“Fantastic,” I mutter. “Glad my personal life is providing enrichment.”
“Should’ve kept it professional, sir,” one of them says cheerfully.
Before I can respond, Declan appears behind them, arms folded.
“Enough,” he says. “Sit down and stop hovering like you’re auditioning for something.”
They shuffle to desks, still grinning.
On the phone, Christa laughs. Warm. Familiar. “You alright there?”
“Apparently I’m running a masterclass in feelings,” I say.
“Very on brand,” she replies.
“I’ll call you later,” I say.
“Go be good,” she says. “Or at least interesting.”
I hang up, shove the phone in my pocket, and face the room. If nothing else, I’ve made an impression.
The rest of them drift in over the next few minutes. Eight in total. Eight pairs of eyes giving me that universal teenage look that saysgo on, then; prove yourself.
Declan positions himself at the back, arms folded, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
I clap my hands together. “Right. I’m Geoff—”
“Mr Corbin,” Declan corrects smoothly.
A ripple of laughter runs through the room.
I sigh. “Fine. Mr Corbin.”
That earns me a few smirks, but the edge softens.
“Let’s start with introductions,” I say. “Name and one interesting fact. Doesn’t matter what it is. Who’s first?”
A girl with neat braids rolls her eyes. “Lola. I can name every winner of Love Island.”
“Useless but impressive,” I say. “I respect it.”
The blonde beside her flicks her hair. “Chloe. I plan to be famous. Don’t know for what yet.”
“Confidence is important,” I say. “You’ve got plenty.”
“Nathan.” A lad at the back grins. “I once ate forty chicken nuggets in under ten minutes.”
Groans echo around the room.
“Your arteries must be thrilled,” I say.
The boy next to him mutters, “Amir. I can solve a Rubik’s Cube in under a minute.”
“Proper skill! I envy you.”
A girl with purple streaks flashes a peace sign. “Lacey. I play bass in a band. We’re rubbish but loud.”
“Volume often wins.” I nod.
