Page 30 of The Love Simulation

“Do you want some help?” I ask him.

“No,” he says stubbornly. “This piece of machinery will not defeat me.”

“Well, go, you. Don’t forget, Angie is a computer teacher. She may be able to help you.” He sets his jaw, so I shrug. “All right. Well, I think I’ll just check out the pond in the greenhouse.”

Jordan says something, but I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or threatening the rover, so I leave him be.

When I walk through the greenhouse’s slim sliding door, I’m surprised, and yet not surprised, to see Roman. I can’t get away from him for one minute in this place.

“Hey,” he says when he looks up and sees me.

He’s standing over an open bag of soil. He looks innocent enough, but I look around the rest of the small greenhouse to ensure nothing is out of order.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask, ignoring the dip in my stomach. He needs to stop looking at me like that. He needs to not be here.

Roman rolls his eyes at my suspicious tone and points to the soil. “I’m about to move this in there.” He shifts his focus to an empty garden bed. “If you’re worried I’m going to ruin anything, you’re free to help.”

I almost whimper out loud. I’m physically spent. I only came in here to see the tiny pond. But there’s no way I’m leaving the gardening under Roman’s sole supervision. Getting the dandelions to grow is essential to winning, so I’ll power through a little longer.

I force a smile. “I’d love to help.”

Roman looks me over, without a doubt noting how raggedy I look, and raises a skeptical eyebrow. “If you say so.”

I take in a deep breath to get additional oxygen to my muscles and immediately regret the decision. The moisture-controlled air travels to my throat, and God help me, I cantastethe rotten eggs. I start coughing, which turns into gagging. When it finally subsides, I wipe at the corners of my eyes.

“You okay there?” Roman asks.

“It’s the smell. Or I guess taste. I breathed in too much and it got me.” I grimace and wait for the aftertaste to subside. It doesn’t.

Roman watches on with his eyebrows slightly raised and lips lifted at the corners.

I glare at him. “It’s not funny.” It’s his fault I’m even in here still.

Cue a full smile stretching across his handsome face and my heart leaping in response. Being away from school, his smiles have come out more and more, and I wonder why that is. What is so special about being here in the Hab that would make him feel free to relax a little?

“Do you need help moving the soil?” I ask. I don’t need to focus on his smile or the reasons behind it.

“I got it. Why don’t you get the seeds? I don’t think that should require additional air intake.”

“How chivalrous of you.”

Roman hefts up the bag of soil, and instead of standing there to admire the stretch of fabric over his arms, I go to a compact storage box in the corner of the greenhouse. The storage box contains seeds for various plants, gardening gloves, and some handheld tools. I find the labeled seeds for dandelions and grab two pairs of gloves.

“Here you go,” I say, passing Roman his gloves. When he reaches out, the tips of our fingers just slightly touch. It’s brief, but Roman notices too as our eyes meet for a beat before I drop my gaze.

We both get our gloves on, then face the garden bed and begin planting. As I work on my side, I make sure to watchRoman from the corner of my eye. He’s obviously got experience gardening. He lightly presses the seeds into the soil in tidy rows and correctly spaces everything while I do the same. In some unspoken agreement, we end up trying to outpace each other until it’s an all-out race. I finish my side one second behind Roman.

“No fair,” I say, crossing my arms. “You must garden at home or something.”

“Or, I’m just that good with my hands.” He rubs his hands to remove any remaining soil from his gloves and smirks. “I used to garden with my mom and grandma. I guess some skills you just don’t forget.”

I pout, but wait to see if he’ll divulge more. I know about his dad, though I wish I didn’t. I’m curious about his mom. I’m curious about a lot of things where he’s concerned.

He doesn’t offer up any more though. Instead he reaches for my right hand. I know I should pull away, but I’m struck silent as he gently peels the glove off each finger until it slides off. I know there’s no excuse for it, but then I allow him to reach for my left hand and tug that glove off as well.

“Do you have a garden at home?” Roman asks me.

I look up from the hand he’s still holding to his face. “A what?”

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