Still, I know what it means—back of

Still, I know what it means—back off. “Fair enough. You should take the advanced oil techniques class I’m starting up, though. I think you’d find it more interesting.”
She gives me a hesitant smile. “When is it? I didn’t see it on the online schedule.”
That’s because it wasn’t on there. I decided to start the class ten seconds ago. “Uh … I’ll have to check …”
“I have a class on Monday nights.”
“It’s definitely not on Monday nights.”
She laughs, and I slide my arm along the bench behind her because I’m insane. As soon as I do it, she goes very still, and those dark green eyes land on my face. “When you figure it out, let me know when it is,” she says. Her expression is cautious and hopeful and challenging and scared and hot, all at once. “I might switch.”
There’s a freckle on her right cheekbone, the exact shade of dark brown sugar. I imagine tasting it, and my muscles pull tight. “It might be a small class.” Maybe just her and me.
“I’m sure there are plenty of students who’d be eager to sign up,” she says, and by her tentative smile and the curious sweep of her gaze, I know she’s noticed Claudia and her friends, how they look at me. My jaw tenses as I remember where I’m supposed to be right now.
  “How’s your painting coming?” Romy asks.
I should be relieved that she changed the subject, but for some reason, thinking of my painting only reminds me of the way Claudia looked at it. “I’m struggling with it.”
“The whole thing looked like a struggle,” she says, pretty much summing up my entire life. “That was why I liked it.”
“You’re in a very small minority.” I force a chuckle. “I don’t have a style people want to look at. One of my professors told me that last May, right before I graduated.”
Her mouth drops open. “What a terrible thing to say! Besides … I wanted to look at it. I thought it was honest and brave, and it made me uncomfortable, and maybe that’s good for people sometimes. It means they’re still capable of reacting to something. It means they’re not numb.” She bows her head. “It’s not good to be numb,” she murmurs, almost to herself, and then she looks up again, her words coming out in a rush. “And you paint things that make people feel. They might feel bad or sad or disgusted, but that’s better than apathy. Not every artist can get a visceral reaction out of people.”
I stare at her in awe, knowing I shouldn’t take her words too seriously; it would hurt too much if she didn’t mean them. My heart is beating like a jackhammer. I could go a few different ways with this, but only one path is safe. I plaster on my best casual smile. “If only you owned one of the galleries downtown, all my problems would be solved,” I say. Breezy-easy. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s keeping things from going too deep.
Romy’s so still, so somber. Like she’s looking right into my mind, right past all my bullshit. The joking smile slides off my face, too heavy to hold in place.
“I’m sorry it’s been such a struggle for you,” she says quietly. “I think you’re really talented.”
“You look cold,” I blurt. Her teeth are starting to chatter. I’d be a selfish asshole if I didn’t say something, right? I’m not avoiding this conversation—I’m merely pointing out the obvious. I want to unzip my jacket and invite her inside. My fingers play with the tab on my chest.
Romy watches my nervous movements as I stare at her throat, the slope of her neck. “I don’t mind,” she says. “I like it out here.”
Am I imagining that she’s leaning a little closer? The thought sends a scorching wave of heat through my body. My arm tilts off the edge of the bench, touching her back. If she shows the slightest sign of discomfort, I’m backing off. Regardless of what she said, there are some situations where being uncomfortable is not a good thing at all.
But she scoots in, seeking me out. It’s like a fucking miracle. My fingers are almost steady as I trace the edge of her hair along her forehead. She closes her eyes when my fingertips skim along her face. Her hair is so short, but I like it, because I can see the line of her jaw and the smooth plane of her brow. I should say something to her, about how I think she’s beautiful, about how I don’t know her but want to, but not a single word makes it past the torrent of sensation. Her lips look so soft, and the longer I stare at them, the harder I get. She smells incredible, a warm, subtle, clean kind of scent, so faint that she has to be close to pick it up. And I want her close. Closer than this.
I shouldn’t want her this much.
I can’t want her this much.
I’m supposed to be somewhere else right now.
Five thousand dollars, whispers a voice in my head. You’re going to give up five thousand dollars for a chance to touch this girl? Three months of rent. Groceries. A chunk of Katie’s last hospital bill. Katie’s new prescription. I can’t afford to be selfish right now.
I shoot to my feet as reality crashes in on all sides. “I have to go,” I say, my voice breaking.

