should go and leave you to this. What are you making, anyway?”
“Mmmm, a vase, I think. We’ll see how it goes.
Maybe it’ll turn into something else once I start shaping.
Did you want to stay and watch?” What possessed me to make that offer, I had no clue.
I usually hated people watching me work, but the way Noah’s face lit up with interest had me hooked all over again.
He drifted closer still, stopping just behind my tripod to take a closer look. “You’re going to make a vase out of that?” he asked skeptically, and I grinned.
“Yes. Grab that bean bag and get comfy. It’s not a fast process.”
What the fuck am I doing? This was supposed to get Noah out of my head, not deeper in.
But…he said kissing Min was a mistake, which meant maybe I hadn’t totally missed my opportunity?
This was such a bad idea, and I damn well knew it, but I still stood up from my stool when Noah dragged over my leather bean bag.
I filled up my bowl of water from the little sink, then returned to my work station and tugged my shirt over my head, tossing it aside.
“Oh,” Noah squeaked, and I couldn’t fight my sly smirk at his shock. I tried to act casual, like I hadn’t heard him, but part of me was waiting for him to change his mind and leave.
But he didn’t. He settled into the bean bag—out of view of the camera—and watched with rapt fascination as I started to throw the clay on my potter’s wheel. Usually that kind of focus would make me self-conscious, but it was strangely comfortable having my muse so close while I created art.
“Can I ask a favor, Short Stack?” I asked after a period of silence between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable silence, thanks to Z’s music on the speakers, but I needed to get this question off my mind.
He lifted his head slightly from where he’d rested it on his forearm. “You don’t want my help on this. I promise I will ruin it.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “You touch this and I’ll push you down the stairs. No, I wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me drawing your portrait sometime? You have really nice cheekbones and your little button nose is—” I cut myself off with a cough before I could get carried away.
“Oh,” Noah replied, seeming puzzled, and I held my breath while waiting for his response. “Yeah, I don’t mind. Do you need me to do anything?”
The relief rushed through me and I exhaled heavily. “Nope. Just wanted to ask. Some people can get a bit funny about it, that’s all.” Which wasn’t technically untrue…but at least now I had his permission, so if he ever was to flip through my sketchbook, it wouldn’t be weird. Well, as weird.
Noah shrugged, settling back down into the bean bag. “Nah, we’re cool. So what shape is this vase going to end up in? What’s the process?”
I relaxed even further, quietly explaining my process as I worked and basking in the undivided attention of my muse. It was glorious.