His Obsession, Her Perfect Calculated Escape

Caden stopped dead in his tracks. The easy smile on his face vanished.

He dropped his heavy gym bag. It hit the floor with a loud thud.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides.

Alma heard his boots hit the floor. She flinched violently. She pulled her knees up slightly and threw her hands over her face, covering the red mark. She pressed herself harder against the wall, acting like a cornered animal.

Caden stopped right in front of her. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Who did this?" Caden demanded. His voice was low, tight, and vibrating with rage.

Alma shook her head frantically. She kept her hands over her face.

A fresh tear slipped from her eye. It rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the back of Caden's hand.

"No one," Alma choked out. Her voice cracked perfectly. "Please, just leave me alone."

The warm tear hitting his skin felt like a lit match. Caden's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek.

He reached out. His large hands gently but firmly wrapped around her wrists. He pulled her hands away from her face.

He stared at the angry red welts on her pale skin. He could see the faint outline of fingers.

His breathing turned heavy. His male pride, his sense of territory, was deeply offended. Someone had touched something he wanted.

"Alma," Caden said, leaning in closer. "Look at me."

Alma kept her eyes cast down.

"I shouldn't have talked to you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I knew this would happen. I don't belong here. This is what I get for thinking... for thinking I could just be normal."

The words hit Caden exactly where she aimed them.

Guilt washed over his face. He realized instantly that his public attention in the cafeteria had put a target on her back. He had caused this.

The guilt quickly mutated into violent anger.

Caden let go of her wrists. He grabbed her shoulders instead. His grip was tight.

"I swear to God, Alma," Caden said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Whoever touched you is going to pay. Tell me who it was."

Alma looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. She reached up and grabbed his forearms. Her fingers dug into his jacket.

"No! You can't!" she begged. "Please, Caden. They're senior girls. They'll ruin my life if you say anything. I can't afford to get in trouble. Please."

She dropped the clue smoothly. Senior girls.

Caden's eyes narrowed. His brain processed the information instantly. There was only one group of senior girls who ran the hallways and cared enough about who he talked to.

Brenda Chandler.

"I won't let them touch you again," Caden said.

He pulled her forward. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his broad chest.

Alma rested her cheek against the rough fabric of his shirt. To anyone walking by, she looked like a fragile girl seeking comfort.

Hidden against his chest, the corners of Alma's mouth twitched upward. A cold, satisfied smile touched her lips.

She heard the squeak of sneakers at the far end of the hall.

Alma gasped and shoved Caden away. She wrapped her arms around herself again, looking around wildly as if terrified of being caught.

Caden looked down at her shivering frame. He shrugged off his heavy, navy-blue team jacket.

He stepped close and draped the jacket over her shoulders. The jacket was massive on her. It smelled like his cologne and sweat. He pulled the zipper up to her collarbone, locking her inside his colors.

"Go to the campus health center," Caden ordered softly. "Get some ice for your face. Stay there until the bell rings."

Alma nodded slowly. She pulled the oversized sleeves over her hands.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice small.

"Don't worry about it," Caden said. His eyes were cold. "I'll handle it."

Alma turned and walked away. She kept her head down, shuffling her feet.

When she reached the stairwell, she paused. She glanced back over her shoulder.

Caden was marching down the opposite end of the hallway. His fists were balled at his sides. He looked like a soldier going to war.

Alma turned her head forward. Her posture instantly straightened. The trembling stopped. Her steps became light and precise.

She walked into the main corridor.

Caden spotted a freshman pledge from his fraternity standing by the water fountain. Caden didn't raise his voice or lift a hand. He simply stepped into the boy's path, his presence alone a suffocating weight.

"Who was causing a scene in the north hall this morning?" Caden asked, his tone dangerously calm.

The boy's eyes went wide, intimidated by the sudden, intense focus of a senior elite. "I... I don't know man, I just heard Brenda and Shawna yelling at some girl."

Caden gave a curt nod, stepping aside to let the boy scurry off. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and held it to his ear.

"Meet me by the back doors," Caden said into the phone. "Bring the guys. We have a problem to fix."

Alma pushed open the door to the campus health center.

The room smelled of rubbing alcohol. The clinic nurse looked up from her desk. She saw the red mark on Alma's face and frowned.

"Good lord, honey. What happened to you?" the nurse asked, standing up.

"I tripped," Alma lied smoothly. "I hit my face on an open locker door."

The nurse raised an eyebrow. The mark clearly looked like a hand. But she didn't push. The clinic staff rarely pushed when they didn't have to.

"Sit on the bed," the nurse sighed. She walked to a small freezer and pulled out a blue gel ice pack.

Alma sat on the edge of the paper-lined examination bed. She took the ice pack and pressed it against her burning cheek.

The intense cold numbed the pain immediately.

Alma reached into her backpack with her free hand. She pulled out her Constitutional Law textbook.

She opened the book to chapter four. She began to silently mouth the vocabulary words.

Outside the window, Caden and three massive guys from his fraternity were walking briskly toward the parking lot.

Alma didn't look out the window. She just kept reading. She waited for the storm to hit.