Page 34 of My Treasured Obsession

Corralled in this space together, with our thoughts floating beside one another, mine transparent and hers unknown, even the impossible seemed possible. I liked to believe that all this wait before she and I intertwined was for a reason. The universe conspired to make this happen, to take control, and to give me a small reward for all the sleepless nights I’d spent thinking about this one ethereal goddess of a woman.

“We should probably get going,” she said softly with a benign smile, moving away and forcing her body to settle back into the leather seat. “Before we waste any more time.”

Before we waste any more time.

Because I’d already wasted enough with my fears and insecurities.

No longer would that happen again. Though we were friends for the time being, I was going to do everything in my power to show Gabriela that I could bemorefor her…should she ever want me in that way.

CHAPTER 8

Hold My Hand

Gabriela

Vesta University had one of the most beautiful campuses in the city. Various buildings for various studies spanned the streets of downtown Montardor, rich in their magnificent architecture, cobblestone pathways, and vibrant in their lush greenery and fountained parks.

Hunter parked his car a minute of a walk away from the arts building, where the Horror & Cult Classic Cinema class took place. He offered me his arm when my heel stumbled on the cracked pavement and with my hand resting in the crook of his elbow, we ferried to our destination. His leather messenger bag was slung over one shoulder and he held our coffees in a takeaway tray, while I held my purse and the box of donuts. Silence reigned between us as we enjoyed the September morning sunshine and the view of our landscape.

The realization that I wasn’t fond of silence but didn’t mind it with Hunter struck me again. I liked our silences. They were gentle and companionable. No words were needed to fill them. I also liked this newfound friendship we formed. Deciding not to act on the attraction I felt for him was the right choice. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was determined. He was extremely handsome, but like an expensive flower bouquet, I could appreciate the beautiful sight and fragrance without needing to actually touch it.

The fact that we both agreed that our kiss meant nothing eased my mind.

As we entered the class—a giant auditorium with a large screen framed by red curtains, a podium for the professor, and cinema-style seats—a few people who arrived earlier craned their heads to stare at us.

We were a bit overdressed, but most business students at Vesta University frolicked in similar attire as ours. It was what happened when you were in and out of business classes, team project meetings, presentation preparations, networking events, or even returning from your day corporate job to attend school in the evenings. I always thought it was important to dress immaculately because if you looked good, you felt good, and you’d most likely perform good too.

Alongside me, my pretty rich boy swanned into the room like an unbothered prince amongst paupers, over six feet of pure muscles donned in a designer suit and his delicious cologne guaranteed to turn every woman within a ten-foot pole radius feral.

Hunter was so dapper and it came to him naturally.

We both wordlessly agreed to take seats in a back row. As we ascended the stairs, he put a gentle hand on my back to guide me ahead of him, and the touch practicallysearedme.

“Sweetheart,” he purred in my ear from behind, his warmth radiating off of him in waves. “Now’s a good time to tell you that your middle-aged guard is following us but doing a poor job at blending in.”

“Is that so?” I threw a glance over my shoulder, welcomed by his broad chest. The height difference was killing me. I’d always had a weakness for tall men. I had to peer around his frame to catch sight of Oscar—one of Papà’s men—disguised in a tracksuit reminiscent of something you’d see a boy band member wearingin the ’90s. The backwards cap and overexaggerated swagger only made him stand out. “Well, fuck.”

Hunter chuckled. “Fuck is correct.”

“Just ignore him. He’ll sit further away but keep an eye on us.”

“Noted.” Hunter waited for me to sink into a seat before he sat in the one beside mine. He placed a hand on my knee and brought his mouth near my ear to whisper, “Are you doing okay? Have your dad or Josh found out anything more?”

The only thing I could focus on was how big his hand looked against my smaller thigh and the heat of his lips so close to my skin.

“I-I’m fine,” I stuttered. “There have been no leads, but I’m sure this will get resolved soon and I’ll be able to move around freely, sans bodyguard.” I tried to muster a smile and nudged him with my elbow. “And move back into my apartment so we can resume being neighbours.”

“I hope so, Gabby,” he whispered sincerely. “Fingers crossed.”

I was saved from saying anything more when the professor—Dr. Richmond—entered the room, booming a loud greeting for the class.

We drank our coffees and I ate my donuts while Hunter tucked into the blueberry muffins I baked for him as Dr. Richmond orated on. He gave an introduction to himself, the class’s curriculum, and his expectations for this fall semester. Every class, we’d watch a movie, have a discussion at the end, and our assignment was a short essay on said movie, completed in teams of two. The final dissertation, worth thirty percent of our overall grade, was the only solo paper. The workload was easy-peasy, lemon squeezy. I had a good feeling about this class.

Once the lights shut and the screen turned on to play the movie—one I’d both seen twice in the past and enjoyed—thatgoodfeelingquickly morphed into panic.

I could hear Hunter’s soft breathing. I could smell his addictive scent. And I could feel his strong arm brushing mine on the shared armrest between us before his muscular thigh pressed against my right one as he shifted in his seat.

Shit.