Page 81 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

The cherry on top of this little teaching sundae was Richmond’s stamp of approval. He pulled me aside to speak toward the end of the period.

“I’m quite pleased with what I’ve seen, Ms. Burke. You seem to have this well in hand.”

I beamed. “Thank you so much, sir.”

He excused himself before the end of class, leaving me to bask in my triumph. I’d gotten off to a rocky start at Newbury, despite my good intentions and boundless enthusiasm. Now, under Jack’s mentoring, I was finally realizing the dream that I had been carrying with me for months.

I was here. This was real.

I was doing it. I was succeeding.

I was warm all over and tingling from my fingertips down to my toes.

The remainder of the period passed in the blink of an eye, and I was surprised when the bell rang signaling the end of class. A couple of students helped me collect the glassware and deposit it in the utility sink in the equipment closet. But then, I shooed them away to get their lunches. I was free for the rest of the day and had plenty of time to rinse the beakers and flasks and load them into the dishwasher. It didn’t feel like a chore. It felt like a privilege.

Chapter 25

What Rules?

My hands were under the water in the utility sink when I heard the door to the classroom open. Perhaps Richmond had returned for another word.

“I’m back here,” I called. “I’ll just be a few more minutes.”

The door to the equipment closet opened and closed behind me, and a deep voice said, “We need to talk.”

My breath caught in my chest. In my haste to spin around, I nearly dropped the beaker I had been rinsing. Jack stood mere feet behind me, taking up much more than his fair share of the space in the narrow room.

Now? We were going to do this now? I had to keep calm.

I pulled my face into what I hoped was a natural-looking smile. “Of course. Do you mind if I keep loading? I’m almost done.”

“Take your time.” He slid his hands into the front pockets of his slim cut khakis and watched while I carefully lined up the last of the beakers on the top rack and closed the dishwasher.

I tried to use the minute to compose myself and figure out what I was going to say. Why hadn’t I thought about that this morning? I had spent all of second period daydreaming like I was on Molly, and it hadn’t crossed my mind what I might actually say if given the opportunity.

I hadn’t planned on talking. I was going to give him space. He was the one seeking me out, not the other way around—for once.

Wiping my hands on a paper towel, I finally turned to face Jack. “Done. What did you want to talk about?” Playing dumb was a lazy move on my part, but I was happy to let him take the lead for a change.

“I… about yesterday…” he trailed off.

My heart jumped into my throat, and heat flared up my neck and face.

The silence hung fraught and dense between us, and after a few seconds I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, taking a step forward. “We said after Homecoming that it would be a one-time thing, and then I just went and… did… what I did… and without talking to you first. And that was totally not okay. I shouldn’t have done that. You would never have. I’m sorry and—”

“Don’t.” His word was sharp, and I snapped my mouth closed mid-apology.

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down at my shoes, camel-colored ankle boots that were as comfortable as they were beautiful. Somehow that relaxed me. “Don’t what?” I said to my shoes.

“Don’t assume,” he said, his tone softened. Husky, like his throat had gone dry. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If I had wanted to stop you yesterday, I could have—easily—before things escalated. But I didn’t.”

I looked up and found his dark eyes locked onto my face. A lock of hair had fallen loose of his usual tidy style and curled over his temple. The intensity of his gaze sent a zing of excitement through my body, but I didn’t dare move. I couldn’t understand what he was getting at.

“Okay, yeah,” I agreed. “You could have stopped things, but that doesn’t make it okay that I came onto you. We both agreed not to. You set very clear boundaries—”

“Stop,” he said. He took a step toward me and laid his hands on my upper arms in a gentle but firm grip. “Stop beating yourself up. Maybe we should have talked sooner, but we’re talking now.”