It had been almost a week. Almost a week since we had gotten back from New York, almost a week since I had last talked to John. He had texted me about meeting him and Devin for dinner, but I had declined. Being friends with him seemed impossible now. We had crossed a line. In fact, we had crossed line after line. I didn't know which one had marked the turning point for me, but I did know that being around him hurt, ever since New York.

Which is why compulsively staring at John and his soccer friends from across the room at a Friday night party at Brooker, Liam's house, wasn't helping. I didn't know why I kept doing this to myself. There were few people I knew, most everybody was drunk, and all that was there for me to do was try to talk to Liam over the blaring music or, like right now, wait for him to return from the bathroom.

A guy I had never met but thought was either on the football or the rugby team shot me looks from the corner of the room. I ignored him as best as possible while hardly being able to detach my own gaze from John. Brooker was the last place I would have expected him. He knew Liam lived here, and he usually kept far out of his way. I wouldn't have come. I wouldn't have dressed up in a tight pair of gray jeans and a red cotton crop top with a pretty neckline and decorative wooden buttons if I had known he'd be here.

John was wearing a simple black V-neck t-shirt and stone-washed jeans, but he looked so good. Inky swirls of guilt wound their way through my stomach. Liam didn't deserve this. To say he had been annoyed when John, Aidan, and a few other guys had showed up would have been an understatement. But the party was thrown by Liam's roommates, and the soccer players were behaving, so kicking them out was not an option. Leaving was also not on the table because it was Liam's house and he still had some responsibility to co-host, he thought.

Somebody stepped into my line of view and stood a little too closely. Rugby Guy.

"Hey, you here all alone?" He blew his beer breath into my face. Judging by that, he'd had more than a couple already.

"My boyfriend went to the bathroom," I said coolly, not looking at him, and took a step to the side.

"Is that why you're staring at the soccer guys? Is that fair to your boyfriend? 'Cause you don't look like you're with one of them."

"Mind your own business," I spat, growing irritated.

### trigger warning: harassment/attempted assault, to skip continue to next ###

But he wouldn't drop it: "You should ditch all of them, if you ask me. Dance with me?"

"I am not asking you, and I will not dance with you, and I won't spell it out for you, so leave."

Disregarding my demand, he took yet another step closer and placed his hand on my hip. I was so shocked that I could neither stir nor yell at him, only stare at him with wide open eyes like a deer caught in headlights. Judging from the smirk he donned, the asshole seemed to revel in the power he had over me. Still unable to move, I had never in my life been more grateful than when John intervened.

"You take your hands off her right now," he hissed. "She said no." Legs astride and chest puffed, he tried to maneuver himself between me and the other man.

"There's no way you heard what she said from all the way over there," the guy said condescendingly and took another step closer to me to block John's way.

"I know her and I know she wouldn't hook up with a piece of shit like you."

"Oh, yeah?" Rugby Guy said belligerently. "This doesn't concern you." I used the moment of his distraction to rip myself from his touch.

A deep growl emerged from John's chest. "Fuck off," he barked, enunciating the Fs, then reached around my shoulders and swiftly led me out of the house. On the way out, we brushed past Liam who was just getting out of the bathroom. I barely took note of his confusion or that he followed me and John, who was still guiding me and slipping my coat around my shoulders.

###

I had never seen John this hostile before and it scared me. It wasn't that I was scared of him, but rather of how serious the situation must have seemed—or been—for him to react this way. I had started to quake and I was involuntarily tearing up. Nothing had happened, I knew that. But that didn't excuse this guy's behavior. I had no idea if I would have been able to slip out of my trance, or what Rugby Guy's motives were. For a minute there, my body hadn't felt like my own. My insides churned. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so helpless and weak. If John hadn't been there—

"Grace. You're trembling," John said softly, his hands placed on my shoulders. "Grace, say something. Are you hurt?" This simple question broke down my barrier. I shook my head, started crying, and welcomed John's strong, comforting arms and his hand stroking my hair. Every part of my body shook with the eruption of my sobs and I held onto him as if my life depended on it.

"What happened? Is she okay?"

"Seriously, Liam? Obviously she's not 'okay'," John spat without loosening his grip on me, thankfully. I couldn't see his face, but his voice resembled a growl and its vibrations reverberated in his chest where I felt them. "Some jackass put his hands on her. Where the fuck were you?"

"I—bathroom. God, I—tell me what I can do."

"Nothing. Go back inside."

"I'm taking Grace back to her room," Liam tried again.

"I've got it. Go," John commanded. And at what I presumed was a group of curious students passing by, he yelled: "And you all mind your own business, nothing to see here."

Meanwhile, I had stopped sobbing, but was still trembling. Weakly, I wiped some of the tears off my cheeks and turned to look at Liam, slipping out of John's hold.

