Knowing Me, Knowing You | (S/P)

Chapter 8

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Nathaniel

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I take another sip of my beer before placing the bottle on the table, the amber liquid washing down my throat. Next, I take my cue stick, walking to the opposite side for a better position. Roger and I have been playing pool for the last half hour at a bar downtown, and as usual I'm beating his ass. 

Roger is a professor at the University too, but in a different department. We met at a party hosted by his uncle, the Chair of the English Department, and since we are both around the same age we hit off immediately. Although admitting this is kind of embarrassing, I'm positive he's the only friend I have here in Chicago.

Truth be told, I've never been one with many friends. People exasperate me. Alright, I know that sounds acutely narcissistic and even childish, but I do believe that I'm shaped, biologically, genetically, neurologically, or whatever is the right term, in a certain way that makes me tolerate people, and therefore rely on them, much less than the average human. 

This trait is the unmistakable culprit of why I've never been friends with someone long enough to call them my best friend. Well, of course there's Jerry but since our friendship relied mostly on chewing gummy bugs and dissecting frogs, along with the fact I haven't seen nor spoken to him since 5th grade, I'm positive it doesn't count. 

"Come on man! I don't have your sweet time." Roger complains, downing his third beer. I lean against the table, my eyes switching from the cue ball to the point I'm aiming for on the object ball. Exhaling, I make the shot and directly hit the ball, causing it to ride to the edge of the table and into the pocket. 

Falling on the same line, it surprises me that I'm good at this kind of games, or even board games, since you need human interaction in order to accomplish that. Now that we mention it, it's even weirder that I, of all the career paths out there, am a professor. That being said, I never contemplated being anything else.  

"Take that, Miller!" 

And maybe this other particular trait of mine is in part to blame. I'm highly competitive. Once I get interested in something, I can't have a piece of mind until I become an expert on it. But not just that, I will by any means not rest until everyone, at least everyone in the extent of my capability, acknowledge the importance of such topic. I'm getting feverish right now just thinking about it. 

"Okay I get it, you win. Let's get something to eat." I chuckle and follow him to the bar where we order burgers and onion rings.

I remember the last time I was here. It was when I met her. Well, not really –I had seen her in my class earlier that day, but I didn't get the chance to talk to her until she walked through the double doors of the bar with those never-ending legs of her.

See, here's the thing, I've been teaching at university level for the last three years and served as a teaching assistant since my senior year in college. I've seen hot girls walk in and out of the classrooms more times than I can count. Did I fancy some of them? Yes. Did I ever make a pass on them? Of course not. I knew better than to risk my career for a pretty face and a good backside.

But somehow, Alexia has managed to pull at my strings in an uncanny way.

"Nathan, what the fuck," Roger punches me on the arm, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "What pair of tits have you daydreaming?"

Alexia Saunders's.

Wait, where the fuck did that come from?

"Fuck off, Roger." I wave him off, internally scolding myself.