She scoffed, shaking her head and I tapped into her thoughts.

Idiot.

Is she thinking about me?

I couldn't possibly make it any more obvious, what does he want me to do?

Does she want me to...

I can't believe he missed such a perfect moment.

Missed?

"I'm still hungry. Can I go?" She didn't wait for my answer and pushed past me, her shoulder bumping into my arm.

I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back.

"What?" She raised her brows at me. I looked at her in confusion.

Should have kissed me when you could.

Before I could even say anything, she freed herself from me and went back into the cafeteria. She wanted me to kiss her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I sighed to myself, leaning against the wall and tilting my head back.

"Sheesh. How'd you miss such a perfect moment?" My head snapped to the left where Atticus was standing. I glared at him. "She was dying for you to kiss her," he chuckled, walking over to me. "Well," he shrugged. "Too little, too late. But I'll tell you what." He stood in front of me. "I wouldn't have missed an opportunity like that." He smirked. "Oh wait, my bad. I won't."

I pushed myself off the wall but he shoved me back into it.

"Don't lose your temper now. Save it. I'll let you play her hero a little longer," he chuckled. "Isn't that what you want? To be the good guy for once?"

My jaw ticked while my hands formed into fists.

"To be chosen for once?" He glared at me.

The cafeteria door opened, both of us looking at it. Clara came out, tucking her phone into her pocket while holding the can of coke. She looked between us, probably surprised to see him. She walked to the trash, ready to throw the can away.

"Is she throwing away the drink you got her?" Atticus chuckled, looking at me.

She sighed, shaking the can. "It's empty," she grinned at him.

He rolled his eyes, walking away and she turned her attention to me.

"Clara—"

She turned around, walking away too.

I hit the back of my head on the wall, groaning and letting a string of curses come out. I hate that he's right. But he is. I do want to be the good guy. The right guy. For her. Because I do want to be chosen. By her.

☆*･ﾟ✫ ✫*･ﾟ☆ ✫*･ﾟ☆ ✫*･ﾟ☆

The whole goddamn week, she's been avoiding me. She would occasionally say hi or sit with me in class when she would have to for any partner work. Mostly in history, but other than that? She's avoiding me like the plague.

What do I do?

Tomorrow is Saturday. If I don't do something tonight, I can't see her until Monday. I think I read her thoughts a little too late that day. If I would have read them earlier, I would know that what she wanted was for me to kiss her.

"Callum!" I looked over my shoulder, spotting Wyatt running over.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Your classes are done for the day, right? You're free now?"

"Yeah, why?" My brows furrowed.

"In our art class, we're missing two students that the teacher needs."

"For what?"

"For help around the class. They're both not here today. Can you be one of them?"

"You want me to be your teacher's little helper?" I scoffed.

"It counts for extra credit."

Which I lack.

"Fine, lead the way," I sighed in defeat.

When I walked into the room with him, I saw Daisy walking over to her chair and sitting in with a pottery wheel in front of her. Every student had one. Wyatt then went and took his seat beside her.

"Thank you for the help," their teacher said to me. "The clay is in the room back there. The other student is already there, I think she can't find it. You can help her," she explained. "Here are the aprons. Wear one and give one to her."

I took them and then headed to the back room. I opened the door and saw Clara scanning the room while tying her hair in a high ponytail.

I think it's my lucky day.

"Clay, clay, clay," she whispered to herself. "Oh!" She grabbed the huge plastic bag, grunting from lifting the heavyweight. I walked over, taking it from her and placing it on the table. "Oh, thanks," she grinned, turning around. "It's you."

"It's me," I smirked.

She sighed, scratching her eyebrow.

"Here, we have to wear these." I handed her the apron.

This is my chance to make up for it. She can't escape me here.

She took it, slipping it over her head. "Let's go."

"Wait." I grabbed her waist, spinning her around so her back was to me.

"What are you doing?"

"Tying your apron." I tied it up and then grabbed the bag of clay, giving her a once-over.

She looked really cute today in a pair of jeans with a pink top. And the high ponytail made her look even cuter. "Get walking," she huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

I chuckled, walking out and to the front of the class, setting down the bag on the table. We both stood in the corner while the teacher explained what the class had to do and then took out the clay and started demonstrating on the wheel. I turned to look at her. She was just watching the teacher. She seems to be fascinated by the wheel.

"I know we've done sculpture before but this is our first time with the wheel, so I've taken the pedals away. We'll work with partners today. One person will spin the wheel and the other will sculpt and then you can switch. Find a partner, quickly."

I watched as Wyatt scooted his stool over to Daisy's and she smiled at him.

Good for him. It's about time he flirted with someone.

"You two." We both straightened up, turning to the teacher. "Take a wheel."

