Page 12 of Fight for You (Flirting with Forever 2)

“No problem at all. I was just saying I’d like for you to sit at the back of the classroom, at the desk they brought in for you, and just observe for the day. We’ll have time during our lunch break after the first two classes and again during our planning period at the end of the day when I can answer any initial questions you have. Does that sound like it would work?” She studies me, and this time, I’m drawn in by the deep brown of her eyes. Her makeup is understated and tasteful, but in my opinion, she doesn’t need it. She’s an all-natural knock-out.

Realizing I’m still a little lost in the depths of her eyes, I give myself a shake in an attempt to regain my grip on reality—the reality where she’s a teacher and I’m technically her student. “Sure, that works. That would be great, actually. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I’m not above passing out or collecting papers or making copies or doing whatever else to help. I’m here to learn, so definitely put me to work.”

A slow smile spreads across her berry-pink lips. “I will certainly do that. I like your willingness to jump right in, Sawyer.”

I nod, pointing toward the door. “I’m just going to grab a notebook and pen from my bag. I’ll be right back.” As I exit the classroom, I notice the volume of traffic in the hallway has picked up substantially. It must not be too much longer until the first classes of the day start. I make a mental note to ask Hadleigh for a bell schedule as I survey the happenings in the hallway. Students aged fourteen all the way up to eighteen do what comes naturally to them—gabbing with their friends, hurrying through last minute homework and, if I’m not mistaken, a whole hell of a lot of flirting.

I’m as interested in studying student interactions as I am in learning from Hadleigh. Knowing your subject area, teaching it well, and handling the students are all very different skill sets. I’ve got the history part down, but I’m feeling a little apprehensive about the other two. We’ll see how it goes, I guess.

Back in the classroom, seats are filling up but most students are milling about, hanging around in small groups and chatting with friends. Hadleigh’s seated at her desk, so I slowly cross the room, aware of a certain hum beginning to fill the classroom. I’m pretty sure all the whispering I hear is conjecture as to who I am and what I’m doing there. I don’t really blame them. I’m someone new and different, disrupting their morning. Or maybe they look at it more as a pleasant diversion from their normal day?

Either way, this is going down. She looks up with a wink as she rises from her seat. The student she was speaking to gives her a quick nod of understanding and heads back to his seat. “Hang out here with me until I can introduce you, okay?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” I fold my arms across my chest, surveying the class as a whole. There are about twenty-five kids settling into their seats. Holy hell. If she teaches six classes and they are all this size, that means she’s responsible for a hundred and fifty kids. She’s had to learn their names, grade their work, assess their learning, and deal with any drama that crops up. “How on earth do you manage this, Had—I mean Ms. Beckett?”

She gives me a reassuring smile. “You just get used to it. You’ll see.”

After a brief introduction—during which I feel like a fish in a fishbowl, all eyes on me—I find myself at the back of the classroom. Hadleigh begins the day’s lesson for this class, which happens to be one of the ones studying World War I. Despite being a little distracted by watching the kids and how they interact with her, I’m also amazed at her comfort level with the subject; the questions she poses to the class are both thought-provoking and interesting. She keeps the class’s attention effortlessly, which I find pretty telling, considering she’s a fairly new teacher. She’s good at what she does, so I don’t think it will matter if I have someone who is fairly new to the profession as a mentor. I really want someone with energy and enthusiasm to show me the ropes.

Hadleigh is amazing at anticipating the students’ questions and needs. She’s witty and smart, and doesn’t get thrown by the occasional oddball question. Careful not to interrupt or change the flow of her lesson, I keep my eyes on my notebook, jotting down anything I want to talk to her about later.

The bell rings just as she mentions a worksheet with some short-answer questions for them to take home. She sees a few kids begin to head for the door without one and raises her voice. “Don’t leave without your homework, please.” The students who were about to exit halt at the door to wait. She picks up the stack of papers from the corner of her desk but is waylaid by a student who has hopped right out of her chair to ask a question. I hurry to the front of the ro

om.

“I’ll hand them out for you.” I extend my hand toward the papers.

“Thank you, Mr. Rivers. That would be helpful.” She hands them to me, and as she does, our fingertips brush. Our gazes meet, and I feel a surge of awareness flow right through her fingers and into mine. I shut my eyes for just a fraction of a second, letting the feeling roll through me before I turn on my heel to stand at the door, passing a hand-out to each kid as they walk out the door.

We have another class before lunch and it goes pretty much the same way, only this is a ninth grade geography class. Aside from some typical fourteen-year-old behavior, I do notice two things in that second class—first, I can’t take my eyes off of the teacher and second, each time her eyes find mine, she seems a little flustered. In fact, the more I watch her, the more ruffled she gets. Is it me? I hope I’m not making her nervous. I should probably keep my head down and just listen, but it’s hard when I know what I’m missing at the front of the classroom.

Chapter 8

Hadleigh

I sink down onto the small chair in the workroom after pulling my lunch from the fridge. Sawyer unpacks his food, setting it out on my desk in front of him. He glances at me. “How much time do we have?”

“Just twenty-five minutes, so go ahead and eat first, and then we can talk after. Lunch always passes in a flash for me, and I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”

“Sounds good.” He takes a bite of a sandwich, chews carefully, and washes it down with water.

It’s a superhuman feat to wrest my eyes from him, but I finally do. As I take the first bite of my sandwich, I allow myself a few moments to think back on how the first two classes of the day had gone.

The students are officially abuzz about our new student teacher. Can I blame them? Not really. It certainly had made it much more difficult to maintain their attention today. A few of the notoriously boy-crazy girls kept turning in their seats to peek at Sawyer. He hadn’t seemed to mind, but he’d also kept himself busy in the back with his notebook during that first class.

I’d overheard some of the conversations among students. I generally make a practice of ignoring them as much as possible, but today it had been hard to block it all out. Instead of the usual chitchat about the latest app they are all downloading, who is dating whom, or how pretty their nails or hair look, I heard nothing but conversation about our new student teacher. The whispers back and forth had gone something like this:

“He’s probably only twenty or twenty-one. That’s only, like, five years older than us.”

“He’d be a senior if he’s student teaching this semester, right?”

“I wonder where he goes to school.”

“Hot. College guys are so freaking hot. I’d do him.”

“Oh, I’d totally get with that. You have to share.”

I close my eyes and try to obstruct all further memories of their chatter from rushing through my head because, oh my God, who am I to talk? Wasn’t it just like three weeks ago that I was calling him Mr. Yummy and tall, dark, and drool-worthy? I’m having the same thoughts as all of these young girls but I’m his mentor, for crap’s sake. The only thing that makes me feel slightly better is that he’s older than what they assume, closer to my age than theirs.

---