The other teachers swooned and squealed like they were watching a live episode of something they weren’t supposed to be invested in.
“Oh my God!”
“I know that’s right, Ms. S!”
Mel did the most, of course. “Oh, I love it when two pretty muthafuckas assemble like the Avengers, okay? Oh shit, I’m at work . . . Professional setting. Let me get my crazy ass back to class!” Mel shouted it like an announcement as she gave a high-five to her aide, Ms. Sosa, from the math department.
We all cracked up because Mel’s ass didn’t have a lick of sense.
As the room cleared out, Roman leaned in and whispered lowly, “You are already stunning, but you get even sexier to me when you get all shy on me. What’s going on with you today, though? How’s your day treating you, love?”
I blushed again as he stared at me intently with warm eyes, waiting for me to respond, and he watched it happen like he was entertained by my innocence and honored by it at the same time. His eyes were warm, patient, and locked in, waiting for me to breathe and answer. I had to switch up the tempo because I should not be so hot and bothered in a school where minors were present. I gently tapped him on the arm.
“It’s going well. Tell me all about your interview. I see you got the job, as I already knew you would.”
He smiled at me, and my heart jumped from left to right, performing Lil’ Keke’s “Southside” in my damn chest.
“I went to Self Ridge A&M with the principal. I still can’t believe I let him talk me into joining a damn fraternity.” He shook his head in disbelief, smiling at the memory. “Once I got online after I got off the phone with you, did my research, and saw it was him running stuff, I knew it was a done deal. The interview was just a formality, real shit. I’m grateful for the opportunity, though.’”
Wow!I was genuinely excited for him. He wasn’t bragging or puffing his shoulders. It was just facts, gratitude, and the quiet confidence of a man who knew his value without needing applause. He talked about swimming like it was more than a sport when we talked on the phone for hours. He talked about it as if it was discipline, therapy, and survival all at once. He spoke about kids like he could see their futures, like he wanted to build them a safer route before the streets tried to draft them. It did something to me. It made my admiration deepen into something heavier, something that felt like respect, and respect always made the desire more dangerous.
“What you staring at, beautiful?” He laughed at me while I gazed at him in awe, thinking back on our conversation and snapping me from my thoughts.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about our conversation the other night. I’m thrilled for you, Roman.”
“Pretty Little Dipper, stop playing with me. What the hell is a Roman? You know my name. Let me hear it.” He cupped his hand to his ear, waiting for me to call him anything but his government.
I laughed from a deep place because this man was determined to give me all the cutesy nicknames and act like my government name was optional. Pretty Little Dipper? I felt like him because who the hell was that? He truly played all damnday, but I absolutely loved it. I loved that he could be playful without being careless, bold without being disrespectful.
“Well,baby,” I said, my voice dropping to a sweet, softer tone on purpose, “I suppose I’ll take you out tonight to treat you. Celebrate your win for today.”
He frowned hard as hell. “You continue to insult me, love.” He shook his head playfully, smirking sexily.
I was smiling so hard my cheeks were hurting.
Roman stared at me like he was trying to memorize my face as if he didn’t trust time to hold onto me without his effort. “What does your dream man look like?”
My cheeks warmed. “We are not doing this in the teacher’s lounge.”
“We are. Answer,” he encouraged.
I shook my head, smiling, because my resistance was weak, and he knew it. “He’s intentional. He’s consistent. He’s respectful, and he has a calm spirit for me and those he loves.”
Roman nodded slowly. “Okay. What’s your dream date?”
I hesitated, then answered softly. “Something thoughtful. Something where I feel . . . considered.”
Roman’s eyes softened. “And what do you see your man doing for you?”
I thought about it, the real answer rising before the polite one could, and I responded gently but firmly. “Showing up. Being steady. Being someone I can trust.”
Roman leaned in a little closer, staring into my eyes. “What does a healthy relationship look like to you, Solè?”
I held his gaze because he was asking like he planned on building it, not just hearing it. “Open communication. Respect. Safety.”
Roman nodded again, taking it all in like he meant it, like it mattered, and he was collecting my needs the way careful men collect blueprints before they build.
“Good,” he murmured. His nose flared slightly, like he caught something. His eyes dipped and came back up. “You smell good.”
