8. Micah
MICAH
The final bell rang like a prison break.
Chairs scraped loudly across tile while eighth graders exploded into the hallway in waves of backpacks, noise, and unresolved hormonal chaos.
Somewhere down the corridor, a teacher yelled, “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” with the exhausted fury of someone who’d already had enough for the week, and it was only Monday.
I leaned back in my desk chair after the last student wandered out and rubbed a hand down my face slowly.
Silence. Beautiful Silence.
My classroom settled into late-afternoon stillness around me while sunlight slanted through the windows in warm gold streaks.
I loved this room. It wasn’t particularly impressive, but it was mine.
The lab tables were old, one cabinet door never closed correctly, and the district still refused to replace the ancient projector that sounded like a dying lawnmower every time I turned it on.
Science posters covered the walls in organized chaos, a periodic table chart beside astronomy diagrams and cheesy motivational quotes students relentlessly mocked me for.
A model solar system hung crookedly from the ceiling near the windows because one of Saturn’s rings kept falling off no matter how many times I fixed it.
Near the back bookshelf sat a stack of geology samples beside three dying plants, and a plastic dinosaur skeleton wearing sunglasses someone had placed there months ago and I’d left it.
Tucked beside my desk near the filing cabinet sat an acoustic guitar for the occasional school talent show, music club meeting, or stress-induced lunch break. Being a middle school teacher required emotional support hobbies.
I opened the first stack of lab reports and quickly regretted everything. One student had somehow spelled molecule three different ways in the same paragraph. Impressive, honestly.
My phone buzzed against the desk before I could start grading properly.
Robin: Are we still on for tonight?
A smile tugged at my mouth. I still didn’t know how she did that so effortlessly.
Micah: Yes, I will pick you up at 7.
Three dots appeared… then nothing.
Micah: I’m excited to see you again.
The dots came back, and I sat there like one of my nervous students afraid of asking out a girl.
Robin: Me too. See you then.
I smiled quietly to myself just as a hesitant knock sounded against the open classroom door.
I glanced up. Tyler hovered awkwardly in the doorway clutching his backpack straps too tightly.
“Hey, man,” I said gently. “What’s up?”
“Uh…” His gaze flicked nervously toward the hallway behind him before settling back on me. “Can I stay here for a little while?”
Not a question about homework then. I leaned back slightly, keeping my tone casual.
“Sure.”
The visible relief on his face made my chest ache a little. Tyler slipped into the room quickly and headed toward one of the back lab tables without another explanation. A second later, through the hallway window, I spotted two boys lingering outside before eventually moving on.
I pretended not to notice. Middle school was brutal enough without making kids explain which version of cruelty they were surviving that day.
Tyler pulled out homework quietly while I returned to my grading, letting the room settle into comfortable silence again.
Safe, that was always the goal. Even if I couldn’t fix everything, I wanted my classroom to feel safe.
A few minutes later my phone buzzed again.
Robin: what’s the plan tonight?
Heat curled pleasantly through my chest. I was catastrophically down bad for this woman already.
Micah: impatient
Robin: correct
Micah: it’s a surprise
Several dots appeared. Disappeared. Then reappeared.
Robin: statistically speaking, how likely is murder?
I snorted loudly enough that Tyler looked up from his homework.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I shook my head, smiling helplessly at my phone. “Sorry, did you have any homework questions?”
“No, I’m good.”
I didn’t like the look on his face. For a thirteen-year-old kid, he knew too much.
My phone buzzed again.
Robin: if i die, i’m haunting you specifically
Micah: noted. dress cute anyway
A full thirty seconds passed before her reply came through.
Robin: wow bossy
Me: You’re not the only one who can get a little bossy.
This time the pause lasted even longer.
Then finally—
Robin: See you tonight. Looking forward to it.
I stared at the screen, grinning like an idiot before I could stop myself.
Across the room, Tyler slowly lowered his pencil.
“Are you smiling at your phone?”
I looked up. He looked horrified by his own question, and I hadn’t even answered.
I laughed despite myself. “Mind your business.”
Tyler grinned faintly for the first time since entering the classroom. Worth it.
Dinner was somehow even better than breakfast, which felt unfair at this point.
