Zayden’s jaw tightens. A muscle tics near his temple. “What did you say?”
“It’s fine,” I add quickly. “I handled it. And he eventually backed off.”
“For now.”
“Zayden—”
“It’s not fine.” He stands, closing the distance between us in two steps. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, can see the tension coiled in every line of his body. “If he bothers you again—”
“You’ll what? Punch him? And end up suspended?” I raise an eyebrow. “How exactly does that help me?”
He exhales. A long, slow breath, like he’s physically forcing himself to calm down.
“It doesn’t,” he admits. “I know it doesn’t.”
“So don’t.”
“I’m trying.” His hands are clenched at his sides. “But when you tell me some asshole is cornering you, blocking doors, making you uncomfortable—”
“I didn’t say he made me uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t have to.”
We stare at each other. The air between us charged with everything we’re not saying.
“Tell Dana,” he says finally. “Document everything. Dates, times, what he said. Create a paper trail.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then we figure out the next step. Together.” He holds my gaze. “But if he touches you—if he puts his hands on you, even once—I don’t care about suspensions. I don’t care about headlines. Yeah?”
That soft “yeah” at the end. It shouldn’t make me feel safe, seen, and cared for. But it does.
“Yeah,” I whisper back.
He nods once. Then he reaches out and takes my hand—just holds it, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. The gesture is so simple, so steady, that it hits harder than any kiss would.
“I’ve got you,” he says quietly. “You know that, right?”
I do know that. That’s what terrifies me.
“I know.”
He drops his hand, steps back, and the loss of contact feels like a physical thing.
“Ice my shoulder?” he asks, and just like that, we’re back to professional. Back to the roles we’re supposed to be playing.
“Sit down,” I say. “And stop getting into fights you can’t win.”
“Who says I can’t win?”
“You’d win the fight and lose everything else. Suspension. Headlines. Who knows what else.” I grab the ice pack. “Not worth it.”
Zayden frowns, watching me with those dark eyes.
He’s impossible. Protective and stubborn and way too intense for his own good.
And somehow, despite every rule I’ve ever made for myself, I’m in deep. Way too deep. That’s the scariest part of all.
