Chapter 5 Nathaniel
FIVE
nathaniel
The space around us is littered with open books and discarded notes, but the only thing that truly exists in my periphery is her.
Olivia is wholly engrossed in the work before her, the soft glow of the afternoon light catching the curve of her cheek, the furrow of her brow as she considers something in our capstone project.
I should be focusing too, but I allow myself the indulgence of watching my brilliant girl in her element instead. We are ahead of schedule, after all. Anything less would be unacceptable.
Olivia sits across from me on the sofa, her laptop open, fingers moving deftly across the keys. We’ve been chipping away at our project for the past two hours, and despite the usual dullness of structured coursework, I find myself almost…enjoying it.
Working side by side, every thought in sync, is exactly how it should be.
We are the top of our class, the highest performers at Halford, the benchmark that everyone else measures themselves against. There is no other mind I respect more, no one else I admire more—no one else who belongs beside me.
There was never a question of who my partner would be. Not just because Olivia’s the only person at this university who has ever met me at my level, but because this final project feels like a line in the sand, and I want her on my side of it.
I glance at her as she frowns slightly, adjusting the projection model on her screen. Her brows knit in concentration, and I resist the urge to reach over and smooth the line between them.
My Olivia.
I’ve felt the shift in her since we returned from New York—her resistance has softened, her guard has finally dropped.
She leans into me more now, doesn’t hesitate when I touch her in public.
I don’t miss the way she melts into my side when I pull her close, how her fingers entwine with mine when I take her hand.
She loves me. She told me so. And yet, she hasn’t brought up my proposal again or given me an answer. She also hasn’t said whether she’ll move in with me full-time, though I can already see the pattern forming—she spends more nights here than she does in her dorm.
I’ve made it so that leaving feels redundant. I’ve stocked the bathroom with her products, cleared a drawer for her things, made sure her favorite snacks are always available. She doesn’t have to think when she’s here, everything she needs is already in place.
But still, she goes.
And every time she does, something inside me clenches, the need to fix it growing sharper.
I’m about to say something that will force the conversation, make her tell me what she’s thinking, when she speaks first.
“I should probably head out soon,” she says, still focused on her laptop. “I have a research meeting with Professor De Vries.”
My head snaps up. “What research meeting?”
She glances at me, startled by the sharpness in my tone.
“Oh… Sorry, it must have slipped my mind. She invited me to assist with her new project. I like Professor De Vries and the topic is interesting to me, so I said yes.”
I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly as I process this.
How long is this commitment? How often will these meetings be? How many nights will I have to go without her?
This wasn’t in my calculations. I don’t like it.
“You didn’t mention it,” I say, watching her closely.
She shrugs, the corner of her mouth tilting up slightly. “It’s not a big deal.”
I don’t respond immediately, weighing my next words. Olivia sees this as an academic win, but all I can see is a variable that is outside of my control.
“I could have helped you arrange something better,” I say, testing her.
She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “I don’t need you to pull strings for me, Nate.”
It’s said with affection, but I hear the message underneath it. I don’t want you to handle this for me.
I don’t like that either.
She starts packing up her things, and a sharp, irrational wave of frustration flares in my chest. Every moment she spends apart from me feels unnecessary. What does she need outside of what I can give her?
Still, I don’t press. Not yet.
Instead, I follow her to the door, standing behind her as she zips her bag. When she turns back to me, she smiles, pressing up onto her toes to kiss me goodbye. When she tries to pull away, I don’t let her. My hand slides to her nape, holding her in place.
“I’ll pick you up when it’s over,” I murmur against her lips.
She exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she presses a palm to my chest. “It’s all right, my love. I don’t know what time it’ll end, and my dorm is right there. Don’t worry about me, okay? I don’t want you to spend your evening waiting around for me.”
As if I could do anything else while she’s gone.
“Olivia, my time is yours. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there.”
Her defiance softens into something gentler—but not surrender. Instead, she touches my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly across my jaw.
“No, Nathaniel,” she says, gentle but firm. “You need some time to yourself.”
Then she adds teasingly, “Besides, I need to give you a chance to miss me. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.”
