Chapter 24
THE SOBER THEORY
JAHLANI
Ms. Jahlani,
Please give me an extension on the quiz that was due two weeks ago. My girlfriend of three years left me and I’m really going through it right now. Your understanding in this matter is highly appreciated.
Thanks,
Justin
“Let’s talk about principal component analysis, or PCA. Yes, it will be in the midterm in less than two weeks, so look alive people. So, what happens when you have, say, too much data, and it starts to look like a giant, unmanageable mess?”
Jahlani gestures at the projected slide, where a scatter plot filled with overlapping points appears.
“This looks catastrophic. But we can’t just ignore it because it’s big. That is where PCA comes in—by reducing the dimensions. You’re basically summarizing a big chunk of data into a smaller set of important ‘components’ while keeping the most critical information. Does that make sense so far?”
She turns back to face an almost empty room. Those who are there look like zombies. They offer the barest nods of understanding. She checks her watch, hoping to cut the lecture short. She can barely manage the migraine she’s nursing right now.
A broad-shouldered guy in a small pair of frames raises his hand. “You won’t lose data by doing that?”
Jahlani nods, reaching for her flask of ginger tea.
“Yes, you’re technically losing some information, but PCA is designed to keep the most critical parts.
It works by finding the directions of maximum variance in your data, which, mathematically, we call ‘eigenvectors.’ These are the axes that matter most.”
Turning, she writes the word eigenvectors on the board and underlines it.
“The great thing is that PCA gives us new axes that help us see patterns in our data we might have missed before. It’s all about simplification without losing the essence of the story.”
She pauses and looks around the room to find more zombie-like stares. Sighing, she sets her cup down.
“Tell you what, I will end the lecture early.”
A burst of cheers echoes throughout the room.
“If we get through these last two exercises with full participation. Meaning, I need all of you to tap your shoulder buddies and get them awake. You don’t spend all this money on tuition to sleep.”
She watches as several students tap the desks of others, and drowsy eyes lift and blink. A familiar pair never meets hers, and she’s thankful, she thinks. She’s been trying—and failing miserably—not to think about her actions from two nights ago.
Clearing her throat, she sets her drink back down.
“Welcome back to the land of the living. Here’s what’s happening: I’m going to give you a dataset. Your task is to calculate the first two principal components.”
Jahlani’s eyes flick to her watch after thirty minutes, and she moves back to the front of the room.
“All right, I think you’ve got the basics down.
Next week, we’re going to talk about factor analysis, which is similar but focuses on underlying relationships between variables, rather than just reducing dimensionality.
Please make sure you complete the practice module, as it will give you feedback on how to address any issues you encounter. ”
As students trickle out, Jahlani heads back to Jackson’s office.
Two hours later, all she manages is a page of cat drawings. Jackson had already passed through, letting her know she can head out early if she wants to, but she decides to stay, not wanting to go home. She still hasn’t spoken to her mom and has other things occupying her head lately.
She needs to focus on her essay. She needs to focus on getting her degree. She tears the fresh sheet of doodles from her notebook, crumpling it before throwing it across the room.
“Jeez, what’d I do this time?” Roman’s toned arm reaches down to grab the crumpled paper, unraveling it.
Jahlani stands from the chair in record speed as her chest starts to pound.
“Roman,” she says, running a trembling hand over her head. “What are you still doing here?”
He turns the crumpled paper toward her, giving her an arched eyebrow. “Didn’t know you could draw. It’s not bad.”
She moves around the desk, snatching the paper from him, his familiar lavender scent overwhelming her before she moves back to the security of the grand desk.
“It’s nothing. Something I do when I can’t focus.” She doesn’t meet his eyes as she starts straightening papers. Checking the time on her laptop, she sees it’s well after six.
From her peripheral vision, she sees his arms cross his chest and for some ungodly reason, her body seems to have a visceral reaction to the sight. She recalls those arms gripping her waist, pulling her in—
“You avoiding me, Jones?”
Her hands stop moving.
Absolutely.
“No, Roman. I’m not avoiding you.”
“Well, you haven’t looked at me once in the”–he looks down at his watch–“fifty-six seconds that I’ve been here,” he says, closing the door.
She scoffs. “I’m busy, and in case you forgot, we had class today and Wednesday.” She stands straight, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes flit to his for a moment, and her body burns thinking of the way those same eyes looked at her in his kitchen. “Happy?”
A small smile grows on his face. “Ecstatic.”
She moves again, placing her laptop in her bag.
“Okay, well. It’s late, so I’m going.”
“Can we talk?” he asks, tone low. He paces toward her, gripping the back of the chair across from her.
She shakes her head, her pulse quickening as she shoves her beat-up charger into the bag next.
“About?”
“The other night.”
She stops moving, shutting her eyes. Her mind wanders back to his breath on her neck, his fingers on her thighs.
She opens her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Now it’s his turn to shake his head. “You’re stubborn as hell.”
He scoffs as he removes his bag from his shoulders, resting it in the leather wingback chair.
“Thanks, I get it from my mom.” She resumes her task of packing her things. “I still have to submit this paper to Jackson.”
“Jahlani.” His voice sounds closer, but she doesn’t look up, focusing her efforts on her bag and willing her body to stop flashing hot.
“And I need to input grades for the project—”
“Jahlani.”
