Students pass by, chatting, laughing, completely unaware that I just got threatened by someone who's supposed to be my project partner.
I pull out my phone and text the group chat.Emergency. Need you both. Now.
Twenty minutes later, we're in Isla's room. I've explained everything, the escalating harassment, the trip, his threat.
"That's blackmail," Lennox says immediately. "You should report him."
"For what? He hasn't technically done anything against the rules. He's just being an asshole."
"He stole your coffee. He undermined you in class. He's psychologically tormenting you." Isla counts off on her fingers. "That's harassment."
"It's my word against his and he's Ethan Zhang, wealthy family, pristine record, new transfer student who hasn't caused any problems. I'm the angry ex-friend who can't let go."
"That's not how anyone sees you?—"
"That's how his parents will spin it if this becomes official." I drop my head into my hands. "His mother has connections everywhere. She'll make me look unstable."
"So what are you going to do?" Lennox asks gently.
"I don't know. Go on the trip, I guess. Survive two nights of torture. Come back and finish this semester."
"Or," Isla suggests, "you fight back."
"How?"
"By not giving him the reaction he wants. He's trying to break you. Don't break." She sits next to me. "And if he tries anything on that trip, anything that crosses the line, you document everything. Photos, recordings, witnesses. Build a case."
"That feels like I'm planning for war."
"You are at war. He started it. You're just finally fighting back."
She's right. I've been playing defense this whole time. Letting Ethan control the narrative, the interactions, the power dynamic.
Maybe it's time to go on offense.
The next week, I change my strategy.
When Ethan shows up at the coffee shop before me, I go to a different one. When he tries to interrupt me in class, I politely but firmly continue my answer, forcing him to either shut up or look like an asshole.
When he takes my library seat, I smile sweetly and say loud enough for everyone to hear. "That's okay, Ethan. I'm flexible. Unlike some people."
Small victories. But they feel good.
Friday, we have another project meeting. This time, I arrive first. Choose the seat I want. Spread my materials out so he has limited space.
He notices immediately when he arrives.
"Setting up camp?"
"Just being efficient." I open my laptop. "I've completed the market segmentation analysis. Your competitive strategy section needs work."
I slide my notes across to him. They're thorough, detailed, and highlight every weak point in his analysis.
He reads through them, his jaw tightening. "These are... extensive."
"I'm thorough. You should try it."
"I am thorough?—"