Page 75 of His Pet

“What do you want, Mara?” he finally said.

“Have you been writing an opposing essay this entire time?” I gestured at his desk, the published articles sprawled out and on display, practically flaunting them in front of me. “It’s another way for you to get closer to tenure, isn’t it?”

He narrowed his eyes, and I remembered that glare, intense and menacing, from that first night at the Afterglow.

“I agreed to the contest,” he glowered, “didn’t I?”

“Agreeing is one thing. Following through with a promise is another.” I crossed my arms. “Explain why we’re disqualified.” Recognition crossed over his face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Let me guess. You removed your name from our essay so that you could publish your own academic trash somewhere else.”

“Mara.”

“This is the only thing I asked of you.” I clenched my fists, trying to force myself to feel angry, not defeated, not disappointed, not heartbroken. But it was hard. So hard. I needed to be angry. Not hurt. “I was just another disposable student. You never actually thought of me as an equal, did you?”

“It never wasmyessay, Mara,” he hissed. He stood up, leaning on the desk. “I submittedyouressay elsewhere, to better publications. You even admitted it yourself.” He threw a hand to the side. “Oasis is not where you want to be published. That essay deserves to be somewhere better than this our university’s shitty journal.”

The words were weighty, but I couldn’t swallow them. It was a lie, wasn’t it? Even if he had submitted the essay—mine, his, ours, whatever—to other journals, it was probably an excuse to make himself feel better. So then he could publish an opposing paper against me. Because at least then, I’d be published too.

So he could prove how wrong I had been, all of this time.

Was there power in sacrifice? I shook my head, the tears coming on strong. I didn’t feel powerful now.

“But you never asked me what I wanted,” I said, the words escaped me in a quivering whine.

“I did ask,” he said. “In the library.”

I remembered that day. How did that count? “I don’t believe you,” I said. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“I can show you,” he said, turning to his computer. “I’ll pull it up. Look—”

“I need to know the truth,” I said. “Did you remove my name so that you could write the opposing essay?”

“I removed your name becauseyouwrote that paper, Mara. You deserve the credit for writing something so brilliant. Not me.”

Brilliance hardly fucking mattered when it meant the only person you thought was on your side, was gone. “You don’t need to explain your reasoning to me,” I said. “I get it. Whatever you need to do to secure tenure, right? The fucking billionaire who somehow thinks he’s better than everyone else because he teaches humanities at a university.”

I had overstepped. Made this personal. Attacked him. But I couldn’t stop myself. Not when he had hurt me too.

“I’ve worked for tenure for a long time,” he said slowly, “as you worked hard to be here.”

The tears in my eyes blurred my vision, but I stayed strong, staring him down, daring him to lie to me. Begging him to.

Anything to make this go away.

“You didn’t answer the question,” I said in a harsh whisper. I broke at the words, “You wrote the essay, didn’t you?”

We stared at each other, long and hard, the seconds ticking away like each whack of that spiked paddle, blistering my soul. I wanted to be wrong. More than anything. But with each passing moment, I knew that I wasn’t.

“I didn’t submit it anywhere,” he said.

“So you wrote it, then? What’s stopping you now?” I could barely get out the words. “You never believed in the thesis.” Or in me, I thought, or in us. I glared at him, and his dark blue eyes searched mine, trying to figure out the right thing to say. But it was lies. All lies. “Answer me, Nate. Did you ever really believe in the thesis?”

His eyes were filled with regret and tenderness, but that didn’t stop him from saying the next words. “It’s one way to interpret it.”

I stormed out of the room, hiding my tears. That phrase was all I needed to hear to get the confirmation I was looking for. Everything I had relied on when it came to Nate, what I held to be true, was gone. I couldn’t trust Nate. Even if he had submitted my essay somewhere else, he had still betrayed me; he had done it without asking for my opinion. And even beyond that, he was still coming back to that same line:It’s one way to interpret it.As if I was anyone to him. As if I was no one. I wasn’t his pet. I was another student to dismiss.

I was nothing to him.