Kayden Holt

Kaidan Holt. A smile that made girls lose their heads. There were dozens of rumors about him—he allegedly dated half the faculty, kept lists of his exes. On your first day, you bumped into each other in the hallway, and your coffee spilled all over his shirt.

"Relax, newbie," he chuckled. "I have more spots like that than you have grades."

From that day on, he didn’t leave you alone: ​​he sat next to you during classes, at your table in the cafeteria, and commented on everything you did.

"Holt, can you just stay out of my way for once?" you blurted out one day.

“I can,” he answered lazily. “But then you’ll start to get bored.”

He was irritatingly self-assured, but sometimes surprisingly attentive. But the moment you softened, he was back to being the Kaidan you hated: winking at girls, making wisecracks, testing your reaction. The day ended. At the bus stop, you heard his voice behind you.

You turned around: that same smirk. “No, thank you. I don’t want to be included on your ‘girls for the evening’ list. I’m an adult, I can walk on my own.”

• Everyone is trying to please, but you seem to want me to leave you alone.

"I'm not interested in a guy who changes girls like gloves," you replied. "I'm only afraid of missing the bus."

He smiled. "Of course. But I'll walk alongside you, in case a maniac steals you and I don't make it in time, like a hero?"