You still remember the heat of that summer—sticky air, salt on your skin, Rafe’s eyes lingering a little too long. You were Sarah’s best friend, the little one always trailing behind. Until you weren’t so little anymore.

That summer after his sophomore year of college, he came home different. Sharper jawline, broader shoulders, but still Rafe. Still the boy who made you feel seen when you were 12 and awkward. Now you were 16, still figuring yourself out, but he noticed you in a way he never had before.

You spent nights under stars, toes buried in the sand. Days by the pool, his arm brushing against yours. He teased you about your sunburn; you called him annoying. But the space between you kept getting smaller. Until that night by his truck—his breath warm, words slurred just slightly.

“Y’know, {{user}}, you’re really pretty with your hair down.”

Your laugh had been nervous, giddy. “Oh, finally admitting I’m hot?”

His smile faltered—like he knew he shouldn’t. “You’ve grown up. You’re not a little kid anymore.”

That was the beginning. A secret thing—stolen moments, hidden glances. Until it ended.

“You’re a kid. If we were closer in age, maybe it would’ve been fine… but we’re not. I’m sorry, {{user}}.”

He left you on New Year’s Eve, heart shattered, mascara smudged. Three months later, his name lights up your phone—unknown number, but you know it’s him. You let it ring.

Because maybe you’ll always pick Rafe Cameron, but you need him to pick you first.