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Namun, aku tahu apa artinya — kembali turun. "Cukup adil. Anda harus mengambil kelas teknik lanjutan minyak aku mulai, meskipun. Saya pikir Anda akan menemukan lebih menarik."Dia memberikan senyum yang ragu-ragu. "Kapan itu? Aku tidak melihatnya pada jadwal online."Hal ini karena itu tidak di sana. Saya memutuskan untuk memulai kelas sepuluh detik yang lalu. "Eh... Aku harus memeriksa...""Saya memiliki kelas pada hari Senin malam.""Hal ini pasti tidak pada hari Senin malam."Dia tertawa, dan aku meluncur lenganku sepanjang bangku belakangnya karena aku gila. Segera setelah saya melakukannya, dia pergi sangat masih, dan mata hijau gelap tanah di wajah saya. "Ketika Anda mengetahuinya, biarkan aku tahu kapan itu," katanya. Ekspresinya berhati-hati dan penuh harapan dan menantang dan takut dan panas, sekaligus. "Aku mungkin beralih."Ada bintik pada cheekbone dia benar, naungan tepat gula coklat tua. Saya membayangkan mencicipinya, dan otot-otot saya tarik ketat. "Itu mungkin menjadi sebuah kelas kecil." Mungkin hanya dia dan saya."Saya yakin ada banyak siswa yang akan bersemangat untuk mendaftar," katanya, dan senyumnya tentatif dan usapan penasaran pandangan matanya, aku tahu dia adalah melihat Claudia dan teman-temannya, bagaimana mereka melihat saya. Rahang saya tenses seperti yang saya ingat di mana aku seharusnya menjadi sekarang. "Bagaimana lukisan Anda datang?" Romy meminta.Aku harus lega bahwa dia mengubah subjek, tapi untuk beberapa alasan, berpikir lukisan saya hanya mengingatkan saya pada jalan Claudia memandangnya. "Aku berjuang dengan itu.""Semuanya tampak seperti perjuangan," katanya, cukup banyak kesimpulannya seluruh hidup saya. "Itu sebabnya aku menyukainya.""Anda berada dalam minoritas yang sangat kecil." Aku memaksa tergelak. "Saya tidak memiliki gaya yang orang ingin melihat. Salah satu dosen saya mengatakan kepada saya bahwa Mei lalu, tepat sebelum aku lulus."Mulutnya tetes terbuka. "Apa hal yang mengerikan untuk mengatakan! Selain itu... Aku ingin melihatnya. Saya pikir itu yang jujur dan berani, dan itu membuat saya tidak nyaman, dan mungkin itu baik bagi orang-orang kadang-kadang. Itu berarti mereka masih mampu bereaksi terhadap sesuatu. Itu berarti mereka tidak mati rasa." Dia busur kepalanya. "Hal ini tidak baik untuk mati rasa," ia merenungkan itu, hampir kepada dirinya sendiri, dan kemudian dia mendongak lagi, kata-katanya keluar terburu-buru. "Dan Anda cat hal-hal yang membuat orang merasa. Mereka mungkin merasa buruk atau sedih atau jijik, tapi itu lebih baik daripada apatis. Tidak setiap seniman bisa mendapatkan reaksi yang mendalam dari orang."Aku menatapnya dengan takjub, mengetahui saya tidak boleh mengambil kata-katanya terlalu serius; itu akan menyakiti terlalu banyak jika dia tidak berarti mereka. Hatiku berdebar seperti sebuah konyol. Aku bisa pergi beberapa cara yang berbeda dengan ini, tapi hanya satu jalan aman. Saya plester pada senyumku kasual terbaik. "Kalau saja Anda memiliki salah satu pusat kota Galeri, semua masalah bisa diselesaikan," kataku. Breezy-mudah. Jika ada satu hal yang saya tahu bagaimana melakukannya, itu adalah menjaga hal-hal dari pergi terlalu dalam.Romy's jadi masih, begitu muram. Seperti dia mencari tepat ke dalam pikiran saya, melewati semua omong kosong saya. Bercanda tersenyum slide off wajah saya, terlalu berat untuk terus di tempat.“I’m sorry it’s been such a struggle for you,” she says quietly. “I think you’re really talented.”“You look cold,” I blurt. Her teeth are starting to chatter. I’d be a selfish asshole if I didn’t say something, right? I’m not avoiding this conversation—I’m merely pointing out the obvious. I want to unzip my jacket and invite her inside. My fingers play with the tab on my chest.Romy watches my nervous movements as I stare at her throat, the slope of her neck. “I don’t mind,” she says. “I like it out here.”Am I imagining that she’s leaning a little closer? The thought sends a scorching wave of heat through my body. My arm tilts off the edge of the bench, touching her back. If she shows the slightest sign of discomfort, I’m backing off. Regardless of what she said, there are some situations where being uncomfortable is not a good thing at all.But she scoots in, seeking me out. It’s like a fucking miracle. My fingers are almost steady as I trace the edge of her hair along her forehead. She closes her eyes when my fingertips skim along her face. Her hair is so short, but I like it, because I can see the line of her jaw and the smooth plane of her brow. I should say something to her, about how I think she’s beautiful, about how I don’t know her but want to, but not a single word makes it past the torrent of sensation. Her lips look so soft, and the longer I stare at them, the harder I get. She smells incredible, a warm, subtle, clean kind of scent, so faint that she has to be close to pick it up. And I want her close. Closer than this.I shouldn’t want her this much.I can’t want her this much.I’m supposed to be somewhere else right now.Five thousand dollars, whispers a voice in my head. You’re going to give up five thousand dollars for a chance to touch this girl? Three months of rent. Groceries. A chunk of Katie’s last hospital bill. Katie’s new prescription. I can’t afford to be selfish right now.I shoot to my feet as reality crashes in on all sides. “I have to go,” I say, my voice breaking.