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My stomach does an entire gymnastics floor routine as I take my seat behind the wheel. Rhett comes up behind me. Mind you, he still hasn’t said one word to me, so there’s no telling what he’s thinking.

I feel him settle behind me, and his soft breath caresses the hair on my neck.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice so thick it makes moisture pool in my panties.

I was not expecting that.

“I’m ready. What should we make?”

“You tell me. You’re the clay expert.”

“I’ve only used a wheel once, and that was for maybe a couple of hours.”

“Lead on and I’ll follow. Look, Callie and Jeff’s clay is already taking shape.”

It is. Callie pushes down on their bite-sized chunk of clay, forcing a divot in the center. But just as the form begins to hold, the clay collapses, creating a mess.

I swallow. The clay ruins easily.

Good. We want ours ruined.

“Do you just want me to sit here and let you do all the work?” Rhett asks.

“Yes, that would be perfect,” I admit.

No touching. No feeling his warm hands on me. No thinking about the kiss that knocked me off my feet.

“Whatever you want,” he says, and something in his tone makes me think of The Princess Bride, when Westley tells Buttercup, As you wish.

My throat tightens more.

I wet a sponge because this is what potters always do on TV, and then I press the pedal to get the wheel moving, but it spins in the wrong direction.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” I murmur.

“What’s that?”

“The wheel’s going the wrong way.”

“I bet there’s a setting.” Rhett reaches around me. His chest presses into my back and his breath grazes my ear. Every part of me goes still. Even the air catches in my lungs. A moment later, I hear the snick of a switch, and he pats my arm. My heart flutters in my chest like a caged bird. “There was a setting.”

I slowly exhale and remember why we’re here.

Wait. Why was our wheel set to go in the wrong direction when it doesn’t look like anyone else’s was? Did someone deliberately flip the switch?

I glance around the tent. Most couples are focused on their own work. But Jace is watching us. When our eyes meet, he looks away quickly. Too quickly.

No. He wouldn’t. Would he?

“Twenty-five minutes,” Mina says. “And, men, don’t be shy. You’re trying to re-create the scene from the movie. Not only will you be judged on your creation, but you’ll also be judged on your physical interaction. Remember: Keep it clean.”

Holly glances back at Jace as he gives her a small peck on the lips. I find myself staring a moment too long, and Jace looks over and smirks. My gaze drops as my cheeks heat in embarrassment.

That used to be me and him. And it never felt easy like it is with Rhett. Not even close.

“All right, you ready?” Rhett asks.

“Yep.”