September 16th.
Taking my gaze off the wooden door I take an apprehensive look at my wristwatch. I'm definitely not early. He finishes classes at 4PM and doesn't have office hours on Tuesdays.
Unless he forgot that I was coming.
That is a possibility.
Which wouldn't make sense since he reminded me like a dozen times this morning that I should stop by at five sharp, but still–
My mental berating is interrupted by the door swinging open, presenting me the sight of a freshly showered Nathaniel.
"Hi." His eyes light up as soon as he sees me, and the anxiety that was previously overtaking me vanishes.
"Hi."
"Sorry, I just got out of the shower. Come in." Nathaniel steps aside to let me in. After he closes and locks the door he leads me towards the kitchen.
"Are you cooking something?" I comment at the delicious smell floating in the area.
"I hope you like lasagna."
"I thought we were ordering Chinese food or something."
"Is that what you college students survive with nowadays? It was couscous back in my day." He takes two long strides towards me, placing his hands on my hips.
"My bad, I forgot that professors tend to be more presumptuous." His eyes glow with disapproval, but a different type of urgency clouds them when he cups my face, his lips crashing against mine.
On instinct, my hands travel to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft unruly locks. A needy moan gets trapped in my throat when he bites my lower lip, drawing the flesh inside his mouth.
God, did I miss his lips. I didn't know how badly I wanted to taste them until I did.
He break the kiss suddenly, his darken eyes boring into me. "Do you think I'm arrogant?"
"What?"
"The first time you were at my apartment, you said you thought I was over-confident. And just now y-
"It was just a comment."
"Are you sure?"
"Do you honestly think I'd be here if I thought of you in that way?" He doesn't answer, but his intense stare is still fixated on me –it resembles the way his face looks when he's questioning a student during his lectures.
"What I'm really sure of, is that I don't know crap about you except that you like Batman and black coffee and that you're from Philadelphia. And that just a week ago I didn't even consider being in this situation."
The spiral of events of the last week hits me at once. The muted voice in the back of my head resurfaces, insistent of how much of a bad idea this is.
Nathaniel's gaze falls his feet, changing his weight from one foot the other.
"Sorry. You're right, I didn't mean to be rude."
I fling an arm around his neck, bringing him closer to me and peck him on the lips.
When he smiles, I take it that the subject is settled.
"Dinner will be ready in a few more minutes." I take the hand he offers me, and we walk to the living room, facing the large windows.
The sky is cloudy today which can only be a reminder of the upcoming fall. Although I'm excited to dust off my coats and wear nice leggings and cardigans, I am so not ready for Chicago's cold season.
"Where's your sister?"
"I convinced her to go bedroom furniture shopping for me." I laugh at his response. Another thing that I have discovered about Nathaniel is that he has no taste or patience whatsoever for design and decoration. In the few days his sister has been here she's managed to redecorate half his apartment. It's coming off nicely, to be honest.
"I, uhm, have something to ask you...about us."
"What is it?"
"I know that as far as the university goes this is, well, forbidden." I try to say the words as calm as possible, but my heart is beating a mile per minute. I can see Nathaniel slightly flinching too. "And I like to keep my life as private as possible. But, I was wondering if you'd have any problem if I told someone about us."
Wait, no –that didn't come out right.
"Someone?"
"Yes, like a friend. Abigail has been asking questions, and I'm not sure how much longer I can lie to her." A soft v forms between his eyebrows, his signature look when he is deep in thought.
"I don't know, Alex. Don't you think that would be risky?"
"She's my best friend, I trust her." I know that if I were to tell her, Abigail wouldn't go around campus blowing the whistle.
"Yes, but she's also my student. It'd be unprofessional and awkward if she knew." Damn. I guess I hadn't thought of that.
Giving it a little more thought, I'm not sure if I can imagine Abigail keeping it together in class if she knew about us.
"You're right. Forget I even asked." I shake my head dismissively, realizing just how complicated us dating truly is.
Dating? I think this hardly applies as that.
I don't even know what this is.
All I know is that it makes me feel more...present.
⚜⚜⚜
Contrary to what I assumed, Nathaniel does cook very well. The lasagna tastes as good as any restaurant's. One more point to his favor.
Not that he needs any help.
"So, what do you want to know?" He suddenly asks while refilling my second glass of red wine. I look at him confused. "About me. That doesn't involve superheroes." I giggle.
"Let's see." I'm thrilled at the promise of more information. "What food could you not live without?"
He chuckles before replying with puerile enthusiasm, "Bacon! Or jam on toast."
"Really?"
"Also pancakes."
"So basically, breakfast for kids."
"You really know how to hurt someone feelings, Ms. Saunders."
"It comes natural." He smiles, and it's one so bright, so candid, that it's hard not to match it –hard not to get lost in it.
"Favorite writer?" I continue.
"Ah, tough one." He lies back on his chair, his hand brushing against his chin. It takes him way longer than I expected to answer.
"Come on, you teach English."
"Exactly." His brow furrows, surely thinking of all the books he's read.
While he goes through his list in silence, I find myself observing his features more attentively.
