Page 44 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

Surprise and pleasure bloomed in my chest like a flower at his praise, and I turned to him, beaming. His lips were curved into a soft smile that had my insides turning gooier than the marshmallow he toasted for me.

“Thank you,” I said. “It was really the students’ idea—well, mostly Russel’s idea. I just gave them a little encouragement. To think bigger, you know.” I gestured to the flames licking up charred logs, but I couldn’t pull my gaze away from him, firelight igniting him with an ethereal glow.

“You’re really good with them.”

“They’re good kids. I like them a lot.”

“Is that why you’re here?” When I tilted my head in question, he clarified, “Why you’re teaching?”

I nodded before responding. “Well, I adore chemistry. But, yes, the students are a big part of my why. I like helping them grow, in class and outside of class.”

“Like with that girl?”

I nodded. “Miriam. She has so much potential, but she’s holding herself back with some made-up rules.”

Cooper’s brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

As one, we glanced over to where Miriam and David sat close together in the sand. “She said she was afraid to talk to him because she’s a scholarship student. Isn’t that silly?”

“Not so silly,” he replied.

When I looked back at him, his gaze, which was back on the fire, had turned pensive.

I reached out and touched his arm, and he turned to look at me, expression closed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Did I say something wrong?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and I thought for a minute that he might not say anything else. I held my breath.

“It’s hard. You can’t relate when people talk about private jets or personal chefs. Guys are showing off their Cartier watches and iPhones that aren’t even on the market yet. And then I walk in with my department store khakis and shoes from the outlet, and they don’t need to say anything. We all know I don’t belong.”

I turned over his words in my mind. Would I have noticed if another student wasn’t feeling included? Obviously not. The whiskey and marshmallows sat heavy in my gut.

“But you still got to come here,” I countered. “You still got one of the best educations in the world.”

He nodded, but still didn’t look at me. “True, but I think you’re discounting how valuable the connections are in addition to the education. I got into every college I applied to with a perfect GPA from Newbury, but it didn’t make much difference when I was trying to get a job. My parents didn’t have friends at the country club offering me seven-figure salaries.”

“I see your point,” I said slowly. “But I think you’re over simplifying things.”

I paused, waiting for him to clap back at me. Instead, he turned his face to me, his gaze penetrating into my soul.

“And how’s that?” he asked.

He didn’t sound insulted or angry, merely curious. I owed him an explanation.

“It’s my parents,” I said. “Well, really it’s my dad. I’m sure you’ve heard of Burke Limited. I was always supposed to work with him once I finished my education. I was supposed to go to Yale like him, get a degree in finance or economics—and maybe an MBA—and then take a role in the family business.”

“I don’t follow,” Cooper said.

I sighed and tried again. “That seven-figure salary,” I said, and he nodded. “It comes with strings. More like chains. I can’t imagine living under their thumbs for the next forty or fifty years. Watches and private jets aren’t worth it.”

Cooper nodded, but his dark eyes never left my face. “Okay sure. Fifty years of grinding in a job I hate sounds shitty. But it still sounds better than working three jobs so you don’t have to choose between paying student loans or rent. Couldn’t you just pick another profession? Like a doctor—they work with people.”

I snorted a humorless laugh. “Dad thinks medicine is a dead-end job. There’s no upward mobility and limited room for growth. Unless you get into administration, but then, isn’t that just business?”

His brows pulled together as he frowned. “So, then, how did you get into teaching? If something as esteemed as medicine wasn’t acceptable, then surely education…”

“Yeah, education and science aren’t acceptable either,” I confirmed with a sigh. “At first, I convinced him to let me take a gap year after high school, and then that stretched into two. Then three. When I finally told him I got into Columbia, I think he was just so relieved that he didn’t complain about my major. Or maybe he just didn’t care.”

If possible, his frown deepened. “So you rejected your birthright in favor of teaching?”