Chapter 16 Failure #2
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Like figuring out how to stop sucking.” My chest was tight, and that damn lump was back in my throat.
“Oh, honey.” TJ slid a warm hand over my arm and squeezed. “You can’t say things like that. You have everything you need to be successful already inside you.”
I sniffed and offered her a weak smile.
“You know what you should do,” she said, sitting up straighter in her chair. “You should talk to Jackson. I’m sure that sweet man would be tickled pink to help you.”
I couldn’t help the laugh I snorted. “Richmond said the same thing. But I doubt Cooper would help me, even if I wasn’t his competition for this exact job.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” TJ mused. “He seems like the helpful type to me. And it’s really about the students at the end of the day, right?”
I chewed on my lip while I considered that.
It really was about the students, not me.
But my interactions with Cooper were complicated.
He was scorching hot one minute, then freezing me out the next.
I still couldn’t make sense of his apology—I had been an eager and willing participant in that kiss. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
And now I needed to convince him to help me. Which would probably mean spending a lot of time together. I groaned.
“I know I need to, but I’m just not sure I can.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” She waved her hand, brushing away the thought like a gnat. “It can’t hurt to ask.”
My face scrunched up like I had just taken a big whiff of sulfur. “Or,” I countered, “I might die of humiliation.”
TJ just laughed and waved a hand at me. “Oh, honey. Go find that man and get yourself sorted out.”
I squeezed my eyes closed and took a moment to resign myself to this fate.
Richmond had told me to ask Cooper for help, so I had to do it whether I wanted to or not.
And TJ might have been right about him being willing to help if I had asked a week ago.
But she didn’t know about the kiss. Not that that mattered.
“Yes, ma’am,” I sighed, drumming my nails on the counter.
I could do this. I could talk to Cooper. I had done much more awkward things in the past and managed to overcome them.
My brain flashed back to my first chemistry lab at Columbia.
Despite insisting I knew what I was doing, I had mixed acetic acid and sodium hypochlorite, causing the whole lab to fill with toxic chlorine gas.
The lab had to be evacuated and decontaminated after several students vomited. I shuddered at the memory.
Talking to Cooper would be no big deal. Probably.
Campus was a riot of red, orange, yellow, and brown from the changing leaves. I breathed in deep lungfuls of crisp, chilly air as I made my way back over to Franklin Hall. Cooper’s second class would end in ten minutes, and I was hoping to catch him on his way out of the building.
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.”
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.