Page 8 of The Obsession

“Funny story, Dee,” Brandon said, in a conversational tone, his voice still soft, soft as snowfall. “You know what they call it when an officer kills someone by accident?”

“Please let me get the ice now, I’ll be quick,” I squeaked.

“Don’t worry about the ice. Answer my question.”

I scrambled through the mess that was my mind. “Um…I don’t know…um, a misdemeanor?”

“Paid vacation.” Brandon broke into a face-splitting grin. “Hey, why do you look so scared, Dee? I’m just playing around.” He smacked my shoulder and roared his laughter at Mom. “Look at her! Shaking like a leaf!”

“Why don’t you go get the ice now, darling?” Mom said to me, her cheeks trembling with the effort of keeping the manic smile on her face.

I slunk away quickly, Brandon’s laughter echoing through my head.

Chapter Four

Logan

Things that had irked me for the last two years—like listening to the guys sing dirty versions of our school anthem, or wrestling in the corridors on the way to class, or pranking each other in the showers—things I’d given up for so long, became enjoyable once again.

Even Josh noticed the difference. One evening, as we walked back to the dorms from the dining hall, he punched me on the shoulder and said, “It’s really great to have you back, man.” I could’ve sworn there were actual tears in his eyes. Jesus, the guy was so hopelessly loyal. I couldn’t even give him a hard time about it, becauseIhad tears inmygoddamn eyes. I punched him back, and it felt so good to horse around again.

Three weeks after I laid eyes on the love of my life, I finally got the chance to talk to her.

After dinnertime, before lights-out, the boarders had free roam of the grounds. Draycott was known for its rolling grounds—endless carpets of lush green connecting the buildings with paths curling along the borders like graceful calligraphy. Most kids took full advantage of their surroundings and sprawled across the grass to hang out. The more adventurous, or those looking for quiet nooks to hook up, go farther from the main grounds and sneak under the dark trees, past the tangle of branches and thorny blackberry bushes and down to the river. The less outgoing went back to their rooms, the ambitious curled up at the library, and I, well, I checked out of Draycott and drove down to the animal shelter.

Volunteering at the local shelter was Ms. Taylor’s idea. She’d given me a lengthy talk about the amazing healing powers of animals, yada yada, and I’d agreed just so she’d stop. And it wasn’t bad at all. I’d expected to be put to work scrubbing out kennels, but as it turned out, I was given the task of taking the bigger dogs out on walks. They didn’t usually let anyone under eighteen take the animals for walks, but Ms. Taylor gave them a call, telling them how much it would help me, and since there were only a couple months left before my eighteenth birthday, the local shelter relented. I liked dogs, especially big ones. I liked how they were always panting, like they couldn’t have enough of life and they had to gulp down every moment of it.

One of the dogs I was often assigned to walk was a monstrously huge and hopelessly friendly Lab mix called Daddy. Daddy was a really sweet, hyper dog who thought he was the size of a Chihuahua, so when I asked if I could take him out on extra-long walks, the shelter employees went, “God,yes, please tire him out.” It took me and Daddy less than fifteen minutes to run the two miles from the shelter to Delilah’s street. I could go faster, but Daddy was a bit overweight, and by the time we were done with the two miles, he was panting hard. Once we made the turn to her street, I tugged on Daddy’s leash and slowed our pace to a brisk walk.

I headed for number 1876. It was dark enough now for the streetlights to come on and the windows of the houses to glow soft orange. I bit my lip, savoring the way my heart rate increased slightly once I turned onto Delilah’s street. I loved the anticipation, knowing she was there at the end of my journey. My prize, my perfect goddess, displayed through her window for me.

Delilah’s house was on the corner. Lucky me. It meant I could observe her from two different angles, and I didn’t squander that piece of good luck. Over the past couple of weeks, I’d walked up and down the two streets, looking for the perfect position, one that would give me the best view. And my luck had held; no one had found the little camera I’d installed in a tree across the street from her house.

I can’t be here for you 24/7, Delilah, but I need you to know that I’m always with you. Always.

I checked to make sure no one was around before reaching up to the second branch of the tree, where the camera was tucked nice and tight. Daddy chose that moment to give a particularly ruthless yank on the leash. The momentum launched me forward and I pitched face-first onto the sidewalk. The breath was knocked out of my lungs, sort of like when I first saw Delilah, except a lot less pleasant. Somehow, I still had the presence of mind to keep a firm hold on the leash so Daddy’s plans of a great escape were immediately dashed.The things I go through for Del—

“Are you okay?” a voice said. A voice I’d recognize even in my dreams.

Shit.Panic stabbed through my rib cage.Shit, shit, shit.Delilah. Had she seen me stretching my arm up into the branches? Was she wondering what the hell I was doing here? She was going to freak the fuck out—nobody understands romance—and Ms. Taylor would hear about this, and I’d be suspended again, except this time it would be worse, it would be so much worse—

Calm. Down.

She wasn’t looking at me the way people sometimes did, like they thought I was going to do something totally off-the-wall. But I still had my fail-safe—Daddy. He automatically cleansed me of all suspicion.

I hoped.

I stood up and brushed myself off, taking a few moments to make sure my breathing was settled and my voice wasn’t going to come out high with nervousness. But when I did look up, I realized I was hopeless. God, she was beautiful. I caught myself and forced out a casual, “Hey.” Then, before my brain could catch up, I said, “Oh, hey, Delilah, right?”

She glanced up at me, recognition dawning on her features now that she could see my face.

“You’re in my chemistry class,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” She didn’t quite meet my eye as she said it, which was typical Delilah. Instead, her eyes hovered somewhere around my chin.

I’d dreamed of so many ways for us to meet. Me falling on my face was not one of them. And now her eyes were focusing somewhere over my shoulder like she couldn’t wait to go. I struggled to say something that would put her at ease. I knew so much about her, but none of that information was usable. I couldn’t possibly say, “That Hainanese chicken rice dish you posted on Instagram two years ago and tagged as your all-time favorite food? I tried making it because I wanted to know how it felt eating something you loved. And it’s really good. You’ve got great taste. I can’t wait to try all those other Singaporean dishes you posted about.” Yeah, not so much

“So, um, do you live around here?” Argh.

---