Page 28 of His To Unravel
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 hiseyes 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, andthe 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 andsuspicion 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.
