Page 3 of The Love Simulation

He looks almost bashful when I stop talking, and I tuck a braid behind my ear. My response might have been a little over-the-top andcouldbe misconstrued as flirting, but I told him the truth. Even if the teachers don’t welcome him with open arms, the students love him. As a teacher, he knows how to be serious but not rigid. Engaging and fun without letting the lessons fly off the rails. It’s obvious so many of the boys look up to him, and on more than one occasion I’ve had to pretend not to hear a few of the girls going on about how much “drip” he has. I’m only too aware that he would have made a great vice principal.

This morning, however, the fact that we’ve been circling around each other all year—Roman maintaining arespectful and aloof distance, and me admiring how amazing he is at his job while also wishing he’d simultaneously look at me and ignore me to force me to maintain proper distance—doesn’t seem to matter.

“Thanks,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

Roman nods and begins to walk away, but stops, and instead takes a step closer to me. He’s a head taller than me, about six feet, and I tilt my head up to look at him.

“Before summer starts, the teachers get together at Big Lou’s to celebrate making it through another year. Raven and Kareem finally convinced me to check it out. You should come through too.”

I try not to do that thing when I smile—the thing where I end up grinning so hard my normally full upper lip disappears and I’m nothing but gums and shiny teeth. But I can’t help it. And I know I’ve spent all school year actively tryingnotto get too close to the teachers, but no one ever invited me out somewhere with the promise that Roman would be there. I think it would be feasible to hang out with everyone for one special occasion.

“I was going to order pizza from Big Lou’s for all of the teachers on the last day,” I say. “But meeting up with everyone there sounds a lot better.”

There it is—a small tilt of Roman’s lips letting me know he’s pleased I took him up on the offer. His smile isn’t quite as generous as the one he gave me at the school dance, and it’s nowhere near as wide as the one I’m still sporting, but it’s there, and its very existence puts my reputation at risk as wild, foolish ideas begin racing through my head. Like the idea that he wouldn’t mind if I were to stand on my toes and touch his juicy curved lips. With mine.

“Brianna, there you are!”

I’m jerked out of my Roman-induced haze by the librarian, Mrs. Yates. She’s rushing over, obviously upset about something, with her face flushed like she wants to cry. Or strangle something.

I clear my throat, and this time the distance I put between Roman and me is more than warranted. “Mrs. Yates, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Is it true that you’re leaving?” she demands.

I frown. “I’m going on a cruise in a few weeks.” That’s hardly anything to cry over.

“No. I mean here. Craft Middle School. Is it true that you’re resigning so you can take up the vice principal position at that new arts school?”

All I can do is blink at her. The possibility never even crossed my mind. “Mrs. Yates, no. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Wait, what do you mean, no?” Roman cuts in.

I snap my head to him. What’s up with his outburst? In fact, what’s up with both of them? How does my going on a cruise to Mexico translate to leaving the school for good? And leaving for a new position at that?

“Imean,” I say to Roman, “I’m going on a trip for two weeks, then I’m turning right back around to prepare for the new school year. Why would you think otherwise?”

Roman runs a hand over his head but doesn’t say anything, so I turn to Mrs. Yates for answers.

Those same delicate fingers Mrs. Yates uses to caress book spines and turn pages with the gentlest of touches are wielded like a weapon as she points to Roman. “He told me.”

I understand why the library has so few books returned late, and it’s not because the kids aren’t reading as much. They’re probably afraid to see this side of Mrs. Yates. For a second, I’m ready to sprint to my office and make sure Idon’t have any library books on my shelf. Then her words hit me with the force of a sledgehammer, and I realize I’m not under attack. Roman is.

“Roman,” I begin, almost at a loss for words, “why did you tell her that I’m leaving?”

He looks uncomfortable, running a palm over his head again, and I swear, under that fine melanin complexion he’s blushing. But I can’t get distracted by how good he looks even when flustered. I need answers, and his demeanor is quickly veering from flustered to guilty.

“My dad told me you were,” he finally says, and lets out a heavy sigh. “But your reaction is telling me that’s not the case.”

Hell no, it’s not the case. And I have no idea why Principal Major would even say that.

I glance from Mrs. Yates, who seems relieved, to Roman, who’s once again closed off. Is that why he was open and friendly only moments ago? He thought I was leaving and was obviously ready to waltz right into the vacant vice principal spot? Whatever I thought I read in that half smile was the product of foolish hopeful thinking.

The worst kind of heat spreads from my ears downward, making my stomach cramp, and I can no longer bring myself to meet Roman’s eyes.

“That explains so much of this morning,” I mutter, trying to breathe through the embarrassment and hurt stinging in the backs of my eyes. Now I see why the teachers were acting weird, and I especially see why Roman was acting out of the norm. Like he was happy to talk to me. I guess he was just happy to think the vice principal spot was about to have a vacancy.

“It’s not like that, Bri—” Roman starts, but gets cut off by Mrs. Yates.

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