Page 5 of His To Unravel (His & Hers Duet #1)

FIVE

nathaniel

The campus is quiet in the early evening, with the soft murmur of voices and the shuffle of footsteps weaving through the fading light. I wait outside Olivia’s dorm, leaning casually against the brick facade.

When she emerges, her eyes find mine and she smiles shyly.

“Hi,” she greets quietly.

“Hello, Olivia. Ready to go?” I ask, keeping my tone light, though everything inside me sharpens with the anticipation of her answer.

She nods and visibly relaxes, comfortable and curious. That’s what I want.

I fall into step beside her, resisting the urge to close the distance between us entirely.

I decided to take her to the diner for our first outing—casual enough to make her feel at ease but intentional enough to show I’ve been listening, picking up on her passing mention of her love for breakfast food.

The small details are invisible threads that bind people together—easily overlooked yet impossible to untangle once pulled taut .

The diner is dimly lit, the scent of coffee and maple syrup lingering in the air as I guide her to a booth.

She slides into the seat across from me, relaxing as she glances around, a flicker of appreciation lighting up her eyes. It’s another small victory, but one that’s almost thrilling in its simplicity. Like watching a fortress slowly lower its gates.

When the waitress comes around, Olivia doesn’t hesitate to order pancakes, her eyes bright with an excitement that she tries to temper. I order the same, watching her out of the corner of my eye, cataloging every detail.

She laughs softly when I match her order, her gaze meeting mine. “Didn’t peg you as a breakfast-for-dinner kind of guy.”

I smile, leaning back just slightly. “Sometimes the right thing at the wrong time is exactly what we need.”

She tilts her head, considering my words, a hint of surprise flickering in her eyes.

The conversation flows easily, as planned, moving seamlessly from classes and professors to small personal preferences—favorite coffee flavors, preferred study spots on campus, even her favorite childhood books.

Each compliment I offer is met with surprise, then pleasure, her face lighting up in a way that pulls me in deeper, stirs something fierce in me.

She’s never looked more beautiful than she does in this moment—unguarded, a little uncertain, the faintest hint of a blush coloring her cheeks.

She laughs at a light remark I make about how she appears to be “perfect” in everything she does, though the way she falters just slightly tells me I’ve struck a nerve. The moment is a slight crack in her otherwise composed demeanor, and I file it away to revisit later.

“You remember quite a bit,” she says at one point, her gaze dropping to the napkin she’s absently folding between her fingers.

I shrug. “It’s hard to forget the details that matter.”

Her head lifts, our eyes meeting, and the silence between us stretches, the tension thickening enough that I see her take a quick breath. A small act, yet telling.

She clears her throat, looking away. “Thank you…for tonight. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Then let’s make a habit of it,” I reply smoothly, watching as she weighs my words, that trace of hesitance still present in her eyes.

She doesn’t pull back though.

If anything, I can see her wrestling with her own instincts, torn between caution and the comfort that’s been quietly building between us. And then she smiles. Loosens. Just a little more.

Exactly as I intended.

The cool night breeze welcomes us as we leave the diner, and Olivia’s soft laugh hangs in the air, light as autumn mist. I offer her my arm and without second thought, she slips her hand around it. Each second of contact sends a spark of satisfaction up my spine.

“It’s strange,” I start as we cross the cobbled paths, veering toward one of Halford’s oldest sections.

“I’ve been here for years, yet sometimes I feel like I’m only just beginning to appreciate this place.

” She tilts her head, intrigued, so I continue, “My father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all went here. They told me endless stories about campus traditions and secret spots. But those were just secondhand memories until I began discovering them myself.”

Her eyes are wide, listening intently. “Your family is part of Halford’s legacy,” she says, glancing around as if seeing everything anew.

I catch her gaze and hold it. “I want to show you some of those places. A few of my own favorites, too.” Her lips curve up, a barely-there smile that stirs something within my chest .

“That’d be nice,” she replies before nervously dropping her gaze to her feet.

We wind through secluded corners, archways draped in ivy, and statues left unremarked by most students.

At each stop, I offer her a glimpse of history, of memories that are only partly mine, stories shared in the quiet confidence between us. She’s entranced, and the awe in her expression is something I’ve craved seeing since I first orchestrated our partnership.

At the entrance to an ancient study nook, a half-forgotten corner where old stone benches meet darkened windows, she stops.

“You must think I’ve wasted my time here,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible. “I’ve spent years tucked away in the library, head down, missing… all of this .” Her gaze sweeps over the lamplight flickering against shadowed stone walls.

“No,” I answer softly. “You’ve missed nothing.

This place is still yours to discover.” I let my words settle, watching her wrestle with her thoughts, the way her shoulders ease, her body unconsciously shifting closer.

“If you’d let me, I could help you reimagine Halford,” I say, my voice dropping lower.

