The Language of Love

Chapter 1As I pulled open the double doors to the community center, it felt like I was the new kid in school again. We moved so many times growing up that I got used to being the new kid. I got good at making new friends and then saying goodbye a year or two later. My best friend Kat said that’s where all my relationship problems stem from. She said I was too good at letting people go, that I just accepted it when they left, and I didn’t fight for them. Speaking of relationship problems, I had plenty of them. Well, really just one big problem: I didn’t have a relationship! I was perpetually and depressingly single. I was in my mid-thirties with no romantic prospects. I’d had a handful of flings over the years, but they only lasted a few months. No one stuck around long enough for me to introduce them to anyone. Of course, everyone loved to give me romantic advice. I had heard it all: “Mr. Right is still out there,” “You just have to be patient,” “You’ll find him when you’re ready,” and my personal favorite: “Date yourself first.” Date myself? I do that every night with lube and two fingers. No, I need a man. Which brought me here, to the local community center. I signed up for a class one lonely night over the summer after I received my fourth wedding invitation. Like I needed another reminder of my loneliness. I thought that maybe I’d meet someone in class. I tried to sign up for the Beginner Spanish class, but it was full, so I signed up for a pottery class instead. I figured it was the least boring option. I certainly wasn’t choosing scrapbooking or advanced poetry. I’ve wanted to learn Spanish since high school. To be specific, my interest in Spanish sprung up the moment I saw the cute foreign exchange student undress in the boy’s locker room. He was from Spain and absolutely gorgeous. That day, an interest in Spanish wasn’t the only thing that sprung up… It wasn’t until I got an email reminder on my phone that I remembered I had signed up for the community center class. I dragged myself off the couch, put on something halfway decent, and drove to the community center across town. As I stood in front of the pottery classroom door, I wiped my sweaty palms on my black jeans. I really hope I don’t regret this. At least let the teacher be hot. I walked into the room and saw a few other students finding their seats at pottery wheels. There was an open seat on the very end of the row, so I took that one. A moment later, the door opened, and our instructor walked in. She was a thin older woman with a long gray ponytail. She dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and muddy boots. “Welcome everyone,” she said. “I’m Theodora, and we’re going to make art together.” “Just my luck,” I muttered under my breath. I guess I wasn’t going to be swept off my feet by a sexy pottery instructor. Theodora leaned against a desk at the front of the room and looked us over. “Let’s do a round of introductions, and then we’ll dive in,” she said. We started at the other end of the row. There was Arthur and Louise, an old couple who had apparently taken every class the community center ever offered. There was Xavier, a soft-spoken guy who had just graduated college with a degree in philosophy. Next to him was a soccer mom named Janet, who brought her own box of wine. Then the class’s attention turned to the person beside me. I had been so focused on everyone else’s introductions that I hadn’t even looked at who was next to me. “I’m Eduardo, I’ve never taken a class here before, and…what was the last question? Oh, right, I decided on pottery because my friend recommended it,” he said, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties, just like me. Then Eduardo turned to me, and we locked eyes. His eyes were a beautiful shade of brown, like the color of coffee just after you pour in a dash of milk. His dark wavy hair fell just above his shoulders and looked messy in the best possible way. He had the broad shoulders of a swimmer, and I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to be held in his strong arms. “What about you?” Eduardo said with a grin. “Huh?” I sputtered. I’m glad I couldn’t see myself because I probably had drool all over myself. I could not stop staring into this man’s eyes for the life of me. They were incredible. “Your introduction. What’s your name?” Theodora said, clearly annoyed at how long this was taking me. “Oh, yeah. Of course,” I said, clearing my throat. I had to look away from Eduardo or else I’d be hypnotized again. “I’m Nathan. I’m new here. I chose pottery because my first choice was taken.” I blurted the last part out without thinking. “How charming,” Theodora said, rolling her eyes. “Now that we’re all acquainted with each other, let me go over the basics of pottery.” The next hour was a blur. I could barely focus on Theodora as she taught us how to operate our pottery wheel and all the pieces we were going to make over the next eight weeks. It took everything in me not to look over and stare at Eduardo again. From the quick glances I stole, he appeared fit. His T-shirt suggested chest muscles underneath. He had nice hands for pottery, according to Theodora, and they did look nice. Larger hands but not giant or meaty. I almost jumped up in excitement when I saw his ring finger was empty. How did I get so lucky? I’m sitting next to the hottest guy in class, I thought. Okay, let’s be real, the only hot guy in class. Xavier is kind of cute, but he’s way too young for me. I tried to focus on Theodora as she wrote something on the board, but I could still see the handsome Latino man next to me. Eduardo on the other hand…well, he’s perfecto.