Chapter Text
The party was everything I hated about the Kooks: over-the-top, brimming with entitlement, and so painfully fake. The mansion sprawled in front of me like a postcard, its lights flashing against the twilight. The sound of laughter and music bled out from the open doors, blending with the clinking of glasses.
The crowd was a blur of designer clothes and perfect smiles, all of them pretending to be carefree while they counted down the minutes until their next social climb. I stood at the edge, leaning against the weathered wooden railing of the deck, feeling like a ghost.
“Come on, just one drink!” Sarah’s voice cut through the noise. I shot her a look, the kind of look that said I’m already regretting this, but she was already dragging me toward the bar.
I wasn’t interested in the drink. I wasn’t interested in the people either. The Kooks acted like they’d never seen a Pogue before, but the reality was, they only liked us when it suited them. When it made their stories sound more interesting. And that’s exactly what they saw me as: a prop.
Sarah had always been my tether to this side of the island. She knew how to navigate these parties with ease, even if she rolled her eyes at half the people there. And she liked bringing me along—not as a prop, but as someone who could keep her grounded.
The music was too loud, the laughter too forced, and the mix of cologne and perfume was overwhelming. I could feel myself shrinking into the background, nursing my warm beer as I watched Sarah flirt with some guy in a white button-down. That’s when I noticed him.
Rafe Cameron.
He wasn’t hard to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, and magnetic in a way that shouldn’t have been appealing but was. Even standing still, there was something restless about him, like he was daring someone to give him a reason to unravel.
Leaning against the wall behind him, he looked like a storm trapped in a man—eyes sharp, jaw clenched, and cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers. He was trouble, the kind of trouble I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get tangled in again.
When his eyes finally cut my way, it felt deliberate, like a trap being set. He looked me over, slow and calculating, then nodded toward the side gate. A silent command. My stomach flipped.
I should’ve ignored him. But instead, I took another sip of my beer and followed.
Outside, the air smelled like saltwater and smoke. Rafe was waiting by the edge of the driveway, sat atop his truck hood. He had a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other, the flame sparking as he lit it.
“You’re Sarah’s friend,” he said, the words more observation than question.
“And you’re Rafe Cameron.”
That earned me a grin—lazy, lopsided, and far too confident for his own good.
“You’re not like the rest of them,” he said, like it was a compliment.
I crossed my arms. “What gave it away? The thrift store jeans or the cheap beer in my hand?” i said, showing my beer like a prized possession.
He laughed, low and rough, and flicked the lighter shut. “You’re funny. I like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why am I out here?”
“Because I’m bored, and you don’t look like the kind of girl who’d say no to a little fun.”
He pushed off the truck and opened the passenger door. The move was cocky, careless—like he already knew I’d say yes.
I hesitated. Every instinct in my body screamed that this was a bad idea. Rafe Cameron was the kind of trouble girls like me didn’t survive unscathed.
But I didn’t say no.
I climbed into the truck, shut the door, and watched him grin like he’d just won something.
The engine roared to life, and he didn’t say a word as we pulled out of the driveway. The house, the party, the flashing lights, and the drunken laughter all disappeared into the distance, swallowed by the dark stretch of the road ahead.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
“You’ll see,” he said, his voice calm, almost teasing. He kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting casually on the wheel, the other tapping against his thigh in rhythm with the song playing through the speakers. It was something slow and low, the kind of music that crept into your veins.
I leaned back in my seat, trying to ignore the electric charge of his presence. There was something reckless in the way he drove, like he trusted himself to handle the chaos even when it seemed like he shouldn’t.
“You always let strangers take you on late-night drives?” he asked suddenly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
I crossed my arms, matching his energy. “You don’t feel like a stranger.”
Rafe smirked at that, and I hated how good it looked on him. “Careful,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly, “you’re starting to sound like you trust me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I shot back. But there was no conviction in my voice, and we both knew it.
He took a sharp turn onto a dirt road, the truck jostling as we left the smooth pavement behind. The trees loomed closer now, their shadows long and twisting under the dim light of the moon.
“Almost there,” he said, his tone unreadable.
A minute later, he pulled to a stop at the edge of a clearing. The truck’s headlights illuminated a small plot of seemingly untouched beach. Beyond the sand, the ocean stretched out endlessly, its surface shimmering under the moonlight.
“What is this?” I asked, stepping out of the truck and breathing in the salty air.
“Just somewhere I like to go,” he said, leaning against the truck door, watching me carefully. “Away from all the bullshit.”
