Page 60 of The Love Simulation

Neither of us are there to man the music anymore, so it auto-plays. When a slow jam starts, Roman puts his hands at my waist and leaves plenty of room between us, which I quickly erase. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, hands resting at his neck, and he caresses my back.

Technically, we’re still dancing, but it feels like so much more. Like we’re on the verge of making love. Chest to chest, when I breathe, I breathe him in. Warm, sweet, spicy. Decadent. I don’t know if he moves closer or I do, but our legs are practically entwined.

“We shouldn’t be dancing like this,” I have enough sense to say, but I make no move to stop.

“No, we shouldn’t,” Roman agrees. But neither of us puts a stop to it.

Roman pulls back just enough so he can look down at me as the lyrics float in the air and say all the things we can’t say out in the open. I don’t know what’s on my face, but I know I feel utterly smitten by him. I know I want hislips on mine. Maybe that’s what he reads on my face. His eyes travel down to my mouth, but as soon as he angles his chin down, I panic.

I stop our dance. Pull out of his embrace and blink hard, trying to get everything back in focus. The cameras. Everyone watching. My career.

“Sorry,” Roman says.

I look up at him, sure he can now read the conflict on my face as clear as I can read his disappointment and hurt.

He swallows and turns around, going to clean the comms, though we already went over that area.

I don’t call after him. I close my eyes again and take in a deep breath. This is all getting too complicated. I don’t want what’s going on between Roman and me to affect my career, but I don’t want to hurt him.

While the music continues to auto-play now that our game is surely over, I go back over the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Romanwhen we’re in the room that night.

We were able to continue working, though the vibe between us felt stilted for the rest of the day.

“Sorry for what?” Roman asks. His hand is around my waist as we lie in bed, so I know he’s not mad at me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt.

“For pushing you away while we were dancing,” I say.

“I’m the one who broke the rules though. I’m the one who got greedy and wanted to kiss you so bad I didn’t care who saw in that moment.”

“Stop,” I plead, shaking my head against his chest.

“Why?”

“Because when you say all these sweet things I just…Iget butterflies.” I press a hand to my stomach and blow out a breath.

“You think you’re the only one?”

“Um. Yes?”

He chuckles. “No. Do you remember the very first time we met?”

While my favorite memory of Roman from the past school year is when we were looking at each other across the gym, I do remember our very first interaction. It happened during staff development week when the teachers were getting their classes ready at the start of the year. I had just parked my car and happened to get out of it at the same time that Roman, who was parked next to me, got out of his. Our car doors slammed shut at the same time, creating a funny echo effect, and we glanced over at each other.

“Do you mean when we closed our doors at the same time? I remember laughing while you just stood there,” I say. The laughter was because I was nervous. There was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen, tall, dark, and handsome with the most kissable lips, and I was laughing in front of him like a fool because we’d just happened to close our doors at the same time.

“I stood there because I was struck dumb. When you laughed and smiled at me, it took my breath away. It became impossible not to want to look for it every time I saw you. Whether it was in the teachers’ lounge or when you came to observe my classroom or if I saw you walking down the hall. Shoot, even at those boring staff development days. Butterflies, every single time.”

God, just why? Why is he so perfect?

Every second I spend with Roman is like nourishmentto my soul. A soul that’s been starved of love and affection. But the time I spend with him also complicates the future I’ve seen for myself that much more.

I know I’m fast approaching some hard decisions, but those decisions don’t have to be made today.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Does it feel like we’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?” I ask Roman as we sit at the lab table.

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