His stubble looks a bit thicker than usual, and there's something about it that makes him look more...mysterious, alluring. I don't think I'll ever get over how green his eyes are, and my personal favorite, his dark blond hair.
I lower down my gaze, to his shoulders and arms. Although I love seeing him wearing a suit, the professor can totally rock casual clothes. What on earth did I do to have this beautiful man interested in me?
"I genuinely like Mark Twain; my reading habits began with his classics." He finally says, taking me off my musings. "But, if I have to go with my all-time favorite, then Ernest Hemingway." I try to hide my surprise, as Hemingway is also one of my ultimate favorite writers.
"Good."In that moment my phone chimes on the table, but I ignore it as I go with my next question. "Your favorite pet as a kid?"
"Hamlet, my hamster."
"You had a hamster named Hamlet?" The fork I'm holding is left hanging in the air, my lips firmly pressed as I try to suppress a heartfelt chuckle.
"It was groundbreaking back then, alright." An almost imperceptible hue of red taints his cheek.
"What happened to him?"
"My mom accidentally let his cage open after cleaning it."
"Better than flashing your goldfish down the toilet." Never happened to me, but I've heard. "Baseball or football?"
"Football." He says without doubt.
"Do you have any phobia?"
"Olives."
"What? There isn't such thing as that!"
"Believe me, there is." The look on his face says it all and this time I can't contain the laughter. How can one be afraid of innocent, delicious olives? More than a few seconds after when I recover from my mirth, I realize he's staring at me intently from the other side of the table.
I keep his gaze, and I'm immediately engulfed by the molten fire running through my veins.
"What?"
"I like looking at you." There are no nuances in his tone. It's a straightforward, sincere statement. "And I can't do it as often as I would like to." God, does he have a way with words? "Everyone always looks at you. Whenever you walk into a room, the eyes are on you."
"I think you've got that the other way around."
"How so?"
"Oh, don't play innocent. You know half of your students spend their time ogling you." He keeps staring at me, a slight smile forming on his lips, but I can't really tell if he finds that funny, or annoying.
"I haven't noticed." Nathaniel takes another sip from his wine, nonchalantly.
"Oh, professor, you're so smart. Oh, professor, do you give extra credits? Yes, Mr. Rowlins, whatever you want." I say in a honeyed, mocking voice, enjoying myself as I asses his reaction.
He finally chuckles before adding, "Anyway, there's only one student I care about." Before I have time to react my phone buzzes for the second time and I hastily put it on my jeans pocket after rejecting the call.
"Aren't you getting that?"
"It's not important." Nathan gives me an impassive look.
"It's just Andrew, he probably just wants us to go to the movies or something."
"Who is Andrew?" I can say he tries to hide it, but his tone is grating, his voice lower than usual.
"A friend." For some reason I feel like my explanation is not enough, and I'm quick to add, "we've known each other since sophomore year."
"Is he the guy that follows you around like a sad puppy?"
"He doesn't do such thing!" Abigail's same assessment rings hard and clear in my ears.
Instead of commenting any further, he stands up, picking the now empty dishes and taking them to the sink. I'm half concerned for his impression of Andrew, and half concerned for Andrew himself. I really do need to talk to him. I wouldn't like our friendship getting ruined for some kind on unrequited love that I am not aware of.
I look up at Nathan, his back facing me. He couldn't possibly be jealous. He doesn't have that right just yet.
I walk towards him, stopping next to him, my fingers gripping the hard-cold surface to avoid my fidgeting.
Without warning, I find myself almost falling back when his body crashes against mine, his mouth possessive on my lips.
He kisses me in the same way he did the first time –deep, fierce. He holds me in place, his hands pressed flat on the small of my back.
I'm vaguely aware of our bodies moving towards the living room, falling almost weightless on the sofa.
His body is pressed flushed against mine, his hands now rummaging through my waist and all the way to my legs, trying to touch as much as he can. He's on a mission.
His tongue comes out of his mouth momentarily to trace my bottom lip, and I eagerly open my mouth to welcome him inside.
His lips keep their journey down, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin on my neck. My hands travel to his hair, urging him closer. My skin burns with his touch, twisting and panting under him.
When his lips crash against mine once more, it's me that bites at his lower lip this time. A groan forms in his throat and I can't help smiling. Good. I can affect him too.
We dutifully engage in a race of vehement kisses and impatient caresses, our breaths faltering, and that familiar warmth in my belly heating up. It's finally when I take my hands to his back and under his shirt, that he breaks apart.
"As much as I'd love to keep this going, I'm confident that this is not our third date."
"What?" He looks at me intently, showing that half smile. "What do you mean?" I'm gasping for air, but it takes me just a second to know exactly what he means.
"It was a joke." He can't just leave me hanging like this.
"I intend to honor your rules, Ms. Saunders."
"Are you sure of that?" My tone is suggestive as I roll my hips against him.
"Thoroughly." He breathes against my neck, placing a lock of my now disheveled hair behind my ear. He kisses me one last time before standing up.
"Nathaniel!" He offers one of his infamous grins before turning his back to me. "Nathan are you kidding me?" He disappears into the hallway and I lie there panting, lips swollen and ego slightly bruised.