Before I can fully realize what I’m doing, I grab my keys and head for the door, my phone still in one hand.
Romeo:Where is she now?
Vince:Back at her dorm. Went straight there after the pharmacy.
Romeo:Is she alone?
Vince:Yeah. Roommate left about an hour ago.
I know what I'm about to do is wrong. I know it's a violation of her trust, her privacy, her autonomy.
But I can't stop myself.
The thought of her taking that pill, of eliminating the possibility of her carrying my child, of removing the one thing that could force her out of Thad’s arms, that could make our families accept what we feel for each other—it's unbearable.
I need her. I need her in a way I've never needed anything in my entire life.
And I'll do whatever it takes to keep her.
Getting into her dorm building is easy. Students are coming in and out when I walk up, and no one looks twice at me. I take the stairs to her floor, my heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with the exertion.
This is insane. This is wrong. This is?—
Mine.
The word echoes in my head as I reach her door. I knock softly, but there's no answer. I try the handle.
It’s locked.
Fortunately, that’s not much of an obstacle for me. I’ve known how to pick a lock since I was tall enough to reach one. It takes less than thirty seconds, and I slip inside, closing the door quietly behind me.
I walk quickly through the main room of the dorm and into hers. It’s small and neat, filled with books and papers and the scent of her soap and perfume. The bed is unmade, and I can see her dress from last night draped over a chair. And there, on her desk, is the small paper bag from the pharmacy.
I cross the room, my hands shaking, and look inside.
Plan B. One dose. Instructions are printed on the box.
Take as soon as possible after unprotected sex. Most effective within 72 hours.
I stare at it, feeling something wild and desperate clawing at my chest.
If she takes this, it's over. The possibility is gone. We might never end up the way we did last night again. I might never have the chance to shift things in a direction that could erase so many of the obstacles to us being together.
And she'll choose to leave me. I know she will. She'll go back to Whitmore, back to her father's expectations, back to the life she's supposed to want.
I can't let that happen.
My hands are moving before my brain fully processes the decision. Taking the box out of the bag. Opening it. Removing the pill.
I should stop. I should put it back. I should leave and let her make her own choice.
But I can't.
I pocket the pill and put the empty box back in the bag, arranging it to look undisturbed.
She’ll think it’s the pharmacy’s mistake. And it’s Saturday—by the time she can get another, it’ll be too late.
What are you doing? This is insane. This is?—
