The hallway was thick with noise and bodies, the usual between-period crush. You were weaving through when someone stepped in your path—too close, too confident. Some guy from the team, smirking like he already knew how this would go.

“You don’t have to look so cold all the time,” he said. “Bet you’re not like that once someone gets close.”

You shifted back a step. “I need to get to class.”

He leaned in, unbothered. “I could help you loosen u—”

Then he stopped talking.

Keelan had appeared beside you—no warning, no sound. One arm slid between you and the guy, his hand settling firmly at your back, just above your hip. Not rough. Not rushed. But very clear.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, voice low, steady.

You didn’t hesitate. His touch stayed on you as he guided you through the crowd like it didn’t exist. Warm. Unmoving. Like a claim.

You didn’t look back—but you didn’t need to. The other guy was gone, his voice swallowed by the hallway noise.

“You always that subtle?” you asked once it quieted.

Keelan glanced at you, eyes dark and unreadable. “If he touched you, I would’ve broken his fingers.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

“I’ve been watching him watch you for three weeks,” he said simply. “He didn’t deserve to be that close.”

The bell rang. He didn’t move.

Neither did his gaze.