Chapter 10 #2
She crosses her legs together, removing her warmth, leaning forward.
“Look, Roman. I’m fine. We’ve arrived safely.
You’ve met your personal weekly quota for helping people in distress.
Congratulations, you’ll be able to sleep better at night knowing you’re a good person—why are you looking at me like that? ”
“You don’t like getting help from people, do you?”
She shrugs. “I don’t like burdening people with problems that I’m more than capable of handling myself.”
Now it’s his turn to scoff. “You’re not burdening me. Now who’s being dramatic?” He turns to lean against the overhang beam. “Besides, I need you.”
“What?” She looks at him from the corner of her eye. Her shoulders are rigid, arms crossed in defiance, eyebrows drawn together.
“To pass Jackson’s class this semester. I can’t afford to fail again. Literally and figuratively. I have a lot of people counting on me.”
His chest thrums thinking about when he received the initial email about his academic probation. He envisions the look on his mom’s face if she’d found out.
She sighs, staring at him for several beats before turning away. “If you were struggling so much, why take him again? Why not get a tutor?”
He braces his arms on his knees, his muscles suddenly aching.
Asking the hard questions.
“It’s complicated. Circumstances prevented me from doing so at the time. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’m serious about graduating.”
She breathes for several moments, not saying anything, looking down at the ground.
He uses the opportunity to take her in. Her hair is loose by her elbows, pushed behind an ear that has four studs.
Another sweater, a different shade of green, shrouds her arms. Around the column of her neck rests the same amber necklace that she brushes subconsciously. He has questions, but he’s been caught.
“You’re staring.”
“I am.”
“It’s creepy.”
“You’re nice to look at.”
Roman knows he shouldn’t have said it, but it’s worth the reaction.
Her eyes widen and her lips part before shutting.
The wind picks up, forcing her fragrance to float between them.
The tiniest hint of a smile appears on her face before it dissolves, and her scowl is back.
She stands up, muttering while pacing. He exhales, leaning into the structure of the bus stop as he rubs his hand against his mouth.
“No,” she says, moving back and forth, like a caged bird. “No.”
He raises an eyebrow, unable to stop the smirk from building. “No?”
“No,” she says, stopping in front of him.
“It won’t work, and it’s not going to happen.
If you want my help, this stops. I take my work very seriously.
I have a lot at stake here too. So, forget that you ever asked for my number, because it’s never going to happen, and stop doing all of this,” she says as she waves a hand over his face and body, before sitting back down, leaving a noticeable amount of space between them.
He clears his throat, his lips curving. “All of this?” he asks, his tone playful.
She huffs, looking at him from the side. A few students walk past, speaking in hushed murmurs. Jahlani turns, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“Yes. All the flirty comments. And the looks. They stop now. I don’t need anyone thinking that anything is going on between us, especially because it’s against university policy,” she says, her voice firm, as she looks toward the students.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “It sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought, Jahlani.”
“Roman,” she says, her tone serious, causing the hairs on his arms to stand up because fuck, his name sounds good on her lips.
He snorts, leaning back. “Of course you’re a rule follower. Were you in student government too? Hall monitor?”
She turns to him. “Roman. I have too much going on in my life right now. It sounds like you do too. I’m not about to have you jeopardize everything that I’m working toward. Put it to rest. It’s not worth it.”
He stares, not saying anything, breathing hard.
Shit. She’s right.
There’s too much at stake. Her eyes are wide and fragile, and he notices something else that he didn’t anticipate—fear. It’s subtle, layered in between her determination to get her point across, but it’s enough to subdue him. His smile dissipates, like wax dripping from a candle.
“Okay,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’ll stop.”
Her shoulders sag, and it shouldn’t bother him so much, but it does.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “And for added measure, rules would be nice.”
His lips twitch, and he sighs heavily. “Sure, Jahlani. Anything you want.”
Anything at all.
“Rule number one: no staring in class,” she says, glancing up as another bus starts to pull into the loop. Roman sits up, his mouth opening and closing.
“No staring?” he says, chuckling. “I have to look at you. Come on, that’s unreasonable.”
She looks to the ground. “Looking is fine, but you stare, Roman. A lot. You … linger. You … watch me. You look at me like you want something from me,” she says, gently meeting his eyes. “Something that I can’t give you.”
Can’t or won’t?
Roman licks his lips, his cheeks flushing because she noticed?
He leans forward, scratching the back of his neck.
“You know, the fact that you saw that leads me to believe that you were staring too. You also lingered and watched,” he whispers.
“You want something from me, and the difference between the two of us is that I’m willing to give it. To give in.”
They hold eye contact, and he leans forward, placing his hand on the bench next to hers, running his index finger along the plane of her wrist, the arch of her knuckles, and he revels in the sight of her shivers.
“You’re already breaking the rules,” she says, her voice cracking as she pulls away.
“You didn’t say anything about touching,” he murmurs. “But I’m going to take a wild guess and say that’s out of the question too.”
“That’s my second rule.”
The soft hum of the bus grows closer, a gentle rumble that pulls her from him. As it eases to a stop, there’s a quiet hiss of air as the brakes engage, and the door slides open with a smooth, almost inaudible swoosh. She stands, but he grips her elbow, rendering her still.
“Would you have said yes?” His voice is low in the night air. “If we met again—if you weren’t my GTA—would you have said yes, Jahlani? Did I ever have a chance?”
He isn’t sure why he asks. Why he’s so desperate to know because she’s made it abundantly clear that nothing will happen.
But still.
He can’t help but wonder if their timing had been better, their circumstances different.
Does she feel this too, or is it all in his head?
She turns to face him, and rich brown eyes bore into his. They flicker to his mouth, linger for a few seconds, drift over his countenance, deliberating. His pulse runs from him as she steps away.
“I already told you. I’m not the person you’re looking for.”