A week after their quiet, private dinner, Maloi found herself thinking about Colet even more. Their connection had deepened, and she couldn't ignore the pull she felt every time they were together. But there was still an unspoken tension between them, a quiet yearning that neither had fully addressed. They had laughed, shared stories, and explored their differences, but Maloi couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more lingering beneath the surface—something neither of them had put into words.
On a whim, as they exchanged messages one afternoon, Maloi decided to ask Colet to join her for something lighthearted, something that might allow them to enjoy each other's company without the weight of expectations. She had recently signed up for a pottery class, something she had always wanted to try, and she thought it would be fun—plus, it would give them a chance to talk without the distractions of their usual environments.
"Hey, Colet," Maloi texted, her fingers hovering over the screen. "I'm going to this pottery class tomorrow. You up for getting your hands dirty with me?"
She paused for a moment before sending it, unsure if Colet would find it amusing or just too random. But before long, a reply popped up on her phone.
"I've never tried pottery before, but it sounds interesting. Sure, why not?"
Maloi smiled at the response, her heart fluttering a little. Maybe it was just a simple outing, but there was something about Colet's willingness to join her that made the idea feel a little more meaningful.
The next day, they met at the pottery studio, a cozy space filled with the earthy scent of clay and the soft hum of quiet conversation. The instructor, a cheerful woman in her thirties, greeted them with a warm smile and guided them to their workstations. Colet, ever composed, looked around with curiosity as she slid into her seat, her hands instinctively folding over the edge of her clay wheel. Maloi, on the other hand, was already beaming with excitement.
"I've done this before," Maloi said with a wink, picking up a lump of clay. "So, don't laugh when my first piece is a disaster."
Colet gave her a slight smile, the corners of her mouth tilting up just enough for Maloi to see it. "I'll try not to," she teased, her usual composed demeanor softened by the easy, playful atmosphere.
They both began to work the clay, Colet methodically following the instructor's guidance, while Maloi seemed to throw herself into the process with her characteristic enthusiasm. Despite her initial nerves, Colet found herself enjoying the quiet rhythm of the wheel, the soothing sensation of shaping the clay under her fingers. She could hear Maloi's laughter in the background as she made an exaggerated attempt at shaping her own piece.
"Hey, this looks like a really lumpy vase!" Maloi exclaimed from across the room, her voice lighthearted. Colet glanced over to see Maloi's piece, which, though not perfect, had a certain charm to it.
"It's... definitely something," Colet said, her lips quirking into a soft smile.
The instructor moved around the room, offering guidance here and there, but for the most part, the two women were left to their own devices. As the evening wore on, the space between them seemed to close—both of them quietly focused on their work, but with an undercurrent of something more.
Maloi glanced over at Colet, watching her hands expertly shape the clay. There was something captivating about the way Colet concentrated, her eyes narrowed in focus, the quiet strength in the way she moved. Maloi couldn't help but admire how at ease Colet seemed despite the unfamiliarity of the situation.
For a brief moment, their eyes met, and the air between them shifted. It was as if they both felt the same thing—the silent acknowledgment that there was something more between them than just friendship. Colet's gaze softened, and Maloi's heart raced. She couldn't explain it, but there was a connection that neither of them could ignore.
After a few more moments of quiet work, Maloi broke the silence with a soft laugh. "Okay, okay, I'm done. I don't know if I'll ever be a potter, but I can't say it wasn't fun."
Colet chuckled, her usual restraint melting away as she finished shaping her piece. "I'd say we're both beginners at this," she replied, "but it's nice to try something new."
Maloi smiled at her, feeling the warmth of the moment. There was something undeniably intimate about their shared experience, about the way their energies had blended in the quiet of the studio. The gentle clinking of pottery tools, the soft murmurs of the instructor, and the rhythm of their hands on the clay had all contributed to something more than just a friendly night out.
"Thanks for doing this with me," Maloi said softly, her eyes meeting Colet's again. "I'm glad you came."
Colet's smile was gentle, her usual composure still intact, but there was a tenderness in her eyes that made Maloi's heart flutter. "I'm glad I came too."
They both lingered for a moment, standing together as the class continued around them. The quiet connection they shared, forged in the midst of something as simple as pottery, had evolved into something more—something neither of them could easily define. But in that space, beneath the soft glow of the studio lights, they both silently wished that this was the beginning of something deeper than just a friendly date.
