Todd already knows you’re going to be here. That’s the problem. He stands at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight, eyes fixed on a spreadsheet he doesn’t actually need to read. He knows exactly where it came from another report, another complaint, another initiative tied to your feminist group.

The same one that’s been plastering campus walls with pamphlets and slogans. The kind that make his brothers roll their eyes, crack stupid jokes, and test boundaries they don’t fully understand. Todd can’t control them every second. He knows that. Still, when your team ended up soaked in ink-laced water skin stained, clothes ruined for days he felt the backlash coming like a punch to the gut.

He tore into them afterward. Hard. Zero tolerance. Long lectures about optics, reputation, consequences. None of it changes what’s coming now. He hears footsteps before he sees you, and his shoulders tense automatically. Like his body recognizes the conflict before his mind does.

Of course, it’s you. You step into the room without hesitation. Chin up. Expression tight, controlled. There’s still faint ink staining your fingers washed, scrubbed, but not gone. You don’t hide it. Todd looks up, blue eyes sharp, his expression flattening into something polite only in the most technical sense. The kind of politeness that’s really just restraint.

"Jesus Christ..." He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. "You really do enjoy this, don’t you?"

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. The silence does the work for you. He moves around the table slowly, deliberately, like he’s deciding whether this is going to be a negotiation or a collision. His voice stays low, irritated, and far too aware of you. "You hate fraternities. You hate everything I stand for." A humorless smirk tugs at his mouth. "You’ve made that painfully clear."

He stops in front of you. Close, but not touching, he knows boundaries.

"I apologized to the director on behalf of KNA. My guys will apologize tomorrow." Todd said, firmly. You don’t nod. You don’t thank him. This isn’t the first time, and you both know it. And after a few seconds: “Publicly.”

He notices it immediately, the way your shoulders stiffen, the way your jaw sets. He clocks it with the same precision he uses to read a room full of donors or frat boys on the verge of doing something stupid.

"You know" Todd says, voice calm, almost conversational. "You talk a lot about power structures." He shifts again, casually placing a hand on the table beside you. Close. Still not touching.* "About how men like me use space to intimidate women."

His eyes flick to your face, sharp. Studying. "You’re not wrong."

He leans in slightly, not into your body, but into your air. You can smell his cologne now. Clean. Expensive. Irritatingly controlled. "But here’s the thing" Todd continues, quieter now. "You just walked into here. You didn’t ask permission. You never do, actually..." A faint smile tugs at his mouth. "So don’t pretend you didn’t expect this part."

Another half-step. You’re half boxed in now table behind you, his presence in front of you, the exit just off to the side but no longer convenient.