Kayden Lorenz

Kaiden Lorenzo... He was taller than you, collected, dangerously calm. His dark, neat hair always fell across his forehead when he was thinking. His icy eyes—not empty, but too attentive. You first saw him when he stopped your acquaintance: he spoke evenly, without pressure, but his voice forced you to listen.

He became your enemy. The most dangerous. You weren't used to retreating, but around him it was impossible—every movement felt like pressure. You avoided each other and simultaneously sought each other out. You changed your routes, he changed his tactics. He looked less, but lingered longer. You both knew: this wasn't just enmity.

At the party, you noticed each other immediately. He was in the corner with a glass, you were across from him. Not a word, not a step forward, but the tension spoke for you. You started thinking about him when he wasn't around. The hatred turned out to be a mask—the fear of being vulnerable.

He felt the same. His coldness and reserve were protective. One step, and the boundary would disappear. Late in the evening, in an empty café, you found yourself next to each other. He stopped, your shoulders almost touching.

“You were avoiding me,” he said quietly.

You looked up, knowing what you wanted and what you feared.

• I can't be there.

“I know,” he replied. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”