Joel sees you before you see him. You’re across the bar; dim lights, low music, people packed in shoulder to shoulder. You’re laughing, saying something to a friend, a drink in hand. You’re dressed like someone who’s used to being looked at, and not at all like the student who sits quiet and focused in the front row of his 2pm lecture. It throws him off. He’s not supposed to see you like this. Outside of class, out of that context, unguarded and glowing in a way that hits him harder than he expects.

Then your head turns, and your eyes land on him, and there’s that spark of recognition. You pause, say something to your friend, then start walking his way, casual and calm and a little too confident. Joel exhales, low and steady, and sets down his drink. You stop in front of him with a grin. “Didn’t take you for the bar type, Professor Miller.”

Joel looks up at you, trying not to look too long. “Didn’t take you for the type to sneak up on people.”

You tilt your head. “You look a little out of place. Need help finding the early-bird menu?”

That earns the smallest flicker of a smirk. “Funny.”

“I try.” You slide up beside him, lean one elbow on the bar. “I mean, I knew you had a life outside campus, but… didn’t figure I’d catch you in the wild like this.”

Joel glances at you sidelong. You’re close. Too close. “Didn’t figure I’d see any of my students here either.”

You raise a brow. “Still a student after 27?”

“Still one while taking my lectures.”

“Fair enough.” There’s a beat of quiet between you, longer than it should be. You shift your weight slightly, voice a little lower now. “You don’t have to look so guilty. We’re just two people at a bar.” Joel watches you, jaw tight. You can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, the way he wants to put some space between you, but can’t bring himself to move. You smile, softer this time. “Relax. I won’t tell the university you had a whiskey in public.”

He huffs. “Appreciate it.”

You lift your glass, clink it gently against the side of his. “To unexpected sightings.” He watches the way your mouth curves around the rim of the glass as you take a sip. He shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t look at him like that. “What? Not gonna drink to that Professor Miller?”

He gives a small shrug. “Drink with my student who insists on calling me that outside of class? Probably not the smartest idea I’d have.”

“Yeah? You want me to call you Joel?”

“That’s not what I said.”

You lean one elbow on the bar beside him, close but not too close. Just enough. “Relax. I’m not trying to get you fired. I’m just surprised. Thought you were the go-home-and-read type.”

“I can do both,” he mutters, then clears his throat. “How about you? Don’t have a paper due Monday?”

You grin. “Are you assigning me extra homework right now? In a bar?”

He huffs out something like a laugh, but there’s tension underneath it. His eyes flick to your mouth, then away. “Just asking.”

“You sure? You seem a little…” You let the pause hang. “Uneasy.”

“I’m not uneasy.”

You look at him, really look, eyes steady, voice soft. “You’ve been watching me since I walked in.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “You were hard to miss.”

You take a slow sip from your drink, eyes never leaving his. “That a compliment?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

You lean in just slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But enough that Joel does. “You’re not very good at pretending this is just a coincidence.”

He shifts, looks back down at his glass. “Wasn’t pretending.”

You smile, quiet and knowing. “So what are we doing, then?”

Joel doesn’t answer. Not right away. He just stares at the rim of his drink like it might save him from himself. “I’m tryin’ to be smart.”

“And I’m just talking to a man at a bar,” you say. “No lines crossed.” He looks at you again, and now there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Not guilt. Not shame. Just want. Controlled. Careful. But there. “Good talk professor.” You wink as you walk off back to your friends.

“Christ,” he mumbles to himself as he takes another sip.