Then I spot it—the chocolate almond snack bar I love. I freeze for a second, touched.
“You remembered,” I say softly.
He shrugs, watching me with that knowing look. “You eat one every day after your first class. It’s not hard to remember.”
Right. I forgot that he stalked me once. Followed me, learned everything about me.
It should bother me. But instead, it makes me feel cared for. Wanted.
He notices my smile and leans against the counter, looking pleased with himself. “See? I’m a good boyfriend.”
“The best,” I admit, pulling one of the bars out and unwrapping it. “You take care of me too much, though. Since my dad cut me off, you’ve been feeding me, paying for my groceries, and driving me everywhere.”
He steps closer. “That’s what a boyfriend does.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re setting an impossible standard for other men.”
“Good,” he says. “Then you won’t ever want anyone else.”
I laugh softly, feeling warmth bloom in my chest.
As I bite into the bar, a thought hits me. His birthday. It’s in a week. I want to do something special for him. Something to show him I can take care of him, too.
Maybe a party. A surprise one. Something intimate but meaningful.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Dmitry asks suspiciously.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Just… thinking about class.”
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me but lets it go.
When we step outside, the air is crisp and cool. He takes my hand automatically, his thumb brushing over my skin in slow, lazy circles.
“You don’t have to walk me to class,” I say. “I’ve been doing this alone for three years.”
He squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to anymore.”
I glance up at him. “Because my big, scary boyfriend will protect me?”
“Exactly,” he says with a straight face.
I laugh. “You know, people are going to think you don’t trust me to cross the street by myself.”
“I don’t,” he says easily. “You get distracted too easily. Last week, you almost walked into a pole while texting me.”
“That was one time.”
“And it was hilarious,” he adds.
I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
We reach the building, and he stops, turning to face me. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
He studies me for a second, then nods slowly. “Alright. But if you feel off, call me.”
