Page 69 of His To Unravel
As we begin our presentation, the words I’ve rehearsed for days tumble out. I focus on keeping my voice even and my tone confident, but my mind buzzes with self-awareness—are my hands gesturing too much? Is my delivery clear enough?
Then I catch Nathaniel’s eye. He stands beside me, tall and unwavering, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes the rest of the room fade away.
He doesn’t look at his notes, doesn’t even so much as glance at our professor; his attention is entirely on me. A subtle nod from him pulls me back from the spiral, his gaze silently saying,you’re doing great.
When Nathaniel takes over his segment, he speaks with effortless charm and precision, fielding a few questions from our peers with practiced ease. Then he hands the reins back to me without a second thought, stepping aside in a way that isn’t performative but collaborative.
It strikes me how natural it feels to share this space with him—not competing, not second-guessing, just two people who trust one another to deliver something extraordinary.
When the final slide clicks into place, I exhale softly, a wave of relief washing over me.
“That concludes our presentation,” Nathaniel says, his voice calm but resonant. “We’re happy to take any further questions.”
For a moment, the room is silent. Then Professor Jones begins to clap, his applause sparking an echo from the rest of the class.
“Impressive,” he says, stepping forward as the applause dies down. “You two have set the bar incredibly high. Truly innovative work, and a testament to what a strong partnership can achieve.”
Pride blooms in my chest at the praise. I glance at Nathaniel, who shoots me a small, private smile that makes my heart skip.
As we return to our seats, the flush of adrenaline still tingling in my veins, Nathaniel leans close. His breath is warm against my ear. “You did an amazing job, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
Before I can respond, he presses a kiss to my cheek, soft and tender. The contact sears against my skin, leaving my face burning and my heart a helpless mess.
I duck my head to hide my blush and my goofy grin.
As the next pair of presenters takes the stage, I settle back in my chair, my thoughts wandering. This project has been unlike anything I’ve done before—not because of its complexity, but because of Nathaniel.
He never interrupts, never belittles, never makes me feel like I have to fight for space or validation.
Instead, he asks questions, listens carefully, and genuinely seems to value my perspective. Even when we disagree—and we do—he’s respectful, always steering our conversations toward solutions rather than conflict.
In the past, group projects have always left me exhausted—either I’d end up doing all the work while my partners slacked off, or I’d have to fight tooth and nail against someone steamrolling over me. But with Nathaniel, it isn’t like that. He treats me as an equal, pushing me to be better, to think sharper, to reach higher.
For the first time, I feel like I have a partner—not just someone I’m paired with, but someone who sees me, believes in me.
As the class wraps up, Nathaniel places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the door.
“Ms. Bennett, Mr. Caldwell,” Professor Jones calls, stopping us just before we reach the door.
We turn in unison, and he steps closer, his expression kind. “I wanted to commend you both again. Truly remarkable work. Have you considered collaborating on your capstone project? I’d behappy to supervise. I think the two of you could create something groundbreaking.”
My eyes widen, and I glance at Nathaniel, who remains calm and collected, though I can see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
“Thank you, Professor,” I say, my voice tentative. “That’s…definitely something to consider.”
Professor Jones nods, his approval evident, before turning his attention to another student.
As we step into the hallway, Nathaniel’s hand brushes against mine.
“A capstone project together,” he begins, his tone light. “Sounds promising, don’t you think?”
I pause, my thoughts swirling. It does sound promising, but it’s more than that. With Nathaniel, I’m not just surviving the grind of deadlines and expectations. I’m thriving in ways I haven’t before—withanyone.
“Maybe,” I say finally, a small smile tugging at my lips.
It doesn’t take much coaxingto convince me to go back to Nathaniel’s place. The emotional high of our shared success at the presentation still remains, creating a bubble of safety and reassurance I’ve missed.
The truth is, I’ve missed him.
