Stockholm Syndrome //Adam Driver

twenty six

Now, THIS is the last part...

***

Thanksgiving Break Part Seven

You worked long and hard on grading the exams Adam gave you. Every now and then, Adam would pass the cold beer to you and you'd take a responsible sip before handing it back. It was refreshing but it definitely didn't have enough alcohol percentage to get you crazy wasted. Darn you adult alcoholic beverages, it would take two or three of these to get just a little tipsy. You suppose it's a good thing considering you were grading. Occasionally, you stopped to think about this or that while you thoughtfully marked what you needed to. Completing each paper with an Adam-inspired scribbly number indicating the grade. The longer you graded the easier it got to identify right from wrong and this task was becoming less of a chore. You kind of started to enjoy it. You imagine what kind of student the person was just by examining their handwriting. All with their own lives and aspirations. It was hard to think you had graduated already. Nothing about those twelve academic years was considerably memorable, well other than whatever you got yourself into your senior year. The only thing you knew before any of this, was the high school student lifestyle. You couldn't compare your life now to anything. Other than some crazy mini-series that came right out of some Netflix original, you're sure this is all new and distinct to your situation. Being completely unique, surprising, and unexpected. Navigating all of this was proving itself to be difficult but you can't help but be fascinated. Fascinated by Adam, and even more fascinated by your feelings for him. Just thinking about both of those elements made the corners of your lips raise automatically. You peer away from the open binder to Adam, who looked to be concentrating. His sausage fingers clinked and tapped away on the keyboard. You look back down. There weren't many papers left and you wondered what you'd do after you were done. To be honest, this was the most you've done since the last time you folded your laundry. Which was last week, God, you needed more things to do. Adam's at-home library was running out of interesting things to read. You blew through a majority of the collection by now, and the only things left were boring nonfiction literature about the origins of integers and lame math shit you didn't have the brain capacity to understand. You think back to Adam. Maybe soon you would have another source of entertainment. 

When you eventually finished you begin double-checking the papers just to waste some extra time. While doing so, you felt a familiar sensation, an evasive feeling that you were being stared at. It only could be Adam so you don't bother to meet his eyes, being rather invested in finishing this task. It had only been about an hour since you started filing through hundreds of packets and it felt genuinely accomplishing to get something new done. Adam had now moved farther away resting against the couch arm, opposite to you. You were sitting directly across from each other. His legs were crossed and he leaned over the laptop in his lap like it should be intimidated by him or something. You didn't like the distance but at least you got a better view of him. From your peripheral vision, you would find Adam's eyes stealing a look or two at you every now and then, and you smile to yourself every time. Enjoying the attention and the warm bubbly feeling you got from it. He made you feel so stupid all the time, like how you felt as his student. Being helplessly infatuated with him and feeling as if you needed him or something. Now that you had him all to yourself, you guess you did kind of need him. Or you would die from starvation or worse, boredom. 

Again, he looks up and then back to his screen. 

Hmm... peculiar. Should you say something? What was he thinking? Or, here's a better question, should you... do something? You thought momentarily, what could you do? You close the binder and press it against your chest, bringing your knees up to meet it. Adam's shirt rides up and you're aware of your lower half is mostly exposed to him. If your legs weren't pressed together he could look at you freely, "So, I'm finished."