Mitch pulled up a chair in the back row of Maria's primary four class beside a few of her chattier kids. Two boys looked him over with quirked eyebrows and whispered in Thai about Ms. Maria getting replaced. Despite what Mitch said to them last month, the internalized idea that her darker skin made her a worse teacher stuck with the kids. He would not feed into their assumptions.

He raised an eyebrow at them and stretched out his legs. "You should worry about yourself, not Ms. Maria," he spoke in Thai.

"Why Mr. Mitch?" Hero asked in English.

"Mr. Shawn and I are recruiting for next year's P5-1 class."

Hero tensed and took his books out of his bag along with the others. The brightest and most well-behaved kids, and above-average ones with parents with the deepest pockets, were placed in the coveted slash one class. It was supremely de-motivating for those who never made it into that class and turned their lack of success into a self-fulfilling prophecy. He always told his grade-five students he taught every class like they were slash-one and expected their learning to follow the same trajectory. Often if they worked hard and believed in themselves, the results were similar to the 'smart' classes. But not every teacher taught like him, so he could use the assumptions to manipulate their thinking to Maria's advantage.

The boys stared at their teacher, who grinned and circulated to greet the students, most of whom perked up at her praise and compliments. She was a natural people person; it was managing kids she seemed less comfortable with, given what he'd seen in the hallways and what she'd shared with him.

With the cover he gave the students, he took notes throughout Maria's lesson, though he had to remind himself to focus on her teaching instead of how great her ass looked in that tight skirt, otherwise, his advice would be useless. He'd offered to give her some unofficial tips to help with her classroom management a few weeks ago since he'd been teaching here for almost three years already, and she'd been here a few months.

"Does anyone remember what happened to St—" Their eyes met and Maria froze "—Stella in the last chapter?"

A few students called out the answers, and she accepted the responses without reminding them to raise their hands. The class got noisier, and she ran her thumb across the pages of the novel they were studying as her gaze darted to the louder kids. Mitch inclined his head toward the chatty children near the windows, and she hurried over there. Her discomfort transported Mitch to his first practicum placements, expecting perfection from himself and his students when teaching was an art of adapting to what the kids needed each day. Soon, she had the class's attention again and began to read aloud.

By the end of the class, she'd gotten through most of the lesson outline she gave him, skipping a part here and there. She dismissed the students one at a time to prepare for lunch, and they lined up in a more orderly fashion than they had last month. Mitch's students waved and bowed when they saw him.

"How bad was it?" Maria whispered as she and Mitch stood at the front of the line.

"You're doing great."

She bit her lip. "You took a lot of notes."

"Your lesson was so brilliant I had time to work on my latest erotic, graphic novel," he murmured to her. The students were too distracted by their conversations to notice.

"No wonder the boys were so interested in what you were doing."

Mitch barked out a laugh he hadn't expected as the kids finished putting on their shoes. They led the class down to the cafeteria together, which felt a little odd without his students to survey. When he glanced back at Maria's, the back row of kids straightened like soldiers.

Once they reached the food line, Hero hung back in line with him and Maria.

"Mr. Mitch, how I do?" Hero asked in English with wide eyes.

"Keep working hard. That's what we want to see in slash one and every class: dedication and risk-taking, and respect for all your teachers," Mitch answered in Thai.

"Khap khun krap," Hero thanked Mitch and bowed before he ran off.

Maria tugged her glossy ponytail tighter. "Do I want to know?"

"It's nothing. Really nothing," he added when she crossed her arms over that amazing chest. "Just following up on a lie I told to explain my presence."

"Promise?"

Earlier in the term when her students were misbehaving and not listening because of her darker skin tone, he'd dealt with it without telling her because she'd still been dealing with the drama with her ex. She had confronted him when she found out he'd kept it from her.

"Yes. No more secrets, except the ones you ask me to keep." He winked. She shook her head with rosy cheeks.

Once they had their food, they sat alone at the staff tables so Mitch could review his classroom management suggestions like he'd offered to do for her. As he described each point, she fiddled with her fork so much that he was about to grab her hand to calm it before. But he couldn't do that here, not when she'd insisted they keep their kiss secret and while she was new enough to be on probationary teaching period. Flirting with her was one thing, but he didn't want her to get fired or to start rumours that would stress her out.

"I can't believe I'm doing so much wrong," she muttered.

"Don't think of it like that. When you cook, you're always tweaking the quantities and ingredients to find that perfect flavour, right? It doesn't mean what you did before was bad, only that you strove to improve it. You don't beat yourself up when you're changing your dishes, do you? It's a natural instinct."

"No, I guess not." She cut a fish cake on her plate.

"It's the same thing for teaching. You have excellent lessons and rapport with the kids. If you want to spare yourself some classroom management headaches, these notes will help. Once you have more experience, these tweaks come more naturally. Without them, the lessons are still good and the kids are learning. I can stop if you want me to."

"No, I want your help."

He laid his notebook out for her on the table. He'd organized the page in columns with the activity description, positives notes, and suggestions to improve. Once she skimmed through it, she looked up at him with a tentative smile.

"You took this pretty seriously," she said.

"You asked for my help. Wouldn't give you anything but my best."

"I was secretly hoping for that graphic novel."

It was interesting she wasn't shying away from his suggestive jokes. "If a stick man karma sutra is what you're after, I'm your guy. I wasn't the artistic one in my f—" He kicked himself for almost slipping. This kept happening around her. "Friend group." He shooed away the memories of sketchbooks and delicate hands shading characters to just the right degree for hours. "Dan's the artist."

Her eyes lingered on him, daring him to retract his lie, but he stuck to it. He'd survived almost three years with this strategy and wasn't about to change it in his workplace. It wasn't like it impacted Maria. It was to keep him stable.

"Sunshine said he's painting a few pieces for the baby's room." Maria ran her finger over the notebook page. "So if I want a simple change to improve my afternoon classes, where do I start?"

Mitch smiled at her. She'd respected what he'd asked about analyzing his life, though he suspected she was busy doing it mentally. "You could be more consistent with your consequences and stop disrespectful, off-task behaviour right away." He rhymed off techniques he had with his students, non-verbal ones like proximity or eye contact, writing their name on the board, speaking with them after class, having them complete make-up work during the lunch period, and contacting the administration depending on the severity and frequency of the events. Maria glanced from her class a few tables over to the rice she was picking at.

"Overall, you're great at checking in with the kids and making sure they all participate. Looks like it's working, and they like you," Mitch said.

Maria smiled in response and adjusted her blouse, which made her boobs look even better. He leaned in to whisper, "I'm jealous of your students." When she raised an eyebrow, he added, "They have a free pass to stare at you in that sexy uniform all day."

"We're at work!" she said as sternly as she spoke to her students but at a much lower volume. The tension he'd created with his lesson notes vanished in her posture.

Mitch bit his lip, knowing he couldn't resist the next line. "Does that mean I can tell you again when we get home?"

She glared at him, but her cheeks had pinked. He'd take a small victory.