Hidden Play: The Return 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The words send a chill down my spine. It's both a taunt and a challenge, and he knows it. If I didn't already have the eyes of the class on me because of my social ranking, I certainly do now. Partnering up with the new guy won't just put us under the spotlight; we'll be wriggling under a damn microscope. The very thought makes my skin crawl. Every movement, every exchange, and every look will be gobbled up by their greedy senses before being crapped out as gossip to someone else, eventually leading back to their King – and my ex.

I stiffly turn around and Hunter tips his chin, daring me to answer. Despite the rough start to his day, he gives no indication that it's had an effect on him. On the contrary, waves of calm confidence roll off of his aura. The florescent lights hit his features, and I scan every detail, this time storing it all to memory. He exudes 'bad boy with an edge,' and I'm sure I'm not the only one who has internally licked my lips at the sight of him. Admittedly, that look has never been my type, but Hunter manages to pull it off and look appealing – even to me.

As if reading my thoughts, Hunter's lips turn up in the start of a grin.

I open my mouth to respond, but no words follow. What am I supposed to say? I can't be your partner, because the captain of our basketball team banned all of us from talking to you. Or worse – sorry, my ex still has my balls in a vice, so I'll have to pass this time.

Desks scrape against the tiled floor. My classmates pair up and start diving into the assignment, their chatter like background noise at a coffee house. Even if I turn down Hunter's offer, it'll be too little too late. By this point, everyone else has partnered up and we'll end up together anyway.

Hunter must know this too, because he leans back in his chair and cocks a brow. "You want to turn your desk around, then?"

No.

I grip the edges of my desk and swing it around. To convey my displeasure, I make a concerted effort to prevent our desks from touching, leaving just an inch of space between them. Between us. Hunter holds my gaze for a lingering second before glancing up at the first quote on the screen. He clears his throat and reads it aloud.

"It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning. Line from The Time Machine, H. G. Wells."

I narrow my eyes. How fitting. Hunter frowns and reads it again, tapping his chin in feigned wonderment.

"Now that," he mutters. "That is an excellent quote. I'd be curious for your interpretation."

I try to ignore the dripping sarcasm and shrug. "Even though it's from The Time Machine, I don't hear the quote and assume it's about time. It's about the state of mind. The morning is parallel to a clear mind, while 'tonight' implies a clouded one. It's all about how our feelings change based on the soundness of our thoughts, which is based off the clarity of our minds."

Hunter cuts his eyes to me. "Interesting take."

I grunt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of asking for his explanation in return. But he's undeterred. He lets out a sigh before sliding off the cap of his pen and quickly writing something on his notepad. When he's done, he tosses the notebook on my desk. The page flutters against the force of movement, settling back into place when it's in front of me. I flush as I read his words.

Common sense is both regret's biggest advocate and worst enemy, depending on the time of day.

The words blend together to form a long string of poetic double meaning, pulling me down memory lane. Hunter whispered that he refused to be a regret. My regret. It was his only request. Yet now, only mere weeks later, I'm treating him as the epitome of one.