She smiles up at me, and for a moment, it’s just us in the echo of the past and the possibility of whatever might come next.

That she’s putting her trust in me, letting herself see me outside the walls of our project, is intoxicating. I lean in, the pull of her presence undeniable, and whisper, “I’m seeing it in a new light myself.”

Her eyes widen, meeting mine with something raw, vulnerable, almost hopeful. This unfiltered glimpse into her thoughts, her worries, stirs an ache that’s been lying dormant.

I guide her to the final stop, a hidden, unspoiled corner of campus where the trees part to reveal an unbroken view of the sky.

The clearing unfolds like a secret, quiet and expansive.

Overhead, the stars scatter across the sky in a way that makes the space feel endless, almost otherworldly, as if it exists just for us.

Olivia lets out a soft gasp as she takes in the view, her soft features illuminated by the faint glow of starlight.

I find myself staring at her instead of the stars. I couldn’t look away even if I tried.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers. “I didn’t know a place like this existed here.” She turns to face me, her eyes bright. “Thank you…for sharing this with me, and for…tonight.”

Her gratitude is genuine, and I can hear the sincerity in her voice. I feel exhilarated knowing that I brought her to this moment.

Her gaze is now on me, holding something between awe and uncertainty. Instinctively, I reach up to brush her hair from her face, tucking a lock behind her ear. My fingers trail along her jaw, eliciting a slight hitch in her breath.

She doesn’t retreat. Her breathing quickens, mirroring my own, and her lips part ever so slightly, like a silent invitation. I move closer, feeling the warmth radiate between us, and when she doesn’t turn away, I know the moment is mine.

Carefully, I close the last bit of distance between us, pressing my lips to hers with a reverent softness.

Her lips are warm, tentative at first, testing the waters. Every instinct urges me to pull her closer, to deepen the connection, but I keep it gentle, savoring the magnetic pull between us as she leans into me, her defenses slipping further with each passing second.

I feel her hand on my shoulder, anchoring herself, and my mind catches on how impossibly fitting it is—how she, without even knowing, is handing herself over to me piece by piece.

Her lips part wider for me, and I sweep my tongue past them—she answers, shy but sure, a slow press that sends heat straight through me. She tastes sweeter than I ever could have imagined. My fingers trail down to cup her jaw and I feel her shiver beneath my touch.

Her hand finds its way to the nape of my neck, and as I deepen the kiss, a faint, breathy sigh escapes her, catching against my lips.

My pulse surges. She’s letting me in—completely, willingly.

I lick into her mouth in earnest, tasting her, exploring every little bit of her that I can. She’s so responsive, her fingers now curling into my shoulders as her tongue meets mine stroke for stroke in timid caresses.

Each second that ticks by with my mouth on hers is complete and utter bliss, an intimacy I never knew could feel so consuming. I pull her closer, savoring the way she yields, her trust handed over as naturally as if it had always belonged to me.

When I finally draw back, her gaze meets mine, wide-eyed and vulnerable—a momentary surrender she seems powerless to resist. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing uneven, and I feel a deep, primal satisfaction at seeing the effect I have on her.

“So,” she begins softly, with a nervous, near-breathless laugh, “this was…unexpected.” Her voice, tentative yet thrilled, holds a note that makes me want to draw her in closer.

“It was bound to happen,” I murmur, watching as her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. She glances away for a moment, but I see the way she hesitates—caught between instinct and intrigue. “I’m glad it happened tonight.”

A quiet descends between us, and I let it linger, allowing the discomfort to give way to something tender. When her eyes finally meet mine again, the resistance in them is gone.

“I’m glad we did this,” she whispers, as if to herself. “Sometimes, I get so caught up with…everything. But tonight…was perfect.”

Her words are like fuel to an already burning flame, and I push down the urge to say what I truly think—that this is only the beginning, that she has no idea just how deeply I intend to make her feel. Instead, I offer a measured, “Then let’s make sure it’s not the last.”

A smile tugs at her lips, one that feels like her first surrender.

In the darkened path leading to her dorm, I walk close beside her, almost brushing her shoulder, catching the way her pulse beats lightly at her neck, how she shifts closer instinctively, as if seeking the comfort of proximity.

When we reach her door, I take her hand again, tracing small circles against her knuckles with my thumb.

“Goodnight, Olivia,” I murmur softly, as I lean in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her cheek. She closes her eyes, the slightest shiver running through her as she sways forward, and I pull back, ensuring she’ll feel the echo of my presence long after I’m gone.

“Goodnight, Nathaniel,” she replies, barely a whisper, before stepping back, lingering for a single heartbeat. Then, she turns to enter, glancing back once, her gaze uncertain and a little dazed.

I wait, watching her disappear, a quiet triumph building in my chest. She’s yielding, drawn closer with every carefully executed move. Tonight was just a glimpse of the surrender I’ll elicit from her yet.