Page 43 of The Love Simulation

Now I know, justknow, Roman isn’t jealous at the thought of me dating Jordan. Maybe the thought of me breaking the school conduct rules brought out his petty side. The thought that I, the person who is in the position he wants, is dating someone I have influence over.ThatI can see.

But as I watch the tenseness in Roman’s jaw, the way his shoulders are wound up tight…Well, I’ll be damned.

“It doesn’t matter what Angie thinks. I’m not interested in dating Jordan.”

Roman’s eyes snap to mine and my heartbeat picks up. “No? Why not?”

I lick my suddenly dry lips. This conversation is taking a turn I was not expecting. We’re veering into dangerous territory and I need to put a stop to it. “Because I don’t date colleagues.”

At my words, he goes silent. He searches my eyes, then something changes in his face. He looks a little hurt and disappointed. “Why not?” he asks quietly. Almost too quietly in this space where the fans not only act like a whitenoise track but also ensure no one overhears our conversation.

“You mean, why don’t I date my colleagues? Because it would be unethical. Because of the power imbalance that comes along with me dating someone who reports to me. Because I value my job.” Because Superintendent Watts would surely skewer me over the same greasy ovens used to make the god-awful school pizzas before withdrawing her mentorship, and I’d forever be floundering through life without a purpose. “Take your pick.”

He rubs at his temples and sighs.

“Roman, why are you asking me this? Is it because of Jordan, or because…” I don’t bother finishing the question. It’s not worth the embarrassment if I’ve once again inflated our connection in my mind and he says no.

He reaches forward and grabs my hand. “I’m asking because yes, I want to date you. I don’t like thinking about you being with Jordan or any other dudes because I like you.”

He caresses my knuckles with his thumb. His hand is warm, his skin soft. It serves as a distraction as I try to think of a response to his confession, but all I can do is focus on his skin against mine.

“When I said you are amazing, I meant every word,” he says.

“Roman,” I finally say. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I already told you. My job. Your job too. We can’t date.”

“But you want to.” He doesn’t state it presumptuously. Just matter-of-factly, with all the confidence in the world, and he’s so right.

I do want to date him. I want to learn all about his life and, in turn, tell him about mine. I want to see what we have in common, what opinions we share and what thingshe’s wrong about. But learning all there is to know about Roman won’t change the fact that at the end of the day, I’m the vice principal and he’s a teacher who reports to me. I can’t cross that line.

“You did it, Roman!” Jordan says through a crack in the door. He isn’t able to open it any wider with me there, and I’m not about to step back into Roman’s personal space to let him. “The monitors are back up and working.”

“Thanks,” Roman says, not taking his eyes off me.

Jordan walks away from the door, and I know I need to get out of here.

“Well, great job,” I say. “You just, um, keep reading those manuals.”

I take a small step forward, waiting to see if Roman will move. He doesn’t. “Excuse me, I’m just going to squeeze right on out.” I finally manage to pass between him and the door, but not without having my whole backside push against his front.

When I’m out in the common room, I school my features and hope the conversation that just transpired between Roman and me isn’t written all over my face.

“Come look at this mess we’ve got going on,” Angie says to me from her spot at the comms station.

I mentally shake the remaining warm-and-fuzzies out of my head and walk to them. “Where did they even get all of this dust from?” I wonder aloud. Dust fills the screens, and we can only intermittently make out the ground.

“This shit better not be full of asbestos,” Angie says, and all I can think of are lawyers’ commercials about getting my claim in.

“That’s going to be hell to clean up later,” Roman says. He’s appeared behind me, and it’s obvious that he’s done it on purpose.

I bite down on my lip as he leans forward, his body caging me in, and one of his hands rests on the desk and the other one on the chair while he watches the storm.

I turn my head and find Angie looking at us with speculation. Oh God. Angie must know something happened in that closet. I do my best to hold stock-still, not react. Maybe if I act like I’m not aware that every breath I take is filled with Roman’s scent, Angie will let it go.

Angie does not let it go.

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