I Wish That You Knew My Name {mxm} | Love is Love

8; Chemistry

"So, what part are you at right now?" I asked Nick, my eyes never leaving the page in front of me. I knew he was already looking at me, I could see him through the corner of my eye. I didn't want to look up and make eye contact. If I did, I knew that I would start blushing under his gaze.

It was something I had begun to notice - or see, rather - about two or three weeks ago. The first couple of times I dismissed it, thinking he couldn't possibly be looking at me. I would try to make up excuses as to why he may be looking my way: that there was something or someone behind me, that he had simply zoned out. But the more it happened, the harder it was to dismiss. A couple of times, I had looked up and caught his gaze. He would turn away after a second, his cheeks turning pink and his lips curving up into a sheepish smile.

My reaction was generally similar, though I didn't think he noticed. As a matter of fact, I kind of hoped he didn't notice the way I'd blush a bright red when I'd catch him looking, or how I'd shrink back, wanting to bury myself in a hole because of how self conscious I felt with his attention on me.

"I just started chapter 38," his voice broke my train of thought. "Just after Langdon explains what the Priory of Sion is to Sophie."

"That's where I am right now." I nodded, closing my book.

"I'm just going to finish this chapter. I have about a page left."

With his attention reverted to the book in his hands, it was my turn to stare. Nick was dressed a little differently today. Most days, he wore strictly black, which made him look paler than he truly was. The contrast could was stark, and sometimes could be jarring. This, of course, explained the rumours of him being a vampire that freshman and sophomores had come up with.

But today, he was wearing black jeans, a baby blue sweater, and mismatched colourful socks. I couldn't help but smile: he really did look cute, swimming in the shirt's soft fabric and wearing obnoxious polka dotted and striped socks. It wasn't something I ever thought I'd see, truthfully, but I was glad I got to witness it. He just looked so comfortable.

Nick sat with his long legs tangled in front of him and body hunched over the book. His newly cut hair, which was parted to the right with one side short and the other longer, accentuated the sharp angles of his face greatly. His cheekbones were more pronounced than I had noticed before and his jawline sharper, chin more pointed.He had more of a porcelain-like complexion, instead of a worrisome one. It drew attention to the freckles that dotted his face and arms, and randomly on his skin were some beauty marks were thrown into the mix. They were sprinkled across his skin like inverted constellations: dark on white instead of white on dark.

"What?" He suddenly asked, taking me by surprise.

"What?" I repeated, laughing nervously and feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

"You're looking at me and smiling... why?"

Dammit, I thought. I was sure my cheeks were a scarlet colour at this point. "Sorry, I just zoned out," I mumbled pathetically, not able to think of anything else.

Nick chuckled and said something underneath his breath. I could have sworn I had heard something like 'mute' in there. Wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible, I asked if he was done.

"Yeah," he said, running his fingers through his hair. I stifled a laugh as a strand of hair fell back into his face. Without missing a beat, he pushed it back and continued to speak, explaining what he liked and thought would happen next, like we did with every milestone in the book. When he finished, I shared my thoughts. We talked a little bit more about literary devices, which we needed to take note of for our project, before the conversation died comfortably.