I walked around her, taking a series of short videos from varying angles and of varying lengths. Her hands worked slowly, delicately, lifting the clay, shaping it, creating a tall, paper-thin vase. Midmorning sun shone through the studio windows, bathing her in an ethereal light. Once posted, this video would illicit nothing but praise for Freya’s talent and beauty. No one would mention Max’s lethal hit, the ugly lawsuit, Freya’s social media obsession. When she was throwing, Freya was untouchable.

The fluted vase complete, she stopped the wheel and looked up at me. “How’d I do?”

For the first time, I noticed the weariness on her face. Her eyes were puffy, her skin wan under her flawless makeup. I saw her vulnerability in that moment, her insecurity, and it only made her more beautiful to me.

“You were magic,” I said.

She smiled at me, grateful and relieved. “Thank God.” She took the wire garrote and sliced her creation off the wheel. As she placed it expertly on a wooden bat, she said, “You’ve been amazing, Low. But we need to take a break.”

My stomach plummeted with dread. “Did my mom call you?”

She looked up, bemused. “No . . . But that’s going to be my last post for a while.”

I was relieved my parents hadn’t contacted her, but . . . “Why?”

“I’m fat and disgusting. I don’t want people to see me like this.”

“You’re still beautiful,” I assured her. “Just in a different way.”

She ignored the compliment, wiping her hands on a towel. “Why would your mom call me?”

I lowered myself onto a stool facing her. “My parents kind of freaked out on me today. “It was about you.” I saw her brow crinkle. “They think we’re like . . . lovers or something.” My delivery was tinged with incredulous humor, but my cheeks were burning, my pulse racing. Just saying the word lovers prompted a mixture of embarrassment and delight.

Freya laughed. “Oh, shit. Really?”

It was a joke to her. She couldn’t imagine being with me that way. But that kiss . . .

“I know,” I covered. “I told them it wasn’t like that. That we’re just good friends. But they think our friendship is abnormal. And unhealthy.”

She set down the cloth. “I can see their point.”

What?

“I’m so much older than you. I’m about to squeeze out a kid any second. Your parents are probably wondering why the hell you’re hanging out me.”

Because you’re my best and only friend. Because we have a soul connection. Because you kissed me.

Freya said, “If we don’t see each other for a while, they’ll cool off.”

“I don’t care what they think,” I replied. “And I’m an adult. I do what I want.”