"What?" I blurted out.

"You'll work with the class, come on."

"I thought we're just here to help."

"You'll learn first and then help any students that need it."

"But... we can't do pottery. We don't know," I stated.

"You're here to learn, Mr. Nikolai."

What a fucking—

"Take that wheel," she pointed to the first wheel on the right.

"We have to work together?" Clara asked.

"Ooh!" the class hummed.

"Quiet!" Everyone shut up at the teacher's order.

I rolled my eyes.

"Everyone else already has a partner, so yes. You'll work together. Roll up your sleeves, your hair is already tied, so good. Come on now."

Clara sighed in defeat, walking over and sitting on the left stool so I sat on the right.

"Everybody, choose who spins the wheel and who sculpts."

"I'll spin the wheel," she said quickly.

"But I don't know how to—"

"Neither do I. We're here to learn," she smirked. "You go first."

"Fine," I agreed.

"We're going to start by making a simple bowl." The teacher walked around, giving everyone a slab of clay. "Start spinning. Everybody who sculpts, follow my directions."

Clara started spinning the wheel slowly, while I watched the teacher and tried following.

It's harder than it looks. I always thought pottery would be fun and easy. But this is really hard. Every time I build one side, it collapses.

"If you got it, great! Now break it and let your partners try."

The people who made it successfully groaned but I couldn't care less.

She adjusted her sleeves and then watched the teacher for a whole minute, studying her actions. And while I spun the wheel, I watched her. "Okay," she mumbled to herself and started to build each side. She would glance at the teacher every so often to make sure she was doing it right. And she was. Actually, she was the first one to complete the bowl. She grinned, admiring her work while some strands of hair fell in her face. She brushed it away with the back of her hand, getting a smudge of clay on herself.

I chuckled, looking at her.

She turned to me. "What?"

"You have a little..." I pointed to her cheek.

She groaned, trying again but she's only smudging it more.

"Okay, wait, wait," I laughed, letting go of the wheel and standing up, going to the sink. I washed my hands and then dried them off, grabbing a tissue from the box. I walked back, sitting down.

"Plug the pedals in, please."

I plugged it in and then turned to her. She put her foot on the pedal and was zoned in.

"What are you trying to do?" I asked, watching the spinning wheel.

"Make it taller," she said, pursing her lips as she concentrated.

"Okay, before you go on making your own Burj Khalifa, look here." She stopped, turning to me. I tucked her hair behind her ear and used the tissue to wipe off all the clay.

"Partners, start helping!"

I just washed my hands.

"Start helping," she demanded, slowly pressing down on the pedal.

I feel like she's done this before. So many students have no control of the pedal but she knows exactly how to work it.

"Have you done this before?" I asked.

She smiled, "I went to pottery classes with my mom a few times. I would pedal and she would sculpt."

I watched her for a minute.

"Help me!" She nudged her knee with mine, whining about it.

"If I touch that again, it might collapse."

"Then we'll make it again," she glanced at me, grinning widely.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," I sighed. I smoothed the edges and she built it taller. And time flew by just like that.

"We have ten minutes left so start finishing up, please!"

My hand brushed hers numerous times, my fingers nudged hers numerous times. And she kept pulling away. She had her hand around the bowl, shaping it so I put my hands over hers.

She froze, lifting her foot off the pedal. "That doesn't help," she cleared her throat.

"I think it does," I smirked, looking at her. "Why'd you stop? Is something wrong?"

She looked at me from the corner of her eye.

"Is something bothering you?" I whispered, leaning in closer.

She resumed pedaling and we stopped a few minutes later. I let go of her hands, both of us resting our elbows on our knees, leaning forward.

"Here are some toothpicks. You can write your names on them and leave them here. I'll place them by the window and you can collect them when they're dry on Monday. Have a nice weekend everyone!"

She took a toothpick, delicately writing 'Clara' with a heart next to it.

I took the toothpick and wrote Callum on the other side of the heart.

She blinked at me, surprised. I'm shocked she didn't think I would do that.

To anybody, it reads 'Clara ♡ Callum' and I'm sure we all know what that would mean.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. I nudged her knee with mine and she turned her head the other way, looking away from me. I looked down at her right hand that was merely an inch away from my left. Then I locked my pinky with hers.

It can't feel good if two hands covered in clay hold each other. But the pinkies feel fine.

She tried pulling away but I tightened my hold.

"What are you doing?" she asked, finally looking at me.

"Taking you to wash your hands." I stood up, pulling her with me, both of us walking to the sink where the students were gathered, waiting to wash off. "I like our bowl," I said, glancing at it.

Because it says 'Clara ♡ Callum.'

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Chapter 32

I made this chapter extra long cause I didn't want to leave it at a cliffhanger