My voice sounded strangled when it came out. "It's okay, I'll call you tomorrow."

Liam stared at me in disbelief for a few seconds, perhaps waiting for me to change my mind, but when I didn't, his eyebrows knitted together, he mumbled an 'okay', and turned around to leave, not without craning his neck again to look back at us.

Once he was back inside the building, the temporary strength I had gathered left my body, my heart started hammering again, and I took a blubbering gulp of air. John immediately pulled me into him again, making calming sounds and stroking my hair while I tried to breathe in and out at a normal pace. It was harder than expected because John's pulse was racing too. His ribcage was rising too fast and the vein on his neck bulged. We stood like that for several minutes. Several minutes of him holding me tight. My respiration slowly calmed down enough along with his for me to wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my cardigan and take a couple of deep breaths until I pulled away a little.

"You shouldn't be alone tonight," he mumbled. "Do you want me to take you to Jessica's?"

"No." She would lose her mind with worry even though I was blowing this out of proportion with my overreaction.

"It's cold out here. Let's head to the suite and decide what to do from there. Is that okay?"

I looked up at him. His concerned eyes held the moon and the stars. John was stable, safe. Before I knew what I was doing, I nodded and followed him to Ross, his steadying hand on the small of my back, warming my skin even through my thick winter coat.

A wave of relief swept over me that I had accepted the offer when we arrived at the suite. Besides Jessica's room and my own, which weren't great options tonight, this was the place where I felt the safest on campus, I realized. Because it was John's place, I realized.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

What in the world, Grace!

The surprise on John's face gave way to a wary expression. The last time we had talked, we left things in a very different place. "Are you sure?"

My eyes welled up. I didn't do it on purpose, it was the result of the wild storm of unacknowledged feelings which had been raging within me for two weeks. "I trust you. Please?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. His breaths were deep and controlled. When he opened his eyes again, his voice came out raspy. "Of course."

"I'll sleep on the couch," I offered.

"Like hell you are. I'm taking the couch and you're sleeping here tonight." He pointed at his bed while rummaging through his dresser. When he found what he was looking for, he threw me a small stack of clothes: a too-big college soccer t-shirt—well, too big for me, not him—and a pair of practice shorts. "You can use this as pajamas if you want." When I looked up at him, he looked away, almost embarrassed, and scoured another drawer instead. "You can change in the bathroom, here's a fresh toothbrush. I'll be here when you come back."

My heart swelled. I did as he told me, glad to be getting out of my tight jeans and crop top, washed my face and brushed my teeth. When I reentered the room, he looked up from his phone and put it away and stood up from the edge of the bed. In the meantime, he himself had changed into a thin white t-shirt and a different pair of practice shorts.

"Hey, I was just going to change the sheets, give me a minute."

I gestured for him to stop. "Please don't bother on my behalf. It's kind enough of you to let me stay here."

"Are you kidding? What kind of man would I be if I left you alone right now? My mom would kill me, and rightfully so."

When he made his way to the door and had already switched the light off, I stopped him: "John?"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing... just—thank you, even if I can't thank you enough."

"Grace, it's fine, even one 'thank you' is more than enough."

A crooked smile formed on his lips and he stepped closer again to wrap his arms around me one last time. His embrace was cozy and warm, it was butterflies and fuzzy blankets and roasted brown sugar. I could have fallen asleep standing up in the dark like this if he hadn't pulled away eventually.

"Actually, I would feel safer if you stayed with me tonight?"

With a hammering heart, I looked up at him through my lashes. I was angry with John, I was frustrated and hurt—but all of that seemed far away now; hazy, shapeless memories of things I used to feel toward him. Now all that was there was affection.

I was being unfair, especially after him saying that about his mom. I was being selfish. But wasn't I entitled to a little bit of selfishness? Why did I always have to be the reasonable one? If this is really so wrong, why do we keep coming back to this place?

The air between us weighed heavy on my chest as his eyes flickered between mine. His voice was not more than a whisper. "Okay."

He grabbed a throw blanket from his chair and slipped into bed first, covering himself with it, before holding up one corner of his comforter and top sheet for me to slip under. I did and he tucked me in before settling back onto his half of the bed rather stiffly. Only when I nestled my head into the crook of his neck, where his pulse was racing, did he start to relax. His fingers slipped into my hair and briefly stroked my head. My eyes flew shut, even if he pulled away again after a few seconds.

"Good night."

"Good night, Grace," he echoed breathily.

As a wave of leaden fatigue washed over me, my mind slowed its rotations. Despite everything tonight, I felt safe. Here in John's bed that smelled of him in the most intoxicating way.. With him, things were easy. As sleep engulfed me, even the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach faded into the smooth, comforting darkness of the room.