Rejected and Pregnant: Claimed By The Dark Alpha Prince

Chapter 825 825: This is my girlfriend

Denzel slowed the car to a stop. Juniper peered out the window, unfastening her seatbelt as she looked at the isolated one-story building ahead. It looked completely deserted.

"Where are we? What is this place?" she asked.

"Let's get out first," he said.

They climbed out of the car, and Denzel locked it, tucking the keys into his pocket. As they walked toward the building, he reached out and took her hand. The sudden contact jolted her, and she looked up to meet his gaze.

"Have you ever done pottery?" he asked.

"Never," Juniper replied.

"Then it'll be more fun," he said with a smile.

Juniper glanced down at her pristine white outfit, her brow furrowing. "I'm wearing white, Denzel. You should have told me we were doing pottery. I would have worn something darker."

"Don't worry," he assured her. "They provide protective gear, aprons that cover you entirely. But if you'd rather not do this today, just say the word. We can always come back another time."

"I would like to do it," Juniper said. She was genuinely curious, and she didn't want Denzel's effort to go to waste.

They stepped inside, where a middle-aged man with thick glasses looked up from the counter, his face breaking into a grin. "Gamma Denzel! It's been a long time."

Juniper offered a polite smile, but the man's eyes shifted to her. "Wow! And who is this beautiful lady with you?"

"Uncle Sam, this is my girlfriend, Juniper," Denzel introduced her. "And please, just Denzel. No titles."

Juniper felt a sudden, hot flush creep up her neck at the word girlfriend. She kept her gaze focused on the floor, hoping to hide the reaction.

"We were hoping to get some practice in," Denzel continued, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. "Juniper is new to this, and I was hoping for some privacy. Are we clear of the afternoon rush?"

"For a while, yes. Most of our bookings aren't until later in the day," Sam replied, gesturing toward the back. "You'll find aprons in the cabinet. I'll go prep the clay."

Once he left, Denzel opened the cabinet and pulled out two black aprons. He handed one to Juniper, then tied his own. Juniper reached behind her neck, fumbling with the narrow fabric ties, but she couldn't get the knots to hold.

"Let me," Denzel said, stepping closer. "Turn around."

She obeyed, and he reached out to fasten the strap at her nape. His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck, and when he moved to secure the knots at her waist, his palms grazed the fabric against her sides.

The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through her, her heart fluttering against her ribs far harder than it had minutes ago.

"I'll tie your hair as well," Denzel said, reaching into his pocket.

"I didn't bring a rubber band," Juniper admitted, feeling slightly unprepared.

"I have."

He gathered her long, silky hair, his fingers moving with a precision that surprised her. He fastened the band. A few soft strands escaped, framing her face at the temples. As he finished, he stepped into her space, his eyes holding hers.

"You look beautiful," he whispered.

The comment was simple, but the sincerity behind it hit her harder than a grand gesture. She followed him into the workshop where Sam had already set up two stations.

"I've prepared the clay for both of you," Sam said, looking from Juniper to Denzel with a knowing smile. "Does Miss Juniper need a formal lesson, or—"

"I'll teach her," Denzel interrupted.

"Very well. Then, I'll leave you two alone," Sam pronounced with a smile and left.

Juniper settled on the wooden stool in front of the wheel and asked, "How long do you know this place?"

"Ever since I went to the high school," Denzel replied. "Pottery gives me a calm. I thought it would be a perfect date for us."

He then stepped in behind her. "Just focus on the movements of my hands over you. The wheel move fast but you can control it."

Denzel reached for her hands, his larger, warmer palms guiding her onto the wet lump of clay. The proximity was immediate; his chest pressed lightly against her back, and the scent of him enveloped her.

"Don't grip it," he instructed, his voice low near her ear. "The clay is sensitive. You have to guide it, not force it. Feel the spin. Let your hands flow with it."

Juniper tried to focus on the spinning wheel, but her concentration was slipping. It was hard to concentrate on the mechanics of pottery when she could feel his back directly against her spine. She took a breath, letting her hands relax under his, and let the wheel do the work.

The clay began to take shape under her fingers, smoothing out into a gentle curve. A smile broke across Juniper's face as Denzel poured a little water over it to keep the surface slick.

"Wow! Is this a bowl? It's actually looking like one," she murmured, her excitement bubbling over.

Denzel watched her, a pleased expression on his face. Seeing that spark of joy in her eyes was far more rewarding than the piece he was working on. He slowly withdrew his hands, giving her the space to own the creation.

"I believe you can do the rest," he said.

He moved to the wheel next to her, setting his own block of clay in motion.

He focused on shaping a flower vase, but his attention kept drifting back to her. He watched the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way she carefully steadied the wheel when the clay wobbled, and the pure satisfaction she showed when she corrected it.

She was completely immersed in creating a bowl, forgetting even the anxiety she was feeling earlier.

"Let's separate it from the wheel," Denzel said after some time and gently pulled the bowl out of the wheel.

"Is the shape right? I think it's a bit distorted," Juniper stated.

"For the first timer, you did well," he complimented with a big smile that reached his eyes.