Dinner is unseasoned fish, the last of the real supplies. After tonight, we’ll be on a strictly grains and pickled food diet. Neither of us is particularly looking forward to that.

We sit on the couch, huddled for warmth, keeping the fire low to preserve more wood. We have the blanket over our knees, and our plates balanced on top. Neither of us is eating very fast, either. We pick through our bites, one at a time, alternating between gazing into the glowing embers and forcing another mouthful of dry fish into our mouths.

I finish first. Tony takes one look at my plate, then cuts his remaining fish in half and slides the portion onto my plate.

“What about you?” I protest.

“Just eat,” he says by way of an answer. “You need the calories.”

I narrow my eyes. “So do you.”

“It’s not a question,” he replies. He finishes his last bite, then pushes upright, steps into the kitchen to drop off his plate. I scowl after him for a moment, then sigh and finish eating the fish. Not much else I can do.

When he returns to take my plate in for me, I catch his wrist instead. “Why are you so nice to me now,” I ask, “when you were so mean in class?”

He stares at me for a moment. He takes the plate and sets it on the little side table, then sinks back into the seat next to me. I keep my hand around his wrist the whole time. “I told you, Corina. I was just trying to push you to excel.”

I shake my head. I’m tired of that answer. Tired of his half-explanation. Of him dancing around the point. “It was more than that,” I say. “I’ve had professors who were hard on me before. I’ve been given unfair grades before. This wasn’t that. You singled me out, you gave me more shit than anyone else in that classroom. Why? Was it because you were attracted to me?” I catch his eye. Hold it. I’m getting a real answer this time.

He holds my gaze. Tightens his jaw. “It’s not because of that, Corina.”

“Then why?” I demand. “Why did you hate me?”

“I didn’t hate you—”

“Why did you treat me differently than any of your other students, if not because you wanted to fuck me?”

“It has nothing to do with my attraction to you. I don’t let that cloud my judgment.”

“Bullshit.”

He narrows his eyes. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“I think the only answers you’ve given me so far are bullshit, yes. And from where I’m sitting, that’s the only reason I can think of for you to have spent this whole semester treating me like garbage. So, yeah, Tony, I guess it is what I think of you.”

Something seems to snap in his eyes. He tugs his wrist away, breaks my grip. “Then why even bother asking? You clearly already know everything.” He surges to his feet.

I follow. “Because surely after all of this, I deserve a real answer, Tony. Not some bullshit platitudes.”

“Of course you’ve decided what you deserve. Spoiled girls like you always deserve whatever they want, whenever they want it, don’t they?”

My jaw drops.

He seems just as shocked by that statement as I am, at least. He grimaces, shuts his eyes. “Corina, I’m sorry—”

“No.” I grab my coat from where I’ve left it beside the front door, from when we went out to listen to the radio last night.

“Listen to me—”

“Why, so you can insult me some more?” I throw on my coat. Stuff my arms into it, then zip it up. “So you can act like you know me just because we spent the last week holed up fucking in this cabin? You don’t know shit about me, Professor. That much is clear. Spoiled?” I whip around and grab the doorknob.

“Where are you going? Corina, you can’t go out there.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” I yank the door open. A gust of freezing wind hits me full in the face. It makes me shiver, double over, clutch my jacket tighter. But it also hardens my resolve. I’m over this. Over this cabin, over playing house, over sleeping next to a man who’s made my life a living hell for the last three months and who clearly isn’t sorry about any of it. Who believes he’s just giving me what I deserve for being a spoiled brat.

I pull up my hood and step outside.

“Corina, please come back and talk to me about this.”

“Talk to yourself. I’m done listening to you dance around the truth.” I slam the door behind me and storm out into the night. I know which way the road is. If nobody’s driving up here on their own, I’m going to them. I don’t care if I have to walk all the way down this mountain. I’m getting the hell out of here.