Page 1 of Ancient Obsession

CHAPTER ONE

The sun was in Oliver’s eyes, forcing him to squint as people brushed past him. Something tumbled within his chest, like hiking boots in a dryer. What had he been thinking when he’d signed up for these classes? He was years older than a majority of everyone briskly walking across the quad. Most wore headphones, looking down as they headed for one of the four academic buildings on this part of Bishop Point University’s campus.

His phone buzzed and Oliver pulled it from his pocket.

19

Dave, his fiancé, had been counting down the days until their wedding. At first Oliver had said it felt like a threat from some schlocky horror movie. But then Dave had pulled him in close. He’d kissed him deep and run his mouth down around Oliver’s neck up to his ear where he whispered, “We’ll be far from schlocky together.”

Even now the memory sent a shiver through him.

Aside from the horror movie vibe, the countdown was sweet and something Oliver wished he’d thought to do himself. But it was definitely more Dave’s style. Oliver sent back a string of heart emojis as the feeling of boots tumbling in a dryer downgraded to sneakers.

You’ve got this. I’m proud of you. I love you. Go get ‘em, Tiger!

Oliver snorted and shook his head. Dave really leaned into being corny sometimes.

I love you, too. Don’t you have a pivot table to assemble?

Stop, you’re giving me a chub.

Save it for later, I’ll need a distraction after this.

You’ve faced all kinds of cryptids and monsters. Expanding your education will be a cake walk. Meeting starting. I love you.

Thanks. Love you too.

He switched to his email app and checked, for what must have been the millionth time, the email he’d received from the university. His first class was in the Communications building, room 349.

Oliver pocketed his phone. After a scan of the signs in front of the buildings, he headed for the Communications building. He had decided to go back to college in an effort to make himself more marketable to companies that would provide a steady paycheck. So he’d signed up for two classes in the late spring term, which was only six weeks, hoping it would be a way to ease back into things.

He’d noticed the dwindling site visits and comments on his blog a month or two before the marketing team for Beauchamp’s Barbecue Sauces emailed to let him know they were pulling their support. The loss of that final sponsor was a big wake up call. It was time for something different.

And there was still a shelf full of barbecue sauce back home that he and Dave were slowly working through.

At the Communications building, he squeezed through the door with a crowd. A group of people waited for the elevator. He caught sight of the door to the stairs and climbed to the third floor. As he stepped out the door, he paused to get his bearings, but mostly to catch his breath. Placing a hand against the slight stitch in his side, he promised himself he’d get back to the gym. Maybe after he got settled in with his class schedule.

Definitely someday soon.

Oliver located room 349 tucked into a small alcove at the end of the hall. A dozen other people were already seated at desks exactly like what he’d used back in high school. That plus the fact that the other students appeared a lot younger made him feel as if he’d stepped back in time. Could he be in his own version of Peggy Sue Got Married?

A desk was open in the middle and he slid into it, dropping his messenger bag at his feet and removing his notebook and pen. The other students were using a mix of laptops and tablets.

He should probably just turn to dust and crumble away right now, save himself the tuition.

“Pen and paper?”

Oliver glanced over his shoulder. Dark, curly hair in a stylishly messy tangle and dark eyes. The kid was younger by at least ten years, and for some reason the smile that showed off a gap between front teeth made Oliver feel ancient. An older model laptop was open in front of the kid, covered with stickers showing anime characters and a few different Pride flags, as well as one that stated they/them.

“Yeah, I’m kind of old school that way. I’m Oliver.”

“Robin.” The kid reached out, and Oliver shook with them, noting the assortment of rings and black nail polish.

Oliver gestured to the laptop. “Your pronouns they/them?”

“Yeah.” Robin looked impressed. “And you just did better than ninety percent of my family.”

Before either of them could say anything more, a man entered the room in a brisk walk and dropped a soft-sided briefcase on the desk at the front. His graying hair was long, pulled back into a ponytail. He wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt with a Henley underneath. He adjusted his heavy-framed glasses and scanned the room.