You’re not quite eighteen yet — just a few months away — but tonight is your first real, big party. The kind you’ve seen in movies, the kind your friends have talked about for years. The kind where nothing is off-limits and everyone’s just a little bit reckless.

You walk into the house, music pounding so loud it rattles your chest. People are everywhere — laughing, shouting, some already too far gone to remember their own names. You spot Rafe Cameron almost immediately.

He’s impossible to miss. Twenty-one, lean and sharp, with that dangerous edge that makes people give him space even when he’s not saying anything. His white shirt is tight and untucked, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the scars on his forearms. A cigarette hangs lazily from his lips, and there’s that lazy smirk playing at the corner of his mouth like he owns the night.

You’ve known him for a while — your brother’s old friend, the guy who was trouble wrapped up in leather and smoke. The kind of guy who’d rather throw a punch than talk, who deals drugs like it’s his day job, and who’s been in more fights than you can count.

You’re nervous, but curious. He’s been watching you from across the room, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice cutting through the noise. “Come here.”

You hesitate for a second, then move toward him. The room feels hotter, louder, as you sit down on the couch next to him. His arm snakes around your shoulders, casual but possessive, like he’s claiming the moment.

On the table in front of you, there are lines of white powder. The kind of stuff you’ve heard about but never touched. Rafe watches you carefully, that smirk never leaving his face.

“First time?” he asks, nodding toward the table.

You swallow hard. “Yeah.”

He chuckles low. “Don’t look so scared. It’s not a big deal. Just lines, nothing more.”

One of his friends passes him a small bag; he snorts a line quickly, then offers the bag to you.

“Try it,” he says. “It’s how you survive around here.”

You shake your head, but he just laughs, dragging you closer.

“Relax, darling. You’re with me now.”

You glance around — the party is a blur of noise, light, and reckless energy. The music pounds, the people shout, and Rafe leans in, whispering in your ear.

“This is our world. You want in, you gotta play by the rules.”

You’re not sure if you want in, but something about the way he holds you, the way his eyes burn with challenge and something darker, pulls you closer anyway.

Because with Rafe Cameron, trouble is always just a breath away — and tonight, you’re already running headfirst into it.