Chapter 12 #2
“Maybe we could just do this tomorrow, or we can run back to my place really quick? I’ll cook? We can make a date out of it,” he says. His tone is playful. Smooth. And on any other day, she would have brushed it off. She would have ignored him.
But tonight, she’s pissed.
“Stop it,” she says as she turns toward him, her skin on fire. She tries to keep her voice even as she speaks. “Just … stop.”
The grin on his face falls, and he wets his lips. “Look, I really am sorry. A lot has been happening lately.”
She scoffs, throwing her head back. “I don’t know what’s more insulting,” she says, pointing. “You showing up late, wasting my time, or you thinking that you could flirt your way out of a sincere apology because I’m a woman.”
His eyes widen and his lips part. “Jahlani, I’m really sorry. I had a thing.”
She cocks her head, her voice wavering in pitch. “I wonder how this meeting would be going if I were a man. If I were Jackson.” She points at the phone flashing on and off in his lap. “Would you still be playing on your phone? Would you have gotten here on time? Would you be prepared, Roman?”
Roman stands from his chair, mouth opening and closing.
“I have the materials. I thought I grabbed them, but I guess I must’ve …
” He trails off, shaking his head. “Shit, I’m sorry.
Truly.” He shuts his eyes, breathing heavily.
They snap back open. Wide and unwavering.
“Look, I didn’t mean to come on to you before.
My intention wasn’t to demean you like that.
I swear.” He blows out a breath. “I guess I just thought … it’s our thing. ”
Jahlani lets out a broken laugh, resuming her packing with more force and urgency.
“We don’t have a thing.”
From the corner of her eye, she sees him take a step forward. “Jahlani, really—”
She turns to him, unable to control herself. “And if you were going to show up late, the least you could have done was be prepared,” she snaps before letting out a sardonic chuckle. “Silly me for thinking you would actually try.”
Her chest heaves as his head jerks back. She shoves her laptop the rest of the way in, shouldering the bag before moving around the desk to the door.
“Wait, I can explain.”
“And let you waste more of my time? Yeah, I don’t think so.” He steps in front of her. “No,” she says. “I’m exhausted. I’m hungry, and I don’t feel well, and I waited for you like an idiot,” she mumbles to herself, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead. “I don’t know why I waited for you.”
His face twists. “Waited for me?” Realization flashes through his face. “The event. Shit. Shit.” She sidesteps him, reaching for the door, but turns.
“I’ll have Professor Jackson assigned to you for the rest of the semester. There is clearly a conflict of interest here.”
“Jahlani, you’re upset, but if you would just let me explain. It was a family emergency.”
Her laugh is dry as she steps closer. “That is always your excuse.”
His nostrils flare. “It’s not an excuse, it’s the truth.”
“And they happen. I get it, but last I checked, common courtesy means giving someone a heads up.”
He exhales sharply, tugging on the back of his hair. “You’re right, and I’m sorry, but my situation is a little more complicated than that.”
His phone begins blaring, and this only incites her more.
She inhales deeply, tightening her hold on her bag. “Have a nice night, Roman.”
He steps forward, grabbing her arm. “Wait, this isn’t what it looks like. It’s not what you think.”
His fingers are warm against her flesh. Rough, and …
Pleasant.
She steps back, pulling away, feeling disarmed. “Roman. Please. Save it for someone with the tolerance, because you’re not going to find it with me. I don’t care. Not anymore.”
At this, his expression hardens. “You sound just like him.”
“Like him?”
“Like Jackson.”
Jahlani sputters, her arms flailing. “What are you—what?”
He rubs his hands down his face. “He did the same exact thing to me last year. Judged me with only bits and pieces of information. Assumed things about me.”
Jahlani presses a hand to her forehead. “What else am I supposed to think, Roman?” Her arms rise and fall at her sides. “Assumptions are sometimes all we have. They protect us.”
He takes a step closer, his figure towering over her. “No. They cloud you. You’re supposed to give me the benefit of the doubt,” he says in a hushed tone.
“I did,” she grits out, tightening her grip on her bag as she peers into his pinched expression.
He scoffs. “What? One time?”
“Well, fool me once.”
She moves forward, reaching her boiling point, her mind racing through her confrontations with her dad. With Micah. Jackson. Him.
“You’re all the same. You show up when you want to, do what you want to, go through life casually, never having to worry about anything, never considering other people.
