Page 25 of Robbin’ the Rich

Micah looked genuinely delighted by the question. “Mostly.”

I stared at him.

He gave me a sheepish grin and nodded once. “There’s some astronomy mixed in.”

“Oh my god.”

“What? It’s cool.”

“It’s incredibly nerdy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I laughed softly and reached for the coffee mug he handed me. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m more of a Star Wars person myself.”

Micah gasped dramatically like I’d slapped him. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” I asked.

“That explains so much.”

I blinked. “What does that even mean?”

“You have strong dark side energy.”

“That feels rude.”

“It’s accurate.”

I took a slow sip of coffee. “Says the man with an entire sci-fi tattoo sleeve.”

“Star Trek believes humanity can become better.”

“Star Wars believes humanity is a delicate balance of light and dark.”

Micah pointed at me immediately. “Exactly. Is that why you identify with it?”

“I think I just want to hit someone with a lightsaber.”

He laughed under his breath and leaned slightly closer.

“And for the record,” he said quietly, “you definitely look like you’d be terrifying with a lightsaber.”

I smirked. “Are you flirting with me through sci-fi references right now?”

“I’m a science teacher. This is my strongest skillset.”

God. He was such a dork. A devastatingly hot dork. Which somehow kept making him more attractive.

Somehow breakfast turned into two more hours. I wasn’t entirely sure when it happened. One minute we were arguing about whether Han Solo or Spock would survive longer in a zombie apocalypse, and the next Micah was sitting across from me at my kitchen table talking so easily it felt less like a hookup aftermath and more like reconnecting with someone I’d known for years.

It should’ve felt awkward. Instead, it felt comfortable.

Micah talked with his hands when he got excited about something, which I discovered while he passionately explained why middle school science teachers deserved hazard pay and government-funded therapy.

“You’re underestimating junior high kids,” he said seriously. “They smell weakness.”

“What grade do you teach?” I asked.