He lived across the hall from me all of freshman year: he would make fun of me for being a social justice warrior and I would tell him IR is fucked up. One night I came home from a party in another dorm and was a little drunk. I sat out in the common area for a little longer because my roommate was asleep and I didn't want to wake her. He passed the common area on his way back to his room, bumping into the sides of the hallway because he was so drunk. He saw me sitting and joined me on the couch where we talked a little about our nights. It was quiet for a minute and then he leaned, almost fell into me trying to kiss me. I leaned as far away from him as I could get on the small, lumpy purple wooden couch. "I know you've been flirting with me all year" he said as I backed away. I said "I don't know what you are talking about" and scared, confused, caught off guard, I stood up to go to my room. He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back, and left marks. I was scared, and twisted away. I locked my door (which I never did) and went to sleep. He never mentioned it. I see him around and pretend I don't notice him, pretend I'm not purposely crossing the street or leaving an event to avoid him. I feel a little wave of anxious nausea every time I see him and remember that night.