Page 12 of His To Unravel (His & Hers Duet #1)

TEN

olivia

I wake up wrapped in the quiet glow of yesterday’s memories, my mind drifting back to those moments with Nathaniel in the library.

The way he looked at me… How his words eased every insecurity without dismissing them.

As I stretch, a warm rush winds through me, settling deep in my bones.

It’s a sense of contentment that I can’t remember experiencing before.

A thrill that’s mine alone, unbound from obligation or expectations, a choice I’ve made simply because it brings me joy.

And beneath that joy, there’s something else, a quiet wonder at how safe I’d felt with him.

It’s odd to think of “safe” and “Nathaniel” in the same breath—him with his intimidating presence and his calculating intelligence. But yesterday, he managed to make me feel so secure, even as he coaxed me into something raw and vulnerable.

I’ve had physical experiences before, but never like that. Nothing that left me feeling so… seen . So desired. With him, I didn’t have to hold anything back or worry that he’d judge me. With him, I felt free to relinquish some of that self-doubt.

He made every tentative touch, every shaky breath, feel precious. My mind drifts back to not just the way he made me feel, but also the way he felt beneath my hands—broad and firm, like he was made to steady me.

Nathaniel has always carried himself with an air of control, but now I realize it goes beyond sheer intelligence or charisma. His physicality mirrors his mind—a quiet power I hadn’t fully appreciated until he had his hands on me. Even through our clothes, his strength had been impossible to ignore.

And the way he’d used that strength…not to overpower, but to offer me a sense of security that allowed me to let go. Just thinking about it makes me flush, but not from embarrassment. No, I won’t feel ashamed for claiming something just because I wanted it.

As I get dressed, I’m struck by how different this feels.

I’ve spent so long shaping my choices around what would please others—getting the best grades, keeping a low profile, building the kind of resume that made people proud.

Yet here I am, falling into something that’s just for me .

It’s terrifying but exhilarating—like diving into open water, unsure what’s beneath but craving the plunge anyway.

I grab my bag, pausing when I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. There’s a hint of something new there—an undeniable lightness. Smiling softly to myself, I pull my coat tight and take a deep breath before stepping out of my dorm into the brisk morning air.

And that’s when I see him.

Landon—standing near the pathway, coffee in hand, looking contrite. He lifts the cup in greeting, his eyes warm but cautious.

“Morning, stranger,” he says, his voice carrying a note of forced cheer. He holds out the cup with a tentative smile. “Peace offering? I know I was out of line last time we talked.”

I pause, eyeing him. A part of me wants to cling to my frustration, to let him stew a little longer. But the familiar charm in his eyes and the coffee he knows I love—it stirs up a pang of nostalgia for my friend.

I take the cup, sighing. “You really were, Landon. It felt…invasive. And hurtful.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the ground, then meeting mine with genuine regret. “I know, Liv. I was being…territorial, I guess. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought I was looking out for you. I’m sorry.”

As I take a sip of the coffee, warmth spreads through me. It’s exactly the way I like it—strong, with a hint of cinnamon. He remembered. He always does.

“All right, Landon,” I say, softening. “I forgive you. But let’s not do that again, okay?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Scout’s honor.” Then, with a flash of his signature grin, he falls into step beside me. “Hey, remember when we’d grab coffee like this before our early classes freshman year? You’d quiz me on random things just to keep me awake.”

I chuckle, feeling the edges of our friendship stitch back together. “Only because you’d show up looking like you’d pulled an all-nighter half the time.”

We walk together, and the easy rhythm we’ve always had starts to resurface, playful banter filling the space between us.

Yet, there’s still an underlying shift. I can feel it in the quiet spaces of my mind where I keep replaying the way Nathaniel looked at me, the way he spoke, the way he made me feel seen in ways Landon never could.

Still, as we walk to class, I allow myself a moment to enjoy this familiarity, remembering why Landon’s friendship matters so much to me.

Outside the lecture hall, I spot Nathaniel leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed intently on me. My heart skips.

As we draw closer, his gaze briefly shifts to Landon, and the warmth in Nathaniel’s blue eyes turns ice cold, irritation written across his face.

Landon, oblivious, keeps talking about some event he wants me to attend. I nod absently, barely hearing a word.

