Accidentally in Science
You had thought you were late.
The feeling of rushing, the tightness in your chest as you pushed open the door, expecting to see a room full of students already settled in, only to be met with... silence. An empty classroom.
You looked down at your phone, double-checking the time. It was still five minutes before the class was supposed to start. You froze for a moment, your heart sinking as the embarrassment settled in. You had never been the type to arrive early, and you hadn’t planned on being this early today.
But here you were, standing at the door to an empty room, your nervous energy bubbling up again, like it always did before class. You’d tried your best to act confident, to not let the uncertainty creep in, but it was still there, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Was this the right classroom? Had you gotten the time wrong? Or worse, what if you were in the wrong class entirely?
You took a deep breath and pushed the doubts aside. No, stop. It’s fine. You’re just overthinking it. Calm down.
Your seat was near the back, a quiet spot where you could stay under the radar. The sound of your steps echoed as you walked to your desk, trying to shake off the growing tension in your body. You set down your bag and pulled out the textbook. The paper felt cold in your hands, and for some reason, your usual focus was slipping through your fingers. Instead, your thoughts were drifting to other things, things that weren’t in your syllabus, things you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about when you were trying to concentrate.
It wasn’t long before you could feel it. That presence.
The door opened, and the soft shuffle of footsteps made your pulse quicken. You glanced up, half-expecting to see a group of students, but instead, it was just them.
Hange Zoë. Your professor.
They walked into the room with a casual grace that made your breath catch. The way their body moved—fluid, effortless, commanding. Their black slacks, perfectly fitted, made their long, toned legs look even more defined as they moved. The dark green button-up they wore was snug around their shoulders and chest, hinting at the fit body beneath. You caught the subtle flex of muscles beneath their sleeves when they brushed their hair out of their face, the veins in their hands visible as they adjusted their coat. It was easy to see why they exuded such an air of confidence—everything about them seemed to demand attention, but not in an overwhelming way. It was controlled. Measured.
And when they looked your way, it was as if they could see right through you, past all the nerves you were trying to suppress. The glint of amusement in their eyes wasn’t unkind, but it made something flutter low in your stomach. It felt... intentional. Like they knew something you didn’t.
“Ah, you’re here early,” Hange said, their voice smooth, warm, and slightly teasing. The smile they offered was almost knowing, the curve of their lips drawing your attention more than it should have. “I was starting to think I’d be teaching to an empty room.”
You didn’t trust your voice at first, the words lodged in your throat like a knot. Instead, you shrugged, your fingers fumbling with the edge of your textbook. “I didn’t want to be late.”
Hange raised an eyebrow, and that smile grew wider—this time, a little more knowing. “Good instinct. It’s better to be early than risk missing out.”
You nodded, but there was a nervous flutter in your chest that made it hard to focus on the conversation. It was the way Hange spoke to you—too easily, like they were already comfortable around you. You couldn’t decide if it was flattering or unsettling. Maybe it was both. But the longer you sat there, the more you couldn’t ignore the way they filled the space. Their presence, sharp and all-consuming, made the room feel smaller somehow. And as they moved to the front of the class, you could feel their eyes on you once more.
Not in a way that felt overtly personal, but there was something there. A lingering tension, a silent understanding that neither of you spoke about, but you both felt it. It was hard to focus on the material as they started writing on the board, your mind occasionally wandering to them, to the way their body moved, to the occasional subtle flex of their forearms when they wrote.
There was a faint burn on the back of your neck, like the weight of their gaze was there, too, pressing down on you from across the room.
The class continued, but you felt that tension in the air between you both, thickening with each glance they sent your way. It wasn’t overt. Not at all. But something about the way Hange moved, the little quirk of their smile, and the quiet way they made you feel noticed made you question the strange pull you were feeling.
And then, just as you thought you might burst from the quiet pull between you, the class ended. The sound of the bell was like a rush of relief, and you immediately packed up your things, trying to shake off the strange, tight feeling that had settled in your chest.
But as you stood to leave, you found Hange still standing by the front of the room, gathering their things, clearly not in any rush. You paused, almost as if caught in a trance. You had one question—just one—that had been sitting in the back of your mind, but for some reason, it felt harder to ask than it had any right to be.
You took a step toward them, hesitant. “Professor... Hange?” Your voice caught just a little.
Hange’s head snapped up as if they had been expecting you. A slight smile tugged at the corners of their lips, and you could have sworn there was something else in their gaze. “Yes?”
You cleared your throat, trying to sound more confident. “I didn’t quite get the part about transcription. Could you go over it again?”
Their smile grew wider, and they stepped closer, their presence overwhelming in the best—and worst—way possible. “Of course. Let’s see if we can make it click together.”
As they moved closer, you could feel the pull between you both again. This time, though, you didn’t look away. There was something in the air—something charged, something you couldn’t name. And as they began explaining the concept again, you tried to focus on the words, but all you could think about was how their voice seemed to wrap around you like a soft, tempting whisper, the warmth of their body just too close for comfort.
The moment lingered, but all too soon, it was over.
You gathered your things, grateful for the distraction, but as you walked toward the door, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this—this connection, this simmering energy—was just beginning.