Beth really needed to stop being late. She barrelled out of her building at 7am, rucksack weighing her down with assignments, and headed for the metro station. It was early enough that she wasn't battling people on the sidewalk so she almost ran – almost – and bolted down the dingy stairs to get to her platform. The entire eight minute ride, she bounced her leg feverishly earning a few glares from men in suits who were clearly heading into the city. She could almost hear the sigh of relief when she got off at Tenleytown. When she was back at street level, she ran into a relatively empty deli for a black coffee and a pastry before powerwalking the rest of the way to the school. Today she had to be as close to on time as possible, and she was… ten minutes late when she looked at the clock in the History department's office.

"Welcome to the land of the working," came a voice from the corner. Sam put his head round his computer monitor to look at Beth. "You're looking out of breath."

"I overslept," Beth muttered as she slipped her rucksack off. It landed on the floor with a loud thud but she couldn't find the ability to care as she took a sip of her coffee and fell into her chair. "Are you covering my freshman World History class this morning?"

"Unfortunately."

"Their assignments are in my bag. Can you give them back to the kids?"

"I'd rather be going to the Monument, but sure." He disappeared behind his monitor again and began typing away.

Beth fired up her computer, eating the croissant whilst she was waiting, and then searched for the documents she was going to need for the trip. Register, emergency contacts, itinerary…

Thirty schoolkids in a small coach was not who Beth wanted to spend her morning with. Her colleague was sitting next to her and had called dibs on the window seat before pulling out a book. If you're going to get the window seat, at least look out the damned window. And it was definitely not a long enough journey to read Dan Brown's latest apparent thriller.

Beth addressed the students with the usual field trip information – don't get lost, she and Mr Hiller would be in the café, be ready to leave at 1pm on the dot – before settling down in her seat. They'd only left the school campus about ten minutes ago, but Beth seemed to be doing all the work. She'd planned the trip, handed in the forms, chased Mr Hiller down to sign the correct parts, and had done everything this morning. Really, she shouldn't have been surprised. Mr Hiller was one of those stereotypical old history teachers who just stuck a video on when he couldn't be bothered anymore and left school early on a Friday to go to a bar. If he could get away with not doing something, he wouldn't lift a pasty finger.

The arrival at the museum couldn't have come sooner and the students all scurried off to different exhibits with their worksheets whilst Beth and Mr Hiller headed to the Stars and Stripes Café. Beth needed more coffee if she was going to put up with her colleague for the next four hours. A big black coffee to perk her up so she could get some lessons plans done.

That's where she was at midday: sitting in the café with high school essays, a plate with crumbs from a sandwich sitting on the table next to her. Mr Hiller, thankfully, hadn't disturbed her and the noise around her was like a gentle buzzing. Until someone coughing loudly disrupted her concentration. And she did not expect what she saw.

There, standing in front of her, was six-foot-something of all American hero muscle, a chiselled jaw, and a winning smile. All pointed at her. His jacket was tight around the biceps and his cap was pulled down low. Not that Beth could see his eyes, anyway. The shades took care of that.

"Sorry?" she asked. It was the only word she could think of.

"I was just saying that I've never seen someone with concentration like yours. Every time I've walked past the café, you've had your head down writing."

"It's not writing," Beth clarified. "Marking essays is not nearly as interesting as writing." She mentally facepalmed herself. The most American American she had ever seen was standing in front of her and she was arguing semantics.

"Essays? Are you a teacher?"

"High school history."

"I love history. Mind if I sit?"

"Sure." What did she have to lose?