Robin sat across from me in a booth at a little downtown burger place, wearing combat boots and silver rings, while explaining tax fraud loopholes with the same passion I thought she only reserved for violent video games.
And god help me, I was completely fascinated.
“You’re telling me,” I said slowly, “that you genuinely enjoy spreadsheets?”
Robin took a sip of her drink. “I enjoy order.”
“That was the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“That says concerning things about you.”
“Probably.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head while the warm restaurant lights caught against her dark wavy hair.
I couldn’t stop looking at her. She was beautiful, but there was more.
It was the way she moved through conversation.
She was sharp and funny, and unexpectedly thoughtful beneath all the sarcasm.
She had opinions about everything, from books and games to local politics.
Every time I thought I had a handle on her, another layer appeared underneath.
“And you’re a science teacher,” she said, still sounding faintly amused by it. “Which I still haven’t recovered from.”
“Why?”
“You have musician energy.”
“That’s either flattering or deeply insulting.”
“It means you look like you own at least three leather bracelets.”
“I do own leather bracelets.”
Robin pointed triumphantly. “Exactly.”
I laughed helplessly while the waitress dropped off fries. Then the conversation drifted toward family. It was dangerous territory. I should’ve redirected it immediately. Instead, I found myself relaxing too much beside her warmth and easy conversation.
“My parents still live here in Briar Glenn,” I said carefully. “Family dinners every Sunday.”
Robin groaned softly. “You too?”
“Mandatory attendance basically.”
“God.”
Something in her tone shifted. Subtle, but enough that I noticed immediately.
I leaned back slightly. “Bad family dinner?”
Her expression tightened for just a second before she looked down at her drink.
“Not usually,” she admitted quietly. “But last time I went over there we got into a fight.”
Concern flickered through me. “Is everything okay now?”
Robin shrugged one shoulder, but the movement looked tense instead of casual.
“I don’t know… Maybe?” She hesitated briefly before continuing.
“My parents are thinking about joining a church. Which, I mean, that in itself is fine, I won’t go, but if they go fine.
It's just the one they picked. I hate it.”
My heart dropped so fast it physically hurt. No. Please no. I kept my expression carefully neutral while every muscle in my body tightened.
“What church?” I asked as evenly as possible.
Robin let out a humorless laugh. “Ascension Fellowship.”
The room suddenly felt too warm.
I stared at her while panic curled low and sharp in my stomach. Robin didn’t notice. She kept talking quietly, fingers tracing condensation along her glass. I should tell her, but I was frozen.
“I know they mean well,” she said. “But it's just...” She exhaled hard. “That church hurt a lot of people.”
I couldn’t breathe properly for a second. Because I knew. God, I knew.
“My first girlfriend’s family went there,” Robin continued softly. “Back when Pastor Young still ran everything.” Her jaw tightened slightly. “They threw her out after they found out about us.”
Pain flickered openly across her face for the first time since I’d met her. It was a look of real pain, not her usual anger wrapped in sarcasm. And suddenly every instinct in my body screamed at me to tell her. I needed to tell her now before this got worse. My throat tightened painfully.
Robin shook her head slightly. “And now my parents volunteer there like none of that happened.” She laughed once quietly, bitter around the edges. “I know it probably sounds stupid, but it felt like a betrayal.”
“No,” I stumbled out. She looked up then. I swallowed hard and forced myself to keep going. “It doesn’t sound stupid.”
Robin studied me quietly for one long second, and I almost told her right there. Almost. Instead fear won. I was a coward.
A voice suddenly interrupted beside the table.
“Mr. N?”
I startled hard enough that Robin blinked. One of my students stood nearby with his mom holding takeout bags, already grinning excitedly.
“Tyler,” I said quickly, grateful and horrified at the interruption simultaneously.
“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend,” he blurted.
Robin nearly choked on her drink.
I rubbed a hand over my face immediately. “Tyler, please.”
His mother looked mortified. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—”
“No, it’s okay,” Robin said, laughing now despite herself.
Tyler pointed at me confidently. “Is she the reason you were smiling at your phone?”
I stared at him in betrayal.
“You assigned homework on a Friday,” he reminded me. “Now we’re even.”
