“I wish, but I didn’t see the guy,” I tell him.
“And what happened?” he presses when I don’t elaborate.
“Got jumped. Eden saved me and helped me get home,” I add when he glances at her again.
“You saved him?” He shoots her an impressed look.
“I just scared the guy away,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Are you okay?” He scrutinizes me.
“I’m fine, just a bit roughed up.”
He looks at my temple. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s just a scrape,” I say dismissively. “Nothing serious.”
He flicks his gaze between Eden and me again. “Let me know if anyone gives either of you trouble for this.” He gives me a pointed look. “And text me if you need anything. Got it?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He looks between us one more time, then steps aside so we can continue on our way.
“What floor do you live on?” she asks when the main door closes behind him and we’re alone in the lobby.
“Fourth.”
“Tell me you have an elevator because, no offense, but I don’t think you’ll make it without passing out if we have to take the stairs.”
“None taken, and yes, we have one. It’s just over there,” I motion toward it.
We fall silent again as we slowly make our way to the elevator, and I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline wearing off or if my injuries are catching up to me, but I start to feel really strange, like I’m moving underwater while also having random bouts of vertigo as we wait for the elevator doors to open.
The vertigo gets worse as we ride the elevator up to my floor, and that out-of-sync sensation comes back as the elevator comes to a stop.
“Damon?” she asks as the doors slide open. “Are you okay? You’re as white as a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I mumble, swaying on my feet a bit as tiny spots of silver flicker in my vision.
“Are you sure?” She tightens her grip on me.
“Yeah. Just need to get to my room.”
It takes way more effort than it should, but we make it to my door, where I have to ask her to dig my room key out of my pocket so we can get inside. When we finally do, she brings me over to my bed, and I sink down on it with a groan as she lets go of me.
“You’re not okay,” she says, wringing her hands as I wrap my arm around my middle and bend forward slightly to take some of the pressure off my hurt side as the room spins around me. “Can you text Anthony or someone? You need help, like actual medical attention.”
“I don’t want to bother him,” I say, my voice weak and thready. “And I’m fine. I think it’s just shock. It’ll pass soon.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice filled with distress as she hovers beside me. “I’m not good in emergencies, and I have no idea what to do right now.” She grabs my free hand and squeezes it. “Jesus, you’re freezing. This isn’t normal.”
She’s right. I’m not okay, but I’ve never been good at asking for help, not even when I’m hurt or sick or desperate, and my stubborn ass would rather deal with this alone than involve anyone in the frat and let them see me like this.
“I’m calling the school doc,” she says, but her voice is hesitant as she reaches for her purse.
“Wait,” I say quickly and sit up straight, ignoring the flare of pain that rips through my side at the sudden move.
She watches as I swing my feet up on the bed, then carefully scoot back so I’m leaning against my headboard. “I’m fine,” I tell her when I’m settled. “It’s just shock.”
