Walk me Home

Chapter four

I don't know exactly how it happened.

I don't know exactly what came over me.

But here I am, speedwalking with my little legs to keep up with Matteo's long strides. He's bulldozing through the crowd and I'm neatly following his path, apologizing to every single person we pass.

A part of me is anxious we'll bump into Logan, yet a part of me knows he left. Not only because anger took over his whole appearance, ruining the rest of his night, but because he's smart enough to know he can't hang around after the stunt he pulled.

He hit another person. Out of the blue. Mid-conversation.

I know jealousy can portray itself as an evil emotion. However, until this night, I never experienced upfront how ugly it can make a person.

Once we reach the first floor, my worrying heart slightly settles down. It would be beyond stupid to hide out on the first floor because, unless Logan is ready to jump out of a window, he'd have to face whatever and whoever comes for him.

I shouldn't worry about him. I shouldn't care yet, somehow, I can't help it because, beyond the anger burning in his eyes, I saw the hurt. The pain of the betrayal.

It's non-negotiable that the way he handled those emotions is wrong. However, that doesn't mean I want someone to beat him up as payback. One casualty is enough, or rather, already too much.

Perhaps that's why I'm here, watching how Matteo reaches into his pocket and gets out a bundle of keys with one hand as he holds the icepack we got from the kitchen with the other.

Because I can't watch someone be hurt and not help.

I watch him nudge the bundle of keys with his thumb to search for the right one.

Is this normal? Do people lock their indoor doors? I've never locked my bedroom door in our apartment. I don't think I even have a key to lock my room, and if it exists, I've never seen it. I don't even know why I would have it because I'd never use it. I trust August and Brooke with my life, so it's evident I trust them to respect my privacy.

Perhaps it's because of the party. However, even that I don't quite understand. Is he that mistrusting? Does he really believe fellow friends and students would enter his room and steal his stuff? Doesn't he have a shred of confidence in humankind to be nice and respectable? Perhaps something happened in the past. Maybe someone broke in or broke his trust.

"Why do you have keys?" I ask to silence the questions in my mind.

"To open the door."

The second I hear his answer, I realize I should've phrased my question differently.

"Obviously but why- Oh my God," I shriek as he opens the door, and the cutest, brown-haired labradoodle pops into my vision. "Who are you, you little cutie," I coo as I scootch down to get on the dog's level. I open my arms wide and invite it into my arms.