Chapter 3 — Protective Instincts

Bailey

The bass reverberated through the walls, the kind of beat that thrummed in your bones and made it impossible not to feel alive—or at least, that’s what Casey had promised when she dragged me to this party. I wasn’t convinced. The house was packed, the heat of too many bodies pressing in from all sides, mingling with the acrid tang of spilled beer and cheap cologne. Laughter and shouts cut over the music, muffled only slightly by the pounding rhythm.

I lingered near the edge of the living room, my back pressed against a wall, clutching a soda I’d poured in the kitchen. Casey had vanished the moment we walked through the door, her kaleidoscope scarf a fleeting flash of color disappearing into the throng. It wasn’t like I needed her to babysit me, but parties had never been my scene—too loud, too chaotic, too many people pretending to have the time of their lives.

Earlier, she’d teased me relentlessly about needing to “live a little,” tossing around phrases like “hermit chic” until I caved. Now I was here, suffocating in a sea of strangers, and the only thing I could think about was how quickly I could slip out without her noticing.

I took a sip of my soda and scanned the room. Someone had overturned a cup on the floor, the liquid pooling around a sticky pile of crushed chips. A group of students was leaning against the far wall, locked in a shouting debate about whether a DJ or a live band made for a better party. The heat of the room felt oppressive, my skin sticking to the fabric of my long-sleeved top.

Why did I let Casey talk me into this? My fingers tightened around the cup. I hated how exposed I felt here, how every laugh and cheer seemed to grate against my mood. There was no escape from the noise or the press of too many bodies—or from my own restless thoughts.

A laugh bubbled up behind me, too sharp and self-assured not to catch my attention. I didn’t look right away, but the sound sent a prickle of irritation down my spine. When I finally turned, I locked eyes with a guy a few feet away. He was tall, with blond hair slicked back just enough to make me suspicious. His too-wide grin screamed entitlement. He was flanked by two guys who clearly thought they were part of some entourage. Great.

“Hey,” Blond Grin said, stepping closer. His voice cut through the music, just loud enough to demand attention. “You’ve been hanging out here all night. How about a dance?”

“No, thanks,” I said, keeping my tone steady but polite. My heartbeat ticked up, though I refused to show it.

Blond Grin tilted his head like he hadn’t quite heard me, though we both knew he had. “Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. You’ve been standing here looking miserable. Let me fix that for you.”

“I’m fine, really,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. My fingers tightened slightly on the soda cup, the plastic crinkling under my grip.

“You don’t look fine,” he said, his grin widening. He took another step forward, close enough now that I could smell the sour beer on his breath. “What’s your name?”

“It’s ‘not interested,’” I snapped, my voice sharpening.

The grin faltered, just for a moment, before settling into something more persistent. “Feisty. I like that.”

I glanced around, searching the crowd for Casey’s scarf or a friendly face. No luck. My stomach churned, heat crawling up the back of my neck. Why did guys like this always think persistence was charming? The noise around me seemed to blur into static, and for a moment, it felt like the walls were closing in.

“Look,” I said, my voice taut with frustration, “I just want to be left alone, okay?”

Instead of backing off, his grin twisted into something sharper, almost taunting. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. We’re just having fun.”

“Then have it somewhere else,” I shot back, louder now. A few heads turned, curiosity flickering in their gazes before the crowd quickly resumed their own conversations. My pulse hammered in my ears, and I could feel the soda cup trembling slightly in my hand.

Blond Grin’s smile vanished, replaced with something colder, something that made my chest tighten. Before I could think of what to say next, a voice cut through the noise—a voice low and calm, but unmistakably sharp.

“She said she’s not interested.”

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The familiarity of the tone sent a jolt through me, equal parts relief and irritation. Rayleb Kirk.

Blond Grin turned, his bravado faltering as his gaze landed on Rayleb. He stood a few paces away, his broad shoulders squared, his dark hair falling over his forehead like it couldn’t be bothered to behave. His gray-blue eyes locked onto Blond Grin with a focus that made the air feel heavier. His hand was tucked into his jacket pocket, and for a split second, I thought I saw him fidget with something—his silver compass, maybe.

“Who the hell are you?” Blond Grin asked, his earlier confidence wavering.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rayleb said evenly. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate. The space between him and Blond Grin seemed to shrink, the crowd subtly shifting to watch. “What matters is that you were told no. Twice.”

Blond Grin hesitated, glancing back at me and then at Rayleb. His two friends were already edging away, their swagger shrinking by the second. Blond Grin lifted his hands in mock surrender, his grin slipping back into place, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Whatever, man. Didn’t realize she had a bodyguard.”

Rayleb didn’t respond, his steady gaze saying everything that needed to be said. Slowly, Blond Grin retreated into the crowd, muttering something under his breath. His friends followed quickly.

The tension in my chest didn’t ease. If anything, it only tightened as Rayleb turned his attention to me. His expression softened slightly, though his posture remained rigid.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now but still carrying that same weight.

I swallowed hard, anger and gratitude tangling in my chest in a way that left me raw. “I didn’t need you to swoop in and save me,” I said, sharper than I intended.

Rayleb frowned, his brow furrowing as he crossed his arms. “You didn’t look like you wanted to handle that on your own.”

“I had it under control,” I lied, the words tasting bitter. We both knew they weren’t true.

His jaw tightened, a flicker of something—frustration, maybe—crossing his face. “Right. Sure. Next time I’ll let you fend for yourself. Have fun with that.”

His words stung, more than they had any right to. I glanced down at the soda cup in my hands, guilt prickling at the edges of my frustration. I didn’t want to admit that I’d needed him. That I’d felt a flicker of relief when his voice cut through the noise.

“Thanks,” I muttered, barely loud enough to hear over the music. “For stepping in, I mean.”

Rayleb’s expression softened, though only slightly. “Don’t mention it,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost resigned.

Before I could think of what else to say, Casey appeared, slipping between us with a swirl of her scarf. Her hazel eyes darted between me and Rayleb, her brows lifting in curiosity.

“Whoa, did I miss something?” she asked, her voice light but laced with suspicion.

“No,” I said quickly, stepping back. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

Rayleb didn’t argue, though his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned and melted into the crowd.

Casey watched him go, her expression shifting into something far more knowing. “Okay, seriously. Spill. What just happened?”

“Nothing,” I said again, though the word felt hollow in my mouth. I couldn’t explain it, not even to myself.

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced. But she let it go, for now.

The air inside felt too thick, too stifling. “I think I’m gonna head out,” I said, brushing past Casey before she could stop me.

Stepping into the night was like surfacing from underwater. The cool air bit at my skin, slowing my pulse just enough for the knot in my chest to settle deeper. The soda cup in my hand felt useless, so I tossed it into a nearby trash can.

Rayleb Kirk had shown up, as he always did—uninvited, inconvenient, and entirely too close for comfort. And yet, instead of just irritation, I felt something else lingering in his absence. Something that made my chest tighten and my steps falter.

I wasn’t ready to name it. Not yet.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.