You and Rafe had been enemies for as long as you could remember. You couldn’t stand each other, and he made sure to remind you of that every chance he got. So, when your parents dragged you to yet another one of those unbearable country club parties at the Camerons’ mansion, you expected the usual fake smiles and forced conversations not this.

Now, you were stuck in a circle with a bunch of rich kids, playing spin the bottle. The rules were simple, and brutal. If the bottle landed on you and someone else, you had to kiss. No complaints, no backing out, and it had to last longer than a minute. Tongue included.

You had been watching, unimpressed, as couples around you hooked up, laughing and whispering against each other’s lips. It was all fun and games, until the bottle pointed directly at you.

And Rafe.

Your stomach dropped.

"No way."

Across the circle, Rafe let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, clearly just as unimpressed with the situation as you were. His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, filled with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he sighed, leaning back slightly as he patted his lap.

You rolled your eyes but moved to sit on him anyway, your faces now inches apart. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, lingering there a second too long.

You smirked slightly, tilting your head. “I hate you, don’t forget that, Cameron.”

And then, before he could respond, you crashed your lips onto his.