On Wednesday, I see him across the quad, and I duck into the nearest building before he can see me. I feel like a coward, but I don't know what else to do. I'm trying to create distance. Trying to protect myself, protect my engagement, protect the life I'm supposed to want. But it's not working. Because even when I'm not with Romeo, I'm thinking about him. Replaying what he said at lunch. The way he defended me. The way he looked at Thad was like he wanted to tear him apart for the way he treats me.
The way he said I was remarkable.
No one has ever called me remarkable before.
—
Thad comes backthe following weekend, and this time I can't avoid him. He's angrier than I've ever seen him. Not loud—Thad never raises his voice—but coldly controlled. Dangerous. He insists that I come up to his suite to talk, and he doesn’t leave me room to argue. He paces while I sit on the couch, my hands clenched in my lap.
"I've been thinking about this situation," he says. "About you and this Romeo person."
I tense instantly. "There is no situation."
"Don't insult my intelligence." He stops pacing and looks at me. "I want you to drop that class. Find a different seminar.”
"I can't drop the class. It's required for my degree."
"Then request a different section. One where he's not enrolled."
"Thad, that's not?—"
"I'm not asking, Savannah. I'm telling you. I want you away from him."
The command in his voice makes something snap inside me. "You can't tell me who I can and can't have classes with."
"I can when the person in question is clearly trying to seduce my fiancée."
"He's not?—"
"Isn't he?" Thad sits down next to me, too close. "Be honest with yourself, Savannah. What does he want from you? Why is he spending so much time with you, defending you, discussing rare books with you?—"
"How do you know about that?"
His expression doesn't change. "I went through your phone. Last weekend, while you were in the ladies' room. You left it on the table.” He says it casually, without a hint of guilt, as if my personal phone is his to look at as he pleases.
The violation of it steals my breath. "You what?"
"I had a right to know what was going on. And I was right to be concerned. The texts between you two—they're inappropriate. The amount of time you spend together is inappropriate. This whole thing is inappropriate."
"You had no right?—"
"I had every right. You're my fiancée. Your phone, your time, your attention—they belong to me."
I feel cold all the way through to my bones. I knew that men like Thad could be possessive, that they tend to treat women like possessions… but this is so much worse than anything I imagined.Does my father treat my mother like this?
My hands curl into the cushions on either side of me. “I’m not okay with that. Not having any privacy?—”
He turns sharply to face me. "We're getting married, Savannah. That means we don't have secrets. That means I have a say in who you spend time with, especially when it's another man who's clearly interested in you."
"Even if he is interested—which I'm not saying he is—that doesn't mean anything. I'm engaged to you."
“And does that mean anything to you?” The question is sharp. "Because lately, I'm not so sure. You're distant. You're distracted. You don't want to be intimate with me. And you're spending all your time with him."
"I'm spending time on my degree. On my research. On the things that matter to me."
"The things that matter to you should be us. Our future. Our life together." He moves closer, and I stand up abruptly, backing away. "I've been patient, Savannah. I've let you have this little academic adventure. But it's time to start thinking seriously about what comes next."
"What comes next is that I finish my degree."
