Mind the Bleep

21 | What's Stopping You?

"You're terrible at this, Isaac," Caliana teased, her voice light but edged with competitive frustration as she struggled to shape the lopsided clay. She'd secretly hoped that Isaac would be mediocre at this one thing. After all, she'd been the one to practically drag him to this charming pottery class tucked away off the sun-soaked beach of Petra.

A flicker of a smirk crossed Isaac's lips, his eyes briefly flitting from his perfectly formed clay piece to the wobbly disaster taking shape under Caliana's hands. His gaze drifted, momentarily captivated by the butterscotch-shaded throw draped loosely over her swimwear. The fabric slipped from her bronzed shoulders, clinging to her sun-kissed skin, revealing the graceful curve of her collarbones and the sharp descent of her neck. Her legs swung awkwardly around the pottery wheel, bare calves flexing as she fought with the clay.

"Ah, yes. I only wish I could craft a mug half as good as yours," Isaac drawled, voice laced with mock humility.

"It's a bowl, actually," Caliana shot back, narrowing her eyes in mock indignation, but her pulse quickened as she stole glances at him. The clay wobbled dangerously, slipping off-center. She cursed inwardly, the instructor's guidance blurring into the background. "How does it feel to be God's favourite, Isaac? Quite literally good at everything."

Isaac's dimples deepened as his hands moved with precise ease, the clay yielding to him in a way that only served to frustrate her more. "It's a burden, really," he said dryly. "Though, to be fair, I haven't been rock climbing yet. Maybe that'll be my Achilles' heel."

Caliana laughed, her amusement genuine but edged with frustration. A comforting silence settled between them, broken only by the hum of the pottery wheels and the distant murmur of the ocean crashing against the shore. Just then, a sudden gust from the open window sent chestnut strands of Caliana's hair dancing across her face, obscuring her vision. Her hands, slick with clay, were helpless to move them. She glanced at Isaac, catching his eye—a silent plea.

Isaac hesitated, his hand twitching as if to reach for her but halting midway. The unspoken boundary between them, sharp and taut, kept him in check. Instead, he leaned closer. Caliana was acutely aware of him; dressed only in navy trunks that hung low on his hips, the contours of his well-defined chest muscles and the soft glow of his minimally tanned skin drew a subtle but undeniable allure. From her peripheries, she could see the stubble dusted along his jawline, adding a rough edge to his otherwise composed presence. His chest pressed hard against her shoulder as he blew softly, a warm breath lifting the stray strands from her face.

Her heart thundered, her pulse spiking as she kept her face forward, willing herself to remain still. But when his breath lingered, and his body stayed inches from hers, she couldn't resist. Slowly, she turned her head. Their eyes locked—his dark, stormy blue pupils wide and consuming. Each breath mingled between them, every second stretching impossibly long.

"There you are," Isaac whispered, his voice rough, as if it cost him to pull away. But he did, the moment breaking like fragile glass.

"Thank you," Caliana mumbled, her voice barely more than a whisper. She pretended to refocus on the instructor, but her mind was still reeling from the closeness.

"I'm glad you suggested this," he said, voice still low. "It'll be a good respite before the mundane small talk of tonight's gala."

Caliana kept her gaze forward, unwilling to meet his eyes. "You? Dreading small talk? Casual mingling?" She raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. "I'd never have guessed."

Isaac's expression softened, an exaggerated look of affront crossing his features. "I'm a social butterfly, didn't you know?"

"Oh, yeah," Caliana smirked, leaning into their natural banter. "Is that why you hated me from the moment we met?"