"Y'know, if I had to guess... I'd say you're avoiding me on purpose."

Patrick's smile deepens when he spots your frown from your desk, tests from a previous class period spread out before you to be graded with red pen. A modest lunch of a prepackaged Caesar salad and sparkling water sits untouched in its corner, and he's quick to deduce you're working through lunch, again.

Pulling up a too-small student chair to your desk, Patrick plops down unceremoniously rifles through his lunch— a half-heartedly-made sandwich and chips— with a smug grin. "If you were going to ditch me in the teachers' lounge, you could've told me," he faux-complains, and the playful raise of his eyebrows that follows nearly makes your head spin.

If you didn't enjoy his company so much, you'd tell him how ridiculous he looks attempting to balance his food in his lap with his knees hiked up to his shoulders, but you don't. Maybe it's because he's good with your students— or it's that damn smile of his— either way, that's Mr. Z for you.

It's almost surprising it's only taken him a few months to worm his way into your heart, but then again, Patrick has the entire school around his finger. Most of the faculty respects him and the students adore him, even if he does abuse his gym teacher status to make them play way more dodgeball than they'd ever need to in their lives. "They have fun and I get a damn good laugh out of it," he tells you, but you know better. He just likes to watch them suffer a bit.

But you know your feelings changed after the museum field trip last month; you fell asleep on Patrick during the bus ride home and he held your hand so you wouldn't topple over in your shared seat. It still makes you feel all fuzzy thinking about it. "You comin' out for drinks?" he asks, drawing your attention away from your thoughts.

Right. some of the faculty were getting together later and you hadn't said yes yet. "You are comin'… right?” he asks, and you freeze.

When did this become more than a work crush?