When we make it to the entrance and he finally notices Nathaniel, he falters mid-sentence, his steps slowing.

“Oh, um… Landon, this is Nathaniel,” I say lamely, gesturing between them. “Nathaniel, Landon’s in my year, a finance major.”

Nathaniel’s gaze remains fixed on me, though his hand extends toward Landon in a brisk, almost obligatory handshake. “Landon,” he says, his tone neutral yet unmistakably cool.

Landon clears his throat and grips Nathaniel’s hand. “Uh, hey. Nice to meet you,” he replies, clearly uncomfortable.

Nathaniel releases his hand quickly, still not taking his eyes off me.

My heart lifts at the sight of him, unreasonably so—but the feeling is tangled with confusion. What is he doing here?

Before I can react, Nathaniel steps in close and laces his fingers through mine with a gentle but possessive hold. The touch is grounding and electric all at once, and I glance up at him, trying to read his expression that’s now wiped clean of any trace of irritation.

“Nate, what are you doing here?” I manage, half-laughing.

He shrugs, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he looks at me, calm and unbothered. “This is my class now,” he says simply, as though that’s all the explanation I need.

I blink, thrown off balance. “Wait—what?”

Nathaniel doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he gives my hand a squeeze and gently pulls me toward the door, leaving Landon bewildered behind us.

I shoot Landon an apologetic glance over my shoulder, but he’s too busy staring at Nathaniel, a mixture of confusion and suspicion clouding his expression. He offers a curt nod before shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to leave.

Inside the lecture hall, I barely register the curious looks from classmates as we walk to our seats. My heart is racing and my head is spinning.

There’s no way he changed his schedule just to be in the same section as me… Right?

Whatever the case, there’s a strange satisfaction bubbling up, knowing he wants to be here—with me.

Nathaniel settles into the seat beside me, and somehow his presence takes up far more space than just the chair he occupies.

As Professor Reynolds begins the lecture, Nathaniel’s attention remains fixed on me.

I can feel him studying me with an intensity that simmers just beneath his calm exterior.

When I glance his way, he meets my eyes, and a small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Then, beneath the desk, he reaches over and slips his fingers between mine. I’m hyper-aware of the spark that seems to ignite wherever we touch.

Whispers drift through the room, and curious glances slide in our direction—from classmates who probably didn’t even know I existed before today. Now they’re probably speculating about what a guy like Nathaniel could see in someone like me. Someone so ordinary.

As if reading my thoughts, Nathaniel gives my hand a firm squeeze. It isn’t just comfort—it’s a message. You’re mine.

His commanding presence, the way he stakes his claim with such quiet certainty—it steadies something inside me. With him by my side, the whispers fade to nothing.

When the class finally ends, I let go of his hand to pack my things, my mind reeling with questions about this mystery of a man .

Right on cue, my stomach rumbles again—loud enough to betray me. Traitor , I think, heat creeping up my neck.

Nathaniel’s voice, low and teasing, pulls me back. “I’ll take a wild guess that you skipped breakfast again.”

I hesitate, biting back a guilty smile. “I’ve had a busy morning. I was going to grab something after class.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You said that yesterday.” Slipping his hand beneath the strap of my bag, he takes it from me, lifting it onto his shoulder with ease. “Come on. Let’s fix that.”

Despite my objections, he steers me out of the lecture hall and toward the campus café.

His hold is gentle but insistent, his quiet determination leaving no room for argument.

By the time we reach the café, I’m a little breathless and—despite myself—a little grateful.

It’s nice to have someone thinking about my needs for once.

The café is bustling, but Nathaniel spots an open table by the window and nods for me to take it. “Sit. I’ll get you something.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he’s already gone. A few minutes later, he returns with a breakfast sandwich and a cup of tea.

He slides into the seat beside me, not across, and the proximity sends a flutter through my chest.

As he sets the cup down in front of me, his eyes meet mine—warm, steady, and full of unmistakable affection. It leaves me momentarily speechless.

“There’s a pattern here,” he says, tone gentle but firm. “You shouldn’t have to choose between your studies and taking care of yourself.”

I smile, sheepish. “Guess I’ve always been better at one than the other.”

He doesn’t argue—just gives me a look that says he plans to change that. Then, beneath the table, his hand finds my knee, a silent gesture that says he’s got me.