Chapter 4 WATCHING
College feels smaller than I remember.
Not physically the buildings are the same, the walkways just as crowded but everything feels distant, like I’m moving through it behind glass. I sit in lectures and take notes I don’t remember writing. I laugh at jokes a second too late. My mind keeps drifting back to quiet hallways and rules I didn’t agree to.
And the car.
It’s waiting at the curb when my last class ends.
Black. Polished. Out of place among dented sedans and bicycles chained to rails. The driver stands beside it like a fixture, hands folded, eyes scanning the crowd.
I stop short.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.
“Miss Winters,” the driver says when he sees me. “Mr. Blackwood asked me to….”
“I know what he asked you to do,” I cut in. “And I didn’t ask for you.”
He doesn’t react. Don't argue. Just open the door.
People stare. Of course they do.
Heat crawls up my neck as I climb inside. The door shuts with a soft, final sound that feels too much like surrender.
The ride home is quiet. Too quiet. I watch the city pass by and try to convince myself this isn’t a cage. That this is temporary. That I still have choices.
But when we pull through the gates and the car glides up the drive like it belongs there, something in me tightens.
The rest of the afternoon drags. I retreat to my room, sketch, scroll, pace. By the time evening comes, I feel restless enough to scream.
So when Noah from my literature class texts, I don’t hesitate.
Study group tonight? Café near campus.
I hesitate only long enough to feel guilty.
Sure, I reply.
I tell myself I’m allowed. I tell myself I’m normal. I don’t tell anyone else.
The café is warm and loud and full of people who don’t know me as anyone’s daughter or responsibility. Noah is easy company, smiles too much, talks with his hands, leans in when he laughs. It feels harmless.
“Your place or mine?” he jokes, nudging my foot with his.
I roll my eyes. “Focus.”
He grins. “Worth a try.”
When we leave, the air is cool and the night feels open. I almost forgot…
Until I see the car.
Parked across the street.
Waiting.
My stomach drops.
Noah follows my gaze. “Wow,” he says. “That for you?”
I force a laugh. “Something like that.”
The driver steps out, already moving toward me. I don’t look back as I say goodbye.
“See you,” Noah says, a little uncertain.
“Yeah,” I replied.
The ride home is unbearable. I stare straight ahead, jaw clenched, counting breaths. By the time the car stops, I’m vibrating with anger.
Damon is in the foyer when I walk in.
Of course he is.
“How was your evening?” he asks.
I don’t slow down. “Fine.”
“You didn’t mention plans.”
“I didn’t need permission.”
His footsteps follow mine. “You went off-campus.”
“I’m aware.”
“You didn’t take security.”
I turn on him then, the words sharp and ready. “I’m not a criminal witness.”
His expression tightens. “That boy….”
“Don’t.”
He stops. “He was touching you.”
The fact that he knows makes my skin prickle. “You were watching.”
“I was informed.”
“Same thing.”
“This isn’t about jealousy,” he says evenly.
I laugh, bitter. “Then what is it about?”
“Safety.”
“Everything is safe with you.”
“You don’t understand…”
“No,” I interrupt. “I understand perfectly. You want control.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is tracking my movements.”
He steps closer, voice low. “You draw attention without realizing it.”
“And you decide that makes you responsible for me?”
“Yes.”
The word lands hard.
I stare at him, chest rising too fast. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know.”
“Then stop.”
Silence stretches. His jaw works, like he’s holding something back.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he says.
“No,” I reply. “It isn’t.”
I turn away before he can say more. In my room, I lock the door and lean against it, heart pounding.
I shouldn’t feel this way.
But as I lie awake later, staring into the dark, one truth curls through me, unwanted and undeniable.
I like that he notices.
And that terrifies me.
