“I’ll walk you back,” I say.
Her eyes narrow a fraction. “You don’t have to do that either.”
“I know.” I angle myself toward her dorm, careful not to step closer. “I’m still doing it.”
There’s a moment where I’m not sure she’s going to move. Then she exhales, shoulders dropping a millimeter, and starts walking.
We fall into step.
I keep three feet between us. Enough space that our arms won’t brush, even if one of us trips. I stay to the outside, closest to the street and parking lot, where the shadows are deeper and the variables worse.
She keeps her gaze straight ahead, jaw tight. The air between us hums with leftover adrenaline and something rawer.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she says finally, voice low and tight.
My eyes stay scanning the path ahead. “Doing what.”
“Whatever this is.” Her hand flutters in a short, sharp gesture between us. “Showing up out of nowhere. Appearing in the dark. Watching me.”
I don’t try to lie.
“I am watching you,” I say. “Yeah.”
She stops walking.
Her head snaps toward me, eyes wide with a fresh wave of revulsion. “You… you’re stalking me?”
The word hangs there, ugly and accurate.
“I’m watching the route,” I correct, though it sounds thin even to my own ears.
“That’s the same thing!” She takes a step away from me, looking at me with a mix of horror and confusion. “You were sitting in the dark waiting for me?”
“Yes.”
She stares at me, her chest heaving. I can see the calculation running behind her eyes—Declan the protector versus Declan the predator. The fact that my stalking just saved her from a real threat is clearly short-circuiting her anger, and she hates it. She hates that the thing she should be afraid of is the thing that just made her safe.
“Why?” she demands, voice shaking.
“Because he grabbed you,” I say.
“He grabbed me tonight,” she counters. “You were already here.”
She’s too smart.
My jaw flexes. “I’m here because of Thursday.”
Her expression falters. “Thursday?”
“The gala,” I say, the words scraping out. “Because I sat in my truck and watched you walk away alone into the dark, and I didn’t follow you. Because I let you leave thinking you weren't worth chasing.” I look at her, forcing myself not to look away. “I haven't slept since. I needed to know you made it from one building to another without disappearing, because I failed at it two nights ago.”
Anger flares in her eyes now, sparking under the fear. “That’s not your job. And guilt isn’t a license to track me.”
“Don’t care,” I say. “I’m making it mine.”
She lets out a sharp, humorless sound. “You’re not my bodyguard, Declan.”
“I’m not trying to be your—”
