Dating someone like him would get you in trouble, you knew it. In fact, you were sure of it from the moment you first saw him.

His reputation was heavy on his shoulders, and still, you didn't care. You still put up with a conversation with him at a beach party, and oh, how much he liked you.

Then Rafe found out you were a Pogue. A beautiful one, and that was still an understatement in his eyes. But your lifestyle wasn't a problem to him, it was a problem to his friends.

He wasn't expecting them to be content, but he also knew they wouldn't dare to say a word. One look from him and their mouths were shut, it would be easy, right?

No. Because even though Rafe convinced them that you were gorgeous and perfect and so sweet, you were still a Pogue. And you knew all of his friends would adore you if only you lived in Figure Eight instead.

One day you actually witnessed them pulling a harsh dare on the Pogues. Going straight toward them with a truck, to the point they were almost ran over.

You didn't enjoy it at all, and Rafe didn't either. But he wouldn't talk about it in front of the others.

So as soon as you reached his house, he stopped you with a gentle grip to the arm.

"Hey, baby," Rafe said softly, quietly, closing the door behind him. "You've been silent for so long, talk to me."