Chapter 3

The coffee shop is exactly what you’d expect near Harvard—overpriced, pretentious, and full of people typing furiously on MacBooks while pretending their screenplay is the next big thing.

I order my usual caffeine monstrosity while Gabriel just… stands there.

“You seriously dragged your ass here just to watch me order?” I ask, grabbing my drink from the barista who definitely judged my order of extra shots. “That’s either dedication or a new level of weird, and honestly, I can’t decide which is worse.”

“Someone needs to make sure you actually make it back to your dorm,” Gabriel says, and there’s that subtle shift in his tone—professional but not quite. “You have the self-preservation instincts of a drunk toddler.”

“Charming. Really selling yourself as study buddy material here.” I take a sip and immediately burn my tongue because of course I do. “Also, excuse me, but I’ve kept myself alive for nineteen years. That’s practically a miracle considering… things.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but there’s something almost like amusement hiding in there.

“Let’s go,” he says, nodding toward the door. I follow because, well, I’ve already paid for the coffee and it’s not like I have better options—at least that’s what I tell myself as I definitely don’t notice how his shoulders fill out that jacket.

We head back toward campus, and Gabriel launches into what I can only describe as the world’s most boring TED talk about sleep cycles and academic performance.

Except I’m not really listening because I’m too busy noticing how he’s positioned himself between me and traffic.

It’s subtle, the way he drifts to the car side of the sidewalk like it’s natural. But come on—this is classic protective boyfriend behavior. The kind of old-fashioned, quietly romantic gesture that makes you wonder if someone’s been reading too many swoony novels.

My heart does this stupid flutter thing because apparently I’m that easy.

“Are you even listening to me?” Gabriel asks, and I realize I’ve been staring at him like an idiot. “I just explained why REM cycles are crucial for memory consolidation and you’re looking at me like I’m speaking Mandarin.”

“I’m absorbing it through osmosis. Very advanced learning technique.”

We’re passing through the quad now, students everywhere, and that’s when some drunk freshman barrels into me, all flailing limbs and apologies.

Before I can even process what’s happening, Gabriel’s hand is at my waist—steady, firm, his whole body angling between me and the chaos.

The touch lasts maybe two seconds, but my stupid brain catalogues every detail: the heat of his palm through my shirt, the way his fingers press just enough to guide me but not control, how naturally he moves into my space like he belongs there.

“You good?” he asks, hand dropping away, and I hate how empty my side feels without it.

“Yeah, jus…. peachy. Love being used as a human bowling pin.”

I try for sarcastic but it comes out breathless, and fuck, when did I become this pathetic?

We keep walking, but now I’m hyperaware of everything—how he matches my pace perfectly, how he steers us around obstacles without making it obvious, how protective his body language has become.

“So…” I drawl, because apparently I have zero chill, “you always this heroic with random guys on campus, or am I just special? Should I be expecting you to throw your jacket over puddles next? Maybe challenge someone to a duel for my honor?”

Gabriel’s expression stays unreadable, but I catch the tiny quirk of his lips.

“You’re lucky,” he says simply, like that explains everything and nothing.

My pulse does this embarrassing skip-rope routine. “Lucky, huh. Interesting choice of words.”

I sneak another glance at him, curiosity winning over common sense.

“What about in general? Do you—” I hesitate, trying to sound casual and probably failing spectacularly, “—like guys? Or is this whole mysterious protector thing just your default setting with everyone?”

He doesn’t slow his pace, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly. “Do you always interrogate your study partners about their dating preferences? Is there a questionnaire I should fill out? Maybe a PowerPoint presentation?”

“Only the interesting ones,” I shoot back without missing a beat. “The boring ones just get asked about their favorite coffee order and whether they prefer cats or dogs. You’ve graduated to the advanced questions.”

Gabriel lets the silence stretch, and I’m about to make another joke to fill it when he finally speaks.

“I like interesting people,” he says with maddening calm.

It’s not exactly a pride parade declaration, but it’s not a no either. And apparently that’s enough to make my brain short-circuit because I’m grinning like an idiot by the time we reach my dorm.

“Well, this is my stop,” I say unnecessarily, gesturing at the building like he hasn’t been stalking me long enough to know where I live. “Thanks for the escort service. Very professional. Five stars on Yelp.”

“Get some sleep,” he says, but there’s warmth in it that wasn’t there before. “And try not to burn down the dorm with your terrible life choices.”

“No promises,” I call after him, watching him walk away and definitely not checking out his ass. Much.

I float into my room on a cloud of caffeine and confused feelings, replaying every micro-expression, every word choice, every almost-touch.

My brain’s a hamster wheel of ‘what did he mean by interesting people’ and ‘why do I care so much’ and ‘his hand felt really good on my waist.’

“Where the hell have you been?” Jake’s voice cuts through my spiral. He’s sprawled on his bed, textbook abandoned. “I’ve been texting you for like an hour. Did you finally achieve your dream of becoming one with the library?”

I check my phone—six missed texts, two calls. “Sorry, had it on silent. Was studying with that guy. Gabriel.”

Jake sits up, interest piqued. “Dark and broody who was stalking you? And you’re still alive? This is character development.”

“Turns out he’s more dark and mysterious than dark and murdery. Slight but important distinction.” I flop onto my bed, still holding my coffee like a lifeline. “He walked me back here. Gave me a whole lecture about sleep hygiene. It was thrilling.”

“Wow, romance isn’t dead after all,” Jake deadpans. “Did he at least buy you dinner first before boring you to death?”

“Fuck off,” I laugh, throwing a pillow at him. “He’s actually… I don’t know. Interesting.”

Jake studies me for a moment, then grins. “Oh my god. You like him. You actually like your stalker. This is the best plot twist.”

“I don’t— That’s not… Ugh, shut up.” I bury my face in my pillow because my cheeks are definitely not heating up right now.

“Whatever you say, lover boy.” Jake’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “Hey, speaking of terrible decisions, there’s a massive party tonight. Sigma something. Supposedly the biggest one this month. You in?”

I hesitate for exactly half a second.

A distraction? A room full of noise and bad decisions and hopefully enough alcohol to stop thinking about Gabriel’s hand on my waist?

“Count me in,” I say, already grateful for the opportunity to think about literally anything else.