The party was already loud when Aaliyah Grace arrived—music pounding through hidden speakers, laughter echoing off the water, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder in the glowing blue pool. The kind of night that felt reckless before anything even went wrong.

She sat on the edge of the pool, palms pressed to the warm concrete, her legs dangling in the water. Droplets clung to her skin, reflecting the string lights overhead. People splashed around her, shouting over the music, but Aaliyah felt strangely still—like she was waiting for something without knowing what.

She’d never met Rafe Cameron.

She didn’t need an introduction to recognize him.

Her eyes drifted across the crowd, and then they stopped. Rafe stood just outside the pool, talking to Topper like the rest of the party didn’t exist. Topper looked relaxed, smiling, fully in his element. Rafe didn’t. His shirt was slung lazily over one shoulder, chest still damp, a backward cap shadowing his eyes. He swayed slightly where he stood, jaw tense, gaze unfocused.

He looked high.

And dangerous in that effortless way that made people stare before they realized they were staring.

Aaliyah watched him longer than she meant to. He didn’t notice her—not the way he was standing, attention fractured, listening to Topper with half a grin that came and went like static. He laughed at something, sharp and sudden, then rubbed his face with his hand like he was trying to wake himself up.

She felt a flicker of nerves, the kind that buzzed low in her chest.

Someone splashed near her, water sloshing up onto her thighs, and she shifted, tucking one leg closer. That’s when Rafe’s head tilted—like he’d heard something beneath the noise. His eyes lifted, scanning the pool, unfocused at first.

Then they landed on her.

The look wasn’t dramatic. No slow burn. Just a pause. His gaze sharpened slightly, curiosity breaking through the haze. For a split second, the chaos around them blurred—music, shouting, movement—all of it faded under the weight of being noticed.

Aaliyah held his eyes without meaning to.

Rafe didn’t smile. He didn’t look away either. Something unreadable crossed his face, something darker than interest but not quite disinterest. Then Topper clapped him on the shoulder, saying something she couldn’t hear, and the moment snapped.

Rafe looked away.

But the feeling didn’t.

Aaliyah exhaled slowly, heart beating harder than it should have for a stranger. She told herself it was nothing—just a party, just a glance, just another Kook night spiraling toward morning.

Still, she couldn’t shake the sense that whatever had just passed between them wasn’t accidental.

And Rafe Cameron, high or not, had already noticed her.