Bite Me Softly

Chapter 2: Twisted Shadows

Monday mornings were bad enough without the added pressure of mysterious growling boys and whispers about howling in the woods.

I sat at the edge of the quad, legs tucked up, pretending to read while my eyes did all the heavy lifting. Kade Thornhill hadn’t growled at anyone else since that first day. At least, not that I’d seen. But his name lingered in the air like a ghost no one wanted to admit was real.

He hadn’t spoken to me, not once. But he had stared. And when I say stared, I mean soul-level dissection. Like he could peel back the layers of skin and memory to see the person I tried hard not to be anymore.

“Hey, new girl,” a voice said from above.

I looked up to see a girl with caramel curls and a tight smile. Her clothes were expensive, her posture bored.

"I'm Bri. You're Aria, right?"

I nodded cautiously.

She plopped onto the bench beside me like we’d known each other for years. “You seem chill. So I’m going to do you a favor. Stay away from Kade Thornhill.”

I blinked. “Okay...?”

“I’m serious. I’ve noticed the looks. He’s... toxic. That whole family’s got issues. People say he’s been expelled from three schools. Plus, there was this story about a fire once. Another about a guy who ended up in the hospital. And there was that time he disappeared for three months—some say prison, some say rehab. Either way, he came back worse.”

I didn't reply. What could I say? Thanks for the unsolicited fearmongering?

She leaned in a little, lowering her voice like this was high-stakes espionage. “Look, he might be hot—like, disturbingly hot—but you don't want to end up on his radar. He doesn’t date. He doesn’t talk. And when he does, someone usually ends up bleeding.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” I smile weakly.

My fingers gripped the book tighter.

Too late.

He’d already noticed me.

Kade started showing up where I went.

Not like a full-blown stalker. More like... a shadow that happened to fall into the same places.

In the library, he’d sit two tables away, pretending to scroll through his phone but never turning the page of the book in front of him. In the cafeteria, he’d take a seat where he could see me, but never next to me. Never near enough to speak.

In PE, he was always in my field of vision. Stretching. Running. Watching.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. The paranoia reflex never really left me after years of learning how to vanish. But it wasn’t paranoia if it was real. And this? This was very real.

Weeks passed, and every glance felt like a spark, and every spark made my thoughts clumsy.

He never smiled. But sometimes, I caught the corner of his mouth twitching. Like he was holding something back.

Was I supposed to be scared?

Because mostly, I just felt... curious.

But I knew damn well that curiosity kills cats and I am not interested in trouble. Keep my head down and grades up, and soon I’d be far far away from here and any place I’d ever known. There wasn’t just one ghost at Crescent Ridge.

A few days later during lunch, I found a quiet spot near the back of the library. I wasn’t reading. I wasn’t studying. I was just hiding.

Not from anyone in particular. It was just one of those days. A day when the surrounding air transformed into heavy shadows and their crushing weight made it hard to do anything other than merely exist. Times like these the fire alarms could flash and screech while the building crumbled down to ash around me and I don’t know that I’d even lift my head.

The saving grace was if I was barely surviving, I wasn’t thinking. No memories flashed behind my eyes, terrible words and hurt making me sweat and cringe. No pleasure, but no pain. Just… nothingness.

The window near my seat framed the edge of the woods, dark and dense behind the football field. There was something about those trees. Something old. Heavy. Like they were holding secrets too.

I was mid-stare when I heard the chair beside me scrape.

He sat down.

Kade.

In my bubble.

He didn’t say anything. Just folded his arms and leaned back like this was normal. Like we were old friends.

Logically, I knew this should scare me. Or at the least weird me out. But as we sat in the extended silence, something strange happened. Slowly, a lightness came from my chest, pushing away my twisted, suffocating shadows. Breathing became easier, something I could go back to not thinking about.

The last thing this strange boy’s presence should bring me is relief. Yet, inexplicably, it did.

Neither of us spoke, or even looked at the other.

Then, as suddenly as he appeared, he stood.

As he walked away, an unfamiliar feeling erupted in my chest. Something like gratefulness. Whoever he truly was, he had brought a little bit of light to my dark corner.

That afternoon, I took the long way home. I liked the quiet streets between school and the small rental where I lived with my aunt. I needed the silence to think.

The sun hung low, stretching golden fingers across the cracked sidewalks and chain-link fences. Weeds pushed up through broken pavement. Birds called distantly from telephone wires. Somewhere far off, a lawn mower droned.

But just past the gym, I realized I wasn’t alone.

I heard footsteps. Heavy ones.

I quickened my pace.

“Aria.”

I stopped.

I knew that voice.

Cody.

He stepped into view from behind a utility shed. Bigger than I remembered. His jacket sleeves were torn at the cuffs, and his eyes gleamed with a mean sort of delight.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said with a sneer. “Heard you ran off like a scared little rat.”

I froze.

He took a step closer. “Didn’t even say goodbye to your real family. Kind of rude, don’t you think?”

“You’re not my family,” I said, voice low.

He chuckled. “Come on now. We go way back. I even let you stay in my room that one summer. Remember that?”

I flinched.

He noticed. “Oh, you do. Thought so.”

I tried to turn, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Let go of me."

His grip tightened. “Nah. We should catch up. I got a lot to say.”

I tried to yank free, panic rising. My breathing quickened as I realized just how secluded we were here. No one would hear. No one would see.

An even darker thought - even if they did, would anyone care enough to stop it? I doubted it.

Then came the sound.

A growl.

Low, deep, and not even a little human.

Cody froze. I twisted, something deep down told me I knew what I was going to see.

Kade stood at the edge of the asphalt, his silhouette half-shadowed, half-golden in the setting sun. His eyes—yes, gold, like the stories—burned across the distance.

He didn’t speak. Just stared.

And that stare did more than any words could’ve done.

Cody released me instantly, taking two clumsy steps backward.

“I wasn’t doing anything, man. Just talking. Chill.”

Kade didn’t move.

Cody turned and ran, disappearing behind the gym and out of sight. The echo of his footsteps faded into silence.

Around us, the wind rustled through dry leaves and carried the faint scent of pine and motor oil. Somewhere nearby, a bird let out a long trill before taking off. I stood frozen, the frantic beating of my heart felt loud in the empty space.

I looked back at Kade, not daring to say a word.

He walked toward me, slow and steady.

"You okay?" he asked. He spoke softly, which was jarring considering the sound that had just come out of his throat a moment before.

I nodded, even though my wrist ached and my pulse thundered.

He stepped closer, close enough to make me stumble half a step back.

His hand reached out, brushed lightly against mine. His fingers touched the spot Cody had gripped.

Why?

"From now on," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, "don’t walk home alone."

I didn’t ask how he knew I was there.

Didn’t ask how he’d gotten there so fast.

He pulled back and turned away.

And just like that, he was gone.

I stood there for a long moment, heart still racing.

Kade Thornhill was a mystery wrapped in rumors and sealed with a warning.

And for better or worse, apparently I was officially on his radar.