The Heir's obsession Chapter 18: The Weekend 2

Chapter 18

JULIAN POLE

On getting to college, it’s oddly quiet.

Normally, there’d be students lurking around, chatting, laughing, but today feels different. My friends have already gone to their classes, so I head toward the bleachers to kill ti. I’ve got about twenty minutes before class begins—Jace’s class, of course.

Then I saw him.

And I swear, he saw too.

I smiled—so hard my cheeks hurt, but he turned away like I wasn’t even there. Not a glance, not a smirk, not a damn thing. I know what we have is complicated, but he could’ve at least smiled back. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I just need... affection.

Co to think of it, he actually called this morning. On the train.

The almighty Professor Jace called —because he missed , because he can’t stop seeing in his dreams.

That’s what he said.

It was the first ti he’d ever called, and I swear, I almost danced on the train. No—scratch that—I did dance, and my friends wanted to disown on the spot. But co on, you would too if your professor-slash-soone-you’re-secretly-dating (are we even dating?) called you like that.

And now? He’s giving the cold shoulder again. He’s confusing.

He’s wired.

I’m sitting at the bleachers when my phone buzzes.

Jace: We’re having a tutoring session after class.

Jace: You only have three classes today.

How the hell does he even know that? Oh right—it’s Jace. Of course he knows.

Jace: And I’m picking you up.

Call petty, but I’m not replying. Not after that cold look. He should’ve smiled when he saw . I don’t care.

Jace: Ciccino?

What’s that supposed to an?

Jace: Little bear?

Pftt. I’m not little. But damn it, I’m smiling like an idiot.

There are a few people scattered around the bleachers, and I’m trying not to look suspicious because Jace is still texting . He’s been doing that a lot since our date.

Jace: I want to believe you’re buried in your books, since your class doesn’t start for another ten minutes.

Jace: But you’re sitting at the bleachers. Are you ignoring on purpose, little bear?

What the fuck.

I look around, scanning every corner, but I don’t see him anywhere.

: Are you stalking now?

Jace: Oh, I got the bear’s attention.

: Stop talking to .

Jace: I’m not talking to you, I’m texting you.

: That’s basically the sa thing.

Jace: Did I do sothing wrong?

Jace: Mmm?

Jace: Ciccino?

Jace: Little bear?

Jace: Talk to , please.

Jace: Baby?

And just like that—boom. My face is on fire.

"Baby?"

Is he serious right now?

I don’t even know whether to be mad or completely undone.

It’s ti for my class.

I shook my head and stood up, slinging my bag over my shoulder, trying to look casual even though my stomach was doing backflips. I wanted to get there early, sit in the front row, close enough to see his face clearly.

Maybe he’d smile this ti.

Maybe he’d say sothing, anything, to show that last night, the date, the kiss, all of it actually ant sothing.

But no.

Guess what? He didn’t even look at . Not once.

I sat in the front row, right where I could see every flicker of his expression, and he could easily see too.

But it was like I was invisible. Every ti our eyes could’ve t, he looked the other way.

When I raised my hand to answer a question, he ignored it, and called on soone else instead.

When he was assigning partners for the new project, he didn’t even glance in my direction.

What’s with him and all these mixed signals? One day he’s calling baby and little bear, and the next, he’s acting like I don’t exist.

By the end of my classes, I was drained.

My mind had been spinning the whole day, replaying every second of his silence, every ti he avoided .

When I t up with my friends and told them I was heading off for a tutoring session with Jace, they all started teasing .

"Tutoring," Luka said, air-quoting the word like it was so inside joke.

"Sure," Rico added, smirking. "You two are totally going to study, huh?"

They laughed, but I couldn’t even join in.

Because honestly? He hasn’t even asked to be his boyfriend yet.

And maybe it’s stupid, but I wish he would.

I wish he’d stop hiding behind the whole professor act and just... say it.

Sigh.

The drive from campus to his house was quiet. I didn’t speak to him, not because I didn’t want to, but because I was trying to keep up this little act of being mad.

He talked, though. Jace always talks a lot when he’s with , like silence makes him nervous.

Every few minutes, his hand found mine. He’d squeeze it, thumb brushing slow circles against my skin, or lift it to his lips for a soft kiss before going back to the steering wheel.

It was almost impossible to stay mad at him when he did that—he makes defiance feel stupid.