Her room, second floor, third door on the left, was directly across the corridor from his. She taught English, and he, Mathematics.
Though introduced by name and subject at the orientation given for new teachers in late August, the pair had yet to engage in actual conversation. They had not, however, failed to notice each other, and the attraction had been instant.
Throughout each school day, both found any number of reasons to stroll casually past their respective classroom doorways, stealing glances across the corridor, hoping to catch glimpses of the other.
He chanced, one Tuesday afternoon, to see her reach up to erase a list of spelling words from the blackboard and in doing so her dress rose an inch or two, revealing a considerable expanse of her well turned ankle. I say! He thought to himself, swallowing hard. She is certainly one nicely balanced equation!
Likewise, one Friday morning, as he lectured his students eloquently on the finer points of Algebra, she observed him remove, in the heat of his explanation, his jacket, exposing his masculine shoulders. Oh my! She quivered. He is as nicely put together as a perfectly written term paper!
Their mutual admiration might have remained undeclared for the entire school year, if not for a timely fire drill, carried out on the last Wednesday in September. As she started to descend the flight of stairs and make her way to the exit on the first floor, she was knocked off balance by a herd of unruly youth. Just as she lurched forward, he rushed towards her and caught her in a rough embrace.
With his strong arms about her, and his cheek fitted firmly against hers, there was little doubt, at that moment, as to which subject they both wished to study further.