Except nothing has changed.
Jahlani still goes for her early morning run, her path illuminated by the streetlamps, taking the familiar curves around the neighborhood, sidestepping the cracks, waving to Mr. Thomas as he sits on his porch reading the morning newspaper.
She slows as she reaches the sidewalk by the house, wiping the sweat from her brow. The sun begins to grow comfortable in the sky, casting even rays of rose pink and soft orange. Chewing on her lip, she wonders if she’s forgetting something. A birthday, an assignment, an important event, a deadline.
Nothing comes to mind as she changes for the day, not even as she gives her mother a light wave goodbye(baby steps)and makes her way to the shuttle stop. Thumbing through her phone, she sees a missed call from Imani.
“That’s it,” she says, murmuring softly to herself as she listens for the shrill sound of the bus brakes. She forgot to call Imani back.
Again.
Content that she’s figured it out, she slips the phone back into her bag after sending her a quick text, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
But when the bus turns the corner, and the doors hiss open, the feeling has returned.
It isn’t until she’s in the lecture hall hours later, as students filter in with hushed murmurs and laughter, that she notices she’s checked the door every three minutes for brown tangles of hair, long arms, and that look that says nothing is wrong.
She realizes it’shim.
She frowns, plugs in her laptop, busies herself with setup—then her stomach twists and her hands shake.
What the hell?
She glances at the door as more students pile in, and he’s still nowhere to be found. She laughs to herself, wiping her hands against her pants.
Ridiculous.
She reaches for her water, taking several sips, waving when someone greets her before setting it back down. It’s concerning the number of times her eyes glide over to the double doors, and it takes her almost tripping over the wiring around the monitor to snap out of it.
On Tuesday, she cancels office hours, using the time to update her resume. It isn’t until Wednesday that she sees him again. She doesn’t notice him at first—occupied with handing out the exam papers—until she gets to the row that he typically sits in and their eyes lock. Roman’s chin rests against his fist and he gives her a two-finger wave, smiling small.
She licks her lips, her mouth suddenly drying before giving him a small wave back. She tilts her head and sends him a look that hopefully comes across as concerned.
Lucyhe mouths to her, and she nods, handing papers to students until she gets closer to him. Their fingers graze as she hands the papers to him, and their eyes lock for an unnerving amount of time before she moves on to the next student, fighting the urge to indulge in his teasing.
Against the rules, she reminds herself, making a conscious effort the rest of the time not to look his way.
It gets worse as the days pass. When he’s not there, she finds herself wondering what he’s doing, if his daughter is okay. And when he is, she turns into a bumbling mess, her mouth feeling like it’s been stuffed with cotton, her body flushing like the Floridian sun is targeting her. Like Apollo has it out for her.
Jahlani is frowning at the email she’s reading on her laptop in Professor Jackson’s office. She’s so engrossed that she startles when a coconut, chocolate-covered almond bar is dropped next to her device. Her eyes lift to meet Roman’s clear green ones as he drops into the chair opposite her, and her hands grow clammy.
She wonders if he’s as affected, but when his phone rings and he answers with ease, she takes it that he isn’t. His shoulders are relaxed, and he talks animatedly. There’s no stammer, no hesitation.
He clearly isn’t affected by her anymore, and she isn’t sure why that sparks a fuse of irritation.
After all, she’s the one who told him to stop. This is what she wanted, right?
They’re cordial now.
She shouldn’t read into the fact that he remembered the snack that she likes from when they first met. She leans back into the chair, willing her hands to be steady, before unwrappingthe bar and taking a bite. He smiles at her, nodding at whatever the other person is saying.
Disgustinghe mouths to her, shaking his head, then imitates a gag.
Jahlani takes an obnoxious bite, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply before letting out a low exaggerated moan. But when she opens her eyes, he’s staring at her mouth, a slight haze to them.
He isn’t smiling anymore. She chews slowly, swallowing the bite with as much grace as possible as he continues to watch, his nostrils flaring.
“Delicious,” she says, attempting to break the tension, but her voice cracks. Turning back to the computer to finish submitting her payment, she peeks over when Roman is suddenly upright.
