Chapter 7
SEVEN
“In classical mechanics, this would be impossible,” I say, gesturing toward the diagram projected behind me of a simple graph with a tall, rectangular barrier rising from a flat line with a faint wave pulsing on one side, unable to break through.
“If a particle encounters a barrier it doesn’t have enough energy to overcome, it reflects back. Simple as that.”
My gaze sweeps across the lecture hall, over the sea of furrowed brows and blank stares. A low exhale escapes me, and I resist the urge to rub my hand over my face in frustration.
I don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer.
“In quantum mechanics,” I add dryly, “everything’s a suggestion.”
A few students blink like they’re unsure whether I’m being sarcastic, while others look down as if they might find answers in their notes. And one hand goes up slowly, and hesitantly.
I point at him, grabbing my travel mug as I lean back against the table at the front of the room, and take a long drink.
The warm, bitter liquid slides down my throat, and I wince slightly at the taste of stale coffee laced with cheap rum.
It scrapes through me like sandpaper, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that’s familiar, unpleasant, and necessary.
But it also brings a flicker of sensation that reminds me I still exist. Like I might actually be here, in this room, instead of floating six feet above it.
“If the particle doesn’t have enough energy to cross the barrier,” the student asks, eyeing the projected diagram, “how does it tunnel through?”
I lower the mug and let it settle on the table with a dull clunk. “Magic,” I say flatly.
Some eyes widen, and others share glances with each other.
For fuck’s sake.
“It’s not magic,” I mutter, and cross my arms with a sigh.
“It’s probability. The particle isn’t just a particle; it behaves like a wave.
And that wave function extends beyond the barrier.
So there’s always a small, nonzero chance it shows up on the other side.
Even if it doesn’t make sense. Even if the classical rules say it can’t. ”
I pause for a moment as the confused expressions turn thoughtful.
“Sometimes, it just… does,” I say with a shrug.
And ironically, with this answer, comprehension begins to spread. A few students nod, and fingers start tapping on keyboards.
I turn away from them to grab my mug and take another drink, letting my eyes close as the burn of alcohol flares through my chest, and familiar thoughts try to push their way in. The ones that remind me I shouldn’t be doing this… at least not here. I know I shouldn’t be drinking while I’m teaching.
But I shut those thoughts out. Even though the guilt lingers.
Because lately, drinking has been the only thing that can cut through the static and anchor me just enough to feel the smallest thread of connection to a world that usually slides past me, like motion without momentum. Everything is moving, but I’m standing still.
I open my eyes and set the mug down, letting my hand rest over the lid like I’m waiting for it to do more, and for the heat to sink in.
It doesn’t. Not really. It presses into my skin in a way that feels distant and muted, and I release a sigh of disappointment. Although I’m not sure what else I expected.
Then, behind me, I hear the sound of the lecture hall door open and close.
Are you fucking kidding me…
Class is almost over, and one of these kids has the nerve to show up this late? What’s the fucking point?
They better be holding an apology bottle and an excuse I haven’t already heard a dozen times this semester.
I spin around to face the lecture hall again, ready to rip this kid a new one…
And stop.
At the top of the stairs, standing like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be…
Is biker guy.
Even from this distance, I can feel the weight of his gaze as it rakes over me. His mouth curves into a knowing smirk, and his dark eyes are fixed like he’s already halfway through my story.
He shouldn’t be here—in this building, in my orbit… in the carefully gated corner of the world I’ve buried myself in. The equations say it’s unlikely, and the system says it’s sealed.
He’s the particle that shouldn’t make it through the wall.
And yet… he’s here.
Like a glitch in the matrix of my life.
“Dr. Cormier?”
My attention snaps down to the student in the front row with her hand tentatively raised. “What?” I snap.
Then my eyes flick to the back row again, watching as biker guy casually slides into an empty seat.
“If the barrier’s high enough, shouldn’t the probability basically be zero?” the student asks.
I let her question hang in the air for a moment as I watch him lean back in his chair, arm draped over the one beside him, and legs spread just enough to look effortless. And his eyes haven’t left me yet.
I shake my head slightly. “No barrier is perfect,” I say, dragging my attention back to the front of the room.
“Nothing is ever perfectly sealed. There’s always a little give, and some weak point in the structure.
” I pause for a moment, resisting the urge to look at him again.
“Boundaries are only absolute until they’re not. ”
His presence presses into me the longer I try to ignore it, like a frequency I used to know but forgot how to tune to. Like the rules bent just to let him in.
And as my gaze slides back to him, the low current I’ve been chasing since that night in the bar finally sparks.
“Class is over,” I say, not looking away from him even as a few hopeful hands linger in the air.
Laptops snap shut, and bags rustle while a few students exchange murmured guesses about why we’re ending early. But no one dares to ask.
I remain where I am, perched on the edge of the table with my arms crossed as students file out of the room.
Until it’s just me and him.
The silence seems to tighten around us as he remains seated for another moment, just staring at me. Then he stands and starts down the stairs. And with every step, something stirs inside me… like the static before the charge.
“Dr. Cade Cormier,” he says as he approaches, his deep voice dragging out the syllables like he likes the taste of them. “For a quantum mechanics professor, you’re not easy to find.”
“Seems like you managed just fine,” I reply, letting my gaze drag over him, taking in his loose hair around his shoulders, the leather cut that hugs his frame over a black hoodie, and that quiet defiance that radiates off him.