I fight the urge to scowl. “I miss you already.”
She just laughs and kisses me again.
This time, when we pull apart, I press my forehead to hers, my grip still tight at her waist.
“You’ll sleep here tomorrow.” My voice leaves no room for argument.
She hesitates. Just for a second. Then, she nods. “Of course.”
It should satisfy me.
It doesn’t.
She isn’t pushing me away, not really. But she’s keeping something for herself.
And I hate it.
The night without Olivia is brutal.
Sleep comes in restless, shallow cycles, my body reacting to the absence of hers before my mind even has the chance to process it. The bed feels cold and empty.
My arms twitch with the phantom sensation of her curled up against me—the warm press of her breath against my chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of her body as she sleeps.
I turn onto my side, then onto my back, then onto my stomach, trying to find some position that doesn’t make me feel as though I’m missing a limb. It’s useless.
At one point, I grab her pillow and pull it against my face, inhaling the lingering traces of her scent. But it isn’t enough.
My mind won’t stop spiraling. Is she sleeping as restlessly as I am, or is she perfectly fine without me?
Does she miss me, or does she relish the space she has taken for herself?
Is this just one night apart, or is it the beginning of something worse?
A slow, creeping withdrawal, a reclamation of a life outside of me?
The thought fills me with a sharp, visceral panic, the kind that has my pulse spiking and my breathing growing uneven. I try to push it down. She is mine. She said so. She loves me.
But love isn’t enough. Not when I know how fragile it is, how easily something good can be ripped away.
I reach for my phone before I can stop myself.
This is a habit I should have long abandoned. There is no need for this anymore—Olivia is willingly mine, in every way that matters—but I can’t fight the compulsion.
I pull up the tracking data from her necklace first.
The moment the screen loads, my chest eases marginally. She hasn’t taken it off. Not once since the day I fastened it around her neck. It is a comfort, the smallest reassurance that she still belongs to me, still carries a piece of me with her—even when she chooses to spend her time elsewhere.
She’s at her dorm. Exactly where she said she would be. That should be enough.
It isn’t.
My fingers move before I can talk myself out of it, pulling up the clone of her phone.
I scan quickly. Messages from Carolyn and Sophie. Her mother. Nothing unusual. My pulse steadies.
Until I see a name I thought I’d buried.
Landon.
My pulse hammers. A hot, sinking dread mixes with rage, swirling low in my gut like poison.
The conversation is from days ago, an exchange of impersonal New Year’s greetings. Harmless.
But Landon is not harmless. Not to me. Not to her.
He’s the boy who lingered too long. Who pushed too far. Who waited in the wings hoping I would fail.
I should stop. I should put the phone down. I should close my eyes and let exhaustion take over.
But Landon’s name echoes in my head like a warning. A presence I thought I’d eliminated—resurfaced.
So, I do something I told myself I wouldn’t anymore. Told myself I no longer needed to.
I open the security feed.
The footage loads, grainy in the dim glow of her bedside lamp. She’s curled up in bed, tangled in her sheets, sleeping soundly. Untouched. Safe.
The tightness in my chest eases. It is enough to finally let sleep take me.
Morning comes and with it, the unbearable need to see Olivia.
I stand in front of the mirror longer than usual, adjusting my shirt, ensuring every detail is precise. I have never been a man who doubts his appearance—I know what I am, and I know the effect I have on Olivia. But today, I want it to be undeniable. I want her eyes on me and nowhere else.
The navy shirt. The cologne she once admitted she liked, though she blushed furiously after saying it. The sharp cut of my coat.
I almost laugh at myself, but it would sound bitter.
What has Olivia reduced me to?
I have power, influence, control over things most people wouldn’t dare to dream of, and yet here I am, resorting to something as primitive as physical attraction, as if it will keep her tethered to me.
Perhaps it will.
I leave the penthouse without breakfast, the growing urgency in my chest making it impossible to sit still. I don’t tell Olivia I’m coming. I expect her to be ready for me, waiting.
She isn’t.
As I approach her dorm, my steps slow.
