Chapter 22
FRIENDLY FRIENDS
JAHLANI
As Jahlani pulls onto the deserted highway, she tries to focus all her efforts on recalling pi—and none of it on him.
Because they have rules.
Because she’s a professional.
But there is nothing professional about the way she’s thinking about the ghost of his thumb against her bottom lip.
Calm down—nothing happened.
It’s concerning how much influence he has on her body. She misses her exit and turns down the wrong street—twice.
As she bustles down the hallway and into the shower, she decides she imagined the whole thing.
But as she lies in bed, she dreams of tortured green eyes, smooth hands, and silky lips across her skin. Jahlani’s lips part, and her stomach sinks as Roman’s words make an appearance for the hundredth time tonight.
Got it.
And then his hand is slipping in between her thighs, parting them gently, his flesh hot on hers, his mouth moving against her skin as he rasps her name and she moans his—
She sits up suddenly—on the edge—and groans in frustration, wiping a hand down her face.
She bites her lip, wanting so desperately to break her own rule.
When the light on the clock alerts her to the fact that she’s only rested for two hours, she folds herself back onto the bed.
She fluffs the pillows, adjusts her silk wrap, flexes her hands.
Feeling heat creep up her skin, she throws the covers aside before lying flat on her back.
After another few restless minutes, she resorts to a tried-and-true method: counting sheep. Twenty-two is all she manages before the need settles in again. The ache sweeps through her body, the pressure festering in her core.
Got it.
This time, the scenery changes. This time, they’re in a hallway and he’s letting his bag fall to the ground, peeling her cardigan from her shoulders before pressing his tongue against the column of her throat, her collarbone.
He’s pushing and pulling. Licking and sucking.
Traveling across her skin, exploring areas that she didn’t even know could make her feel anything before he turns so that his back is against the wall and she’s threading her hands in his hair. Reciprocating. Moving in time with him.
Then they’re sliding down, her knees landing outside of his thighs as he explores her mouth, the curve of her ass as he draws her hips to press down against him.
Jahlani’s eyes snap open, and she swings her legs over the bed. She takes several deep breaths before moving to the bathroom to grab some melatonin capsules.
As she closes the cabinet, she catches sight of her flushed skin and feverish eyes.
She draws a hand to the corner of her mouth that he touched, dragging her finger in the same path, causing shivers to course through.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she flips the tap on before throwing the pills back and drinking.
Moving back slowly, Jahlani falls back against her sheets. As sleep begins to take her under, she wonders distressingly if he’s thinking about her the same way she’s thinking about him.
And it’s the lie that she feeds herself, that he isn’t, which puts her mind to rest.
“Hey, Professor Jackson, I’m having trouble figuring out—”
Jahlani comes to a halt, hand on the doorknob of his office. Because Evangeline is there. Striking, powerful, could ruin your life with a few sentences Dr. Evangeline Hunt is there—and she’s crying.
In Jackson’s arms.
“Jahlani,” Dr. Hunt starts, trying and failing to untangle her limbs from a seemingly reluctant Jackson.
Jahlani’s eyes widen as she takes a step back.
“I am … so sorry. I should’ve knocked.”
Evangeline waves her off, giving a tight smile. “No, you’re fine.”
“Yes, you should have,” says Professor Jackson, eyes remaining on Evangeline.
Feeling uncomfortable, because she had very clearly interrupted something, Jahlani starts to walk back out the door. Back into a world where she didn’t wonder if Hunt and Jackson screwed each other on his desk.
“I’ll come back later.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” says Professor Jackson at the same time that Evangeline says, “No, you stay, I’ll go.”
Jahlani blinks, unsure of what to do. She feels like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, and now her parents are fighting over how to punish her.
Jackson’s eyes narrow as he steps toward her. His voice is low. Different. “Evangeline, we need to.”
Jahlani turns away, a flush rising through at the intimacy of the moment.
Evangeline waves him away, stooping to grab her purse.
“We’ll talk later, John.” She turns to face Jahlani, giving her a pleasant smile. Her eyes are puffy and the bags that she’s packing under her face look dark and sullen. She looks destroyed.
She squeezes Jahlani’s arm as she passes by her. “Don’t let him work you too hard,” she whispers before slipping out the door.
For several beats, Jahlani and Jackson just stand in the room.
“I am really sorry. I didn’t know she was in here.”
He sends a thunderous look her way. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
Jahlani’s throat dries. “Yes. Sorry. The door was open. So, I just assumed—”
“Well, don’t next time,” he says, voice harsh as he rounds his desk.
Jahlani opens her mouth, then closes it, her face flaming.
“Right, sorry again. I’ll catch you at a better time,” she says, heading back out.
“Wait, Jahlani.” He exhales, taking off his glasses, attempting to clean them before throwing them against the table. He rubs two fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so abrasive. What did you need?” he asks, stretching out his hand.
She steps back. “It’s nothing. I’ll figure it out.”
He nods, busying himself with papers on the desk, and she turns out of the office. Walking out of the building, she shoves the papers into her bag, making a mental note to work out the problems later. She walks out to the parking lot, thankful that it’s a Tuesday and she most likely won’t see—
“Jahlani.”
She finishes shoving her bag into the passenger side before turning to face him.
“Roman, hey.”
