Chapter Twenty-One
“Does it feel like we’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?” I ask Roman as we sit at the lab table.
It’s a small desk, really meant for one, but we’ve managed to squeeze in two chairs. Roman inspects a specimen under a microscope and answers questions about its properties on a form provided, while a magnifying glass sits forgotten in front of me. This busywork is boring, and I find my mind drifting all too easily.
Roman and I have found a good rhythm, so most of the past week has become boring and stagnant. We wake up, exercise, clean the dust off the solar panels, come inside, clean the dust off the furniture, perform any number of experiments with rocks, check the crops in the greenhouse, then call it a day.
I’m always counting down the hours until we can get away from the cameras and microphones and just be without worrying about being seen or overheard.
“I’m hoping the other shoe doesn’t drop,” Roman says.
“But things have been so quiet and boring.”
When it’s quiet in the Hab, it’s too loud in my mind. There are too many hours in the day I spend thinking about After. How will it be going back to school. If—when—Roman and I end things after this, how am I going to act normal around him? I know too much about him now. I know his taste buds aren’t picky in the least. Food for him really is just fuel, though he’s partial to meat. I know his drawing skills are trash. I know his body heats up like an inferno at night, but it’s still the perfect temperature to snuggle up against. I’m not likely to forget it either.
So yeah, I need something here to break up the quiet so I’m not going out of my mind and beginning to imagine a life that includes Roman in the After.
“It’s boring by design,” Roman says. “Life on Mars won’t always be about managing one crisis after another. There will be long stretches of time when nothing happens but routine. We’re showing them how people will handle it.”
“Why do you have to make so much sense?” I blow out a breath and pick my magnifying glass back up.
My worksheet is asking about the layers of the rock. I lean forward to inspect it, but my unbound braids fall in my face, blocking out the light coming from the lamp above us. I push my braids back, but they don’t stay in place when I lean forward again.
I jump when I feel Roman’s fingers brush my shoulders and my neck as he gathers the braids and acts as my hair holder.
“Thank you,” I say, able to find the pattern in the rock without the hindrance of shadows. It’s not until after I put my findings to paper that Roman releases my hair.
Instead of verbalizing a You’re welcome , Roman moves his hand under the table, where the cameras can’t see, and squeezes my thigh. I’m only too pleased when he leaves it there as we complete our work.
After we’re done, when it’s too early and would look too suspicious if we both went to the bedroom, Roman sits at the kitchen table, writing in his journal. I haven’t cracked mine open in days, but I love that he uses his.
“What are you writing about in there?” I ask, trying to be nosy but not really expecting an answer.
He looks up and smirks. “You.”
“Sure. And let me guess, it says, ‘The nerdy vice principal won’t stop complaining about being bored.’?”
“Nope.” He clears his throat. “The nerdy vice principal kept me awake with her snoring again.”
I know it’s all in good fun, and while I love who I am, something about hearing Roman call me a nerd is a huge prick to my ego. And like so many things, it goes back to feeling like I’m not measuring up somehow. Does he really like this nerd, or does he only seem into me because we’re conveniently trapped here together?
“Ha ha,” I say, trying to save face. I rise from the table. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I’m going to go check on the greenhouse again.”
I leave before he has a chance to respond or before I can do anything lame like let any tears escape. I haven’t had a good cry in what seems like weeks, and I’m clearly due for one.
But before I can make it more than five steps inside the greenhouse, Roman is there.
“Brianna, wait,” he says.
I glance at him over my shoulder but keep walking, going straight for the dandelions. Seeing that the things still won’t grow adds more frustration, and I know I’m reaching a tipping point.
Roman joins me at the plot, our shoulders nearly touching.
“What is wrong with these? Why won’t they grow?” I ask, hating the telltale quiver in my voice. “I think they gave us some bad seeds.”
“I don’t. Just because they’re taking a while doesn’t mean they won’t sprout and grow.”
If the dandelions are anything like me, they can have thirty years and still not do anything.
I sigh. If I’m comparing my life to that of a weed, I’m taking this pity party too far.
“I didn’t get to finish telling you about my journal entry,” Roman says.
“If you have more to say about my quirky personality, can you tell me about it later?”
“It also says that you’re my perfect match.”
I pause, sure I didn’t hear him right. “What?”
“Did you think you were the only nerd here?”
“Um. Yes?”