I turned to look at him, and for the first time that night, he wasn’t smiling. He looked… tired. Like the weight of whatever he was carrying had caught up to him, if only for a moment.
“You’re full of shit, you know that?” I said, but my voice was softer now.
Rafe let out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe. But you still got in the truck.”
I didn’t have a response to that.
Instead, I walked toward the water, letting the cool breeze wash over me. I didn’t hear him move, but I wasn’t surprised when I felt him standing beside me a moment later.
He was quiet for a long time, his hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the horizon. And then, just when I thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all, he broke the silence.
“You ever feel like you’re living two lives?” he asked, his voice low, almost drowned out by the sound of the waves.
I glanced at him, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”
Rafe didn’t look at me. “Like… there’s the person everyone thinks you are. And then there’s the person you actually are. And they don’t match. Not even close.”
The vulnerability in his words startled me, but before I could respond, he turned to face me, his expression shifting back to that familiar, easy charm.
“Forget it,” he said, his smirk returning. “I’m just talking shit.”
But the way his jaw tightened and his eyes darted toward the truck told me otherwise.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
The night air felt thicker now, like the space between us had grown heavier in the silence. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore felt oddly comforting, though the tension between us was anything but.
“So what’s your deal?” Rafe asked suddenly, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. “Why do you put up with all the shit that comes with hanging out with people like Sarah?”
I glanced at him, trying to read his face, but he was impossible to decipher. There was something about the way he asked, though—like he was genuinely interested, but also just testing the waters.
“I don’t put up with it,” I said, shrugging a little. “But it’s easy. People like Sarah don’t complicate things.” I hesitated, glancing at him. “I guess I just… like to feel like I belong somewhere. Even if it’s not real.”
Rafe turned toward me then, his posture relaxing a little as he shifted his weight, leaning closer to me. There was a flicker in his eyes, like he could relate to what I was saying. It was brief, but I saw it—something raw, buried deep under the layers of the cool, careless facade.
“You don’t need to belong to anything or anyone” he said, his tone softer than before. “That’s the first thing you have to realize.”
His words hit me harder than I expected. There was sincerity in his voice, but it wasn’t something I could fully wrap my mind around. Rafe Cameron didn’t give advice. Rafe Cameron took things, he didn’t offer them up like some kind of life lesson. I found myself wanting to hear more, even though I should’ve walked away by now.
“I don’t think you get it,” I said, my voice quieter than before. “You don’t know what it’s like, bouncing between two worlds. You get to be whoever the hell you want to be. But I don’t have that luxury.”
His expression hardened for a split second, and I couldn’t tell if I’d hit a nerve. But before I could say anything else, his face softened, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips again.
“Maybe I don’t,” he said, but then, after a moment’s pause, he added, “But I get it more than you think.”
I could feel the weight of his words hanging between us, the undercurrent of truth he was keeping buried. But before I could press him further, he took a deep breath and pushed himself off the dock, standing a little straighter.
“Look,” he said, his voice quieter now, like he was sharing something rare. “This place… it’s mine. I come out here to forget all the other shit. To be just me.” His eyes flicked to the water, and for a moment, I saw a side of him that wasn’t part of the arrogant, untouchable guy everyone else knew. It was fleeting, but it was there. “You don’t need to belong to anything to find peace. Sometimes, you just need a place to breathe.”
I stepped closer to him, instinctively drawn to that raw honesty, even though it didn’t fit with the guy I thought I knew. “And you found it here?” I asked, not sure if I meant the place or the moment we were sharing.
He nodded, his jaw tightening as he glanced at me. “Yeah. Something like that.”
There was a brief silence before I spoke again, my voice softer this time. “I don’t know why, but I kind of get that.”
He smiled at me, a little less sure of himself than before, but it was the kind of smile that made me want to stay, to understand more.
In that moment, I could see it clearly—Rafe Cameron wasn’t just some careless, charming guy. There was something underneath, something he was holding back, but he’d let me see a piece of it tonight. And for some reason, I wanted more.
“Maybe you’ll get it more the next time we talk,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine for a moment too long, as if he were trying to figure me out.
I didn’t say anything right away, but the pull between us was undeniable. I knew that whatever this was—whatever was unfolding between us—I wasn’t going to be able to walk away from it. Not yet.
“I think I’d like that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rafe gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable as he turned back to look at the water. And for the first time that night, the lines between us seemed a little less sharp, the distance closing in just enough that I knew I wouldn’t be leaving without a reason to come back.