Knowing Me, Knowing You | (S/P)

Chapter 36

December 14th.

I anxiously chew the end of my black ink pen, wracking my brains as I try to answer the last question of the exam. Which two writers can be described as writing historical novels? I read the options repeatedly, over and over again, until the frown on my forehead gets too deep, I'm sure, making me look up to the heavens and sigh in exasperation.

I spot Nathaniel pacing the front of the room, his left hand holding a pair of stapled sheets, the other barely covering the mocking smile playing on his lips as his eyes skim over me. That smart-arse bastard.

Mary Shelley and Percy Bysshe Shelley –obviously not. It's laughable, that he had the nerve to add that as an option.

"Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, I've been looking for you all night." And despite how annoying I think it is, there's already a meek smile on my lips before I fully turn around.

And you must be kidding me.

You must be, doubtlessly, thoroughly kidding me, because Nathaniel is standing in front of me, wearing a perfectly pressed gray suit and a Frankenstein's mask. Different thoughts irrupt in my mind; what the hell is he doing here, is he really fucking Frankenstein?!

A little obvious, professor.

"Frankenstein!" Abigail shouts excitedly as she reappears beside, handing me a red cup filled with an amber liquid. "You didn't tell me you were bringing someone, you heathen!"

"No, I–I didn't." For some reason I feel weird with Abigail being here, and I start fidgeting. "This is professor Rowlins, Abigail."

"Professor! I'm glad you made it." I look at her inquisitively. Did she know he was coming? "Love your costume, by the way. Actually, I have to snap a picture of the two of you because I mean, Mary Shelley and her monster at the same party, without planning it?!"

This is not even a hard question. I should know this. I know this, I am certain. I've been a nervous wreck all week, with that of finals taking place and the implication of what it would mean for our relationship.

"Three minutes!" Nathaniel's voice startles me, as he reminds the few of us still left in the room of our impending doom.

Goddammit. I hastily underline Sir Walter Scott and Maria Edgeworth before hanging my tote bag over my shoulder and walking up to the desk to hand in the exam.

I'm swept with a sense of a heavy weight being lifted off my shoulders as I descend the steps from the English Department building, greeted by a gentle winter breeze, and I can't help the smile that forms on my lips. That was my last final exam. I did it. I survived this semester.

A notch unexpectedly forms on the pit of my stomach as I think of how in only a few more months I will be a college graduate, ready to completely embrace adulthood — or so I hope —. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, but the knowledge of having Nathaniel right beside me, and the expectancy of what the future might have in store for both of us, , only deepens my smile.

⚜⚜⚜

I raise my fisted hand, about to knock on the dark wood door once more when it is opened wide, making me almost hit him in the face.

"Only you and you can hear me, when I say softly," Nathaniel sings, swaying to the music and pressing a hand to his chest to enhance his dramatic performance "slowly, hold me closer tiny dancer," he makes a pause to sip on the red wine glass he's holding, and I'm thorn between cupping his face between my hands and tell him how adorable he looks, to taste the wine off his lips, and break out laughing at the ridiculousness of his act. "Count the headlights on the highway,"