“It’s an arrangement,” I grind out. “She’s— It’s money. Contracts. My father. It’s a cage I walked into before I ever met you.”
Her expression twists. “Do you hear yourself? You’re standing here telling me you’re in a cage like that makes it better. Like that makes me less of a secret.”
“You’re not a secret,” I say. The truth of it feels like blood in my mouth. “You’re—”
“What?” she throws back. “What am I?”
The answer is right there, hot and terrifying and too big for this freezing strip of campus. I swallow it down before I wreck us both.
“I’m trying to keep you alive,” I say instead. “That’s it. That’s the only thing that matters here.”
“No,” she says quietly, shaking her head. “You’re trying to keep me safe.”
“Those are the same thing.”
“They’re not.” Her voice cracks now, just a little. “I am trying to live. There’s a difference. I can’t do that if you only want mein secret. I can’t keep… bargaining with myself that your dark is better than other people’s light.”
Her words hit places that have never had language before.
The dorm looms behind her now, lit up like a sterile beacon. Lobby bright. Hallways bright. The kind of light that doesn’t make anyone safer, just exposes all the cracks.
“I shouldn’t have watched you walk away at the country club,” I say. “I know that. I know I should’ve come after you. I fucked it up. I know.”
She looks tired suddenly. Bone-deep. “You did,” she says. No cushioning. No forgiveness.
The wind knifes between us. She pulls her coat tighter.
“And you showing up like this?” she adds. “Hiding in broken streetlights to make sure I don’t get grabbed?” She lifts her chin. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”
Silence settles heavy over the path.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask.
The question shocks both of us.
If she says yes, I’m supposed to listen. I know that. I know where the line is supposed to be.
She looks at me for a long time. Then she huffs out a breath that’s almost a laugh and turns toward the dorm.
“I want you to stop pretending this is normal,” she says over her shoulder. “You want to know I got in? Fine. You already made me start texting you. I’ll keep doing it so you don’t have to lurk in the dark like some horror movie extra.”
The words are barbed, but she’s still walking next to me. Not away.
We climb the steps to the entrance together. The fluorescent light spilling out of the lobby washes her face pale, picks out the shadows under her eyes. She swipes her student ID, the lock giving a loud, mechanical beep.
She stops with her hand on the door and looks back at me one more time.
“This doesn’t mean I’m okay with any of it,” she says. “The stalking. The country club. Her. You.”
I nod once. “I know.”
“It just means…” She swallows, eyes closing for half a second. When she opens them again, they’re steady. “It means I’d rather you know I made it inside than have you sitting out here building nightmares in your head.”
Fair.
“I’ll text,” she says. “Happy?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I’m… less likely to lose my mind.”
