Page 2 of My Wildest Obsession

“Pay attention,” I warn him.

“No.”

“I’m not going to save you if there’s a terrible plane crash or something.”

“Good,” he says, his tone flat.

I elbow his arm off the arm rest and he sighs like he’s the most wronged man alive. The plane reaches the end of the runway and I close my eyes, trying to find calm. My fingers twist together and I repeat stats on plane crashes in my head. I was hoping that would help, but it’s only reminding me of plane crashes and dying.

We start to accelerate and I gasp, my hands locking onto the arm rests.

Or, well, one of the arm rests.

My right hand is locked around Theo’s wrist. My fingernails dig into the skin on the top of his hand and I feel him tense. When I don’t let up, he tries to move his hand away, but I’m locked onto him like a cat trying to avoid the bathtub.

“Jesus, Clara,” he growls.

He manages to rip his way out of my grip, but I leave claw marks on the back of his hand. To my surprise, he doesn’t try to move his hand as far away from me as possible like I expected. Instead, he grabs my hand and squeezes it, almost reassuringly.

That’s what fixes it for me. That’s what distracts me from the plane.

Hold up.

Is Theo being… nice?

Why?

Oh my gosh, maybe we entered another universe.

I peek out the window and frown when I see the same view as before.

“The flight is only two hours,” Theo tells me, and I nod.

“Right.”

He sighs again, picking up his papers and leaving me to my misery. Except, he never tries to take his hand from mine.

A tickle hits my fingers and I frown, twisting our hands and gasping.

“Shit! You’re bleeding,” I half shout.

I let go of his hand and grab my bag from under the seat. I start digging through it to find my first aid kit.

“I have band-aids and stuff. Just give me a second.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m fine,” he says, trying to wave me off.

I don’t know what it is, maybe because he was kind to me, and just like with our sparring, I feel like I have to make things between us even, but I desperately need to make this up to him.

“Let me clean it up,” I insist, grabbing his hand and dragging it closer to me.

I dab at the wounds with some Kleenex and then squirt Neosporin onto the scratch marks. I rifle through the kit and grab the band aids, stifling a laugh when I see that the only ones that I have are Hello Kitty themed.

“No!” He snaps when he sees the pink, and I pout.

“Yes. You can take them off later, but at least it will help with the bleeding now.”

I grab his hand, practically wrestling with it when he tries to tug away from me, and I hold it still while I peel off the bandages and stick them over the scratches.

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