“Touchè.”
Robin openly grinned while Tyler’s mom dragged him away, apologizing profusely.
The second they disappeared, Robin looked back at me with amusement still bright in her eyes. “Mr. N? That was one of your students?”
I smiled tightly. “Yeah. One that is going to get homework on Friday again.”
“He seemed to like you.”
I nodded, “Yeah, we have a good relationship. I think being one of the youngest teachers in the building helps.”
“I bet the kids like having a teacher like you. I know I would have paid better attention in science if you were my teacher.” Robin smiled at me before shyly looking down at her burger.
That expression pulled at something inside of me.
I had yet to see her soft expression. And I should tell her the truth about my family, and I would tell her the truth.
Just not right now. Not when she’s looking at me like that.
So, we finished our dinner. We found lighter topics and the conversation slowed as easy as it had before.
It flowed easier than it had any right to.
By the time we left the restaurant, my cheeks hurt from smiling.
Which felt weirdly miraculous considering thirty minutes earlier I’d nearly detonated my own life in the middle of a burger place.
But Robin had smiled at my student and let the conversation shift naturally afterward. And somehow, the moment passed without exposing the giant terrifying truth sitting in the middle of the table between us.
Even if guilt still sat heavy beneath my ribs the entire drive afterward.
Robin gazed out the window while I drove. “You know,” she said casually, “I still think Star Wars would absolutely destroy Star Trek in a fight.”
“That is objectively incorrect.”
“You literally have one spaceship and optimism.”
“We have diplomacy.”
“You have feelings.”
“Wow. Says the woman attached to a franchise where every solution is ‘laser sword.’”
“It’s a very effective laser sword.”
I laughed helplessly while she smirked out the passenger window like she’d won something. God. Being around her felt easy in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“You know what?” I said finally. “No. I refuse to let you continue slandering Star Trek without proper education.”
Robin looked over suspiciously. “Are you about to assign me homework?”
“Yes.”
“That’s incredibly unattractive teacher behavior.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
She laughed softly. “Okay then, Professor. What’s the plan?”
I glanced over at her. “Let’s go back to your place. I’ll show you the perfect episode.”
Robin narrowed her eyes immediately. “This feels like there might be an alternative motive.”
“It’s more of a dual motive.”
“Hm.”
“You’ll like it.”
“That confidence is concerning.”
“You already slept with me. Your judgment is clearly compromised.”
Robin barked out a laugh so sudden it startled both of us.
Back at her apartment, she changed into soft pajama shorts and an oversized hoodie while I commandeered her couch and judged her streaming services.
“How many horror shows do you watch?” I asked, horrified.
“Enough to know how to dispose of a body.”
“And I’m supposedly the one with serial killer behavior.”
She flipped me off and curled against my side while I pulled up my favorite Next Generation episode. And somehow… That felt bigger than the sex had. Robin settled comfortably beside me beneath a blanket while arguing about fictional space politics.
Halfway through the episode, her head slowly tipped against my shoulder.
I glanced down. She was asleep. I stared at her for a long second, genuinely stunned.
Robin didn’t strike me as someone who fell asleep around people easily.
But there she was curled against me, trusting enough to drift off during a Star Trek debate.
My chest tightened painfully around the edges.
Careful, Micah.
I stayed still through the rest of the episode, barely paying attention anymore while her breathing softened steadily against me.
Eventually, I brushed a hand lightly against her arm. “Robin,” I murmured gently before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She blinked awake slowly, disoriented for a second before looking up at me. “…Did I fall asleep?”
“A little.” I smiled softly. “Come on.”
Still sleepy, she let me guide her toward the bedroom. At the edge of the bed, Robin looked up at me with messy curls and sleepy green eyes and absolutely no awareness of how devastatingly adorable she looked.
My heart did something deeply unsafe. I pulled the blankets over her carefully before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“I’ll text you in the morning,” I said quietly.
Robin hummed sleepily and caught my wrist before I could fully pull away.
“Thanks for not murdering me,” she murmured.
I laughed softly under my breath.
“Anytime, trouble.”
Then I left her there warm and sleepy in tangled blankets while my stupid heart followed behind her like it already belonged there.