Page 33 of My Treasured Obsession

“Now that I’ve divulged my tastes, what about you?” she quipped. “What do you like to read, watch, and listen to?”

I floored the gas as I entered the highway, glancing at my blind spot and putting on my flasher. I noticed the inconspicuous sedan with her guard gaining speed on us, trailing behind like a shadow. “I like reading classics and Greek mythology. I tend to watch a lot of action movies. And I listen to a lot of the rap that plays in the locker rooms, and the rock bands from the early 2000s that I grew up on.”

“Any favourite songs?”

“Plenty.” I plucked my phone with one hand, keeping the other on the wheel. “Here. Go through my playlist and put on something.”

Gabriela snatched my phone with grabby hands. “Passcode?”

The night I first saw you. “Zero, seven, one, nine.”

After unlocking my phone, she browsed through my playlists and selected an old favourite of mine, the music blaring throughthe car with a prominent bass. Gabriela ran a hand over the dash in appreciation. “What type of car is this? I like it.”

“A Jaguar. I got it last year.” A sheepish smile graced my lips. “It was a gift from me to me.”

Gabriela giggled. I loved that sound. “Good for you. One should always treat oneself to something nice and extravagant occasionally.”

I’d been able to buy it from the generous trust fund my dad set up for me before he passed away. The car was a tribute to him. We’d both wanted one. At least now one of us got to drive it.

“Cars are my guilty pleasure,” I admitted, switching lanes to take the next exit. They were my dad’s as well. Some of his sports and vintage rolls still sat in our family home’s garage. “What’s yours?”

“I wish I could drive,” she mumbled in an afterthought-like manner. And I almost said,I could teach you, but that would appear too desperate. I needed to maintain some form of decorum around this girl and not show her all my cards at once. Gabriela turned her head my way, grinning, and I saw a peek of the gem on her canine. Remembering how I ran my tongue over it as I devoured her mouth Friday night sent a rush of heat down my spine. “As for my guilty pleasure, I have a weakness for overpriced coffee, bags, clothes, shoes, skincare and makeup products, and the list goes on. I’m a firm believer in treat-yourself culture. Life is short. Buy the things that bring you joy. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely.” We chatted some more until my ride rolled to a stop in Le Petit Moulin’s parking lot. I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I figured we could grab some coffees to go before our class. What would you like?”

Gabriela appeared pleased at my idea. “I’ll have a small mocha.”

She reached into her purse for her wallet and I grabbed her wrist, halting her movements with a gentle squeeze. “No. Stay here. I’ll be back.”

I meant it when I said I never let a woman pay when she was out with me. Gabriela must have remembered that tidbit because she looked like she wanted to say something, probably protest, but I quickly left before she could get another word in.

The same woman from Saturday—Elsie—served me. I asked her to add half a dozen donuts to my order, selecting the chocolate-dipped ones Gabriela said she liked.

When I slid back into my car, Gabriela sat pensively, gazing at her black nails.

“Here you go.” My voice coaxed her out of her thoughts and I handed her the mocha and pink box containing her donuts. “Careful, the coffee’s hot.”

“You got me goodies.” Gabriela gasped, face morphing into that of a kid on Christmas. Her joy was so infectious, I couldn’t help but smile at her reaction. “I’m going to devour these during class. I might…share one with you.”

I chuckled, putting on my seatbelt.

“What did you get yourself?” she asked, taking a sip of her mocha, then puckering at the scalding temperature.

“A black coffee. Like your soul.”

She laughed at my joke. It slowly faded as she leaned closer to the center console, studying my working hands as they removed the lid from the extra cup of water I’d ordered. “What are you doing?”

I submerged the short stems of the bouquet into the cup.

“Preserving my roses,” I said proudly and placed my temporary, makeshift vase in my car’s cupholder. “There you go.”

That should keep my bouquet hydrated until I got home.

Noting the sudden tense silence, I peered up at Gabriela and froze, every muscle in my body thrumming with alertness. She was so close, I could see all her individual lashes as they fluttered in time with her breathing cadence, could see the unnamed emotion passing through her blue depths, could see the way her elegant neck worked with a swallow of whatever words she’d managed to fashion on her tongue before drinking them down and whispering a simple, “Oh.”

As we stared at each other, the feeling flickering through my chest could only be described as hope.

Was it inexorable to believe there was a possibility that somewhere in the future, this girl could be mine in every sense of the word?