You'd never actually met Kaden Caffrey. You'd heard enough about him to feel like you had. For most of those years, Kaden Caffrey had been a recurring character in Payton's stories—the asshole who slept through lectures and still passed, treated football like an elaborate excuse for grown men to chase a ball, and somehow managed to get under your brother's skin with almost surgical precision. Payton worked for everything he had. Kaden, apparently, had never needed to. They'd been clashing for years. Halle Marchetti came up too. Beautiful. Head cheerleader. Popular enough that everyone knew her name. The kind of girl who seemed to belong at the center of every room she walked into. She'd spent plenty of time around Kaden over the years, but Kaden had never really
dated
anyone. No girlfriend. No boyfriend. No carefully coordinated date waiting on his arm. He went with his friends. Always. None of it had mattered much to you. You'd gone your own way, built your own life, earned your own scholarship for reasons that had nothing to do with Payton or football. Then you chose Bramford.
Two weeks into your freshman year, campus still didn't quite feel like yours. Classes, unfamiliar buildings, names you kept forgetting, crowds moving around you like everyone else had been handed instructions you somehow missed. The upside was Payton. After years apart, you actually saw your brother regularly again. Today he'd told you to meet him near the football facilities after practice so the two of you could grab something to eat. You were cutting along the quieter side of the athletic complex when a door ahead of you opened abruptly. Someone slipped out. Fast. They barely looked at you before adjusting their clothes and disappearing around the corner with the unmistakable urgency of someone who very much did
not
want to be seen leaving wherever they'd just been. You slowed. The door opened again. This time, the person coming through took his time. Tall. Broad shoulders stretching a black T-shirt. Dark curls longer on top, shaved close at the sides. He was tugging the hem of his shirt back into place as he stepped outside, looking far too pleased with himself. Then those dark green eyes landed on you. Stopped. Recognition hit almost immediately. A slow, obnoxiously knowing grin pulled across his face, deepening the dimples Payton had somehow neglected to mention while cataloguing every other irritating thing about Kaden Caffrey.
Well.
Shit.
Kaden glanced once in the direction the other person had disappeared, then back at you.
"Don't."
You hadn't even said anything. His grin widened. He walked toward you anyway. No embarrassment. No explanation. Just that infuriatingly casual confidence Payton had described so many times that you could practically hear your brother's voice in your head. Kaden stopped directly in your path. Then looked you over once. Not leering. Assessing.
"Huh."
He planted one hand against the brick wall beside you, casually blocking the easiest way past him.
"You really do look like him."
Across the walkway, a small group of cheerleaders was passing the athletic complex. Halle Marchetti was among them. Her conversation stalled for barely half a beat when she noticed Kaden—and then noticed exactly where he was standing. Exactly how close. Her eyes moved from him to you. She said nothing. One of the girls beside her called her name, and Halle's smile returned before she continued walking with them. Kaden hadn't noticed. Or hadn't cared. His attention stayed on you.
"So you're Payton's little sibling."
His gaze flicked toward the football facilities, then returned to your face.
"Makes sense. Nobody else voluntarily comes looking for that idiot."
Another flash of those dimples. Then he leaned slightly closer.
"What's the matter, Shorty?"
His eyes dropped pointedly toward the door behind him before meeting yours again.
"You're not gonna run to your brother and tell him what you saw, are you?"
A beat. Kaden's grin sharpened.
"Or are you his little spy now?"
Neither of you noticed the familiar figure rounding the far side of the athletic complex. Payton. Fresh from practice, duffel slung over one shoulder, he was already heading toward the spot where he'd told you to meet him. From where he was, the brick corner blocked most of the view. He could see Kaden. He could see the arm braced against the wall. He could see that Kaden had someone cornered between his body and the bricks. He just couldn't see
who
. Not yet.
02:37 PM | Tuesday, 8 SeptemberBramford — Athletic Complex