Chapter Twenty
Roman and I are playing a game.
It started while we were cleaning the kitchen. We haven’t turned the music on since Simone was eliminated, so Roman suggested we take turns picking songs. He went first, putting on a song by Usher, followed by Ne-Yo, then he took it way back with “Adore” by Prince.
“This must be more of that romantic side of yours showing out,” I said quietly when we passed each other at the stove. Roman smirked on his way to pick another song, “I Like Me Better” by Lauv. He looked at me meaningfully, tilting his head as if to say, Do you get it yet? And I swooned right there once I realized he was directing the songs at me. Who knows what I would have done if the cameras weren’t on.
Now that I understand, before his song is over, I put one in the queue to play next. When “Hello” by Beyoncé comes on, I see Roman smile as he goes on to dust around our tiny lab. And so we go, back and forth, flirting through song choice.
“Really?” I choke out when “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent comes on. I can’t believe they even loaded the song into the system.
“What?” Roman asks. “He’s talking about candy, right?”
When his song is over, I’m tempted to play “My Neck, My Back” but chicken out at the last second. What if students are watching us right now and the explicit version of the song plays? That would be an interesting conversation during the school year. Miss Rogers, why was that one song telling players to get on their knees? Yeah, I think not. I keep it safe and go with Brandy.
Roman and I finally meet at the living room area of the Hab after making our way around and begin dusting together. He starts bobbing his head to the beat as Brandy sings about full moons. Then he’s behind me.
“Let’s dance,” he whispers.
His nearness sends goose bumps down my arms, but I shake my head. “The cameras.” Did he forget? Or…
“So what? It’s just dancing, like what you did with Simone and Angie.”
It’s not the same and he knows it. For one, Simone and Angie never made my blood sing with their mere presence, and two, I never made out with them.
I shake my head no again, wishing we were somewhere I could dance out in the open with him.
Roman backs up, but I see his reflection in the TV screen. He’s moving his head to the beat and I end up stopping what I’m doing to stare. He meets my gaze through the screen and that familiar glint is in his eyes, daring me to live a little. It’s just dancing.
It starts like it did with Simone and Angie. Me easing in by swaying my hips to the beat. I see Roman is nonchalantly making his way back to me, giving me plenty of time to put a stop to this dance session. But I don’t. I turn around, he comes up to me, and we’re mirroring each other’s movements.
“I think Angie’s got some competition on her hands,” I say, slightly breathless. “I didn’t know you had all that rhythm.”
“I’m not at her level yet, but give me time.”
I know my smile is way too big, but I can’t help it around him, and it hits me how doing this with Roman feels like home. I can see us fitting right in with my family as one of our get-togethers ends with the inevitable slow dance. It always starts with Dad playing his and Mom’s song, “Always.” After a minute Camille and Lance join in, then Vincent and Amerie. I’m always on the outside looking in, but how amazing would it be if I didn’t have to be? If Roman was there with me? If our relationship wasn’t temporary?
Neither of us are there to man the music anymore, so it auto-plays. When a slow jam starts, Roman puts his hands at my waist and leaves plenty of room between us, which I quickly erase. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, hands resting at his neck, and he caresses my back.
Technically, we’re still dancing, but it feels like so much more. Like we’re on the verge of making love. Chest to chest, when I breathe, I breathe him in. Warm, sweet, spicy. Decadent. I don’t know if he moves closer or I do, but our legs are practically entwined.
“We shouldn’t be dancing like this,” I have enough sense to say, but I make no move to stop.
“No, we shouldn’t,” Roman agrees. But neither of us puts a stop to it.
Roman pulls back just enough so he can look down at me as the lyrics float in the air and say all the things we can’t say out in the open. I don’t know what’s on my face, but I know I feel utterly smitten by him. I know I want his lips on mine. Maybe that’s what he reads on my face. His eyes travel down to my mouth, but as soon as he angles his chin down, I panic.
I stop our dance. Pull out of his embrace and blink hard, trying to get everything back in focus. The cameras. Everyone watching. My career.
“Sorry,” Roman says.
I look up at him, sure he can now read the conflict on my face as clear as I can read his disappointment and hurt.
He swallows and turns around, going to clean the comms, though we already went over that area.
I don’t call after him. I close my eyes again and take in a deep breath. This is all getting too complicated. I don’t want what’s going on between Roman and me to affect my career, but I don’t want to hurt him.
While the music continues to auto-play now that our game is surely over, I go back over the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Roman when we’re in the room that night.
We were able to continue working, though the vibe between us felt stilted for the rest of the day.
“Sorry for what?” Roman asks. His hand is around my waist as we lie in bed, so I know he’s not mad at me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt.
“For pushing you away while we were dancing,” I say.
“I’m the one who broke the rules though. I’m the one who got greedy and wanted to kiss you so bad I didn’t care who saw in that moment.”
“Stop,” I plead, shaking my head against his chest.
“Why?”
“Because when you say all these sweet things I just…I get butterflies.” I press a hand to my stomach and blow out a breath.
“You think you’re the only one?”
“Um. Yes?”
He chuckles. “No. Do you remember the very first time we met?”
While my favorite memory of Roman from the past school year is when we were looking at each other across the gym, I do remember our very first interaction. It happened during staff development week when the teachers were getting their classes ready at the start of the year. I had just parked my car and happened to get out of it at the same time that Roman, who was parked next to me, got out of his. Our car doors slammed shut at the same time, creating a funny echo effect, and we glanced over at each other.
“Do you mean when we closed our doors at the same time? I remember laughing while you just stood there,” I say. The laughter was because I was nervous. There was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen, tall, dark, and handsome with the most kissable lips, and I was laughing in front of him like a fool because we’d just happened to close our doors at the same time.
“I stood there because I was struck dumb. When you laughed and smiled at me, it took my breath away. It became impossible not to want to look for it every time I saw you. Whether it was in the teachers’ lounge or when you came to observe my classroom or if I saw you walking down the hall. Shoot, even at those boring staff development days. Butterflies, every single time.”
God, just why? Why is he so perfect?
Every second I spend with Roman is like nourishment to my soul. A soul that’s been starved of love and affection. But the time I spend with him also complicates the future I’ve seen for myself that much more.
I know I’m fast approaching some hard decisions, but those decisions don’t have to be made today.