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Hi, Emory. It’s me.

Echo.

I wait a few seconds, chewing on my lip as I consider what to say.

Um. I hope you don’t regret giving me your number.

This isn’t an emergency.

But—

Before I can type out my next message, I see he’s typing, so I pause.

Are you okay?

A sudden warmth rolls through me, even though I’m standing in an air-conditioned building. It’s my internal temperature that’s raging.

Yes. I’m fine.

Kind of.

Spill, Legacy.

You’re making me nervous.

I’m too keyed up to stay in my room.

Even if I know it’s locked up tight.

There’s a brief pause, in which time I figure he either thinks I’m overreacting or he’s plotting how to come to my rescue.

I should have known it would be the latter.

I could come over if you want.

There’s a rush of untamed excitement that rolls through me, even if I can’t allow him to follow through with his suggestion. And then when I don’t answer, he continues.

I’d be like a guard dog.

Sit on the floor at the side of your bed.

Make sure no one gets to you.

With my cheeks on fire, I tap out another message.

That’s sweet of you to offer.

But I’m going to head home for the night.

Stay with my sister.

She doesn’t live far from here.

Try to get my head on straight.

I just—

I need some reassurance I’m not overreacting.