Free Pieces of Me by Erica Cope

hands and make sure that Holden knows that there is absolutely no chance of this being a real date despite how it may seem.
                  “It won’t be that bad, I promise.” I know Olivia is being sincere and she's so excited about going out with Beck I decide I better at least attempt to be a good sport about it. She's all rainbows and sunshine and smiles when we approach the boys. I'm sure my face clearly expresses my feelings on the matter because Beck looks at me uncomfortably. But as soon as Olivia turns her infectious smile on him, I, along with my obvious annoyance, am all but forgotten.
                  “Aria.” Holden greets me casually, but an arresting look in his eyes causes shivers to run down my spine and my knees nearly buckle. My body is betraying me, which is embarrassing on so many levels. There is no reason this boy should affect me so easily. But the truth is my brain is spinning like I just spent an hour on a Tilt-a-Whirl. All I can do is stand there staring at him like a complete and total idiot, just from the way he looks at me.
                  Olivia nudges me and something about her sly little smile snaps me back into reality.
                  “Look, let's get one thing straight, this is not a date,” I declare with a little more force than was necessary.
                  “What do you mean this isn’t a real date?” he asks mockingly. “It seems like a real date to me.”
                  “You aren’t my type.” I mean for the words to be insulting, but a small, very small, smile slips, mocking the false sadness in his eyes so he probably thinks I'm just teasing, flirting even. But he really isn’t my type and I need him to know that.
    “ You’re breakin' my heart,” he drawls, placing his hands over his heart in a cheesy, melodramatic sort of way.
                  “I highly doubt that,” I assure him. “We are just friends. Here to support our other friends as they venture into the messy world of casual dating. Nothing more.”
                  “Just outside, conscientious observers?”
                  “Exactly.”
              “Don't we get to partake in the fun?”
                  “Well, obviously, but in a completely casual, no nonsense sort of way.”
              “As long as I get to paint a fucking pot I'm cool.”
              “Glad we're on the same page.” I find myself
smiling at him for real this time.  His ridiculous enthusiasm for painting a pot is charming in a dorky sort of way.
                  I follow Beck and Olivia into the building, and Holden holds open the door.
                  “By the way,” he whispers. “I knew it.”
                  “Knew what?”
                  “That your smile would be worth the wait.”
                  I don't know what to say to that so I quickly duck past him and find myself in a brightly lit room. It's oddly circular in shape and over-the-top cheerful. The walls are lined with shelves full of completed pieces, each organized according to color in an aesthetic way to display the sixty shades of glaze to choose from.
                  A girl that looks about our age, maybe a little older, with shoulder length brown hair streaked with blonde highlights greets us with a wide grin from behind the counter.
                  “Welcome to Do Art, my name is Autumn. Have you guys ever been here before?” she asks with far more energy than I think should be legal.
                  “No,” we all say simultaneously.
                  “Fantastic! Well, if you step over here I can show you the variety of pieces you can choose from.”
                  We follow Autumn over to an assortment of chalky white objects—everything from plates to