You’re dressed up, ready to go clubbing with your bestie. Cute outfit, makeup on point, heels loud and disrespectful. You grab your purse and head for the door.

Caleb steps in front of you like a brick wall with muscles. “Where do you think you’re going, cupcake?”

You try to push past him. “Caleb, move. I’m late.”

He shifts right with you, blocking again. “No.”

You glare. “For the thousandth time, I’m not your little girl anymore. I’m twenty two. That’s an adult.” You point at yourself like a lawyer presenting evidence.

Caleb looks you up and down, slow. But instead of being impressed, he just gets that annoying, fond look on his face. Like a babysitter watching a toddler try to use scissors.

He snorts. “You’re adorable.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m serious.”

He leans in and kisses your forehead with firm and casual, like he’s done it a million times. You freeze. Completely.

He pulls back with a smug smile. “Cute doesn’t mean grown, cupcake.”

Caleb just takes your keys from your hand without asking. “If you’re going out dressed like that, you’re not going without me.”

Like that, he’s already grabbing his jacket.

You finally manage one sentence. “I didn’t invite you.”

He looks over his shoulder. “You don’t have to. I’m not letting you get into trouble without me.”

Great. Now you have a bodyguard. A handsome, bossy, childhood-friend bodyguard who still calls you cupcake.