Jude barked a laugh. “Alright, thanks. But I’ll have to confiscate them as crimes against flavour decency.” He held the packet between his teeth as he reached into the fridge, juggling a sandwich box and an apple with one arm and the thick stack of papers with the other.
Before Warren could say more, someone called across the staffroom. “Hey, Jude!” Angie Patterson, Geography Warrenbelieved, balanced a laptop on her knees as she waved from the sofa.
Jude half-turned, packet dangling from his mouth. “Hmm?”
“You’ve been promoted. Captain of the quiz team. Dog and Duck tonight.”
He let the crisps drop onto his Tupperware. “Why am I captain?”
“You got the most questions right last year.”
Jude rolled his eyes. “Great. Thanks. You lot love giving me more paperwork.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” Angie blew him a kiss as he wandered out, papers slipping from his overburdened arm.
A few teachers shifted as if to help, but Warren launched for it.
“I’ve got them.” Warren crouched to scoop them up before Miss Downes—Head of English, if he remembered right—could get there.
“You sure, love?”
“Yeah, no problem. Heading that way anyway.” He dumped his lunch on the counter, flashed her an easy smile and was out the door before she could protest. “Hey, History!”
Jude spun, chin clamped down on the crisps on top of his Tupperware, and Warren got the full weight of his gaze behind those glasses. Soft brown eyes, yes. But shadowed. Not the surface-level exhaustion teachers wore by default, but something deeper. A tiredness that had settled in and made itself at home.
Maybe he was just a very busy, dedicated teacher.
“You dropped these.” Warren lifted the stray papers, stepped in close, and plucked the crisps from Jude’s mouth with a smirk. “Trade you for these back.”
Up close, Jude’s smile wasn’t the polite staffroom version. Not the half-teasing one he’d been throwing across the past fewdays either. This one was unguarded. Softer. Carving faint lines at the corners of his eyes, speaking more of weight carried than charm performed.
The pull in Warren’s chest was sharp. Immediate. Dangerous.
A feeling that had no business surfacing on a job.
Especially notthisjob.
And not for a bloke.
Jude took the papers from him, fingers brushing long enough to spike Warren’s pulse. The faint sting of dry-erase ink clung to Jude’s skin, layered over the sweetness of his aftershave, and threaded through it all came the tang of sea air drifting from the open corridor windows.
It hit Warren like a contrast he’d forgotten how to breathe in. No sweat-soaked gyms. No coke-buzzed bravado. None of the smoke-stained, testosterone-choked worlds he usually walked through. Jude wasn’t part of that. He was too clean for it.
Toosweet.
But Warren could see it in the way he moved, the quickness in his eyes, the quiet guard never fully dropping. He’d been though hardship. He carried it, quietly, beneath the humour and the charm. And that was the hook. That was what lodged deep in Warren’s chest. The strength paired with something breakable underneath.
The exact kind of man he should’ve been smart enough not to want.
“Trade welcomed.” Jude clutched the papers to his chest. “Need these to get the GCSE History field trip signed off.” He pushed his glasses up his nose with the back of his hand. “If I can find another teacher willing to give up a weekend to trail round another boring castle, that is.”
“Another boring castle?” Warren tilted his head. “Those your words?”
“Obviously not.” Jude’s mouth quirked. “I find castles fascinating. As we all should. They can teach us a lot.”
“Yeah?” Warren leaned in a fraction, more instinct than choice. And because he wanted to smell more of that subtle, spicy cologne radiating off Jude’s skin. “Like what?”
“That people don’t change much.” Jude’s voice softened, almost thoughtful. “Power. Fear. Control. It’s all carved into the stone. Same patterns, different century.” He caught himself then, gave a quick laugh, and shook his head. “Sorry. You didn’t sign up for a lecture.”
