Page 6 of Mine To Hunt

Chapter 3

Her

The bell rings for the last time today, as I shove my notebook into my bag with a sigh that feels like it's been building all afternoon. Maddie slings her arm around my shoulders as we file out of the building, Al trailing behind with his sketchpad tucked under one arm.

The three of us move like a unit, feet syncing up without trying, even though my head's still buzzing from that text at lunch.Beautiful in blue.It clings, a sticker I can't peel off.

"Finally free." Maddie groans, tilting her head back like she's soaking in invisible sun. "Prof. Wellington droned on about symbolism like it was the cure for cancer. My brain's fried."

Al snickers, catching up and nudging my elbow. "Fried? Yours? I thought theater majors were immune. Y'all live for the drama."

"Ha ha." She shoots back, but she's grinning. "Says the guy who spent last week arguing with a lump of clay. How's the'angry potato'sculpture coming?"

"It's avant-garde." Al defends, mock-offended. "You'll see at the spring show. It'll make you cry but in a good way."

I force a laugh, but it comes out thin. My mind's half here, half chasing shadows. The walk to the car park feels longer today, the chatter a buffer against the knot in my stomach.

We've done this routine a hundred times. Last class dump, quick vent session, then split for the night. Maddie and Al have their cars parked in the faculty lot, perks of family money that neither flaunts but both quietly enjoy. Me? I used to ride the bus, until Ryan insisted on picking me up every day.

We hit the edge of the lot, where the luxury rides gleam under the lot lights. Maddie's sleek black Audi, Al's silver Porsche that he calls his‘midlife crisis on wheels’, even though he's only twenty-three. Maddie unlocks hers with a beep, tossing her bag in the back.

"Text me if you wanna cram for Kingsley's quiz tomorrow." She says, pulling me into a quick hug. Her perfume, something floral and sharp, lingers as she steps back. "And seriously, Ree, don't ghost the group chat tonight. We need your vote on movie night picks."

"Guilty." Al adds, leaning against his car with that easy slouch. His eyes flick to me, softer than usual. "You seemed off at lunch. Is everything okay?"

"I'm good." I cut in, sharper than I mean. The concern in his voice tugs, makes me feel exposed. Al's always been like that. Picking up on the cracks without pushing too hard.

But tonight, I don't want to unpack it. Not here, with the lot emptying out and that prickle on my neck from earlier still itching. "Promise. Just buried in this assignment."

He nods, but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Alright. But if you need a study break, my door's open. Or, you know, clay therapy. Nothing fixes writer's block like smashing something."

Maddie snorts. "Clay therapy? Sounds like a scam. Ree, stick with me. We'll do face masks and trash-talk the plot holes in your rom-com drafts."

Their teasing wraps around me, warm and familiar, chasing the chill for a second. I open my mouth to fire back, something about their "therapy" sessions always ending in wine stains, when headlights sweep across us. A familiar blue sedan pulls up, engine humming low. Ryan. Right on time, like always. He leans out the window, arm draped over the door, that grin flashing white against the dusk.

"Hey, gorgeous." He calls, eyes locking on mine. "Ready to ditch these artsy types?"

Maddie's eyebrow arches, but she plays it cool. Al straightens a bit, his casual lean gone stiff. Ryan kills the engine and hops out, all six feet of him in his work slacks and a button-down rolled to the elbows.

He's got that effortless look, hair tousled just right, like he stepped out of a cologne ad. Six months out of St. Alden, a junior editor at some indie film outfit downtown, and he still carries himself like campus king.

"Iris Whitlock." He says, rounding the car to pull me in. His kiss lands light on my lips. Quick, public, the kind that says we're good without saying much. Then he pulls back, arm snaking around my waist, and nods at my friends. "Madeline, Dominic. Keeping my girl out of trouble?"

"Always." Maddie replies, her tone bright but edged. She crosses her arms, glancing at me with that look. The one that screams,Seriously? Him?without a word.

Al smiles, but it's forced, his hands shoving deeper into his pockets. "Yeah, trouble's our middle name. You heading out to conquer Hollywood tonight?"

Ryan laughs, loud and easy, clapping Al on the shoulder a beat too hard. "Nah, just the grind. But hey, Iris tells me you're knee-deep in sculptures. Don't let the dust turn you into a gargoyle, man."

Al's jaw ticks, but he rolls with it. "Noted. Drive safe, you two."

Ryan's grip tightens on me, thumb rubbing my side like he's claiming territory. "Appreciate it. Iris here gets all insecure when I'm late picking her up. Thinks I'm off charming extras on set."

He winks at me, but the words land like a jab, light but pointed. Insecure. Like it's a cute quirk, not the raw nerve he knows it hits. My smile stays in place, practiced and automatic, but something tightens in my chest. I hate how easily he says it, like it’s harmless. Like he hasn’t watched the way it crawls under my skin every time.

Heat floods my face, and I duck my head, forcing a smile. "Shut up, Ryan."

It's playful on the surface, but inside, it stings. That old echo of when we met, freshman me wide-eyed and alone, him the senior swooping in with confidence that felt like rescue.