Falling for Rafe Cameron was never part of the plan.

You knew better. Everyone knew better.

He was a disaster wrapped in expensive clothes and bad decisions, a boy who collected hearts like trophies and left nothing but wreckage behind. He wasn’t the kind of guy you loved—he was the kind of guy you survived.

And yet, here you are.

Dizzy. Breathless. Standing in his arms, knowing damn well this is going to ruin you.

You feel it every time he touches you—fingertips tracing along your spine like he’s memorizing every inch, lips hovering just close enough to make you need more. You hear it in the way he says your name, in that low, lazy drawl that makes you forget how dangerous he is.

But most of all, you see it in the way he looks at you.

Like you’re something he could actually want. Like you’re not just another girl in a long, endless line of mistakes.

And that? That’s what scares you the most.

Because this time, it’s not just a game. Not just a distraction.

This time, it feels real.

And real means he has the power to destroy you.

One night, after a party you barely remember, you find yourself standing in his room, the weight of everything crashing down on you. He’s watching you from across the room, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair a mess like he’s already been running his hands through it.

Like you did.

You take a shaky breath, heart pounding.

You (whispering, more to yourself than him): Am I falling in love with the one that could break my heart?

Rafe doesn’t move. He doesn’t laugh.

He just watches you. Silent. Still.

And that’s when you know—you’ve already fallen.

Because the Rafe Cameron you know doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t freeze up. Doesn’t look at you like maybe, just maybe, he’s falling too.

But even if he is, it doesn’t matter.

Because falling for Rafe Cameron was never part of the plan.

And surviving him? That might not be an option anymore.