Page 11 of August and the Night

“August, this is beautiful.” I whisper, struggling to take my eyes off the enclosure. This is the most beautiful thing I have seen in my life. August is so lucky that he gets to see this every single day.

“You like it?” He says, and I almost break my neck from how quickly I turn to look at him. “Like it? This is the most mystical thing I have ever seen in my life.” I exclaim, then quickly put my hand over my mouth when I notice how loud I spoke. We both look at each other shocked before dissolving in fits of giggles.

“I can see that now.” He says through laughter, and I open my mouth to respond but am cut off by the sound of the bell ringing.

“That is probably John; he told me that Lily instructed him to get you a change of clothes.” He says, and I nod. He walks over to the door to open it and later comes in with my bag of clothes and ibuprofen.

“How about you get dressed, and I drive you to your university instead of John? He can just follow behind.” He says, and I nod excitedly. He gives me the bag, and I rush to the bedroom to dress myself, excited about the idea of my hopefully future boyfriend driving me to the place I spend most of my time in.

12

Layla

After I finish getting dressed, I rush down the stairs to see August already ready to go. He looks handsome as always with his dark grey suit, white button-up, and thick hair parted to the side. I skip steps until I stand in front of him directly, bringing his attention away from his phone and onto my smiling face.

"Come on, please, I can't be late," I tell him while grabbing his hand and pushing him to follow me out the door. He shakes his head with a smile on his face, and we walk hand in hand out of the house. He walks while still grasping my hand to the back of his house, where there is a line of luxurious cars that I do not even know the names of most of them.

"Which one would you like to be driven in, little dove?" He asks me, and I shrug, cars never really meant much to me.

"You can choose; it doesn't really matter," I tell him with a smile, and he nods to me before heading towards a Bugatti Chiron. I follow him and sit in the passenger seat.

He informs me that John will be following us to the university, as I can never really exist without bodyguards being in my vicinity at all times. I know that father employs them as babysitters, so they can report back to him my every move and not much for protection.

I just got incredibly lucky that John was assigned to be my bodyguard; he was more of a father to me than a guard and allowed me to live life. There have been countless occasions where he would let me do things my father prohibited and did not say a word about them to him. I love that man.

August puts his and my seatbelt on before putting my university's name into his GPS, I am sure he got it from John. He reverses out of the parked position and heads out the gates of the house. I had been completely drunk when he took me to his house and was just knocked out the entire drive, so I couldn't appreciate the breathtaking scenery.

I open the window and let the cool air make contact with my face; I smell the earthy scent of nature after rain and feel a smile draw itself on my lips. I close my eyes and savor the weather; I adore winter, and it is my favorite season. I just love huddling up next to the fireplace with a cup of hot coffee and a book in my hands.

Despite my love for winter, I cannot help but feel a shiver rack through me at the cool air. August seems to notice and immediately closes the window. I turn to him with a pout on my lips and a small smile dances on his own.

"I am sorry, little dove, but you will get a cold," he says with his still scruffy morning face, and I nod. He turns up the heater in the car, and I feel it warm up my heart before it does my body. I do not have that many people in my life that dote over me, and I can't help but feel emotional anytime someone does.

My body moves on its own, leaning over the console to press a kiss to his cheek. I see momentary shock display on his handsome features before he leans slightly to my lips that are still pressed against his cheek. I move away, and notice how his body slightly moves with me, as if chasing after the kiss, and I feel a giggle escape my chest.

I see August for the first time ever look a little embarrassed; he clears his throat before asking me, "What was that for, little dove?"

I shrug my shoulders slightly before replying, "You are just sweet, Auggie."

I see his face scrunch up with confusion before he mumbles, "Auggie?" I can't stop the fits of laughter that escape me as I study his expression; he appears violated by such a cute nickname.

"Well, your nickname for me is little dove. So, it is only fair for me to give you a nickname as well, and I choose Auggie," I tell him with a bright smile on my face. He grunts displeased but chooses to let it go as he changes the subject.

He asks me with his deep voice, "What are you doing in university today?" and I feel happiness and insecurity dance together in my chest. I am happy that he appears interested in my research, but I am also scared of boring him to death with all the scientific talk.

"Well, I have lab work to do for my thesis," I tell him vaguely, choosing to test the waters.

"What work exactly?" He asks with interest, and I feel overjoyed that he is interested in my field of study, my passion.

"I have been working with my supervisors on growing a breast cancer organoid for about two years now; it appears to have high similarity with the actual breast cancer tissue, which is amazing! But more tests and research need to be done before seeing if the growth is successful," I tell him, my voice brimming with the excitement I feel towards explaining a topic I dedicated so many years of my life towards.

"After we make sure that it is successful, we are going to test multiple chemotherapy drugs on it to see which it responds to best. These types of works relating to cancer organoids are crucial for personalized therapy; they make treatment of cancer patients harbor better results since it is individual-oriented and not a one-size-fits-all type of treatment," I continue, and I have to physically stop myself from spewing more information out about my research.

I physically have to put a hand up to my mouth to stop myself; I also notice that we have become very close to my university, which is a good excuse for me to stop yapping his ear off about my research without him having to explicitly tell me like my father usually does.

I look at him and see him studying me, what seems like anger painted on his face. Shit. I literally talked so much about a topic he has no interest in that it angered him.

I rush to apologize to him, used to people getting annoyed at me yapping about things they do not understand. I just wish that someone would want to understand what I am talking about just to feel closer to me, to want to know the details about the thing that gets me to get out of bed every day. But it seems like I am asking for too much; even a gentleman like August did not have it in him to do that.

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