She walks around him, willing herself not to look back, even as the echo of his laugh calls to her.
The following day, Jahlani sits in Professor Jackson’s room for office hours when Roman walks in. His backpack hangs from one shoulder and he’s wearing a black cotton long-sleeve with the arms pushed up. His expression is radiant as he sidles in.Like the dryer actually got all his creases out with “wrinkle control” turned on, and she finds herself on edge wanting to know what’s got him so overjoyed.
She can’t help the way her chest thunders against her ribs, and her knee starts to bounce.
She hates it.
She hates that she doesn’t have control over it.
And more than anything, she hates that she didn’t foresee it happening.
She looks at the time on the digital clock then to Roman as he pulls out his laptop and settles it over his lap.
“You’re late,” she murmurs, dragging her gaze back down to the computer and clicking through to find the lesson from yesterday. He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.
“Family emergency, and hello to you, too. I’m doing well, thanks for asking. How are you doing today?” he asks, giving her a blinding smile that makes her feel entirelytoo much.
Make it stop.
Clearing her throat, she rolls her shoulders back. She gives him a pointed look over the screen, her lips pressing together.
“I’m fine, let’s get started.”
He tilts his head backward, letting out a loud groan. When his eyes land on hers, they’re firm.
“Come on, Jahlani. Give me more than that. It’s not a crime to get to know each other, is it?”
“Yes. It is,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “And, there’s only forty minutes left for office hours, we don’t have time for that?—”
Roman waves her off before standing up. “There’s always time. Come on, it’ll be quick.”
And to Jahlani’s absolute horror, he starts to drag the chair around the desk toward her. Her palms land on the surface, and her posture turns rigid as he sets it next to her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, leaning back as his lavender scent carries through the enclosed space.
“Moving closer.”
She scrutinizes him and shifts her chair slightly to the left, which he apparently doesn’t miss because his smile slips before it’s back in place. “Why?”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m not contagious, Jahlani. It’ll be easier for me to see the screen, and this way you won’t have to talk to me with this giant monitor blocking you.”
And before she can move further away, his fingers wrap around her armrest and drag the chair closer than it was before.
“Roman! This is too close,” she hisses, dropping her hand back to the desk to prevent herself from moving any closer. “Someone could see and think?—”
She stops herself, but it’s too late. The damage is already done.
His eyes flash, and a slower, lazier smirk holds firm on his face.
“Think what, Jahlani? You’re just a graduate teaching assistant helping one of your struggling undergraduate students. There’s nothing suspicious about that, right?” he asks, his voice dropping low.
It’s too much.
His stare, his smile, his carefree spirit.
Entirely too much.
“Come on,” he whispers, shaking the chair with her in it. “Two questions, and then we work.”
