Rafe fucking Cameron. The named drummed in your head like a heartbeat every passing day. It was like every time you looked at him, it was a dream, a taste of something you could never have.

That was until the party.

Drunken desire mixed with clouded judgement lead to a messy make out, one that was tattooed in your head, his touch lingering for way longer than it should be.

Ten minutes can't go past without you brushing my thoughts.

That’s fourteen forty a day so I'll say a hundred and forty four times I think about you or something like that.

But the worse part about all this? He didn’t care, not one bit. He forgot about you as quickly as he made the decision to kiss you that one night. You never crossed his mind, but he crossed yours, too much.

You couldn’t escape him, he was in you. Were you obsessed? Maybe. But his presence was like a magnet, and you were drawn to it.

I fucking hate you, but I love you. I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled.

You're good at being perfect, we're good at being troubled.

A buzz on your phone interrupted your trance, it was a text from Rafe, along with a screenshot of you viewing his profile—multiple times.

Rafe: obsessed much?? Rafe: meet me at the beach, i need to tell you something.