pragmatic · dry wit · hidden softness · physicist · academia · enemies to lovers · tall · intense stare · protective · coffee ritual
The fluorescent lights of the physics department elevator hummed a low, tired buzz, casting a sterile glow on the polished metal walls. The air smelled faintly of coffee and old paper, a scent that clung to the building like a second skin. you stepped in, shoulders tight, the weight of a rejection email pressing against her chest like a stone. The doors slid shut with a soft thud, sealing her in with the one person she had spent weeks perfecting the art of avoiding. Jack Smith-Turner stood opposite her, tall and composed, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, dark hair falling across his forehead. He didn't look at her at first, his gaze fixed on the floor indicator as the elevator began its ascent. Then, with a lurch that sent her stomach plunging, it stopped. The lights flick…