NO.

"No," she said, pushing him away. "Please," he said, "just shake my hand. I won't be seeing you in another three months." She looked around. Not another hostel-mate in sight. The security guard on duty outside seemed completely oblivious to the fact that a person of the opposite s*x had just crossed the boundaries of one of the residents there. No, all the residents there. "You're not supposed to be in here," she said, slowly backing away. "This is a GIRLS' hostel, and you're a guy. Please leave." "Just a handshake, please, and I'll be off." "NOW." He did not budge. He stood there, hand awkwardly opened out at her. She does not give him what he wants. "You're making me uncomfortable." She heaved. Finally. Those words are out of her guts. "I won't be seeing you for another three months. So, please," he pushed, inching closer towards her, eyes fixated on her. Her blood began to boil. "Listen here, I don't care how the hell things with women go back in your country. I don't care if you always get your way with them back there. But when in Rome, you do as Romans do. In THIS country, you DON'T just follow a woman into her hostel and force her to interact with you. Now leave before I scream for the guards." "What the hell is wrong with you?" He drew his hand back, curled it into a fist, and placed it on his hip. "I'm just trying to be nice to you, but then you go and treat me like this." "Well, plot twist: you're not nice." "I AM!" he insisted. "No, you're not." "Why are you being so mean to me?" "Because you're not being nice to me, so I'm not obliged to be nice to you back." He sighed. He looked away from her, but still did not head towards the exit. She turned away and climbed up the stairs, not waiting for a reply. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he suddenly asked and caught up with her, not willing to let her go. She gritted her teeth. "No. Why does it concern you?" "If you keep up this attitude towards guys, you'll never find one." She huffed. She threw her head back and laughed a mocking laugh. She turned and faced him on the stairs. "I don't think I want a guy who cannot take 'No' for an answer or respect my personal boundaries for a boyfriend." "Please," he fell to his knees. "I'm not like the other guys. I promise. Please believe me." "Such obliviousness to one's own faults!" she thought. "Nah. I've met one or two jerks who are just like you. You're no different from them." "What have they done to you?" he asked, still crouching down. "Please, tell me." "Whatever you're doing right now," she replied with a shrug. "I promise," he lifted up a hand in oath. "I PINKY PROMISE THAT I WON'T DO WHAT THEY DID TO YOU, EVER." "Then get up, and get lost!" That was the point when he decided to show her his dark stripes. "b***h! I'm just trying to be nice to you. I have ALWAYS been nice to you - I helped you with your homework, I tutored you with your assignments, I teamed up with you in group projects when no one wanted to join you, I walked home with you at night so you feel safe, I accompanied you during breaks and lunch hours, and even responded to all your texts and all the questions you asked me, and this is the thanks I get?!" She responded with the coolness and calmness of a freshly-chilled iced lemon tea. "That doesn't mean you are entitled to me." She shook her head. "You don't get rewards just for being a decent person." "Then can't I at least get a last goodbye?" he wailed at her. She had honestly never seen a more pathetic-looking sight in her life! "I have already said goodbye to you, multiple times. Now off you go before I call the cops! This is your last warning." She felt around her bag. Her phone is there, great. But she regretted forgetting to bring her pepper spray out with her when she left her room for class this morning. Slowly, he stood up. But instead of backing towards the door, he stuck a hand out, palm facing sideways, in front of her, again. He looked sadly into her eyes, as if pleading her to just give him what he came for. Disgusted and disgruntled, she relented and shook his hand. He gave hers a firm squeeze, so firm that she thought he would rupture her blood vessels or break her bones. Finally, he let go. She rubbed her palm vigorously against her shirt. "See you, okay?" And he left the girls' hostel. She ran back up the stairs to her room, not crying, but exhausted and frustrated. She put her things down by her bed and fished out the number of the head security of her campus. It was a number given to her by the kindly man himself the night she had lost her phone to a thoughtful classmate who had kept it under surveillance while she left it in class and went to the bathroom. She studied the number carefully, then whipped out her recovered phone. Tonight, she shall tell the head security, that one of his employees is going to get sacked.