Page 36 of My Treasured Obsession

Shaking my head, I penned:Hunter, why would you pick this class?

He cringed visibly at the gruesome scene on the screen and plucked my pen, writing back:It was the only elective that fit with my schedule. I also thought it would be a great way to overcome my dislike for these kinds of movies. Completely regretting it now.

Tenderness swept through me. It was admirable of him to take a class on a subject he didn’t like for the sake of conquering his aversion to it. I may be a seasoned horror-movie-loving fiend, but I sympathized with him. His feelings were valid.

I added in the notebook:I’m proud of you for doing this. I promise, before the end of the semester, you’ll actually enjoy these movies.

He simply wrote:That’s what I’m counting on.

We went back and forth for a few minutes. Whenever our fingers touched as we passed the pen and notebook, a heady buzz rocked through my veins.

A jump scare popped on the screen and the whole class, including Hunter, reacted jarringly. I just giggled. He glared at me good-naturedly and I rolled my lips into my mouth, attempting to stop my laughter. Hunter wrote another message. So far, we used up three pages in my notebook.

You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

Just a little bit.

I’m reconsidering our friendship.

I pretended to pout and give him my best puppy face expression. His lips tipped up at the corners in a mild smirk,like staying fake-mad at me was just too hard because I was that adorable.

Do you want to hold my hand? Will that make you feel better?

I meant the words in a half-teasing manner.

I didn’t think he’d actually take action.

Hunter slithered his hand over my lap and presented me with his awaiting, upturned left palm. It was darker than mine and callused with deeper grooves. I wondered about his destiny and how long we would remain in each other’s lives. For a short while or for a long time?

Knowing he’d want to continue talking through notes, I slid my left hand in his.

Hunter braided our fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze.

My breath hitched.

It was just holding hands. No biggie. I’d held his hand on Friday as well.

So why did my insides feel warm and fuzzy when he drew an absentminded circle on the back of mine with his thumb, almost softly and reverently?

I glanced down at our joined hands and went over the moment from his car, watching him try to preserve the bouquet I gifted him. I’d cut those flowers from my backyard on a whim, minutes before he arrived to pick me up. I was certain he’d throw them away at the end of the day. They were just from my garden, not fifty-dollar roses from a florist. But the way he handled those little blooms in his big hands with utmost care and this happy gleam in his eyes like he had every intention of keeping them alive, I all but swooned.

The rest of the movie droned on, but I couldn’t focus on it. The invisible patterns Hunter drew on my hand with his thumb fully snagged my attention.

By the time the movie finished and the class discussion wrapped up, I felt like a live-crackling wire, everything beneath my skin sizzling from his mere touch.

When Dr. Richmond finished explaining the take-home assignment and told us to send him an introductory email with our paired teammate and student IDs, I shot out of my seat, jostling Hunter and dropping his hand. I packed my belongings and swung my purse into the crook of my elbow, then lined behind the row of students trying to exit the auditorium.

Flustered, I couldn’t get out of here—or catch my breath—fast enough.

If Hunter sensed the shift in my mood, he didn’t say. Instead, he stood behind me as we descended the stairs, solid like a rock and emanating his usual warmth.

“Is now a good time to ask if you’d like to be paired with me?” he whispered into my ear with a playful edge.

It was a no-brainer that we’d work together. We only knew each other in this class.

“Of course.” I pasted a fake smile on my face, trying to mask the constantbadump,badump,badumpin my chest. Far from composed, I felt unravelled in a way I’d never had before. “I’ll email the prof. Just text me your student ID, okay?”

“Okay, but—”