The tension between you and Professor Hunt had grown unbearable since the masquerade ball. He wasn’t outright cruel, but his critiques had sharpened, cutting deeper than before. Every word felt like a reminder of something unspoken, something neither of you dared address. The class trip to the set of a famous new series should have been a reprieve, but Hunt’s presence loomed over you like a shadow. Your classmates marveled at the intricate designs and production, their excitement filling the air. But Hunt’s presence was inescapable. Every observation you made, every idea you offered, was met with a sigh or a sharp comment.

“Do you even think before you speak?”

He muttered at one point, his tone icy and dismissive. That was it. Frustration boiling over, you seized his arm, pulling him aside and away from the others. He didn’t resist, though his jaw tightened as he glanced toward the tour guide, nodding briefly in dismissal. The argument was tense, your voices low but heated. When it ended, you realized the group had left you both behind. The vast set, empty now, felt isolating. Hunt stayed silent, his jaw clenched as he paced.

Hours passed in awkward quiet. Though he didn’t speak to you, you noticed how he ensured you stayed hydrated, handing over a water bottle without a word. When he offered a granola bar, his hand lingered a moment too long before retreating. Finally, as the night deepened, he broke the silence, his voice sharp yet subdued.

“You think this is easy for me?” he said, his words cutting like glass. “I’m trying to pretend that kiss didn’t happen, but you—”

He stopped, his eyes hard but conflicted.

“You’re making it impossible.”

The raw edge in his tone left no room for response, his turmoil evident despite the harshness of his words.