Knowing Me, Knowing You | (S/P)

Chapter 18

I take my hand to my forehead, using it as a shield against the blazing sun.

What is it with this city? Chicago's weather is more unpredictable than America current politics, one day cats are raining and the wind is strong enough to scratch your face, and the next you're melting like a popsicle on the floor.

Entering the building, I take out of my jeans pocket the "Staff" nametag that was given to me yesterday and put it around my neck, pressing the down button for the elevator.

Today is the Literary Auction and we're supposed to arrive at the auditorium one hour before the assistants start to show up. Since I didn't have class with Nathaniel yesterday, and didn't feel like asking him through a text message either, I don't' know what group I'm working with.

I haven't heard anything from him since our rendezvous at his office. I wonder how his so-called dinner went. They are just friends, I keep telling myself, but there's something in my gut that says otherwise. 

What do I have to be jealous of anyway, it's not like he's if my boyfriend.

When I step out of the elevator and into the auditorium, I spot him in the short distance setting up alongside some students a large rectangular table. 

"Ms. Saunders, I'm glad you made it." His smile is kind as he greets me, exuding nothing else but professionalism. 

"Of course, professor." I make a pause to see if he says something else, but when doesn't I add, "Where do you need me?"

"I already have people bringing in the books that will be auctioned, and Professor Davis's group is handling the chairs and setting arrangement, so I think you could stay here with me and take charge of the registration process." Smooth, professor, real smooth.

"Okay." I nod, taking the other end of the white mantelpiece he's placing over the table, and then proceed to arrange some flyers and pennants with the University's name on it. Once I'm sure everything looks nicely, I ask, "What exactly do I have to do?"

"Oh, right." He bends down, picking up a box and placing it on the table. "Here are the lists with the names of everyone that bought a ticket for the event. First of all, we have to put them in order: female, male, university faculty members and alumni and then everyone else."

"Wait, people have to pay just to be here? Even if they don't end up buying anything?"

"Well, it's a fundraiser event, we are supposed to get as much money as we can." That familiar cheeky grin of his makes an appearance, but this time it doesn't bother me as much as it used to do a couple of weeks ago –now it has become a signature mark for when he's being a tease.

Now it's a good time to remind myself that I need to be my utmost professional self today. Without further ado, I begin filtering the lists.

Almost forty-five minutes after, we're finally done piling up four different stacks of sheets and set the tags for each one. Nathaniel has decided that he's going to be assisting the gentlemen and I the ladies. 

Good, I don't need unknown women batting their eyelashes and swooning at him.

I have little interest in giving that thought any more of my energy. But I cannot control how I feel.

And that is annoying. I know that said annoyance springs from one thing only –jealousy. But what can I do about it, really? 

I twist my neck to one side and then the other trying to relieve some of the tension when suddenly I feel a pair of strong but gentle hands squeezing my shoulders. I turn in surprise to see Nathaniel standing behind me.