He’s parked three cars down and doesn’t make any moves to close the distance between them. Good, she thinks. Stay right where you are. Clutching her keys, she starts toward the driver’s side.
“Jackson?” he calls out.
She nods, sending him a tight, take a hint smile. “Yup,” she says, “You here for a lecture?”
He nods, the October chill sending brown strands of hair across his face. “Unfortunately.”
Jahlani thinks about how stiff their interaction is. They’re good now. One might even go so far as to say they’re friendly friends, despite the very vivid, very provocative sexual fantasies that have been growing in number.
Because it’s becoming increasingly hard not to stare when he’s heading out the door when the lecture is over, and it’s difficult not to notice that he always has an extra water or snack when he makes it to office hours.
She hates how much she’s reading into everything, and she hates even more that she can’t act casual.
Be normal.
Not think about the fact that she thinks about the way he smells as he’s across from her. Not think about the fact that he does it for her.
She inhales. “Well, I’ll—”
“Did you eat?” he asks, his voice light.
She looks down at her feet before meeting his concerned gaze.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “I ate.”
He nods, drumming his fingers against his car door, looking as though he’s working himself up to say something that she knows she ultimately will turn down or say no to.
“Okay,” she starts, dipping her head into her car. “I’ll see you—”
“Are you busy?” he blurts out.
She stops, one leg halfway in, and blinks, straightening out. “Busy?”
He shrugs like this is entirely casual. Not a big deal. “Lucy’s been asking for you, and I might need some help studying for this exam.”
She shakes her head. “Roman, you know I can’t.”
He raises his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay, but Lucy really is asking for you.” He slides his hands into his front pockets. “Think she might like you more than me.”
Jahlani lets out a soft laugh. “Well,” she says, sighing dramatically. “I do tend to have that effect on people.”
He smiles, and even though he’s at least six feet away from her, her body lights up as if he’s right next to her. His thumb on her mouth, got it, his front pressed against her.
“I can’t,” she says, exhaling shakily. “I have plans.”
His eyebrows draw in, and she realizes how that sounds. She feels the sudden urge to reassure him that no, she’s not going to get railed by some guy, so she quickly amends her statement.
“With my mom,” she says, feeling her chest flutter when the dark look passes from his face. She feels pleased and then wants to scold herself for doing so. “Rain check?”
His smile is small and doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Sure.”
She sends him a small wave, slipping into her car and peeling out of the lot, trying—and failing—not to watch his figure disappear in the mirror.
Jahlani hears the faint sound of laughter from the kitchen as she slips her shoes off and sets them on the rack.
She sets the incense that’s slid off the holder back into position, swiping the ashes into her palm to dump them out.
Another bout of laughter is heard, and she swings around the corner into the kitchen to find her mother perched at the table with an older man.
The house reeks of weed, and her eyes bounce between her mom’s glazed eyes and the guy’s beady gaze as she opens the trash can.
“Mom, I thought we were having dinner tonight.”
“We are,” her mom says a little too loudly. “But Dick will be joining us.”
Dick stands. “Richard, but everyone calls me Dick.”
His hand is dry and cracking as he extends it, but Jahlani shakes it, giving a tight smile.
“Yeah, she’s real pretty, Yolanda,” he says, moving to the fridge to grab a beer. “Just like you said. She takes after her mother.” He gives her mom a wink.
Jahlani watches as her mom breaks out in a fit of hysterics, a new wave of realization washing over her as she takes them in because it’s high school all over again.
“I only have enough food for the two of us,” Jahlani bites out, pressing her hands to the counter.
Her mom waves a hand, kissing her teeth. “It’s fine, just share it out for you and Dick.”
Jahlani works her tongue into her cheek as she watches Dick move to sit opposite from her mom. Her eyes narrow as he lights his joint, smoke filling the air.
Her mom coughs, waving her hand in her face. “You know I don’t like it when you do that,” she says, in a small voice.
Jahlani purses her lips, shaking her head at how docile her mother sounds. How weak.
Her mother is not weak.
She watches with tense shoulders as Dick does it again, this time intentionally exhaling in her direction, a glint in his eyes.
“She said she doesn’t like that, Dick,” Jahlani says, sending him a pointed look, her skin flushing.
Her mom’s wide eyes snap to hers and she sees something shimmer in them that she can’t quite place.
“Jahlani, baby … it’s okay—”
She shakes her head, suppressing the urge to scream back at her that none of this is fucking okay. Not the way she treats Jahlani, not the way she gets treated by men, and most of all, the way she treats herself.
Jahlani inhales deeply, clearing her throat. “You know what? It’s fine. You two can have it. I have plans with a friend anyway.”
Jahlani is catastrophically terrible with directions, with reading maps, with finding landmarks. So, it’s concerning how easily she gets to his place. It’s useless, really. She’d be better off memorizing a route to the emergency room. Not the house of Roman Hayes.
Straight on the expressway for eight miles, left on Galen Way, past the dog park, and the first right on Leeland Street. She maneuvers the car into park, stepping out with the bag of food, smoothing down her hair. She doesn’t get to knock because the door swings open, and he’s there.
Hair dripping with remnants of soap, a faded tour shirt, and gray-washed shorts that move with him as he braces an arm against the doorway, blinking down at her.
She holds out the brown paper bag, feeling absurdly lame. Like a stray starved for attention.
Or maybe just for him.
“I brought doughnuts.”