Page 40 of Wish You Were Mine
Her face smoothed an instant later, and I forced myself to remember that there was absolutely nothing between us. She was just a student showing up for class. One of the many I had this semester.
I turned back to the board and forced my voice to stay steady.
“All right, quick refresher—stoichiometry is all about the math of chemical reactions. If we have two moles of hydrogen reacting with one mole of oxygen, how many moles of water do we get?”
A girl in the front row hesitated, then said, “Two?”
“Bingo. You just stoichiometrized. Welcome to greatness.”
A few chuckles. I smiled faintly, but I felt it slip too fast.
I moved through the first example problem, writing the coefficients with extra care. But I couldn’t help it. The moment I turned around to face the class again, my eyes darted back to Lucy’s seat.
She was watching me.
Not intensely. Not obviously.
Just…watching. Head tilted slightly, pen poised but not moving.
Of course she’s watching you. You’re her teacher. Students are supposed to pay attention like that in class.
Stop trying to make this into something.
I cleared my throat and gestured to the whiteboard.
“So, if we wanted to go from grams of hydrogen to grams of water, what would be the first step?”
A guy with red hair in the front row raised his hand. “Convert grams to moles?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Gold star. Or, more accurately, a mole of gold, if you’re lucky.”
A few students looked completely clueless.
“That’s about six hundred sextillion atoms of gold—give or take a few quadrillion.” I added, “In case anyone’s hoping to retire early.”
Which was followed by a few groans.
Okay, rough crowd.
Which made sense. Most of these students were probably like Lucy and only taking this class for the required science credit.
I grabbed the eraser and wiped the board down, forcing myself to focus.
Just teach the dang class, Owen. Stop trying to be the fun professor.
I moved into the next example and kept talking, kept teaching, but every few minutes my eyes couldn’t help but flick to the back of the room—like a reflex I couldn’t resist.
Lucy was still there. Still watching.
And no matter how many jokes I cracked or equations I solved, the burn in my chest wouldn’t fade.
The student I’d kissed—in a freaking hot tub—was staying in the class.
Which meant everything had just gotten a whole lot harder.
And if I wanted to make it through the semester with my job and my dignity still intact, I’d better shut down any feelings I’d let spark before I knew who she was.
Fast.
