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I almost laugh. It would take more energy than I want to spend. “You drugged me because you like my voice.”

“No. I drugged you because I didn’t want to hurt you before you gave me a reason to.”

My legs are getting worse. I shift my weight carefully and disguise the movement by leaning one hand against the roof of the car.

I’m also closer to the open door now, which is unfortunate. Farther from the building. Also unfortunate. My phone remains reachable.

I look at Heather’s hand around my wrist, then her eyes. “How long have you been following me?”

Heather studies me.

The drug pulls at the edges of my focus. I hold her face in the center of it.

Finally she says, “Almost a year.”

I think backward. Two semesters. Summer. Faculty meetings. Grocery stores. My apartment. Mornings at the coffee shop. Evenings when I stayed late in my office because there was nobody waiting for me at home.

Almost a year contains too many ordinary days.

Heather squeezes my wrist. “Fear will make tonight easier if you use it properly.”

“I’m not frightened.”

“Don’t lie to me, Oliver.” She sounds almost fond.

I glance toward the building once more. No movement at the doors. No headlights turning into the lot. If I wait for someone to appear, I may not be conscious when they do.

I look back at Heather. “How long until this wears off?”

“A while.”

“Two hours?”

“You’ll sleep before then.”

I nod as though this is useful information rather than a deadline.

Heather relaxes slightly. I let my knees soften. She catches my waist with her free arm before I can fall. I allow more of my weight to go into her than necessary, and she releases my wrist to get a better hold on me.

My hand is already in my coat pocket. I get the phone out. My thumb finds the side button, and I press it rapidly.

For the first time tonight, she stops smiling. Her hand closes over mine before I can do anything else. I try to turn away, but the movement is faster than my balance can follow. Heather pulls at the phone. I hold on.

“Give me that.”

“No.”

My thumb drags uselessly across the screen. The numbers won’t stay where they’re supposed to. I get the emergency screen open anyway.

Heather twists my wrist. The phone slips. She catches it before it hits the pavement.

I reach for it. The ground comes up hard. My knee hits first, then one hand. Pain shoots through my palm and clears my head for approximately half a second. Enough to see Heather standing over me with my phone in her hand.

I try to get back up. My arm buckles.

Heather sighs. “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d gotten in the car when I told you to.”

She puts my phone in her pocket.