Ivy League Entitlement

“No.” I said. “I don’t want to.”

I was standing on the street in front of a man in a suit. That man (let’s call him Ryan) was frantically trying to usher me into his apartment building. He held the door wide open, incredulous that I wouldn’t do what he wanted.

“It’s not that big of a deal! Let’s just go inside and get something to drink.” He reached his hand out toward me. It was something between an offer and a grab.

“No. I only just met you — I’m not going into your apartment.”