Page 52 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

He raised an eyebrow and smirked, clearly saying, I don’t believe you.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “Can we start now?” I bit my lip and looked up with hopeful eyes. I felt giddy with excitement as though champagne bubbles were effervescing in my stomach.

He groaned and wiped his hand down his face. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I asked. “Do professional people not smile?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he said. “This can only work if we stay professional, and you’re making this really hard.”

My eyes flicked down to the crotch of his snug, khaki trousers. My cheeks bloomed with heat as I ripped my eyes away in what I hoped was an inconspicuous way. Fuck my life—did I have any dignity? What we really needed was a rule about not further mortifying myself.

“How about this,” he said, ignoring my distress. “You observe my classes tomorrow, then after my last one, we can discuss my lesson plans for the rest of the week? I’ll email you a copy tonight so you can look it over in advance.”

I straightened up. “I’d love to watch you teach,” I said earnestly.

He dipped his chin in a jerky nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He stepped around me and continued down the path.

“I really appreciate this,” I called at his retreating form. “You won’t regret it!”

“I’m regretting it already,” he called without looking back at me.

Chapter 17

Master Yoda

Itook an empty seat in the back of the room during Cooper’s fifth period Fun Chem class. Ten years ago, I sat in one of these chairs watching Mr. Stephens stand at the whiteboard and expound on my favorite subject. It felt weird sitting back while Cooper stood in his place.

Though, to be fair, Cooper hadn’t spent very much time lecturing from the whiteboard. After firing off a pop bottle to start the class, he only spent about eight minutes reviewing high-level concepts. Then, the whole class gathered around the fume hood in the back of the room for a demonstration.

I had used the fume hood a few times in my classes, but this seemed to be a regular occurrence for Cooper’s class based on how readily the students came together.

The whole time that he prepared reagents and constructed the apparatus, he was talking. Cooper would make a statement or ask a question, and to my amazement, the students replied without having to be called on. The lesson flowed naturally, like a conversation. I was in awe of his ease—like a dance, he moved and spoke with confidence, connecting with each student until they were all hanging on his every word.

It was a stark contrast to my own style of lecturing at the whiteboard for fifty-five minutes and calling on students sporadically to read from the text or answer a question. After seeing this, I felt more like an imposter than I ever had. While I played at being a teacher, he was a real educator with an innate talent that I could only dream of matching.

The final bell rang, and the students filed out of the classroom, leaving me alone with Cooper. I approached him where he erased the little-used whiteboard, and I slow-clapped. “Okay. I’m a believer. Teach me your ways, Master Yoda.”

Cooper chuckled as he replaced the eraser on its tray and brushed marker dust off his hands. I had seen him erasing the board many times over the last month, and it never occurred to me before today that unlike me, he did not spend most of his class time writing on the board.

“Don’t call me Yoda,” he said. “Let me finish cleaning up, and then we can head over to the library.”

He brushed past me on the way to the fume hood, and I followed like a puppy.

“What about Obi-Wan?” I countered. “It’s really unfair that you’ve had a pet name for me all this time, but I can only call you Mr. Cooper.”

He turned and smirked at me over his shoulder. “Have a little respect for the Jedi masters. And Princess isn’t my pet name.”

I fisted a hand on my hip and scowled.

“Oh no? Then what would you call it?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a thoughtful look that had heat rising in my chest. “It’s a title,” he replied simply.

I blinked once. And again. What could he possibly mean by that? Was he teasing me, or was calling me Princess some kind of compliment? Asking for clarification felt foolish, so I said, “Alright.”

His brows furrowed. “I thought you liked being called Princess. Wasn’t that your thing back in the day? It was on your letter jacket instead of Burke.”

Interesting.