Judgingme.
“In your room, please, Savannah,” he said as he stood. “I think, like your roommate, we need to have this conversation with your door closed.”
I followed him to my room, he waited until I was inside, and then he walked to my desk and leaned against it, not taking the chair. He gestured to the bed opposite him. “Sit.”
I sat. My heartbeat sounded louder than the clock on the mantle.
“Were you with him?” he asked without preamble. “Tutoring him is one thing. Beingseenwith him in public, outside of that, is another. Do you understand the distinction?”
“Do you?” I shot back before I could stop myself.
His eyes narrowed. “Savannah—”
“No,” I cut in, leaning forward. “Do you? Because I’m starting to think you care more about appearances than you do about me.”
He leaned back, cold, measured. “Appearances areeverything. You are seen by board members and donors every other week, Savannah. Have you no consideration as to how you’ll be perceived? My daughter is not the next headline in some tacky internet post with afootball player. Appearances, perception, these are why Wrighton University thrives—”
“Thrives?” I demanded incredulously. “Do yourememberthe conversation we had this afternoon?”
“In regard to the Academic Association, yes, I do. You are not part of that, Savannah. And it is not part of the opportunities you enjoy.”
I laughed, sharp and humorless. “Opportunities? You mean this degree I never wanted? Sitting at lunches and brunches and all the other crap, in rooms parroting your opinions? You call that an opportunity?”
His face went still. “You’re top of your class. You’ll have offers most people dream of.”
“Idon’t dream of that, Dad!” The words broke out, ragged. “I dream of copper and stained glass and welding torches. I dream of taking things that are broken and making them whole. That’s what I want. Not policy memos. Not donors with too much money and not enough conscience. And not being your perfect puppet.”
The silence after was suffocating. His jaw ticked once. “Art is ahobby. It will not pay your bills. It will not protect you in this world.”
“And the lies you cover up here will?” I whispered, voice shaking. “Art may not be what you want for me, but it ismineand it makes me happy.”
For the first time, his expression cracked — not softened, but tightened, like I’d disappointed him more than I ever could by failing a class. “You’ve been rash. It’s because of the quarterback,” he said more to himself than me. “I knew it would happen. He’s a bad influence.”
“Because he’s honest, caring, and cares about what Iactuallywant?”
“Whatever you have — orthinkyou have — with him, it ends.Now.”
“No.” My voice was calm and steady. “It won’t end now. Not because you tell me to. Do we have a future? I don’t know,” I told him with a small smile. “I’m almost twenty-one years old. I have no idea what my future is. But Dante and I? It’s new, it’s exciting.” I watched him as my words fell off him like water off a stone. “I’m in a relationship with Dante, and I will not end it because you don’t understand what happiness looks like.”
My dadtsked, his lip curling in distaste, no doubt at my ‘emotional’ outburst. “You’re in danger of throwing everything away because of a mediocre student who can throw a ball?” He looked appalled at the very thought of it. “He’ll ruin your future just like that football program ruins—” He stopped. “No.” Heshook his head. “No, Savannah. You will not jeopardize your future. Not with everything I’ve built for you.”
“I didn’t ask you tobuildanything for me,” I said quietly. “All I wanted was the chance to build it myself.”
His eyes turned to ice. “Then maybe you don’t belong in this university after all.”
I felt like he’d slapped me, but I forced myself to stand. My knees wobbled, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.
“Then I guess while I’m still a student here, you can see yourself out, Dean Cole.”
I watched him leave the room, pulse thundering in my ears, as I sank down onto my bed.
I said I’d bring it all down for Dante, but I didn’t know I’d be the first one to fall.
Chapter 37
Dante
The knock came just as I’d convinced myself I didn’t give a damn.
