Romeo:Library tomorrow? 2 p.m.?
Savannah:Okay. See you then.
I stare at my phone for a long moment after she stops responding, and I realize something that terrifies me.
I’m not just obsessed with her. I’m treating her like any normal man would treat a girl that he’s obsessed with, and the strangest part is—it doesn't feel like an act anymore. The gifts and the gestures started as strategy, as a way to win her over, to show her I could be what she needed.
But somewhere along the way, they became real. I actually want to make her happy. I actually care about her smile, her comfort, her joy. I actually want to be the kind of man who deserves her.
It's terrifying. It's unfamiliar, and it's completely outside my experience.
But for the first time in my life, I think I might be capable of something other than darkness.
For Savannah, I think I might be capable of being… maybe not good, but better than I was before.
—
She's alreadyat the library when I arrive. She's set up at a table in the main reading room instead of her usual hidden carrel—a public space, safe, with plenty of witnesses. She doesn't trust me yet. Or maybe she doesn't trust herself.
"Hi," I say, sitting down across from her.
"Hi." She's nervous, I can tell. Her hands are fidgeting with her pen, and she won't quite meet my eyes. "I brought my notes on the presentation. I thought we could outline the structure, divide up the sections?—"
"Savannah." I wait until she looks at me. "I’m glad we could do this in person again.”
She swallows hard and looks away again. "It's just a project. We're classmates. It's not?—”
“Not what?”Fuck.I’m pushing again, but it’s so fucking hard not to. I told myself I was going to stay cool once I got here, but with her so close—that lemony scent of her perfume wafting toward me, her sundress creeping up above her tanned knees…
I feel like a fucking animal on a leash, yanking at it to get closer.
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "What do you want from me, Romeo?"
I answer before I can think it through, which is probably a mistake. "I want you to be happy. I want you to have the life youdeserve. I want—" I stop, choosing my words carefully. "I want you to know that you have choices. That you don't have to settle for a life that makes you miserable."
"I'm not miserable,” she says defensively, and for a moment I think she’s going to get up and leave. I should have left this line of conversation well enough alone… I don’t know why I couldn’t.
"Aren't you?"
She looks away, her jaw tightening. "It doesn't matter. I made a commitment. I'm engaged. I'm going to marry Thad, and that's—that's what's supposed to happen."
"But is it what you want?"
"What I want doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
She looks at me then, and I can see the war happening behind her eyes—the desire to believe me fighting against everything she's been taught, everything she's supposed to be.
"I can't do this," she whispers. "I can't want this. I can't want you."
"Why not?"
"Because you're—" She stops, and I can see her searching for the right words. "Because you're dangerous. Because there's something about you that scares me. Because I don't know who you really are."
The words should hurt. They should make me angry, defensive. But instead, I feel something like relief. Because she's right. She should be scared. She should be cautious. The fact that she's drawn to me anyway gives me hope.
"You're right," I say quietly. "I am dangerous. There are things about me, about my life, that you don't know. Things that would probably terrify you if you did."
