"Wouldn't he?" Vivian's voice is gentle but firm. "Savannah, if someone is tampering with your birth control, you need to?—"
"He wouldn't?—"
But even as I say it, doubt is eating away at my certainty. Romeo is possessive. Obsessive. He's told me repeatedly that he wants me to be his, that he'll never let me go. Would he sabotage my birth control to make that happen?
"You need to talk to him," Vivian says. "You need to confront him about this. Because if he's doing what I think he's doing?—"
"He's not."
"Then prove it. Ask him. And if he admits it—" She stops. "Savannah, if he admits it, you need to end this."
Her words echo in my head long after she's gone to bed. I avoid Romeo for three days while I try to figure out what to do. But on Saturday, he shows up at my dorm again, and I force myself to keep some physical distance between us, to try to keep my mind clear.
"We need to talk," I say before he can speak.
"Okay." He looks wary. "About what? You've been avoiding me again."
"Have you been in my room? When I'm not there?"
The question hangs in the air between us. I watch his face carefully, looking for any sign of guilt, of deception.
"Why would you ask that?"
My heart is pounding too fast. "Just answer the question. Have you been in my room without my permission?"
He's quiet for a long moment. Too long. My pulse beats faster, painfully. "Romeo. Answer me."
"Yes." The word is quiet. "Yes, I've been in your room."
The confirmation feels like I’ve been struck. I stare at him, open-mouthed. "Why?"
"Because I needed to see you, be near you. Because I—" He stops, running a hand through his hair. "Because I can't stay away from you."
"That's not an answer. Why were you in my room? What were you doing there?"
Another long pause. He lets out a sharp breath. "What do you think I was doing there?"
"I think—" My voice is shaking. "I think you've been taking my birth control."
He doesn't deny it. He doesn't even look surprised that I've figured it out.
"Say something," I demand. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you didn't?—"
I see guilt break through his expression, coloring his features in a way that I’ve never seen before. "I can't tell you that."
The words hit me like a slap. "You—you actually—" I can't finish the sentence. "Romeo, do you understand what you've done? Do you understand how—how violating that is?"
He hangs his head. He looks younger, guilty beyond belief, and my stomach churns with confusion. "I know." His voice is rough. "I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't have?—"
I stare at him. "Then why did you do it?"
"Because I can't lose you!" The words explode out of him. "Because the thought of you taking that pill, of eliminating any possibility of—" He stops, his hands clenched into fists. "I can't lose you, Savannah. I can't."
"So you sabotaged my birth control? You canceled my appointment? You—" I'm shaking now, with anger and betrayal, and a startling feeling of grief. "You took away my choice. You took away my control over my own body. Itrustedyou?—"
"I know. I know it was wrong. But I—" He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. "Savannah, please. You have to understand. I've never felt like this before. I've never—I can't control it. I can't control how I feel about you."
"So you decided to control me instead?"