After the pottery class ended, Maloi felt a buzz of excitement coursing through her. Spending the evening with Colet had been unexpectedly fun, and the subtle connection between them felt stronger than ever. As they stood outside the studio, the cool night air wrapping around them, Maloi hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"So, I was thinking," she began, her voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and enthusiasm. "Would you like to come by my place? I could show you my art studio. It's nothing fancy, but I've been working on some pieces that I'd love to get your thoughts on."
Colet blinked, momentarily surprised by the invitation, but her lips quickly curved into a soft smile. "I'd like that," she said, her voice calm but warm. The idea of seeing a more personal side of Maloi, stepping into her creative world, made something inside her stir—a quiet gladness she didn't fully understand but welcomed nonetheless.
Maloi's apartment was just as vibrant as her personality. The moment Colet stepped inside, she was greeted by a burst of color and life. Paintings in various stages of completion leaned against walls, brushes and palettes cluttered the surfaces, and the faint scent of oil paint lingered in the air. Despite the organized chaos, the space felt warm and alive—a perfect reflection of Maloi herself.
"Sorry about the mess," Maloi said with a laugh as she kicked aside an empty canvas frame to clear a path. "I tend to get carried away when I'm in the zone."
Colet's eyes wandered over the room, taking in the sheer energy of it all. "It's not messy," she said softly. "It's... full of life. It feels like you."
Maloi turned to her, a grin spreading across her face. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She led Colet to the far corner of the room, where several unfinished paintings were propped up on easels. Each piece seemed to tell its own story, bursting with bold colors and abstract shapes that evoked raw emotion. Maloi's style was unapologetically her—vivid, passionate, and unrestrained.
"This one," Maloi said, gesturing to a painting of swirling blues and fiery oranges, "I've been working on for weeks. It's supposed to be about finding balance between chaos and calm. You know, that push and pull we all feel."
Colet stepped closer, her reserved nature giving way to genuine curiosity. She studied the piece, her sharp eyes picking up on the details—the way the colors blended, the hidden layers beneath the surface. "It's... powerful," she said after a moment, her voice low. "There's a lot of emotion here. It feels like you've poured yourself into it."
Maloi glanced at her, surprised by the depth of Colet's observation. "That's exactly what I was going for," she said, her voice softer now. "Sometimes, art is the only way I know how to say what I'm feeling."
Colet turned to her, their eyes meeting in the dim light of the studio. "It shows," she said. "Your work isn't just beautiful—it's honest. That's rare."
The compliment made Maloi's cheeks flush, but she quickly masked it with her usual humor. "Careful, Colet. Keep talking like that, and I might get used to having you around."
Colet chuckled, a quiet, genuine laugh that made Maloi's heart flutter. "I wouldn't mind that," she replied, her voice so soft Maloi almost didn't catch it.
They continued to move through the studio, Maloi showing Colet more of her work—everything from experimental abstracts to intimate portraits. Colet listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and offering insights that made Maloi see her own art in a new light. For someone who seemed so reserved, Colet had an uncanny ability to connect with the deeper meaning behind each piece.
As the night wore on, the atmosphere between them grew warmer, more intimate. Maloi's outgoing, bubbly nature softened into something quieter, more vulnerable, while Colet's reserved demeanor gave way to a gentle openness that she rarely shared with others.
Standing in front of a painting of a lone figure surrounded by a storm of color, Maloi hesitated before speaking. "This one's... personal," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's about feeling lost but trying to find your way back. I wasn't sure if I'd ever show it to anyone, but... I wanted you to see it."
Colet studied the painting for a long moment, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was filled with quiet conviction. "It's beautiful, Maloi. And brave. Thank you for sharing it with me."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. Maloi felt a warmth spreading through her chest, the kind of feeling that came when someone truly saw her—not just the surface, but the person she was underneath.
"I'm glad you came tonight," Maloi said softly, breaking the silence. "It means a lot."
Colet nodded, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad I came too. Getting to know this side of you... it makes me admire you even more."
The words hung between them, unspoken emotions filling the space. Neither of them was ready to define what was happening between them, but in that moment, as they stood together in the glow of Maloi's creative world, it was clear that this was more than just a simple friendship. Something deeper was beginning to take root, and neither of them wanted to let it go.