“Do you know who Roderick Hall is? The seventh grader who got detention at least five times for doing Avatar: The Last Airbender moves in the cafeteria?” At my bemused nod, Roman continues. “Well, that used to be me, but with DBZ .”
“ DBZ ?”
He looks down at me with wide eyes. “ Dragon Ball Z . Brianna, please tell me you’re joking.”
I smile. “I grew up with two brothers, of course I know DBZ .”
“Who’s your favorite character?”
“Piccolo, duh!”
Roman lets out a relieved breath. “See what I mean? Perfect match,” he says softly. “And I really want to kiss you right now.”
His eyes entrap me, making it impossible for me to look away. Though, to be honest, I’m a more-than-willing captive. I stare into his eyes, seeing my face reflecting back from his beautiful irises, and I’m not falling for Roman— I’m flying. Ready to go to another plane of existence with this man as long as he keeps looking at me like this. I don’t think this level of willingness is healthy.
“Don’t talk about it,” I say. “Be about it.”
“Are we just going to ignore the cameras? Not that having an audience would stop me . But your job…”
I blink, then my eyes open wide in realization. I forgot we were under surveillance—that’s what being around Roman does to me. Here in the greenhouse, they can’t hear us, but they can see us well enough. Just out in the open for anyone to see me getting cozy with Roman. For any of my colleagues to think I could cross lines and play favorites. For Principal Major to have even more of a reason to be hard on me.
A voice in my mind screams, So the hell what? We’re consenting adults. What we do outside of school hours is no one’s business but ours. But full-out and open PDA could have consequences that would derail everything I’m working for. Everything Roman has worked for as well.
But I want him. No, I need him.
“Tonight then,” I say. “After we eat.”
He smiles. “You want to schedule kissing after dinner?”
I bite my lip and shake my head. “Not just kissing. I want you.”
Roman swallows and his nostrils flare, and my muscles tighten knowing he wants me too. “After dinner.”
I have never been less interested in eating a meal in my life. I was prepared to eat some beef jerky and call it a night, but Roman insisted on sustenance, so now we’re wasting time at the table.
Roman sets his slice of pizza down and wipes any sauce against a cloth napkin before turning the page of my once-lost-but-now-found book, That Time I Got Drunk and Yeeted a Love Potion at a Werewolf. I don’t know what part he’s on, but the looks he gives me when glancing up let me know there’s got to be something spicy going on.
“Stop playing and eat your food,” I say under my breath.
His response is to turn the page again and make an interested humming sound in the back of his throat. I try to ignore him by focusing on my own food, but he keeps bumping his knee into mine or reaching over me to get the salt I know he’s not going to use on his pizza. Anything to get my attention back on him.
He’s insufferable, and I love it.
“I’ll walk around to make sure the lights are off and everything is powered down,” Roman volunteers after we’ve both finished eating. He grabs my plate and takes it with his to the sink. “You can go hang out in our room.”
I don’t need him to tell me twice.
When I get to the bedroom, I glance around the space looking for…what? I don’t know. I spot the candle Simone left behind. I grab it and set it on my footboard for added ambiance. Next I look at Angie’s bed. I put her box of condoms in her bag after she left, and now I’m pulling it back out and feeling guilty. These aren’t mine. Angie won’t be using them, but still. And what if I read Roman wrong and we were having two totally different conversations? I think we’re about to make sweet, sweet love, and he’s under the impression we’re going to play some board games? I heave a sigh and open the box, grabbing one, then run to my bed and slip it under a pillow. It’s there if we need it. If not, no harm done.
By the time Roman enters the room, I’m a ball of nerves.
The door clicks shut behind him, and my breathing is in full erratic mode when he glances at me standing in the middle of the room.
He frowns and my stomach drops. Yup, I knew I read him wrong. He wasn’t planning on doing anything tonight but relaxing after a hard day.
“I thought you’d have on less clothes,” Roman says.
Oh .
I don’t waste time. I unzip my jumpsuit and let it pool on the floor, exposing me in nothing but my bra and panties. I quickly think over whether I should let my braids down from the bun or keep it up, and decide to keep it up and out of my face.
Roman’s eyebrows shoot up at my eagerness, but nonetheless, his eyes hungrily devour my body. After getting his fill, he reaches for his zipper and pulls it down. He’s broader than I am, so he has to help the jumpsuit off his shoulders, down his torso, and past his slim hips as it finally falls on the floor.
