Page 48 of The Love Simulation

I nod, knowing Jordan is right. Each part we play serves a critical role. Just like at school. “You’re right. I’ll be glad to cheer y’all on and provide support from in here.” At least I won’t have to worry about going out in the dust.

“That’s the spirit. I just hope Roman will feel better by the time the dust slows down.”

I hear an old record scratch in my mind and frown. “Roman won’t be in any condition to go out there.” Jordan’seyes widen and he leans away from me looking a little scared. I attempt to dial down the overprotectiveness so I don’t scare him—like the dog from his childhood—and clear my throat, saying in a softer tone, “What I mean is, Roman was in pretty bad shape when he went down. I think he’ll need at least a couple of days to recover. Maybe we shouldn’t count on him to be able to help out there?” I say the last bit as a question, but it is most undeniably a command. Roman needs someone to look out for his well-being, and apparently it’s going to be me.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. He did look worse for wear.” Jordan sighs. “I guess all we can do now is wait out the storm and move quickly if we get the chance.” He stands up. “I need to debrief Angie so she’ll be ready to move when it’s time.”

Chapter Eighteen

I quietly open the bedroom door and slip in. Once it closes behind me, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the low light. I walk to my bed—Roman’s temporary bed—and begin to pull the screen up.

“Hey,” I whisper. “I came to check on you, and I brought you some wat—”

Lord. Have. Mercy.

There is a stranger in my bed. Gone is the poor, pitiful, in-desperate-need-of-rest Roman that I left here alone. That man is gone.Gone. In his place is a masterpiece. It’s shirtless Roman, which, in my book, equates to the same thing—a masterpiece.

He’s still conked out, lying on his back with his hands supporting his head. I study the smooth skin on his chest and abs. Look at his arms. He’s got tattoos running along them, which I did not see coming. With who his dad is and with how serious Roman appears, I wonder what’s the story with the ink. Who is this man I’m learning more and more about? And why does he always hide this man away? Why always the long-sleeve shirts? What is the reason? Well, Iknowthe reason. If he, a tall Black man, were to show up to school displaying his beautiful ink, he’d get middle school girls falling all over him since that wouldsurely cause a hormonal awakening (and nobody wants the girls to become even more scheming than they already are), and parents would be even warier of him teaching their kids, thinking that the way his skin looks, which is a totally artistic way to express himself, says something negative about his personality. They’d judge a book by its cover.

I study him longer than what is probably considered appropriate, but no one is around to catch me, so…My eyes roam up his neck and to his face, and I’m surprised to see his eyes open when I get to them.

I jump. “Oh!” Caught red-handed, and honestly, it’s what I get. I can only hope Roman’s eyes haven’t been open for long. “I, uh, didn’t know you were awake. Anyway, I came to see if you needed some water. You’ve been sleeping for a while. I wasn’t sure how long you should go without water. So if you want to go back to sleep, that’s fine. I can come back later.”

Noooo. Stop talking, Brianna. Just stop.

“Bri,” he says. I snap my eyes to his, blinking rapidly. “Breathe.”

I suck in a gulp of air, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it go. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool. You don’t need to apologize.” He hauls himself up so that he’s leaning against the headboard. “You said that water’s for me?”

“Here.” I all but shove it his way, surprised it doesn’t spill on the sheets.

“Thank you.” Roman takes the cup, his fingers brushing mine.

When he’s done, I hold my hand out to take the cup back to the kitchen. I nod at him and begin to back away. Before I can take more than a step, Roman speaks up. “Wait.”

I look at him with raised eyebrows.

“Can you stay for a few minutes?” he asks.

I bite down on my lower lip, unsure. Staying, with him looking like that, does not seem like the best idea.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping the day away and missed everything. Can you catch me up?”

He looks hopeful, and if I’m honest with myself, I want to stay, no matter my vow to pull back. “Okay. A few minutes,” I say, placing the now-empty cup on the headboard.

“You can sit. I won’t bite.” He scoots over to leave more room in the bed’s edge for me. Then he seems to take in his surroundings fully, his eyes landing on the picture of me holding Sheba when she was a puppy before he looks back at me. “This is your bed, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. You kind of gravitated toward it and I didn’t have the heart to tell you to move.”

“I must have been really out of it. How long was I sleeping?”

“Six hours,” I say without having to do any further math in my head. I’ve been keeping track. I go on to tell him about the need to fix the antenna and the plan for Jordan and Angie to go out once conditions allow for it.

“Okay.” He nods determinedly. “If we get the chance, let me know and I’ll help.”

“Absolutely not,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Roman looks taken aback, so I spell it out for him. “I don’t get migraines, but I know enough about them. I know it was most likely brought on by all the stressors of this simulation, the way we’ve had to ration water and food, and the loud warnings from this morning. Unless you want to be laid out for longer, I don’t think we can allow you to do anything with the antenna while you’re still recovering.”

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