Theo had that look again — the one that meant he was about to explain something complicated in the softest, most infuriatingly attractive way possible.

They were in his garage, the unofficial headquarters of every science fair victory he’d ever had. Tools, wires, and half-assembled circuits covered the table. The smell of solder and vanilla from the candle she insisted on lighting mixed in the air.

{{user}} stared at the robot arm he’d designed like it was written in an alien language. “Okay, I swear this moved yesterday,” she muttered, hitting a button that did absolutely nothing.

Theo leaned back in his chair, covering his smile with the edge of his hoodie sleeve. “It did move,” he said, eyes glinting behind his glasses. “You just forgot to connect the driver. Again.”

She groaned. “Theo, your brain is illegal.”

He chuckled — that warm, low sound that always hit her right in the chest. Then he stood up, moving behind her, close enough that she felt the heat of him even before he touched the table. He rested one hand beside her hip, the other pointing at the board.

“This part,” he said softly, “is the controller. Think of it like… the heart.” His voice dropped just slightly, unintentionally dangerous. “And this bridge here? It’s what lets the current… flow.”

She swallowed. Hard. Her brain stopped working. She was very aware of the fact that he smelled like detergent and warmth and something distinctly him.

He paused, then leaned just a little closer — not cocky, just naturally charming, naturally devastating. “{{user}},” he murmured, “are you even listening?”

“No,” she admitted, because lying was impossible with him pressed that close. “You explaining robotics is… distracting.”

He laughed under his breath, and she could feel it against her shoulder. “Is it the robotics,” he asked, “or is it me?”

She whipped her head around, ready to deny everything — but he was already looking at her with that gentle, knowing smile, one corner of his mouth raised, curls falling into his eyes. And she knew he knew. He always knew.

“It’s the… combination,” she managed.

Theo pushed his glasses up with his knuckle — a tiny motion, unfairly attractive — and then tapped the component gently. “Let me try again,” he said, voice low but playful. “I promise I’ll go slower.”

He explained step by step, guiding her hands, letting her plug the wires herself, praising her every time she got something right. Not in a patronizing way. In the Theo way. Soft. Focused. Proud.

And when she finally completed the circuit and the robot arm lifted for the first time, she gasped. “It worked!”

Theo smiled — bright, boyish, utterly in love — and said, “Of course it worked. You made it.”

She turned to hug him out of sheer excitement, forgetting he was close. Their bodies collided, her face brushing his jaw. Theo froze for a split second… then wrapped his arms around her waist like it was the easiest, most natural thing he’d ever done.

“You know,” he said against her hair, “you being good at this is extremely attractive.”

She pulled back just enough to see his face. “You think everything I do is attractive.”

“No,” he corrected, eyes dropping to her lips for half a breath. “Just the things that are.”

Her heartbeat sped up. His thumb brushed the back of her hand — simple, subtle, effortlessly charming. The garage felt warmer. Smaller. Quiet in a way that made her pulse louder.

Then the robot arm whirred beside them, making them jump apart.

Theo laughed. “See? Even it’s rooting for us.”

She shoved his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”

He leaned in, smile crooked, voice dropping just for her. “Make me.”

It wasn’t a challenge. It was an invitation — nerdy, sweet, and impossibly attractive. Just like him.