He falls into step beside her, the sound of his stride almost too loud in the quiet of the evening.
Because he’s eager too, apparently. Embarrassingly so.
“Let me give you a ride,” he says, his tone insistent.
You’re pushing it.
She must feel it too because she stops abruptly, the echo of her shoes fading into the night. He halts beside her, his gaze focused on her. Under the glow, he observes a slight flush to her cheeks, a lack of energy in her face. He pictures Lucy and, almost instinctively, the back of his palm presses to Jahlani’s forehead. She’s warm.
Stepping forward, he grabs her elbow to hold her steady.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.” He says, applying more pressure to her skin, before moving to her neck. His fingers raise as she swallows before she pushes his hand away.
“I’m fine,” she rasps, touching her own skin. “I just need to get home and sleep.”
He places them in his pockets as a precaution this time. He wonders how they must look to people passing by. Does he look as desperate as he feels?
“So, how about that ride?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.
Her pupils travel the length of the sharp scar across his forehead that Danica gave him, down the edge of his nose, to his throat, before going back up. He rubs his palms against his jeans.
“No.” Her response is curt, the word almost swallowed by the hum of the campus.
“Why?” he says, stepping forward, voice low. “Are you afraid?”
“Afraid?”
He shrugs, dragging in an exaggerated breath. “That you’ll fall for me.”
And maybe he expects an eye roll. A middle finger, perhaps. Even for her to walk off. Instead, she lets out a weak puff of air, shaking her head toward the ground. “You have the wrong woman.”
She resumes walking, her pace not as fast now.Deliberately slower, he thinks—he hopes—as he falls into step beside her. The lamposts overhead, casting brief shadows that stretch on the pavement.
“According to my ex, I’m not capable,” she says in a low voice.
His smile drops, and his brows draw in. “What?”
She exhales deeply. “Apparently, I don’t know how to relax. I’m incredibly uptight. Let’s see, what else? I don’t know how to have fun. I make everyone around me feel like shit because I like to work. Oh, I whine too much about being a Black woman in a male-dominated field, and if I ever do make it, it won’t be because I’m not competent or actually good at what I do. It’ll be because I’m a diversity hire.” She lets out a weak chuckle. “So, I can assure you, wrong woman.”
He stops walking, the crunch of rocks ceasing beneath his shoes, and to his surprise, she does too. He scratches his forehead, his mouth downturned.
“You don’t actually believe any of that, right?”
She glances toward him before looking back down.
Shit.
“Jahlani,” he says, his tone full of skepticism. “You can’t?—”
“Yeah, no,” she says, touching the chain of her necklace. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said all that. I don’t need a ride, okay?”
She turns back along the path, flanked by empty, looming buildings that feel as if they’re watching. He quickens his step to match hers, closer than before because their shoulders brush. She cuts him a sidelong glance, her eyes sharp in the dim light.
He shrugs. “ I can at least walk with you to the bus stop. It’s dark out here.”
She sighs, spinning to face him with a furrowed brow. “What? No. I’mfine. The parking garage is in the opposite direction, and I don’t need a bodyguard. A white knight. Whatever it is that you’re trying to be here. I’m fi?—”
“Fine, yes, I know,” he says, interrupting while adjusting the velcro of his bag in a quiet, defeated gesture. The breeze rustles the trees, the sound too soft to mask the tension in the air. “Look, I have a young da—” He pauses. “Danica. My sister’s name is Danica,” he corrects himself, gripping the strap tighter. “And I would hate for someone to leave her alone at night on campus. I’m not trying tobeanything.”
