A breathless laugh escapes her. “Why?” she asks.
He turns to face her, the warmth of her knee brushing his, the cool wind whipping his hair. “Because it’s dark out here and I’d hate to see your name on Channel Six News tomorrow morning.”
She hums, turning away from him. “That’s dramatic.”
“It happens more often than you’d think,” he says, his tone flat. “Trust me.”
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,thisstops. 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,especiallybecause 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 becausefuck, 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?”
