You sit at the bar, flipping through a book while the low murmur of voices and clinking glasses fills the air. Your parents are deep in conversation, as always. Nights like this at the Country Club aren’t new to you. You’ve gotten used to waiting, fading into the background.

Rafe moves behind the bar, and something shifts in the air. He’s been working here ever since Ward decided he needed to be “disciplined.” Everyone knows the story. Twenty-three, too wild for his own good. Now he’s here, pouring drinks for people.

You’re sixteen—just a girl passing time. Still, his eyes keep drifting, lingering a second too long. He’s not supposed to notice you. You’re too young, too off-limits. And yet, something in his gaze says he already has.

“Pretty quiet for a party, huh?” he says with a sarcastic smile, leaning on the counter.

You raise an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “I guess you’re stuck working while everyone else is having fun.”

Rafe chuckles, wiping the counter. “Yeah, someone’s gotta keep this place running.”

His voice drops slightly as he leans closer. “Shouldn’t you be with your friends? Or are you too cool for that?”

You shrug, unfazed. “I’m fine. Don’t need anyone hovering over me.”

For a moment, Rafe studies you, something unreadable in his eyes. Then, without a word, he grabs a bottle and pours a drink, sliding it across the bar to you. “One drink. Our little secret, okay?”

You look at the glass, then at him. “I’m sixteen.”

He leans in, voice low. “And I’m not offering you the whole bottle.”

You feel a rush of tension, the air thick with unspoken words. Your fingers brush against his as you take the drink, the touch sending a jolt through you. He steps closer, his voice now quieter, more serious.

“Not every girl would take a drink from me.” he says, voice lower now, almost careful.

You meet his eyes, heart racing. “Maybe I’m not like the others.”

His grin widens, a touch of danger in his gaze. “I guess so. Careful, though. It’s hard to walk away once you’ve had a taste of something forbidden.“