Chapter 2
“You sure?”
His tone was casual, but his eyes stayed fixed on mine like he was trying to tell whether I was being sincere or setting him up.
“I’m sure,” I said quickly. “I’m meeting my best friend at the library anyway, and we’re getting dinner after. You don’t have to come.”
He lowered his gaze, watching me for another second.
Like he was waiting for the twist.
Like he expected me to suddenly say, Actually, no, forget it, you’re coming with me.
But I didn’t.
Finally, he asked again, “So I can go?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Go.”
He exhaled, almost like he was relieved.
Then he said, with what sounded suspiciously like satisfaction, “We should’ve given each other more space sooner.”
That hurt a little, but I smiled anyway.
“Right.”
He slipped his phone into his pocket. “Fine. After dinner, call me. I’ll come get you.”
I nodded like a good girlfriend.
Later that night, after I finished eating with my best friend Lena, my first instinct was to call Xander and ask him to pick me up.
Then I remembered.
He was probably in the middle of a game by now.
Probably having the time of his life.
If I called and interrupted that, wouldn’t he just get even more annoyed with me?
So after a lot of internal debate, I gave up and took a cab back to the dorm with Lena instead.
The second I got back, I hurried to shower.
And when I came out, one of my roommates looked up and said, “Harper, your boyfriend’s downstairs. He looks kind of urgent.”
I blinked.
At this hour?
Shouldn’t he still be gaming?
Before we started dating, if Xander went to an internet café, he usually stayed all night.
I grabbed my phone.
The second the screen lit up, my stomach dropped.
He had called me over and over again.
There were a dozen unread messages.
Why didn’t you call me after dinner?
Where are you?
Who took you back?
What are you doing?
Why aren’t you answering?
I only went because you said it was fine.
So now we’re doing the silent treatment?
Fine. Then don’t talk to me.
Fifteen minutes later, another message had appeared.
Baby, come downstairs.
I stared at the screen in horror.
Had I already made him misunderstand me again?
Terrified of pushing that irritation meter even higher, I threw on my clothes and rushed downstairs.
He was standing under a streetlight outside the dorm, expressionless, one hand in his pocket, watching the building entrance.
The second he saw me, his eyes lifted.
I ran straight to him.
“I was in the shower,” I said breathlessly. “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. After dinner, Lena and I were already heading back, and I didn’t want to bother you and make you come get me…”
I finished my explanation and instinctively looked up.
The red number above his head hadn’t gone down at all.
Not even a little.
So he was still irritated.
Xander listened without interrupting. No trace remained of the sharp messages he had sent me earlier.
He just handed me a small cake box and arched a brow.
“Fine. As long as you’re not mad.”
Then he added, “It’s cold out. Don’t catch a chill. Take this upstairs.”
If this had been before, I definitely would have grabbed his arm, dragged him under the trees, rambled about nonsense for ten minutes, and demanded a goodnight kiss before I let him leave.
Demanded was the right word.
Because he always said kissing in public was inappropriate.
And I always said, “What’s inappropriate about it? Hurry up. One second. Kiss me.”
Then he would reluctantly lean down and do it.
But now?
Now I didn’t dare.
I took the cake and turned to leave.
And the next second, he caught my wrist.
I turned back in confusion.
Xander bent down and pressed a quick kiss to my lips.
I froze.
He looked at my face and lifted a brow. “What? Weren’t you the one who insisted on a goodnight kiss every night?”
I stared at him for two seconds, then remembered the system’s warning.
Go along with him. Don’t force him anymore.
So I shook my head and said seriously, “You don’t have to do that anymore.”
I tried very hard to sound understanding.
“You were right,” I added. “It really isn’t great to do that outside.”
Something in his expression changed.
His lips flattened into a straight line.
He didn’t speak for a long moment.
I waited nervously, practically holding my breath.
Then he said in an even tone, “Oh. Okay.”
Another pause.
“It doesn’t matter to me anyway.”