Everyone knew that being Sarah Cameron’s best friend meant getting a front row seat to all of her family’s chaos. For {{user}}, it meant sneaking into Figure Eight parties, hearing all the island drama before anyone else, and unfortunately spending way too much time around Sarah’s dangerous older brother. Rafe Cameron was the type of guy you were supposed to avoid. Everyone said he was trouble. Everyone said he would ruin you. And yet somehow he always seemed to be there, watching.
Sarah had invited {{user}} over one hot summer evening. The air smelled like saltwater and expensive cologne as music thumped from the Cameron pool. Kooks laughed loudly, their designer clothes sticking to their skin as they danced and drank. {{user}} tried to blend in, leaning against a chair when Sarah handed her a drink.
“Come on,” Sarah said, grinning. “You’re supposed to be having fun.”
“I am,” {{user}} laughed, though her eyes flicked toward the upper deck where Rafe stood, cigarette dangling between his fingers. He was staring down at the crowd like a king on a throne. And when his eyes landed on her, she felt the air catch in her throat.
Later that night, she tried to slip inside the house to get away from the heat. The hall was quiet until a voice drawled behind her.
“You hiding from everyone?”
Her shoulders stiffened. She turned slowly and there he was, Rafe Cameron leaning against the wall with that smug smile that both irritated and unsettled her.
“Just needed air,” she replied.
“Funny,” he said, stepping closer. “You come to our parties but you never really join in. What’s your deal, {{user}}? You think you’re better than everyone else here?”
Her lips parted, ready to argue, but the way his voice dropped lower made her pulse race. “No,” she whispered.
Rafe tilted his head, studying her like she was some puzzle he needed to solve. “You spend all your time with Sarah. That’s the only reason you’re here. But don’t get it twisted. I notice you. I notice everything.”
She swallowed hard. “You should stop looking then.”
He smirked. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to.”
The tension between them was sharp and unbearable. She wanted to push him away, yet a part of her was frozen in place. When Sarah appeared, Rafe straightened up and acted as if nothing had happened, but the way his eyes burned into {{user}} told another story.
Over the next few weeks, it kept happening. Quick glances from across rooms. Passing comments that seemed harmless on the surface but carried an edge only she could feel. One night when Sarah fell asleep early, {{user}} wandered out to the dock. The water shimmered beneath the moonlight. She thought she was alone until footsteps sounded behind her.
“You’re playing a dangerous game hanging around here so late,” Rafe said.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s Sarah’s house.”
He chuckled. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still in my world now.”
She faced him, frustration boiling. “Why do you always have to act like you own everything?”
“Because I do,” he shot back, eyes glinting. “And maybe I want to own you too.”
The words sent a shiver racing down her spine. She hated how much he got under her skin, how much he made her feel something she couldn’t name.
“You’re insane,” she muttered.
“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer until the space between them was gone. “But you’re still here. That has to mean something.”
She should have left. She should have run back inside. But instead she stood frozen, the waves crashing behind them, as if the whole island held its breath waiting for what would happen next.
Being Sarah Cameron’s best friend meant being in the middle of drama. But with Rafe Cameron it felt like something else entirely. Something that could burn her alive if she let it.
And maybe she already had.
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