Page 26 of The Love Simulation

I must look like a fish with my mouth hanging wide open, and for that, again, I blame Camille. If she’d never put that book in my bag, I wouldn’t have to field questions about growling. How am I supposed to face these women when we’re back at school if I talk to them about extraterrestrial romance heroes?

“Come on,” Angie says before I’m forced to answer. “You mean to tell me you’ve never kissed a man who growls? Hot does not even begin to describe it.”

“Have a lot of experience, do we?” Simone asks Angie.

Angie’s eyes take on a wistful, almost longing look before she shakes her head and smirks. “Yeah.”

Simone raises an eyebrow and looks at her skeptically. “I’m supposed to believe that not only have you been with a man who growls but you like it? I’m sorry, I just can’t. It’s hard to imagine that working well in any scenario outside of a book.”

I switch my attention back to Angie, all ears, waiting for her answer while she drinks a portion of her daily water. Inquiring minds want to know.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You bet I like it! It’s amazing. I’m telling y’all, to be with someone who wants you so bad and knows how to let his more animalistic side come out…” She ends the thought, fanning herself. “If you know, you know. Am I right?” She directs the last tidbit to me, and all I can do is blink.

Where the hell would I have found a man who growls like that in my very limited dating life? I’ve spent the majority of my adulthood trying to land a suitable career, not find some sort of Tarzan wild man. But damn if Angie doesn’t make the experience sound like all that and a bag of chips.

Instead of answering, I look at the time. “I think we’d better get changed and get to the gym before Jordan comes back and hounds us.”

Angie looks at me like the lame, mood-killing vice principal who should absolutelynotbe indulging in these conversations with her staff that I am and rolls her eyes.

The gym is its own separate room, though it’s still small. It’s equipped with two treadmills, two stationary bikes, weights, and yoga mats. Simone, Angie, and I stop when we get to the doorway.

It looks like Roman has taken it upon himself to trainJordan. He’s yelling at (maybe encouraging?) Jordan to finish a weight set. Jordan is standing up, doing his best to lift a good-sized dumbbell with one arm in a bicep curl. Sweat is dripping down his temples, and the strain has caused his face to take on a red hue not often seen in darker tones as he breathes in and out with his mouth.

Roman must have gotten his own workout in already, because he’s sweating too. Rather than sweat rolling down his face, it’s stuck to his shirt, making the material cling to his muscles.

Angie lets out a gasp and puts her palms together like she’s praying. “The Lord is my shepherd; he knows what I want.”

“Amen,” I can’t help but respond.

Angie looks at me and smirks with a hint of pride shining in her eyes, as if to saywell done.

I quickly avert my gaze, cheeks blazing. There’s no forgetting that people are monitoring our every move and conversation, and at the end of the day, when this simulation is over, I’ll be going right back to being her vice principal. I can’t let Angie, or the whole world, see me drooling over Roman. I can’t give an inkling of a hint that I’m wondering what it would take to make Roman loosen a little bit of that quiet restraint he holds close like a secret and see some of those inhibitions slip. Would he growl?

It doesn’t matter. None of it does. Not whether or not he growls and not what he meant about being here for me. What matters is winning, and that means stopping Roman from whatever plans I’m sure he has and being able to face my colleagues and the students when I return back to school in a matter of months.

I’m the first to cross the threshold and step into the gym. I go to the bike and turn the resistance up. Can’tthink about men growling if I’m too busy feeling the burn in my thighs.

By the time workouts aredone and everyone has gotten a second wind, we all meet in front of the hatch. At this point, it’s evident Jordan thinks we’re slowing him down. He’s so ready to get out there.

Roman pointed out how fixing the antenna will be a multistep process. We convinced Jordan that we need to at least begin the process and chip away at it bit by bit. So we will use this space walk to clean the debris from the antenna and look for the lost rover.

“Remember, the oxygen indicator as well as the monitoring system for our heartbeats will come across with an audible warning if either is too low or too high,” Jordan says, pacing back and forth. “If that happens, we need to come in right away.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Angie interrupts. “This is the same thing they went over during orientation. Why does it feel like I’m a part of one of those mandatory trainings for school equipment we won’t use?”

“It may feel like you’re in one of those trainings, but these suits are essential to our survival. The number one reason people get disqualified is because they run out of oxygen. As long as we do our due diligence, we don’t have to worry about that,” Jordan counters.

While Angie cuts Jordan the stink eye, I glance over at Roman. Maybe I could do something to sabotage his suit to get him disqualified.

As soon as the thought is out, guilt and shame hit me. Who am I? Planning someone’s demise? I’ve never been this mean-spirited before. Then again, I’ve never had tofight for a library alongside someone who’s planning to stop it. Probably. Possibly.Ugh. After our conversation, doubts are starting to build up, and a small part of me thinks he might have been telling the truth about wanting to help us. Only a small part.

For now, I’ll put off plans that would have him choking on Martian air—metaphorically, of course—and will continue to keep an eye on him.

“All right everyone, let’s suit up,” Jordan says.

I hold in a sigh. I don’t think it would have killed him to throw in aplease. We’re all adults, and I’m sure the others would agree with me and not want to be bossed around. Maybe I’ll leave one of my leadership books in his classroom when the new school year starts. But when I look at everyone, they’re moving to their suits without any issue, so maybe not.

Camille’s words insinuating I’m difficult float in my mind, and I grit my teeth.

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