You have got to be kidding me

CALEB

There were only so many ways to unwind after a brutal week.

Tonight’s option happened to be lying on my bed with my phone in one hand and absolutely zero interest in studying.

Practice had been ruthless. Coach was pushing us harder with every passing day.

So instead of thinking about hockey—or class—or the irritatingly composed literature professor who somehow kept appearing in the wrong places at the wrong times—I opened the app.

It wasn’t complicated. No awkward small-town conversations. Just profiles, brief descriptions, and the occasional meeting if the conversation went well.

I scrolled through a few profiles without much interest. Most of them were from nearby towns or travelers passing through.

Then one profile caught my attention.

No face picture.

Just a photo taken from behind—a man sitting on a balcony somewhere snowy, a glass in his hand. Dark coat. Broad shoulders. The image had been taken carefully.

The username read - NorthBound.

His description was short.

Someone who preferred quiet conversations. Books. Hiking.

I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the screen for a moment before tapping the match button.

A few seconds later, the notification appeared.

A match.

Well.That was quicker than expected.

The conversation started easily. Whoever NorthBound was, he had a careful way of speaking—precise answers, slightly dry humour.

He didn’t offer much personal information, but he was clearly intelligent. Eventually, the conversation shifted toward meeting in person. Nothing dramatic. Just a quiet drink somewhere outside the usual crowds.

I suggested the club outside town.

He already knew it. That should have been the first warning sign.

Instead, we agreed to meet the following evening.

Nine o’clock.

---

The next night, the parking lot outside the club was already half full when I arrived.

Cold air stung my face as I stepped out of the truck, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets while walking towards the entrance.

Inside, the club looked exactly the same as always. Dim lights. I stepped inside, letting my eyes adjust to the lighting while scanning the room.

My phone buzzed briefly in my pocket.

A message.

" I’m already here. "

I glanced around again.

A few men leaned against the bar. Others sat in shadowed booths along the wall. Then my eyes landed on a table near the corner.

Dark coat. Straight posture. And a cane resting against the chair beside him.

My stomach dropped slightly.

No.That couldn’t— Professor Elliot Ward lifted his glass and turned his head.

His expression froze.

“Caleb .”

I stared at him.

“Professor.”

Ward slowly lowered his glass.

“This,” he said carefully, “cannot possibly be happening.”

I walked over and pulled the chair across him.

“You’re NorthBound?”

His jaw tightened.

“Yes.”

I leaned back in the chair, letting out a quiet laugh.

“Well, that explains a lot.”

Ward looked like a man reconsidering every decision that had brought him to this exact moment.

“This meeting,” he said flatly, “was clearly a mistake.”

“Probably.”

“You should leave.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because you are my student.”

“And you matched with me.”

“That was before I knew who you were.”

I shrugged.

“Same here.”

Ward leaned back slightly, frustration clearly building behind his otherwise controlled expression.

“This situation is becoming ridiculous.”

I studied him for a moment.

My eyebrow lifted slowly.

Ward noticed immediately.

“What?”

I smirked.

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You are absolutely thinking something.”

“Just putting pieces together.”

“Mr. Foster—”

“Relax, Professor.”

I leaned back in the chair, still amused.

“This might be the most awkward coincidence Silverpine has ever produced.”

Ward rubbed a hand across his forehead, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“I should have stayed home.”

Honestly, he probably should have. But the look on his face made the entire situation worth it.