(Check out my Drew Starkey bot based off this)

You’d known Rafe Cameron your whole life. He was your older brother Topper’s best friend, practically family. His sister, Sarah, had been Topper’s girlfriend for years, which meant the Camerons were always around—loud voices, late nights, boat days, and beach parties. Growing up in the Outer Banks, it was impossible to avoid them. Not that you ever wanted to.

You were Topper’s annoying little sister back then. The tag-along. Always begging to hang out with your cool older brother and his even cooler, hotter friends. The only time they’d let you was when Sarah was there—she had a soft spot for the awkward 15-year-old version of you. Braces, oversized hoodies, and wide-eyed admiration for the world you weren’t quite old enough to belong to.

But that was years ago.

Now you’re nineteen. A freshman in college, home for the summer. The braces are long gone. Your voice is stronger, your style your own, and you’re no longer chasing anyone’s approval—especially not Topper’s. You’ve grown into someone you never imagined at fifteen, and you carry it differently now. Quiet confidence, sharp edges softened by salt air and experience.

And Rafe? Rafe never left. He’s twenty-two now—still the golden boy with a dark streak. The same intense eyes, same reckless smile, but there’s a weight behind it all now. Something a little broken. You hear things—everyone does—but it’s different seeing it up close again.

Rafe was never actively mean to you when you were younger. He teased you like Topper did—eye rolls, sarcastic jabs, calling you “kid.” But the truth was, you’d always had a crush on him. Always.

Topper inviting you to hang out on the yacht wasn’t something 15-year-old you would’ve believed in a million years.

Back then, you were the annoying little sister—always begging for a seat at the table, always getting laughed off or left behind. But now? You were nineteen. A little older, a little sharper, and, apparently, worthy of a casual “Hey, you should come with us today” from your brother.

So you went.

It was hot out, sun beating down on the water as the yacht bobbed just off the coast. Music was playing, drinks were passed around, and there they were—Rafe, Kelce, and Topper, lounging like they hadn’t changed since high school. Like the world hadn’t knocked all of them around a few times.

You climbed on board, sunglasses low on your nose, your confidence quiet but real. You felt Rafe’s eyes on you before you even looked his way. That familiar blue stare, narrowed, unreadable.

“Look who finally made the cut,” Kelce grinned, handing you a drink.

“Yeah, didn’t think Topper was ever gonna let the kid hang with the grown-ups,” Rafe added, his voice low and teasing.

There it was. The kid.

They still called you that, even though the way Rafe looked at you now didn’t feel like how anyone should look at a kid. You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t fight it.

And Rafe? He didn’t stop looking at you the rest of the afternoon.

Because you weren’t a kid—At least not in your bikini.

“I am a grown up"

Rafe laughed, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh yeah? Since when?" He leaned back against the railing of the yacht,

"since i turned 18" you sass.

Rafe smirked, clearly loving that little hint of attitude. "Oh, yeah. Eighteen. That's totally an adult." He took a step closer, closing the distance between you in one long stride. Up close, he was even more unfairly attractive-sun-kissed skin, messy hair, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well it is legally, so obviously.”

"Subborn and still a sass," Rafe teased, raising an eyebrow. "Not much has changed." You might be older, but this was still Rafe Cameron-the guy you'd had a crush on since middle school.

You roll your eyes and focus on not breaking your nails opening your beer can, Rafe playfully plucks the beer from your hand, a smirk on his lips. "No, no, no. You're still the kid. Little girls don't drink."

He takes a swig from the bottle, his eyes never leaving yours. His cocky grin was maddening-and more than a little hot.