Page 51 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

About fifteen minutes later, following the flood of students heading to their sixth period classes, Cooper emerged from the large double doors. He paused on the steps when he saw me rise from the stone bench where I sat waiting.

“Hey,” I started. “Do you have a minute? There’s something I need to talk about.”

He acknowledged me with a nod as he headed down the steps, and I fell into step beside him. His strides were long, eating up the sidewalk. I had to walk fast to keep up with him.

After a minute, he said, “What else is there to say after this morning?”

My cheeks heated, and I hoped he didn’t notice. “No, I think we’re done talking about that. I wanted to talk about exam scores.”

There was a small hitch in his stride. “What about them?”

“Well…” Where to start? I swallowed my pride with the lump in my throat. “Richmond talked to me this afternoon. Your sections performed better—a lot better—on the first exam than mine did. He recommended that I connect with you and try to figure out how to improve. My teaching.”

There. It was all out, and I hadn’t combusted. So far, so good.

“Ah. So, you’re interested in my lesson plans after all.”

“Yes,” I said in a small voice. It would be really nice if the ground would swallow me up right about now.

“And why should I do that? You scoffed when I tried to share them with you in August.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to make this easy. It looked like it was time to eat some crow.

“I was too quick to judge,” I said. “You clearly found something special that works really well. For the students.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was tinged with amusement. “You think six years of teaching in one of the most challenging areas in the country might have taught me a thing or two?”

“Yes,” I said. “Your students say you’re a great teacher. They’ve told me. And the exam scores speak for themselves.”

I stepped in front of him and stopped him with a hand to his chest. Leaves swirled around us, carried on a fall breeze. I looked up into his impassive face with my biggest doe eyes, pleading for him to agree.

“Look, at the rate things are going, you should have no concerns about getting this job over me. Just think of this as an opportunity to help out a fellow educator.”

He sniffed and brushed back a lock of hair that fell over his forehead.

“Or,” I continued, “you can think about it as a different way of helping the students. Helping me be a better teacher will help them get a better education. Plus, you’ll have less ground to make up when you take over my sections next semester.”

He studied my face with a fierce intensity. I felt exposed. The moment was somehow more intimate than when his tongue was down my throat.

“Please.” My mouth formed the word, but no sound came out.

His heartbeat increased under my hand on his chest. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and moved my hand back down to my side.

“Fine,” he said. “I can share my lesson plans with you again.”

I squealed with glee and started bouncing on my toes. His grip on my wrist tightened just a bit, and I stilled.

“But we need some ground rules. We need to stay professional.”

“Of course,” I easily agreed. “Stay professional.” He didn’t need to know that I’ve been fighting for my life to be professional since day one.

“Neutral territory,” he continued as if he hadn’t stopped speaking. “We can meet in the library, or the classroom, if you prefer. I don’t think it would be a good idea to work in our apartments.”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“And stay on task,” he added.

I nodded vigorously. “I will be the most professional, neutral, on-task person you have ever seen.”