Knowing Me, Knowing You | (S/P)

Chapter 22

When I was a kid my parents couldn't share any secret with me because I'd always, every single time, spill the beans. It didn't matter if it was a surprise birthday party, Christmas presents, an anniversary celebration...I would, almost purposely, spoil it. Like that one time my mom and I took the better part of a Saturday morning baking a birthday cake for my dad, only to have me running towards him as soon as he got home to tell him there was a cake for him hidden in the fridge.

I was an annoying child, alright.

But if I were to think about my mother now, I think that she'd feel proud. Because I've been sitting in the lecture hall for the past 45 minutes, with a very good-looking professor pacing in front of me and talking about romance.

The very same professor I saw naked and shared a bed with three nights ago.

I haven't spilled the beans.

I haven't voiced any of the thoughts that have crossed my mind since I saw him walk in with a coffee mug in hand this morning. 

"To quote Booker Prize winner Byatt 'No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.' And with that I'll stop torturing you. For today." Nathaniel says in a mocking tone, to which of course, follow some laughs. "You might want to work on your project now."

I think of how he omitted the first part of that quote: I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. Which if you ask me, serves a great amount of accuracy. I have noticed by each passing day how the feelings —although I still haven't named them­— I have for him ­­grow in intensity, and I'm aware that puts me on the verge of a dangerous situation. 

A place that I swore I wouldn't let myself travel to again.

Definitely not with someone like him, of all people.

But being already in the middle of it –knowing how it tastes, how it feels– I can't find it in me to change routes. 

I look up to see Nathaniel, who is struggling to make his red ink pen work. He keeps clicking on the top of the pen but it seems that the cartridge is stuck. As expected, he keeps clicking on it until it breaks. The student sitting in from of him, instead of laughing – as I'm doing in my mind– stares at the poor item and I can tell that he's expecting Nathaniel to bang his fists on the table or something of the sort. But instead, he chuckles to himself and ask the student, Ryan I think he's called, for a pen. 

"Something is wrong." Abigail whispers, taking the empty seat next to me. I'm surprised that she showed up today –she was absent yesterday, and I was expecting her to be absent the whole week. I haven't asked her yet how her weekend with Zack was, but then again, I'm not sure I want details. 

"What happened?" Usually Abigail statements of something being wrong tend to mean that she missed an episode of her favorite TV show, that her favorite jeans don't fit anymore, or that she wants help with an assignment.

"He is acting weird."

"Zack?"

"Mr. Rowlins." Her gaze shifts towards Nathaniel, who is now,apparently, comfortably chatting with three students.

"Is he?" I wrinkle my nose, not sure of what her definition of 'weird' entails.

"Are you blind? He's being nice to students! And he didn't go full beast-mode when his pen didn't work."

"He is always nice to students." Alright, that's the biggest lie I have ever said.

Abigail looks at me as if I had grown another head. "Again, are you blind?"

"To me he seems normal..." That's partially true. When we're together he's always relaxed and happy. I guess the side he shows to everyone else happens to be very different. "Maybe he's just in an exceptionally good mood today."