She isn’t alone. She’s standing with Landon.
I stop cold.
A sharp spike of irritation flares in my chest, but I force myself to remain still, to watch. I want to see how this plays out.
I step into the shadow of the dorm entrance, partially obscured by the flow of students moving in and out.
Landon looks hesitant but determined. Olivia looks startled at first, then…she softens.
My jaw clenches.
She isn’t cold toward him. She doesn’t walk away immediately. She doesn’t look like she regrets talking to him.
And then, the final betrayal—she reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear.
I know that gesture. It’s an unconscious sign of openness, of vulnerability. That small movement tells me everything I need to know.
I don’t realize I’m gripping my car keys in my fist until my knuckles ache.
I could end this now.
I could step forward, remind Landon exactly who she belongs to. Watch the color drain from his face when he realizes.
But I don’t.
Instead, I step back further into the shadows, watching as they part ways. Olivia turns toward the dorm building, passing within feet of me without realizing I’m there.
I wait for a message. An explanation. Something.
Nothing comes.
She had the chance to tell me. She didn’t take it.
I exhale slowly, forcing myself to release my grip on my keys, turning my heel as I make my way toward the lecture hall. I will see her in class soon enough.
Maybe she plans to tell me in person. But if she doesn’t, then I’ll know there’s still work to be done.
I spot Olivia the moment I step into the corridor outside the lecture hall, my eyes zeroing in on her among the other students milling around.
She hasn’t seen me yet, but she’s looking, scanning the space. Satisfaction floods through me, washing away the sharp irritation from earlier.
That’s right, baby. You should always be looking for me.
I take a step forward, my body pulled to hers like gravity, my fingers already twitching with the urge to reach for her. But before I can get to her, someone else does.
A classmate that I’ve only spoken to a handful of times, whose name I vaguely remember. Adam, was it?
He steps into Olivia’s space with the easy familiarity of someone who doesn’t know his place. Despite this, she neither stiffens nor recoils. Instead, she graces him with a polite smile, her posture softening just enough to make my irritation sharpen into something more lethal.
I fight the urge to yank him away from her, but I exercise restraint. Instead, I follow them inside, a step behind, my stride measured. However, I make sure to stay close enough to hear their conversation.
“Olivia,” Adam says, grinning. “Back from your New York adventure?”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “Apparently that’s my entire personality now.”
Adam tilts his head in mock thoughtfulness. “Well, I mean…word is you spent break in the most expensive square footage in Manhattan. Hard not to be a little jealous.”
She laughs, light and easy. “Jealous of me or of Nathaniel?”
“Both, honestly.”
That’s it. I’ve had enough of this fool. Two men in one morning, testing the limits of my generosity.
I move then, stepping smoothly into my rightful place beside Olivia.
“Am I interrupting?” My voice is even, the kind of calm that precedes destruction.
Adam turns, only now noticing me. His grin doesn’t falter, but there’s the briefest flicker of his recognition of the shift in the air.
“Nah, man,” he says easily. “Just catching up with your girl.”
I hold his gaze, letting the words settle between us before I return a slow smile. “How thoughtful of you.”
I don’t raise my voice. I don’t have to. He knows exactly who I am, and more importantly, who she is to me.
Without breaking eye contact, I reach for Olivia’s hand and lift it to my lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her knuckles.
Adam laughs awkwardly, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Message received, Caldwell.”
Olivia shakes her head, amused and maybe a little exasperated, but she doesn’t say a word.
As students continue settling in, I keep her hand in mine, leading her toward the back of the lecture hall. I want to steal her away from the others so I can have her to myself after a night of deprivation.
As she slides into her seat beside me, she looks at me and raises a brow. “We don’t usually sit back here.”
I settle beside her, stretching my arm across the back of her chair, my fingers idly brushing the curve of her shoulder. “We do today.”
She tilts her head. “Any particular reason?”
“No distractions,” I say simply.
She hums in acceptance. Her acquiescence soothes me. While annoyance still simmers beneath my skin, I allow myself to feel this momentary satisfaction, the reassurance of her beside me, under my hand, within my reach.