“And I need to finish all of this by tonight—”
“Jahlani, stop.” He grips her wrist, halting her movements. He’s made it past her security. Breached the place she thought she was safe. He towers over her, smile gone. Bending closer, he utters his words in a harsh tone. “You don’t get to kiss me, run off, and then pretend that nothing happened.”
Her eyes widen. “Will you lower your voice?”
He drops her hand, stepping back a fraction to fold his arms over his chest. “Oh. So, you do remember?”
She exhales. “I—it’s not—there’s nothing to talk about. It shouldn’t have happened Roman, okay? It was a lapse of judgment. I was drunk.”
His eyes narrow as a soft scoff filters past his lips. “You’re kidding.”
She lifts a hand up in exasperation. “Roman, take a look around you! Do you see where we are? It shouldn’t have happened,” she grits out. “It shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have done that, and we shouldn’t be talking about it, especially here,” she says, her voice serious. Unwavering.
His expression is unreadable when she finally has the courage to look up. He nods his head as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“So, the only reason you touched me is because you were drunk?”
She nods even though her stomach revolts and it feels as though someone is shoving a rock down her throat.
“Pretty much.”
He rubs the back of his neck, stepping forward. “Have you been here all day?”
She nods, shouldering her bag. “Yes, and I really need to—what are you doing?”
Now a toe’s length away, his eyes scan her face with an intensity that she wishes didn’t affect her. She wishes to go back to before he could extract this type of reaction from her. It’s too much and nothing at all.
His eyes flicker to her lips, and his hand, warm and assured, slides to the side of her waist, pulling her closer. “Testing a theory. At least, let me … just once.”
“Roman, people could see.”
“Just once.” He breathes against her mouth, sealing the space between them.
And truthfully, Jahlani knows she can put up more of a fight, but as he walks them backward into the bookshelf and slides his tongue against hers, her flight and her fight mode seem to malfunction.
He slides her bag from her shoulder and the sound of her things spilling out does nothing to cease their movements.
He slots his thigh in between her legs, and she lets out a low moan when he shifts against her.
He pulls back, pressing a firm kiss to her neck. “I’m sorry you felt the need to run. You were probably so frustrated.” A firm kiss to her lips. “I would have taken care of you. Let me try now,” he says, guiding her hips to rock on his thigh.
She shudders, allowing him to do it once, twice, and then her sense of hearing seems to heighten and she’s confident she heard footsteps just outside the door, and so she pushes him back.
“Roman. No, we can’t. We can’t.”
He blinks, breathing heavily seeming to come out of a daze. “You feel this too, right?”
She shakes her head, adjusting her jacket when it slips down. “Nothing can happen. Nothing else can happen.”
“Jahlani.”
“We can’t,” she says, her voice strained.
“Why?”
“Because … I’m your GTA.”
“And?”
“And? And someone could find out.”
“How would anyone?”
“When you look at me,” she snaps, finally meeting his eyes.
He wipes a hand down the corner of his mouth. “When I look at you?”
“Yes,” she hisses. “When you look at me it’s different. It’s not—I don’t know how to explain it.” A humorless laugh escapes her. “You look at me like—”
“Like I think about you. Like I want you,” he supplies, sounding defeated.
Her stomach twists and she blinks. “Yes.”
He drops his hands to his sides. “Like I can’t think properly when you’re around, and even when you’re not, I’m pretty miserable on the days that I can’t see you. The slightest shade of green makes me think of you and all I want to do when I see you is touch you. Hold you. Fuck you.”
She blinks rapidly. “That’s not … you can’t say that.”
His eyebrows raise. “What? Say that I want to fuck you? Well, I do. I can’t help that. I can’t help the way I look at you. I can’t help thinking about you. About wanting to be around you.”
A scoff slips out, and she’s suddenly angry at his carelessness. “Roman, you’re talking about risking your diploma. For what—a quick fuck?”
He steps forward, and his eyes narrow. “Is that what you think this is?”
“I don’t know what this is,” she snaps, pressing a hand to her forehead.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, quietly. She exhales, meeting his gaze.
No, what she wants is to be free of this constant need to see him.
“I don’t know what I want,” she says, her voice small. “But I do know that this won’t end well.”
“You don’t know that.”
She shuts her eyes, lowering her head. “Roman, I’m attracted to you. I am, but I need you to think about the bigger picture, because I am. I can’t afford to change my plan anymore. I need this to go well so I can fix my life, and you need your degree to take care of Lucy.”
They lapse into silence, the sounds of students transitioning to other lectures filtering through. She opens her eyes, stepping back.
“Shit,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair, taking several steps back. His eyes meet hers. Firm. Intense. Lingering.
And she finds herself leaning forward as he walks up to her, wrapping his hand over her jaw as he presses another firm kiss to her lips.
“Damn it. Damn you,” he says in between the collision of their mouths. “Fucking hell.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, when he allows her to catch her breath. “I’m sorry,” she repeats once he unwinds himself from her, stepping back.
“Don’t,” he says, shaking his head. He runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus. I have to go.”
Her heart squeezes in her chest as she watches him pick up the contents of her bag and set it on the desk before moving to slide his bag on his shoulder.
“Roman,” she calls out, stopping his movements. “We’re okay, right?”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
But even she knows he’s lying as he walks through the door.