Despite the early hour, Jonah somehow looks unfairly put together. His dark hair is clean, and neat, unlike yesterday. The button up he’s wearing is form fitting, showing off more of his lean build. Though, I am disappointed that his forearms are covered this morning.
And the worst part? I don’t think he’s trying.
Most attractive men know exactly what they’re doing. Jonah looks completely unaware that he’s sitting here in a motel breakfast room looking like every sexually repressed academic fantasy ever created. He’s a walking, talking example of the hot professor all the students want to sleep with, and he has no idea.
“So,” I say before my thoughts drift any farther into dangerous territory, “how about we ignore the last few seconds of conversation and you show me these miraculous algorithms of yours?”
Jonah straightens, composure settling carefully back into place like he’s relieved to retreat into familiar territory.
“Right,” he says quickly. “Of course.” He turns the laptop toward me, colorful modeling data filling the screen as he leans closer.
“This is a simulation of yesterday’s system,” he explains. “If you look here–,”
I lean in beside him to study the screen. Immediately aware again of how close we are. And judging by the way Jonah briefly loses his place mid-sentence, he notices it too.
The simulation on the screen is incredibly detailed—far beyond the simplified models most researchers try to impress me with. This isn’t just colored pressure blobs moving across a flat map. It’s layered, dynamic, alive with data. Storm structurerendered in three dimensions with overlapping atmospheric variables updating in real time.
“These parameters include ground temperature, dew point, wind shear at multiple altitudes, and several variables most models ignore,” he explains, settling more confidently into the science now. “Soil moisture content. Terrain elevation shifts. Surface roughness coefficients.”
I hate to admit it, but I'm impressed. “Most university models don’t account for terrain,” I say.
Jonah looks up at me then, and for one second we’re suddenly much more aware of each other than the laptop between us.
“They should. Storms do.”
He taps a few keys, and the simulation begins to run. “Watch this area here.”
I follow his finger to a section of the model where the colors shift gradually from yellow to orange. The simulation advances through time, atmospheric layers rotating and tightening across the screen, and right where Jonah indicated, rotation begins to form.
My attention sharpens instantly.
As the model continues, the circulation intensifies until the projected touchdown point appears almost exactly where yesterday’s tornado actually formed.
“That's…” I struggle to find words that don’t sound too impressed. “That’s pretty accurate.”
Jonah glances toward me, and I can tell he’s trying very hard not to react to the compliment too strongly.
“It’s more than accurate. The model predicted the tornado forty-seven minutes before formation, and it was only off by 1.8 miles on touchdown location.”
I cross my arms, leaning back in my chair. “One successful hindcast doesn’t prove anything. What else do you have?”
His face falls, but he recovers quickly. “I've been running forecasts for every major system in the Central Plains for the past six months. The results have been consistent.”
The confidence in his voice catches my attention almost as much as the data itself. Not arrogance. Conviction. Jonah believes in this model completely. God, he’s attractive like this.
“Show me the Texas system. The one that's supposed to hit tomorrow. What's your model predicting?”
His expression brightens. He taps a few keys, pulling up a different simulation. This one shows a developing system over the Texas Panhandle, colors swirling in complex patterns that grab my attention right away.
“Current NWS models show about a thirty percent chance of severe weather,” he explains, “with possible isolated tornadoes. But my algorithm points to something higher—closer to seventy percent in this region.” He gestures to a spot on the map.
“That’s exactly where I was planning to set up tomorrow.”
He pauses, surprise flickering across his face. “You were already targeting the same area?”
“Don't look so surprised. I've been doing this a while.” I tap the screen where his model shows the most intense rotation.
“But the National Weather Service is only giving it a thirty percent chance,” he says.
