“Let's go,” I say, my voice clipped. I push my way through the still-euphoric crowd, not running, but moving with a determined pace towards the exit. Chloe follows, still chattering excitedly.
We finally make it to Chloe’s car, the cold night air a welcome shock after the stifling heat of the arena. I slide into the passenger seat, pulling my phone from my pocket. It’s still on silent, but the screen lights up with a new message as I unlock it. It’s from Unknown again, but I know it’s him. I might as well save his contact so I know it’s him next time.
West:
You look good wearing our green.
First of all it’s the school’s colors, his team doesn’t own them. He’s trying to get under my skin, and it’s working. He's still playing his games.
“He just texted me,” I tell Chloe, my voice tight, holding out the phone for her to see.
Chloe leans closer, her brow furrowed as she reads the screen. Her initial excitement fades, replaced by a flicker of concern. “Okay, that's... a little much. 'Our green'? Like you're already part of his team or something? That's not just a crush, Kins. That's... intense.” She looks at me, her gaze worried. “Are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick.”
“I'm fine,” I lie, my voice thin. “Just... tired.”
Chloe starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. “You know what you need? A massive, sugary latte. Let's hit The Grind. My treat.”
“Sounds good,” I mumble, my gaze fixed on the text message. The anger is stronger than the nausea now. He thinks this is a compliment, he believes this is a claim. It's an approval I never asked for.
I type a reply, my fingers flying over the screen.
Me:
Don’t text me again.
I hit send. My thumb is still hovering over the screen when his reply comes, almost instantly.
West:
Why not?
My breath hitches. He's still pushing and still testing.
Me:
Because I told you not to.
West:
You don’t get to tell me what to do, Kinsley.
My jaw tightens. He’s right. He has all the power. But I have my voice, even if no one else will listen.
Me:
I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Stop texting me. If you have something to say, say it in class, or in an email. Through official channels. Otherwise, leave me alone.
I hit send, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The three dots appear, indicating he’s typing. They vanish. The silence is a void, a question mark hanging in the air.
We walk into the coffee shop, and the sweet aroma hits me in the face.
“I’ll get the drinks. Go grab a table.” Chloe heads to the register as I walk to a small table in the corner.
It’s not long before she pulls her chair out, the strapping sound echoing through the mostly empty store. Chloe glances at my phone, then at me. “Kinsley! What did you do? You were so harsh!”
I slide my phone across the table, face down. “I told him to leave me alone.”
“I get it,” Chloe says, her voice softer now. “He's definitely being a creep, and you have every right to shut that down. But... he's West Monroe. Campus hero. Captain. You know how people are. They'll just think you're being dramatic.” She sighs. “But you're my best friend and if he's making you uncomfortable, then he's a jerk. Period.”
