I should know better than to think he’ll let me go just because I want him to. He walks beside me the entire way back to the dorm, not saying a word. Anybody who sees us together would probably think we’re just two normal everyday people. And it does occur to me that I could scream for help. If I really wanted to be rid of him and make him pay at least in part for what he’s done to me, I would.

And I do, don’t I? I want to get rid of him. I want him to pay. So why can’t I bring myself to scream?

When we reach my building, he makes no move to leave. “Bye,” I mutter, glaring at him. “Thanks for walking me back to my room. You can go now.”

“Do we really need to play this game?” When all I can do is gape at him, he shakes his head and opens the front door, strolling into the lobby like he lives here. As soon as I get a chance, I’m going to write a strongly worded email to the school and ask them about upping their security because this is ridiculous.

Rather than make a scene, though, I follow him inside, then up the stairs to the third floor. He’s waiting for me at the door by the time I reach it. I hate how sure he is of himself. How sure he is that he’s going to get his way.

But he did try to protect me. And if he’s telling the truth, which I think he is, he didn’t go to MIT because he wanted to stay here and make sure I was safe from his father. I can’t help it. It warms my heart and makes me soften up toward him.

And that’s why I let him follow me into my room rather than ask security to kick him off campus. Why I let him pull me onto the bed until we’re sitting together. I’m too tired to fight on top of everything else.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. His heart is pounding under my ear.

Why? Why do I matter so much to him? No matter how I tell myself to be careful, I can’t help wanting to believe him. I want to believe this is true, that he means it, that I matter to him. Because I’m finally starting to figure out that somewhere along the way, he started mattering to me.