Chapter 6

Alma walked out of her history seminar. Caden was already leaning against the wall by the door, waiting for her.

He pushed off the wall. He reached out and grabbed the heavy strap of her backpack. He pulled it off her shoulder and slung it over his own.

"Let's go," Caden said. It wasn't a request.

Over the next three weeks, Alma's life at the university was perfectly peaceful. The hallways parted for her. People who used to bump into her now pressed themselves against the lockers to give her space.

But the peace came with a suffocating price.

Caden's protective instinct had mutated into absolute control. He walked her to every class. He sat with her at lunch.

And every day after the final bell, he dragged her to the library.

It was Wednesday afternoon. The library was quiet, filled with the hum of the ventilation system.

Alma sat at a small wooden table in the back corner, hidden behind rows of tall bookshelves. She stared down at a complex macroeconomics equation in her notebook.

Caden sat in the chair right next to her.

He had his elbow on the table, his chin resting in his palm. He wasn't looking at his textbook. His eyes were locked on the side of Alma's face.

He leaned in closer.

Alma felt his warm breath hit the sensitive skin of her neck.

A wave of intense, physical revulsion crawled up her spine. Her stomach churned. She hated his smell. She hated his constant, heavy presence.

She kept her face perfectly blank. She subtly shifted her weight. She slid her wooden chair half an inch to the left.

She reached her arm out, pretending to grab a pink eraser on the far side of her notebook. It put a few inches of physical distance between them.

Caden didn't notice the rejection. He smiled. He reached his hand out, aiming for a loose strand of hair near her ear.

Alma's peripheral vision caught the movement.

Just as his fingertips were about to brush her skin, she dropped her head sharply. She pressed her pencil hard against the paper, pretending to aggressively solve the math problem.

Caden's hand hit empty air. He dropped it back to the table.

Alma gritted her teeth. She couldn't tell him to back off. If she bruised his massive ego, his protection would turn into punishment. He would destroy her faster than Brenda ever could.

She needed an exit strategy.

As she stared at the math problem, a slight movement behind the bookshelves caught her eye.

Alma paused. She slowly lifted her head, pretending to stretch her neck.

Through the narrow gap between two rows of heavy encyclopedias, she saw a pair of eyes.

It was her dorm roommate, Bridgett Willis.

Bridgett was holding a thick novel up to her face, pretending to read. But her eyes were darting nervously over the top of the pages.

She was staring directly at Caden.

Alma watched closely. When Caden shifted in his chair, flexing his broad shoulders, Bridgett's fingers gripped the edges of her book so hard her knuckles turned white. Her face flushed a deep pink.

Alma's heart gave a slow, steady thump.

The pieces of a new puzzle clicked together in her mind. Bridgett was obsessed with him.

A perfect, clean escape route opened up right in front of her.

Alma dropped her pencil. It clattered against the table.

She let out a long, heavy sigh. She reached up and rubbed her temples, squeezing her eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" Caden asked instantly. He leaned in again.

Alma opened her eyes. She gave him a weak, exhausted smile.

"I'm just tired," Alma said softly. "It's Bridgett. My roommate."

Caden frowned. He leaned back. "What about her?"

"She cries every night," Alma lied smoothly. She kept her voice low and full of fake sympathy. "She's failing macroeconomics. She's terrified she's going to lose her spot on the honor roll."

Caden looked bored. He picked up his pen and spun it between his fingers. "Sucks for her."

Alma reached out. She gently placed her fingertips on the back of Caden's hand, stopping the spinning pen.

Caden's eyes snapped to her hand.

"You're so good at math, Caden," Alma said. She looked directly into his eyes, widening her own to look admiring and helpless. "You always understand the formulas before I do."

Caden's chest puffed out slightly. His posture straightened.

"It's not that hard," he bragged.

"It is for her," Alma pressed. "She's too shy to ask the teacher. If you could just look at her homework... just point her in the right direction. It would mean the world to me."

She paused, letting her hand linger on his skin for one more second before pulling it back.

"If she stops crying all night," Alma added in a hushed whisper, "I'd actually have the energy to hang out with you more. Just the two of us."

The bait was set.

Caden's eyes lit up at the promise of more alone time. His ego was stroked by her praise.

"Yeah, alright," Caden said easily. "Tell her to bring her book tomorrow."

Beneath the table, Alma uncurled her fists. Her palms were sweaty. The first seed was planted.

An hour later, they packed up their bags and walked out of the library.

The autumn wind was sharp.

Alma saw Bridgett standing alone by the bus stop. Bridgett was shivering in a thin cardigan, looking miserable.

Alma turned to Caden. She let a bright, sweet smile cross her face.

"We should go to the downtown neon roller rink this weekend," Alma suggested. "You, me, and a few people. It would be fun."

Caden smiled back. "Sounds good."

"Let's invite Bridgett," Alma said casually. "She needs to get out of the dorm. It'll cheer her up."

Caden was already thinking about holding Alma's hand on the skating floor. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Sure. Whatever you want," he said.

Caden turned and walked toward the student parking lot, his keys jingling in his hand.

Alma stood on the concrete steps. She watched his broad back retreat.

The sweet smile vanished from her face. Her eyes turned as cold and sharp as broken glass.

The trap was built. Now, she just needed to push them in.