The air still held the warmth of the day as the sun dipped lower, painting everything in that soft golden light only summer evenings seemed to have. The kind that made everything feel slower, easier.

You were curled up on one of the chairs on the veranda, legs tucked under you, a book resting in your hands. Everything around you was quiet—just distant waves, the hum of cicadas, and the occasional car far down the road. It was peaceful.

Until footsteps broke the silence. Heavy. Familiar. Coming up the stairs.

You didn’t look up right away. You didn’t have to.

“Topper here?”

His voice cut through the quiet, low and casual, like he already knew the answer.

You finally lifted your eyes. Rafe Cameron stood there, one hand brushing through his hair, the other resting in his pocket. He looked like he’d just come from the water—sun-warmed skin, shirt still slightly damp, clinging just enough to outline his shoulders.

“No,” you said, marking your page. “He’s out. Some girl.”

Rafe huffed quietly, glancing over his shoulder as if Topper might appear anyway. “Of course he is.”

Silence settled for a moment, and you dropped your gaze back to your book.

“So…” he nodded toward it. “What are you reading?”

“A book.”

His lips twitched. “No way. Really?”

You shot him a look.

He leaned against the doorframe, studying you—not just looking, really studying. “Why are you out here doing that? It’s summer. Not even dark yet.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like doing anything else.”

“No friends around?”

“Busy.”

Rafe tilted his head slightly, like he didn’t quite believe you. Then he pushed off the frame. “Come with me.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Come on, {{user}}.” He was already stepping back. “We’ll drive. Get out of here.”

You stared at him. “No.”

He didn’t stop, just glanced back with one brow raised like he already knew how this would end. “It’s warm. Still light out. And you’re sitting here reading like it’s winter.”

“I like reading.”

“Yeah,” he smirked slightly, “and I like not wasting a summer night.”

You hesitated—and he saw it.

“Five minutes,” he added, softer now. “If you hate it, I’ll bring you back.”

You exhaled, closing your book. “…Fine.”

The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly. “Thought so.”

The drive started quiet. Windows down, warm air rushing through the car, carrying salt and summer with it. The music played low, something slow and easy.

You leaned your head back, watching the trees blur past. Rafe drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed, like this was nothing. Like you weren’t Topper’s little sister in his passenger seat.

“So,” he said after a while, glancing at you, “you always this exciting, or did I catch you on a wild night?”

You rolled your eyes. “You literally dragged me out here.”

“Dragged?” he repeated, amused. “You said yes.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you turned slightly—and really looked at him.

The way his jaw tightened when he focused on the road, the way his shirt stretched across his arms as he shifted his grip. There was always something about him you couldn’t quite place. Something just beneath the surface.

For a second, you forgot yourself.

Then you looked away.

And suddenly, it felt… different.

Being here. Sitting next to him like this. It had never felt strange before—never something you had to think about.

But now you did.