I suck in a deep breath once Roman stands straight. Now only in his boxer briefs, he’s beautiful. So gorgeous I could weep. Now, however, is not the time for tears. Now is the time to commit everything about Roman to memory. Every muscle, every tattoo, every faded scar. I want to remember so that when I finally, finally get back to making art, Roman standing there will be the first thing my pen will put to paper.
He takes the first step, and I move to meet him in the middle, both of us stopping before we collide. As eager as I am, I take the pause to get my bearings. This isn’t a line I’ve crossed with many men, and there’s no going back after this. We won’t be simple colleagues. I will have known how it feels to have him moving inside me. He’ll know what I look like naked.
Roman cups my jaw, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “Are you sure about this?”
If there’s one thing in this life I’m sure of, it’s that I want Roman. Have wanted him since the moment I saw him. Maybe our relationship won’t pan out, maybe my heart is too open when it comes to him, but I’m standing with the literal man of my dreams and I’m not letting all the what-ifs hold me back.
“I’m sure,” I breathe, turning my head in his hand to kiss his palm.
I wrap my arm around Roman’s back as he leans down and brings his other hand up to cup my face and take my lips with his. It’s another unhurried kiss like before. Like we have forever to stand here and learn each other’s mouths and tastes. To learn each other’s rhythm and tempo. I suck on Roman’s full bottom lip, running my tongue along the bottom crease, and something about having my lips on his is akin to sensory overload. All we’re doing is kissing, but behind my closed eyelids I sees bursts of colors. Blues, greens, yellows. More color than I’ve seen in weeks.
Roman moves from kissing my lips to laying pecks on my cheek, lifting up my head so he can get to the crook of my neck, which is a special spot that makes shivers race down my spine. His hands travel lower and grasp my ass, bringing my body even closer to his. More sensory overload. His hot skin. He’s just so hard everywhere. More colors. Pink, purple, neon. I thought he was kissing me like we had all day, but no, he’s kissing like he’s on a mission to take my soul. Not that it’s not his by now.
Breathing hard, I move to hike one leg around Roman’s waist. He gets the message, slipping his hands under my thighs and lifting me up. He strides to the bed as I lay kisses on his throat. After he sets me down on the bed, I look up to meet his darkened gaze and see an inkling of doubt. Before he can fix his lips to ask me if I’m sure again, I unhook my bra. I reach for Roman’s boxers next, slipping my fingers under the band and lowering them down his legs. I moan softly as my inner muscles clench at the sight of him.
Roman crawls on the bed, settling his warm body right over mine. He leans over me on his elbows, and I lift my hips to close the small space between our bodies.
“I don’t have a condom,” he says with a tinge of panic.
I reach under my pillow and pull the one from earlier out, biting my lip sheepishly. “I’ve got one.”
“But how?” he says in absolute amazement.
I shake my head. “You don’t want to know.”
Roman looks like he’s holding in a laugh but takes the packet from my fingers and sits back so he can slide the condom on.
He leans back over me, and I can’t help but hold in my own laugh at the audacity it took for me to go through Angie’s things and take a condom. It’s all seemed to work for my good though. Roman kisses me while my lips are still in a smile. “You’re beautiful when you smile.”
I’m taken aback by the honesty in his eyes as they lock with mine. I know some men don’t like to be called beautiful, but I can’t find it in me to keep my thoughts to myself. “You’re beautiful always.” The most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
A smile ghosts his lips before he leans down to kiss me again. This kiss quickly turns hungry as he grinds against me, the friction of our bodies causing pulses of pleasure to radiate throughout. He lines up at my entrance, pushing and stretching me in the most delicious way until he’s fully seated. Little sparks of pleasure radiate from my whole body as he moves in and out, grabbing hold of one of my hips for leverage as I meet his every thrust. “You okay, Bri?” he asks, his voice labored and restrained.
But I don’t want labored and restrained from him. I want wild and out of control. “More,” I say in his ear. Maybe it’s the word or the way I say it, but either way, something snaps in him. He lets out a sound from deep in the back of his throat before he starts moving harder and faster. I hang on, silently applauding how I’m able to match his thrusts. And when the pleasure builds so much I’m ready to burst, I don’t try to delay it. I let it wash over me as I throw my head back in bliss and a sea of colors, feeling Roman shudder over me.
We both collapse in a heap on the bed. Roman picks his head up, eyes bleary and lips looking thoroughly kissed. He looks me over, no doubt seeing evidence of the lone tear of happiness that made a trail down my cheek and into my hairline. I close my eyes and contentedly smile when he kisses my cheek.