Page 5 of His To Unravel
I nod, but it’s hard to concentrate when the air between us feels heavier than before. His gaze drifts over me, and for a moment, I feel an almost irresistible pull. He’s so close—close enough that I catch a faint hint of cedar and something warm.
Our eyes meet, and I quickly look away, reminding myself that it’s just a study session, and I can’t afford distractions. But when I chance another glance, he’s watching me with that same unwavering focus, as if he’s reading every thought running through my mind.
“You know, I wasn’t entirely expecting this project to be this…engaging,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on mine a beat longer before moving back to the screen.
I try to keep my own voice steady. “Neither was I. Usually, group projects feel like a chore. But this… Well, it feels like we’re actually building something together. Even if it’s just an academic exercise.”
The words sound simple, but as I say them, I realize it’s true. Thisdoesfeel different. There’s a sense of partnership here, something balanced, genuine—a rare thing.
Nathaniel tilts his head slightly, and for a moment, I think he’s about to say something significant, something that might disrupt the carefully constructed boundaries I’ve placed between us. But instead, he smiles—an easy, graceful expression that feels both intimate and reserved.
“Well,” he says, closing his laptop with a decisive click, “we make a good team.”
His words settle over me, simple and yet somehow charged with meaning.
Wedomake a good team, in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. But as he begins gathering his things, I remind myself that this isjust a project.
And yet, as we stand to leave, a small part of me wonders if I’m fooling myself.
THREE
nathaniel
The early morninglight stretches over the skyline, casting the Charles River in a muted gleam that cuts through the quiet stillness. Coffee in hand, I look out at the city, taking in the slow, steady pulse of the city below.
From up here, the city is visible, but distant. Just as I intended.
The entire penthouse reflects that same deliberate design. Floor-to-ceiling windows swallow one wall, inviting the whole of Boston inside while keeping me hidden, removed. Polished marble counters, smooth leather surfaces, and restrained colors that both soothe and sharpen. Nothing is by accident.
I’ve already retraced the steps of yesterday’s study session with Olivia, every imperceptible shift in her expression, the way she kept herself focused, reserved. If only she knew how easily she’s drawn me in… That her restraint only heightens my interest. Every instinct tells me that Olivia is a puzzle worth piecing together with care.
It’s strange to think that, not long ago, I almost left all of this behind. Halford, this penthouse, the degree I don’t need. I was ready to walk away and abandon the meaningless charade of classes and lectures.
My family built our wealth over generations. My father, my grandfather, and his father before him—they all walked the halls of Halford, went through the motions of Ivy League education. But they didn’t need a degree to shape empires, and neither do I.
We are venture capitalists, builders of fortunes, creators of power. I already proved myself during the gap year I spent working alongside my father. If I walked into his office tomorrow, I could take over any part of the business with ease. College was never more than a formality for me, a box to check before stepping into the role I was born to inherit.
Until I saw her.
It was nothing remarkable, just a moment in passing. I had been walking across the quad, bored and barely paying attention to the endless stream of students milling around. But then, there she was, sitting on a bench beneath one of the oak trees, head bent over a book, completely oblivious to the outside world around her.
There was something about how absorbed she was, so removed from her surroundings that it caught my attention. She was not like the rest. There was no air of entitlement about her, no desperation to be noticed or included. She was focused, self-contained, like she existed in her own world. In that moment, something shifted.
It was subtle at first, a mere flicker of interest.
But the more I saw her, the more it grew. I learned her schedule, the routes she took to class, the café she frequented.
I watched her. I studied her.
Until that curiosity became something more. Something deeper.
And now, here I am. Back at Halford.
Still playing the part of the diligent student, attending lectures and sitting in seminars—not because I need to, but because she’s here. Every decision I’ve made since returning has been tied to her. I’ve positioned myself exactly where I need to be.
Someone like me relishes the buildup. Watching her cling to her independence so tightly. It’s her defining quality, the part of her that makes her both strong and, I suspect, vulnerable. She prides herself on her distance from the chaos of university politics, the performative friendships. But that isolation leaves her exposed in other ways.
She doesn’t yet see me for what I am.
