Chapter 5 Of All the Gin Joints #2
“So, I was looking at the syllabus and the schedule,” I said. “I can take the first and third period sections, and you can take second and fifth, if that’s alright with you.”
Cooper rubbed his jaw as he considered. “Sure. My issue isn’t the schedule. It’s maintaining consistency. Students in all the sections need to receive the same level of instruction.”
I bristled at the implication. He was making it so hard to be polite.
“I agree,” I said through clenched teeth. “That’s why we need to share a lesson plan like Richmond said. So we can be sure everyone is getting the same material. Same lessons, same homework, same exams. Same… everything.”
“Different instruction,” he pointed out again.
I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “Are you trying to be difficult or is rudeness natural for you?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, voice dripping sarcasm.
I pinched my eyes closed and rubbed my temple. The meager patience I had regained was quickly running out.
“I’m really trying here,” I said. “Obviously, neither of us expected to be in this situation, but we need to make the best of it. The students deserve better than two teachers that are constantly arguing, not that Richmond will stand for it anyway.”
The seconds stretched out as he regarded me, his stoney face unreadable.
Even standing behind the desk, I felt exposed under his scrutiny.
His brow pulled into a hard line, eyes squinted, and jaw clenched.
I wished desperately that I could know what he was thinking, know what he was seeing when he looked at me.
At that moment, I felt small, but he didn’t need to know that. I stared back at him, eyes wide and chin up.
He must have reached some sort of conclusion, because his face relaxed. When he spoke again, his voice, though not loud, echoed around me in the large room. “I have a lesson plan. I’ll email you a copy.”
“How?” I spluttered. “We only just got here.”
“I got ahold of the syllabus yesterday and revised a couple of my old lesson plans from my old school last night. I had to move a few things around, but the content and units were basically the same.” He shrugged, and his eyes cast down to the floor.
“I’m planning on going into more depth on each unit here—I remember Stephens was able to get a lot deeper than I have been able to.
Though, I guess we’ll need to see how engaged we can get the students and let them take the lead somewhat.
There are ways to make intermolecular forces and kinetics interesting, but we might have to try a few things and see what works best here. ”
He was rambling.
It was… unexpected. This was the most I had heard him speak. Ever.
The lines around his eyes and mouth melted away, and he looked years younger. He clearly cared about both the students and the science.
I couldn’t stop myself from softening. “That sounds good. I assumed we would write up something together, but I can look at what you have.”
His mouth tipped back into a smirk. “Sure, you can copy my homework.”
My scowl returned in a nanosecond. It would have been less patronizing if he’d booped my nose. “This isn’t copying! We’re working together,” I insisted.
He shrugged, back to being smug. “Can you really call it ‘working together’ if I’ve already done all the work?”
Heat began rising in my chest again. “You weren’t supposed to do everything by yourself. You could have waited for me.”
My irritation only seemed to amuse him. “When I did this—yesterday—I didn’t know that I was going to have to share my classroom for a whole term.”
“It’s not your classroom.” I felt like I was repeating a mantra.
“Maybe not yet, but it will be.” He started back down the aisle toward the door.
I closed my eyes and sucked in air. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to roll over without a fight,” I called.
He smirked at me over his shoulder before stepping through the door. “I’m looking forward to it, Princess.”
“Stop calling me Princess,” I all but yelled at his back, but he didn’t respond.
When the door clicked shut and I was alone again, I collapsed into the chair behind the desk and covered my face with my hands. I would allow myself five minutes to sulk in self-pity, frustration, and doubt, but that was all.
I had barely known this man for a day, and he was already completely under my skin. Somehow, he had gotten past my usual defenses and made himself a prickly little nest right in my chest. It itched and burned, and I needed it out. Needed him gone.
Unfortunately for me, he was probably right.
He probably was better suited for this job.
I might be packing my bags in only a few short months and leaving in shame.
I was going to be unemployed. And homeless.
And my parents were going to know that I was a failure…
How much more pitiful was it to fail at a profession that they didn’t even approve of?
After five minutes of spiraling, I puffed up my chest and stretched my arms wide—just like I saw on a TED Talk. I took a deep breath, filling all four corners of my lungs. And another. Then, I shook out my arms and legs. It helped.
The pity party was over, and now, it was time to kick some ass. Maybe he was a better candidate, but I was still plenty qualified. I was going to work like crazy every single day and prove my worth. I was the longshot, the underdog. But sometimes the underdog still came out on top.
I just needed to figure out how to deal with Cooper.
He didn’t see me as the underdog. He saw himself as the underdog and me as the nepo-baby princess.
We couldn’t both be underdogs, could we?
Regardless, I needed to be the bigger person.
He was frustrating as hell, but I was stuck with him for another four months.
I couldn’t let him go on hating me and making me miserable.