The Algorithm of You

Chapter 2- First Collision (June's POV)

“We’ve met,” Adam said smoothly, cutting off the silence before it thickened. “Across the street.”

“She was defending kale,” he added, as if this were the most logical introduction anyone could give.

Mrs. Kane frowned faintly. “Defending kale?”

“Vegetables,” I clarified, keeping my voice even. “We have irreconcilable differences.”

Mrs. Kane sighed, though her eyes hinted at a smile. “Well, good. A little spark will keep the days interesting. Adam, walk her through the schedule, will you?”

And just like that, she disappeared down the corridor, leaving me in the orbit of the man I thought I’d never see again.

“Welcome to the Hub,” Adam said, leaning casually against the whiteboard, marker twirling effortlessly between his fingers. “I promise the debates here usually involve software bugs, not leafy greens.”

I crossed my arms, trying to ground myself in professionalism. “Do all new coworkers get vegetable-related hazing, or am I special?”

His grin surfaced, sharp and effortless, the exact one I had promised myself I wouldn’t think about again after that café encounter. “Definitely special.”

I raised a brow, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a full smile. “Good to know I’m already being typecast.”

He tapped the marker against the board, weighing whether to write or speak. “Mrs. Kane mentioned someone new was starting this week,” he said lightly, gaze steady on me. “I just didn’t realize it would be you.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Surprised,” he corrected too quickly. “Though I can’t decide if the universe has a sense of humor or a vendetta.”

The feeling was mutual. A week ago, I had walked out of that café certain I’d never see him again—just a sharp-eyed stranger with a smirk and a vendetta against kale. Now he was my coworker.

“Relax,” I said, smoothing my bag strap. “I’m not here to wage vegetable wars during office hours.”

“That’s a relief. The kids have enough chaos without you sneaking spinach into their projects.”

The retort caught me off guard. A laugh escaped—not polite, not forced, but genuine, which was infuriating.

He tilted his head slightly, like he’d filed the sound away as evidence.

“Come on,” Adam said, pushing off the whiteboard and gesturing down the hall. “Let me show you how things run before Mrs. Kane decides to test our teamwork.”

The tour began, and I realized two things almost immediately. One: Adam was good at this in an unstudied way that made you roll your eyes and grudgingly respect him. Two: he had no intention of letting me take anything seriously.

“This is the computer lab,” he said, sweeping his hand like a game show host as we passed rows of monitors where two middle-schoolers were deep in Minecraft. “Otherwise known as the place where imagination goes to procrastinate.”

“They look focused to me.”

“Trust me. Give it ten minutes, and they’ll be building a replica of Hogwarts instead of the assignment.”

I bit back a smile. “And you disapprove… why?”

“I don’t,” he admitted with a shrug. “But don’t tell Mrs. Kane.”

We moved on to the workshop room, where bins of wires, LED strips, and toolkits lined the shelves. A group of kids huddled over what looked like a robot with wheels. One called out, “It still won’t turn left!”