I'm dressing for him.
The thought makes my stomach twist with guilt. This has to stop.
I've been telling myself that for weeks now. Every time I find myself thinking about Romeo when I should be focused on my research. Every time I catch myself comparing Thad's textsto the conversations I have with Romeo. Every time I feel that flutter in my chest when I see him across the quad or in the library or sitting in his usual seat in Kouris's seminar.
My phone buzzes on my desk, and I know before I look that it's Thad.
Thad:Dinner meeting running late. Will call tomorrow instead of tonight.
No apology. No "I miss you" or "wish I could talk to you." Just a statement of fact. I’m being shuffled around in his calendar like a less important to-do item.
I honestly should be upset. Sad. But truthfully, I feel a flush of relief, and that only intensifies my guilt.
Especially because my first thought is that Romeo would never do that. He prioritizes what works for me when it comes to study times, offers to walk me home, seems to genuinely enjoy my presence even though I’m not giving him anything but conversation in return. He listens when I talk. He looks at me like what I'm saying actually matters, like my thoughts and opinions are worth hearing.
I force back the thought as soon as it forms. This is dangerous territory. Thad is my fiancé. Thad is my future. Romeo is just a classmate, a study partner, just someone I happen to find intellectually stimulating.
Just someone I can't stop thinking about.
I type back:Okay, no problem. Good luck with the meeting.
Then I grab my bag and head out before I can change my outfit a fourth time.
—
The seminar is discussingMinoan burial practices, and I should be taking notes. Instead, I'm hyperaware of Romeo sittingseveral rows behind me, the way he always does. I can’t help but imagine that I can smell his cologne, even though he’s probably too far away for that to be true.
But I’ve smelled it often enough before, when we’re studying. I’m always close enough then to smell that woodsy cedar scent clinging to his skin, his collar, and I remember it well enough to imagine that I smell it now, when I should be focusing on…
Shit. Dr. Kouris just asked a question. It takes me a second to realize that she addressed it to the girl sitting next to me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Guilt swamps me again, but for a different reason this time.
I traded my entire future for the chance to get this degree. I agreed to marry a man I otherwise would never have given the time of day to, signed off on my father’s vision for my life in order to get two years to myself, doing what I wanted most.
And now I’m missing out on what I very much want to learn, because I’m thinking about a guy. A guy who I can’t have anyway, and who I shouldn’t be fantasizing about.
Even if he did look impossibly handsome when he walked in today, in dark jeans and that grey sweater he was wearing that looked like cashmere, fitted perfectly to his muscular torso…
I blink, trying to refocus. I hear Romeo’s voice, and I realize he’s answering a question that Dr. Kouris just posed. Not only that, he’s answering itwell, giving her references and explaining his answer so thoroughly that she looks genuinely impressed. I find myself leaning forward, listening intently, wrapped up in everything he’s saying.
After class, I'm gathering my things when he appears beside my desk.
"Coffee?" he asks, and I should say no. I should make an excuse, create some distance, remember that I'm engaged.
Instead, I hear myself say, “Sure.”
We settle into our usual table at the coffee shop, since it’s available, and chat about what we went over in class. I can tell Romeo is genuinely invested in what we’re discussing. His eyes are bright with enthusiasm, and I'm watching his mouth as he talks, watching the way his expression changes… watching him.
"You're not listening," he says suddenly, and I realize he's right.
"I am," I lie. "You were talking about the symbolism of sacrifice that Dr. Kouris discussed today.”
"That was five minutes ago." He's smiling, but he looks at me curiously. "Where did you go?"
"Nowhere. I'm just tired."
It’s true—I am tired. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, either plagued by dreams about things I shouldn’t be imagining or nightmares about my wedding to Thad—the wedding being pushed up, being forced out of grad school, all kinds of worst-case scenarios. Or I lie awake thinking about my conversations with Romeo, him walking me home, how much more relaxed I feel with him. And then I feel guilty, and I start thinking about when Thad will visit next, how I’ll have to fend him off, try to keep him from touching me more than he should, while I listen to him tell me how my life won’t be anything like what I want it to be once we’re married.
But that’s the agreement I made. That was the deal. And I have to honor it.
