Chapter 4 - The Badboy Who Doesn’t Scare Me

Being off limits should have made things easier.

That’s what I told myself as the days passed—told myself that boundaries were good, that distance was safer. And yet, every time I heard Caden’s name or caught a glimpse of black fabric and broad shoulders in a crowd, my heart betrayed me.

I didn’t understand him.

But I wasn’t afraid of him either.

That realization came to me one afternoon in the most unexpected way.

I was walking back from class with my arms full of books, my thoughts elsewhere, when a group of guys cut across the path too quickly. Someone bumped into me hard, and I stumbled, the books slipping from my grasp.

Before panic could take over, a familiar presence moved in front of me.

Caden.

He stepped between me and the group so fast I barely registered it. His body blocked mine completely, solid and unyielding.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said coldly, his voice sharp enough to cut.

The guys muttered apologies and hurried off.

I blinked, stunned.

Caden turned to me, irritation already fading into concern. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I said softly. “I’m fine.”

He crouched anyway, gathering my books with care that didn’t match the harshness he showed the rest of the world. When he handed them back, our fingers brushed again—and this time, he didn’t pull away immediately.

“You should be more careful,” he muttered.

I looked up at him. “You’re always saying that.”

His jaw tightened. “Because you don’t see how people look at you.”

“And how do they look at me?” I asked.

Like he hadn’t meant to say that much, he straightened quickly. “Forget it.”

“No,” I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. “I won’t.”

He stared at me, eyes stormy, searching for something—fear, maybe. But all I felt was curiosity. And a strange sense of calm.

“You think I should be scared of you,” I said quietly. “Don’t you?”

His shoulders stiffened.

“I think you’re too good for someone like me,” he replied.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

“I’m not safe,” he said finally, voice low. “Not emotionally. Not for someone like you.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “You don’t scare me, Caden.”

Something flickered across his face—shock, then something dangerously close to pain.

“You should be,” he said.

“Why?” I asked again. “Because you don’t talk much? Because people think you’re arrogant?”

“That’s not all they think.”

“I don’t care what they think.”

The words hung between us.

For a long moment, he just looked at me, like he was seeing me clearly for the first time. Then he exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for years.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he murmured.

“Why?” I asked gently. “Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Because it makes me forget why I’m supposed to stay away from you.”

My heart skipped.

Before I could respond, footsteps approached. My brother’s voice echoed from behind us.

“There you are, Addy. I’ve been looking—” He stopped when he saw Caden. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Caden just helped me.”

My brother grinned. “See? Told you he’s not as bad as everyone says.”

Caden’s expression darkened slightly, like praise was something he didn’t know how to accept.

“I’ll see you later,” he said abruptly—to both of us, but his eyes lingered on me for half a second longer than necessary.

That night, I lay awake replaying the moment over and over. His words. His tone. The way his eyes had softened when he thought I wasn’t afraid.

Down the hall, Caden sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands clenched into fists.