Page 13 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

“What is your problem?” I hissed. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

He took a step closer, radiating menace in waves. “Look, Princess, you might have a fancy education, but that is no substitute for experience. I’ve spent the last six years actually teaching.”

“So, you don’t think I belong here?” I demanded.

“I know you don’t belong here,” he said. “You can’t just show up and expect to be successful. Teaching teenagers isn’t a ride on Daddy’s yacht.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” It was a challenge to keep my voice low when all I wanted to do was shout. “You don’t know anything about me or what I’ve been through. I’m here on my own merits!”

“Merits? Is that what we’re calling nepotism now?”

I seethed. If it were possible for flames to erupt from the sides of my face, the building would be an inferno. I stepped forward into his space, looking up into his dark eyes.

“Where do you get the audacity? My family has absolutely nothing to do with me being here! I applied and interviewed just the same as you did.”

Cooper huffed a humorless laugh, cocked his head to the side, and looked down his nose at me. “I’ve always wondered—how much does it cost to get your name on a building here? Surely, less than a teaching post would cost—”

The front door opened with a snap, and TJ strolled in with a massive iced coffee and a glowing smile. “The weather is gorgeous this morning. I hope you have a chance to get out there and enjoy it before the students get in.”

With one final scowl at me, Cooper turned on his heel and strode toward the door, offering TJ a tight smile on his way.

And then he was gone, leaving me rooted to the spot, head spinning, and angrier than Vesuvius on the verge of eruption. The whole morning had been a harrowing roller coaster ride, between the jump scare during my run, the shock of our employment terms, and the very personal—not to mention unwarranted—attack on my competency.

My dream job was going to be a nightmare if I was expected to work closely with Jackson Cooper. I could see the semester unfolding before me—nights and weekends spent arguing over lesson plans and exam questions, his hulking shadow darkening the chemistry lab door when I tried to lecture.

There had to be a way out.

But there wasn’t. Richmond left no room for argument.

Cooper and I had to work together. Full stop.

All I could do was figure out how to rise above and work with him if I wanted to keep this job. Aside from the fact that it paid considerably better than any other school, Newbury was where I wanted to build a career.

He was ice, and I just needed to figure out how to melt him. Or better yet, crack him. And while a hammer to the head was tempting, I would need a more subtle strategy. But first, I needed to do some reconnaissance.

“Hey, TJ, does the school keep old yearbooks somewhere?”

“In the Burke Library. Are you looking to take a walk down memory lane?”

I cringed at the fresh reminder of my legacy.

“Something like that.”

Chapter 4

Reconnaissance

While not particularly imposing as campus buildings went, the Marshall W. Burke Library anchored the south end of the quad with a gravitas reminiscent of the man it was named for, my great grandfather. He had been as stoic and serious as the marble statues of Plato and Socrates which flanked the library entrance, traits that had been passed down to my grandfather, father, and older brother. Those genes must have skipped me.

In my youth, I had felt a sense of pride—or at least self-importance—every time I walked through the heavy double doors. That feeling was nowhere to be found today. The air felt thick and oppressive. Was it possible for a building to judge me?

Regardless of my feelings on the Burke legacy, I needed information. And without the benefit of the social media apps that I refused to download, the library was the best—and maybe only—option I had. I mounted the stairs and entered the cavernous foyer, head still spinning from this morning’s revelations.

Not only did I not have the job I had been dreaming about since learning of Mr. Stephens's retirement last April, but I would be going head-to-head with a much more qualified opponent. I was proud of my education and meager teaching experience, but even I couldn’t deny that it didn’t hold a candle to six years in front of an actual classroom.

Silvia used to talk about imposter syndrome in the early days of her marketing career. I held her hand and listened with a sympathetic ear, but I didn’t really get what she was saying until now. I had always been confident in myself and my abilities. If I wanted something—be it a pair of limited-edition Jimmy Choos or an A on an exam—I would figure out how to get it. But for the last twenty-four hours, Cooper’s words had been bouncing around my brain—what are you doing here?