He stops before me, and the corner of his lips tilts up slightly. “Your friends in the physics department don’t know too much about you.”
I arch a brow at him. “No. They don’t.”
He tilts his head as his eyes flick between mine. “Ok, so maybe not friends.” Then he shrugs one shoulder. “But they were helpful enough when… asked.”
I nod slowly, letting a small smirk tug at the corner of my lips. “I see that.”
His gaze slowly roams over me, and I just watch him as the spark inside me seems to flicker brighter at the thought of him hunting me down.
“Hm,” he hums as his gaze lingers on my sweater. “Maybe it just takes the right particle at the right time.”
My eyes snap to his, and he smiles darkly.
“You’ve got walls even thicker than that potential barrier,” he says, nodding towards the screen still glowing behind me. “But no barrier is perfect…”
His attention shifts to my mug sitting on the table beside me, and he reaches out to pick it up. My eyes track his movements as he sniffs it, and curiosity flashes in his dark eyes.
“But there’s a weak point in every structure, isn’t there…” he studies me for a moment, and I try to ignore the way my heart starts thrashing. “Is this where yours is?”
My eyes narrow at him. “I guess you have me all figured out.”
His gaze doesn’t stray from mine as he lifts the mug to his mouth to take a long drink, then steps closer to return the mug to the desk.
“Not quite,” he says in a low voice, and I smell the alcohol on his breath as he leans in.
He’s now just inches away from me as his hand lifts and he slowly runs it up my chest. His touch leaves behind a trail of something reckless… something that’s too good to be safe.
And I want more of it.
“I still need to know your favourite tree.”
My brows draw together, but his expression remains unchanged. There’s no hint of teasing in his tone, and no smirk trying to push through… he’s serious.
I shake my head slightly, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Still don’t have one.”
His fingers slip around my throat like wisps of smoke—sudden, possessive, and sure. My chin tips up automatically, and the current between us intensifies, sparking into something volatile and dangerous.
As his grip tightens, my eyes close, and a breath escapes me, rushing out like I’m exhaling everything I’ve held too tightly.
A feeling washes over me so intensely, it’s like a drug just hit my bloodstream. Fast, bright, and unforgiving as it lights me up from the inside out.
The same thing I felt with him before…
Relief.
He squeezes harder, and a quiet, involuntary moan escapes me. When I force my eyes open again, he’s watching me with a dark, burning stare full of heat and curiosity. It’s like he’s studying me and wants to take me apart just to see how I work.
Then, without a word, he closes the remaining space between us. His hand forcefully moves to the back of my neck, and he yanks me into him so our mouths crash together with messy urgency.
Immediately, and without any thought, my hands are on him. My fingers dig into leather and muscle as I push my tongue past his lips, and his grip stays firm on the back of my neck, claiming me like he knows I’ll let him.
Because I do. Right here, in the middle of this empty lecture hall, in the middle of the damn afternoon, I let him own me.
His hips push into mine as he backs me into the table, kissing me like he’s trying to bruise my lips.
I grab his ass and pull him closer as I bite his lower lip hard enough to make him growl and give me exactly what I want.
He grinds against me with such force that it presses the edge of the table into the backs of my thighs so hard it almost hurts.
My hands roam over him, greedy for every texture as I take in the hard lines of his muscles and the softened edges of worn leather beneath my fingertips.
The scent that clings to him is a mix of leather, smoke, gasoline, and pine…
something earthy and mechanical, wild and dangerous.
He feels like wilderness and wreckage woven together, a contradiction that shouldn’t make sense but somehow does.
The combination ignites something deep inside me, like striking a match in the dark, as something primal and electric comes to life.
I fist my hand in his long hair and pull hard, pulling a guttural moan from him as he forcefully grinds his hard cock against mine through our jeans.
Then his hand slides between us as he cups me, rubbing over my pants like he’s trying to push me right to the edge as he continues to devour my mouth.
But then, he stops.
He pulls back, just enough to look at me as his hands fall away. He wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and his eyes roam over me like I’m something to be catalogued and consumed.
I stay still, staring right back at him as my chest heaves and my pulse hammers through every inch of me, making me feel… alive.
A flicker of amusement passes through his gaze before that dark, sly, lethal smile pulls at his lips and sends a tingle up my spine.
“See… right particle, right time,” he says in a low voice.
I don’t respond, despite the feeling of something inside me starting to shift. Like a give in the structure, easing in a place I didn’t want to hold so tight anymore.
A noise in the hallway suddenly brings me back to reality, reminding me exactly where we are, with the door wide open and footsteps echoing in the hall.
But he doesn’t move. And neither do I.
He smirks and steps in just a little closer.
“I have to go make sure some people remember what they agreed to,” he says casually.
“But I’ll be back tomorrow, after your department meeting.
” His eyes slowly move down my body and land on my dick in my jeans.
“We’re going to pick up where we left off. ”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “You following my schedule now?”
He shrugs one shoulder, raking his gaze back up my body to meet mine. “If I like something, I take it.”
And fuck… if I don’t like the way that sounds.
“It was a pleasure, Dr. Cormier,” he says, backing away slowly as he adjusts himself in his jeans.
I lean back against the table and cross my arms, letting a small smirk form on my lips. And I don’t say a thing.
His eyes flash, and he exhales. “Fuck…” he mutters, shaking his head like he’s holding himself back.
But he gives me one last look, then turns and walks out the door.
Fuck is right.