The Ignored Princess Meets the Tortured Prince

Chapter 6

Kirsten

I walked into the art room, proud that I was actually on time for once, and saw Lucas putting some random art supplies away.

“Wow,” I said, looking at the clock on the wall, “You got here early.”

He looked over, tilting his head up some to see me from under his hair. “Oh, hey.” He went back to putting things away in cabinets. “That’s because my last period is student aid for Mrs. A.”

I dropped my bag by the door then walked over, leaning on the table and watching him get the things we’d need for our pot. “Where is Mrs. A?”

“Another meeting. She said for us,” he glanced up at me then smiled and looked back down at what he was doing, “well, for me, to clean up and put the pot in the back closet with the others when we’re done.”

I smiled and nodded. “Sounds good.” I frowned at the chunk of clay as he dropped it on our table. “Do we still have to make a pot though?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Considering the mess you made of our simple pot in class, yes. I don’t think you can handle anything harder.”

“Hey!” I reached over and smacked his shoulder. “I was doing fine with the pot! But if you remember right, I was doing it all by myself Mr. stand back and watch instead of helping.”

He raised the other eyebrow, making a thin roll of clay to start coiling. “Wow, I have the longest last name in history.”

I laughed, flattening out a bottom then taking the thin roll from him and coiling it around the bottom piece.

“Hey,” he said, sounding like a kid, “that was my piece.” I looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile. He looked so cute with that playful smile and his eyes shining bright from behind his dark hair.

Whoa girl! Get a hold of yourself! I quickly looked back down and kept coiling. “You were taking too long.”

“Oh I’m sorry princess,” he pushed my hands away and pulled the pot toward him. “After watching you constantly destroy the pot in class, I think it’s safer in my hands. You just make the strips.”

I stared at him with my jaw dropped slightly, trying to look very offended, then flipped my bangs out of my eyes. “Fine. I’ll make the best strips of clay there ever were.”

He laughed as I started rolling out a new strip. “Yeah, you do that.”

After a few seconds, I looked up at the pot and poked at the side. “Hey, you’re making it too uneven.”

He put his hands on the table and looked up at me from under his hair. “Excuse me?”

“That layer is hanging out way to far over that one,” I said, poking at the pot. “it’s going to look weird.”

“Would you shush,” he said, going back to coiling, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, if you want to make a weird pot. Just look at that.” I poked it again and he swatted my hands away.

“Hey hey, hands off the pot. I got this.”

“Lucas,” I said, sounding very serious. He stopped for a second and looked up at me. “You’re a drawer, not a sculptor, I think you should let me do this.”

I reached for the pot and he laughed, pushing my hands away. “So you can crush it again? Oh no. Just go back to making strips.”

“Fine,” I said, holding my hands in the air, “but if we get points off I’m blaming you.”