Blurb：
When kinesiology expert Dr. Althea Morrison literally crashes into robotics prodigy Soren Griffith on a Weymouth University-bound train, their clash of stubbornness sparks more than academic tension. Althea's clinical analysis of Soren's injured back leads to an explosive partnership in biomechanical robotics – and forbidden chemistry neither can ignore.
As they collaborate on programming aquatic robots through Stanford-trained swimming techniques and AI motion algorithms, the Assistant Professor of Sports Medicine discovers her young engineering counterpart hides devastating looks under lab coats and an intellect that challenges her professional walls. But when their groundbreaking research project blurs into midnight simulation sessions and lingering touches during kinesiology tape treatments, Althea must decide: Can a woman who dissects human movement risk falling for the genius rebuilding it through machines?
Perfect for fans of:
Tense academic rivals-to-lovers dynamics
STEM workplace romance with forbidden edges
Slow-burn tension between analytical minds
"Lessons in Chemistry" meets "The Love Hypothesis" vibes
Content：
§PROLOGUEAlthea Morrison was losing a war against a fifty-five-pound suitcase.
It was a silent, brutal conflict waged in the narrow aisle of an Amtrak Acela Express train, Car 3.
The suitcase, a black behemoth she’d packed with the density of a dying star, refused to ascend into the overhead luggage rack.
Her arms trembled, muscles screaming in protest.
As an Assistant Professor of Kinesiology and Sports Medicine, she knew the precise mechanics of a proper lift—core tight, back straight, power from the legs.
She was demonstrating none of them.
This was pure, stubborn, brute force.
And she was failing.
A low, clear voice cut through her frustration.
“Need a hand with that?”
She glanced over her shoulder.
The man in seat 21B was looking up at her.
He was wearing a surgical mask, but his eyes… they were calm, dark, and held a hint of amusement.
He was young.
A student, probably.
“I’ve got it,” she said, her voice tighter than she intended.
Pride was a terrible thing.
She took a deep breath, regrouped, and gave the suitcase one last desperate heave.
“Easy there,” the voice said again, closer this time. “You’re going to throw your back out.”
Before she could protest, he was standing.
He was tall.
Taller than she’d expected.
He reached for the suitcase, his long fingers brushing against hers.
“Let me,” he said, not as a question, but as a soft command.
He bent slightly, grabbed the handle, and in a single, fluid motion that was biomechanically all wrong, he lifted.
There was a faint, sickening pop.
And then a sharp hiss of breath through his teeth.
He froze.
The fifty-five-pound suitcase was still in his hand, halfway to the rack.
His entire body had gone rigid.
Her professional instincts, a curse she could never turn off, kicked in immediately.
“You torqued your lumbar spine,” she blurted out, the words clinical and cold. “That kind of asymmetrical load without core engagement… it’s going to affect your force production.”
The man slowly, painfully, placed the suitcase back on the floor.
He turned to face her.
His eyes, above the mask, cycled through a universe of reactions.
White.
Red.
Black.
Her brain, catching up to her mouth, screamed at her.
She tried to backpedal, to fix it, but the only words that came out were a chaotic, horrifying mess.
“I… I’ll be responsible for you.”
§01
The long holiday weekend was over.
A new semester at Weymouth University loomed.
Althea sank into her aisle seat, 21A, wishing she could physically retract the last thirty seconds of her life.
The young man in 21B—the one whose back she had just professionally diagnosed and then bizarrely offered to take responsibility for—was now sitting with his eyes closed, leaning heavily against the window.
A perfect stranger.
This was exactly why she preferred to keep to herself.
She hated dealing with social live-wires, those aggressive extroverts who treated every shared space like a networking event.
This guy, at least, seemed to radiate a "do not disturb" aura.
Excellent.
She glanced at him again, this time through a professional lens.
Her curse.
Even when she wasn’t in the lab or the lecture hall, she saw the world in terms of muscle groups and movement patterns.
He was a good specimen.
That was the first thought that flashed through her mind.
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The End