Everything is handed to you while others have to break their backs to even get half of what you have, to even be given a fighting chance. ”
His jaw clenches, and for a moment, she wonders if she’s projecting.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, his tone low as he steps forward.
His features become clearer. His left eyebrow has slightly more hair. His jawline is sharper than she realized.
It throws her off-kilter.
How obnoxiously handsome he is.
“Sure, I do, Roman.” She steps closer, pointing a finger at his chest. “I’ve been dealing with people like you my whole life.”
“People like me?” He repeats as he steps closer, causing her finger to brush his chest.
“Yes,” she hisses. “Guys who like to cruise on by without a care in the world. You put in just enough effort because, let’s face it, nobody’s putting the heat on you—”
“What—”
“No matter what you do, you’ll be great. You’ll shoot, you’ll score, and the crowd will go wild.”
He shakes his head, rubbing his jaw. “There you go again, making all these crazy assumptions about me. What is your problem?”
She rises on her toes, leaning closer as his face lowers slightly.
“You’re my problem, Roman. You keep playing me. You think everything is a joke, that we can just laugh away our problems. You asked for my help, and I’m here. I’m showing up and you’re not.”
She’s close now, and he has to tilt his head to look down at her.
Her nostrils flare, and the air shifts around her, sharpening in an instant.
It’s confusing what it does to her. So confusing that she draws in a ragged breath.
There’s a faint hint of what smells like clean laundry and lavender, and something else.
It’s the kind that wraps itself around you, settles deep in your bones, and makes your heartbeat just a little faster—like it belongs in a place where she’s never been, but would happily lose herself in. It’s intoxicating and grounding.
Heat travels up her stomach when his eyes flicker to her mouth. For a moment, she loses herself.
Because for some unhinged reason, she wonders what would happen if he closed the distance between them with his mouth.
She wonders what it would feel like and if he’d be assertive yet gentle or fast and reckless.
Jahlani doesn’t say anything for several seconds, and something flickers in his gaze before he steps back.
She instantly feels her body simmer down at his retreat.
She wonders if she’s losing her mind because how can you go from wishing you’d never met a person to wanting that exact same one to pull you into their chest and press you firmly into a wall.
The look that he gives her is closed off. Far away. Not the usual expression she’s used to seeing on Roman.
She knows she let her emotions get the better of her, and so she opens her mouth to apologize, but his next words make her freeze.
“Look, whatever guy has you all twisted up and bitter inside, take it up with him. I’m not the problem here.”
He doesn’t say it with an edge in his tone. There’s no sneer or fever behind the words. He just sounds exhausted.
And for some reason, that disturbs her more.
She could’ve handled it if he had said them in the heat of the moment, but his voice isn’t loud, and his lungs don’t tremble, and she knows that he means that.
He must see that he’s hit a nerve because he starts to reach out, but she steps backward with her hand raised.
“Jahlani,” he says, his voice strained and desperate. “Do you remember when we first met? You asked me if someone was sick.”
Taking a shuddering breath, she blinks rapidly, all of the energy seeping from her body.
No, she thinks to herself. That can’t be it. She can’t have been that wrong.
“Jahlani, it’s—” His phone rings again, and his eyes drop. “Fuck. I have to take this. I’m sorry. I want to talk about this—fuck.”
She nods, stepping back. “Take it,” she says, throat hoarse, looking down.
Sick. Someone close to him is sick.
Her mind reels at the possibilities. His mom? Dad? The sister he mentioned on the way to the bus stop that night?
He grimaces, looking at her before pressing the phone to his ear. She licks her lips, her chest rising and falling as he stares intently at her while the other person speaks.
“Yeah, I’ll be there soon,” he says, his gaze burning into her as she shifts on her toes.
Why can’t she leave?
He ends the call, blowing out a breath. “I have to go.” He slips the phone into his back pocket.
She nods, twisting her mouth, a dull throb in her chest, as if someone just ran through it with the blunt end of a knife, not fully finishing the job.
Bitter and twisted reverberating through her skull, spreading through her body.
Her gaze must look far off, because he steps into her space again and her head snaps up. His eyes dance across her face as she tries to regulate her breathing.
“Jahlani, I have to go, but … I want to talk about this properly with you. I’m going to explain—”
“Just go, Roman.”
He exhales deeply, throwing his head back before slipping his bag on his shoulder. He slides past her, brushing the tips of her fingers with his and she shuts her eyes at the tingling heat that spirals from it.
“You’re wrong, Jahlani,” he says quietly. “We have a thing.”