Gavin reaches out, brushes his fingers over mine and takes ahold of the punty. I shiver at his touch and let go. The heat from the furnace licks at me, nearly as hot as the flame arching between us. Inside the furnace, the orange glow is bright, blinding.
“You dip the tip of the punty into the crucible. Gentle now. Start with just a little glass. Gather it just like you would spinning honey onto a honey dipper, spin it round and coat it evenly.”
Gavin spins the punty in the melted glass. “Like this?”
He holds up the punty. I peer at the rounded bit of glass he’s gathered and nod. “Good.”
He smiles at me, his lips quirking in a proud smile, and I bite back an answering grin. “Now gather on top more glass.”
He dips the punty into the crucible again.
“Good. That’s good.”
He pulls it out and I nod toward the bench. “Now we head to the bench. We’ll flatten the glass with the pincers.”
Gavin and I walk to the bench and I take the pincers and show him how to pull on the glass, flattening it out. “Like this,” I say, handing him the tool.
He nods, his brow wrinkling in concentration. He flattens the glass, and I watch him carefully, making sure he isn’t going to burn himself.
“Now pull at a forty-five degree angle. That’ll make the petals.” I show him again, standing so close that my breast presses against his arm. I pull a petal out, and he nods, flashing a look at me.
“Got it.” He takes the pincers and shapes the petals, the soft glass bending. His hands are strong, his fingers long, and as he shapes the glass, his hands steady, his face a study of concentration, I imagine that this is exactly what he’d look like making love, running his hands over me, moving with me. I wonder if he’d be as gentle with me, if I’d bend as easily.
I realize I make a small noise when he looks up at me, his eyes as warm and fiery as the glass. “Is this okay?”
I nod. It’s more than okay, it’s…oh, he means the flower.
I study it, the petals are rounded and curved, delicate, it looks like a rare orchid, something exotic, something you’d never, ever find here, on the mountain.
“Now what?”
“Here.” I take the punty and let the glass flow down, so I can make a constriction. “Now we just break it free.”
He frowns at the flower, “Just like that? Won’t it shatter?”
I shake my head no. “No, it wants to be free. If you do it right, it won’t break.”
My heart skitters and I turn my face away so he doesn’t see how much saying that affected me. Quickly and firmly I break the flower free, and it falls onto the fireproof blankets. Unbroken.
Gavin and I stare at the flower. Finally, he looks up at me.
The edge of his lip lifts into a smile. “We did it.”
I watch his eyes light up. He pushes back the hair that fell over his forehead and grins at me. His enthusiasm catches me and I smile back. “You did it.”
He nods. “I guess I’m a pro now. Move on over, you have competition.”
I laugh. “Watch it.”
His smile falls away and he reaches out, running a hand over my braid. “Your hair is the exact color of melted glass. It’s extraordinary.”
I stand still, unable to move beneath the burning warmth of his touch.
He strokes a long strand of my hair between two fingers. “So soft.”
His eyes go unfocused and I know exactly what he’s imagining, because I’m imagining it too. I lean toward him and he cups my cheek in his hand. His eyes reflect the light of the furnace and I can almost, almost see a future for us. One that’s full of passion and love, family and home, but then he shifts and the reflection disappears. Because for those things you need truth and trust. And just like glass, trust is easily broken, and once it shatters, what you had is gone forever.
Gavin watches me then pulls his hand away. “I’d be worried about the look on your face, but I finally got to stick my rod in your glory hole, so I figure, things can’t be that bad.”