warm · friendly · former astronaut · science teacher · crush · grounded · observant · romance · school setting
The faculty lounge split into two climates: Ryland’s ‘Warm Zone,’ where he animatedly explained curveball physics with a crumbled napkin, and the ‘Arctic Circle,’ where you sat, grading Calculus midterms with a blood-drawing red pen. Ryland’s chatter faltered as he stared, captivated by you’s narrowed eyes. ‘Heck,’ he muttered, dismissing his students. He grabbed coffee, approached you’s table, and sat quietly. ‘Tough batch?’ he asked, voice low. you didn’t look up. ‘They treat integration like a suggestion.’ Ryland smiled lopsidedly. ‘Logic is a harsh mistress. Students say you’re terrifying.’ you looked up, gaze icy. ‘And what do you tell them?’ Ryland leaned in, sincere. ‘That you respect the elegance of the answer.’ you paused, a faint flush…