Fellon's pov:
The limestone halls of the University's Physics Department felt different.
Yesterday, I was a student treading carefully in a different university; and today, I was an intruder with a faculty badge in other university.
The weight of the silver-and-blue plastic clipped to my waist felt like a lead weight.
Fellon's pov:
A week after graduation.
Finally the day came.
My first day as a professor.
I had traded the "war paint" of the club for a sharp charcoal blazer and tailored slacks, pulling my red hair into a knot that I hoped screamed authority rather than anxiety.
My heart was still a bruised mess from the weekend.
I had spent the last week drying Amber's tears and helping Elsa pack the last of our remaining items that were still left in our university dormitory into cardboard boxes.
While walking towards the boardroom I told myself, "I needed this win",I needed the logic of equations to ground me.
The morning began with the mandatory "New Faculty Orientation" in the mahogany-lined boardroom.
I was the youngest person there by at least five years.
I took a seat at the far end of the table, smoothing the fabric of my trousers, waiting for the Department Head to arrive.
The heavy oak doors swung open, and the room went silent.
He wasn't the Department Head. He is the man from the gate, the man from the balcony, the man with whom I am now encountering the thirdth time in a row, the man who can become my weakness.
Adrian Sterling.
He walked in with a predatory grace, dressed in a dark navy sweater over a collared shirt.
He looked less like a professor and more like a storm cloud waiting to break.
He didn't look at the other five new hires. His dark, piercing eyes went straight to the end of the table.
To me.
"Good morning," he said, his baritone voice vibrating through the wood.
"I am Professor Adrian Sterling, your Department Head. For the next seven days, I will be acting as the supervisor for the Junior Faculty transition. I will be personally observing your lectures."
"Professor Fellon", he called.
My stomach did a slow, sickening flip. He sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding the oxygen out of the room. It wasn't an invitation; it was a sentence.
Forty minutes later, I stood at the lectern of Lecture Hall 402.
The tiered rows were filled with a hundred freshmen, their murmurs creating a low-frequency hum.
But my focus was on the back of the room.
Adrian stood in the shadows of the upper gallery, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed.
Every time I turned to write an equation, I felt his gaze on my back. It was a physical sensation, like a warm needle pressing against my skin.
When the bell finally rang, the students scrambled toward the exits. I kept my head down, fussing with my papers, waiting for the sound of his footsteps.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The heavy leather soles of his shoes hit the linoleum with agonizing precision. He descended the stairs slowly, stopping just on the other side of the mahogany desk.
"The derivation of the second law was... adequate," he said. His voice was intimate, directed only at me.
"Adequate?" I echoed, my defensive walls rising. "I followed the standard curriculum, Professor Sterling."
"The curriculum is a map, Professor Fallon, not a destination." He stepped closer, placing his notebook on the desk.
He was so near now that I could see the golden flecks in his dark eyes. "You were nervous. Why are you so afraid of being seen?"
"I'm not hiding," I whispered.
Adrian tilted his head, his gaze softening into something that felt dangerously like empathy.
He stepped around the desk, invading my personal space until I was backed against the chalkboard.
The air between us turned thick, charged with the same electricity that had sparked at the graduation ceremony.
"You are," he murmured. He reached out, not to touch me, but to pick up a stray piece of chalk near my hand.
As he did, his arm brushed mine. The contact was electric. I felt the heat of him through my blazer, a magnetic pull that made my breath hitch.
He didn't pull away.
Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice a low vibration near my ear. "I saw you at the club, Professor Fallon. I saw the way you danced—like you were trying to outrun your own shadow. You carry a lot of fire for someone who dresses in so much black."
I looked up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You were watching me."
"It's hard to look away from a storm," he whispered.
His hand moved, his fingers grazing the stray red curls that had escaped my bun.
It was a feather-light touch, but it felt like a brand. His gaze dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second, a silent question hanging in the air. For a moment, the lecture hall, the university, and the rest of the world vanished.
There was only the scent of sandalwood and the heavy, intoxicating gravity of him.
"You're a physicist, Professor Fallon," he murmured, his face inches from mine. "You should know that some forces are irresistible."
My hands found the edge of the desk behind me, gripping the wood so hard my knuckles turned white. "And what force are you, Professor Sterling?"
"The kind that doesn't let go," he said.
He didn't kiss me.
He did something worse. He leaned in until his forehead rested against mine for a heartbeat, a gesture so intimate and tender it made my knees weak.
I could feel the rhythmic thrum of his heart, or perhaps it was mine—I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.
"Try to be more than 'adequate' tomorrow," he whispered, finally pulling back.
The cold air that rushed between us felt like a physical loss.
He straightened his sweater, the professional mask snapping back into place as if the last minute had never happened.
"The students deserve the version of you that isn't afraid of the heat."
He turned and walked toward the door without another word.
I stood there, my back against the cold chalkboard, watching him go. My fingers went to my temple, touching the spot where his skin had met mine. I had my dream job, and I had my girls, but as I stood in the empty silent hall, I realized the most dangerous equation I would ever have to solve was Adrian Sterling.