Your POV

I’m so into you, I can barely breathe.

My heart races as I watch him—Rafe Cameron—laughing with his friends, his deep laugh echoing over the noise of the party. He’s in his element, completely unaware of the way I’m watching him, trying to memorize every move, every flicker of his smile.

“Girl, go make a move,” Sarah nudges me, her voice dripping with mischief. She’s always known—always seen the way I look at him.

I shake my head, forcing a smile, even though every part of me wants to just walk up to him and feel his touch, hear his voice up close. “Waiting for him to make a move first,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrays the uncertainty I’m hiding.

Rafe’s POV

She looks so damn beautiful. I can’t focus on anything else. Her laughter, her eyes, the way her hair catches the light—it all pulls me in. But why does she have to be Sarah’s best friend? It makes everything harder, messier.

I take a slow swig of my beer, keeping my gaze locked on her, watching her movements, how she shifts nervously in her seat.

“Dude, she’s into you. Just do it,” Topper says beside me, nudging my shoulder.

I grit my teeth and exhale sharply, frustration building in my chest. “Waiting for her to make a move first,” I mutter, though I’m not sure if it’s the truth anymore.

Another beer in hand, I consider just walking over to her. Maybe I’m tired of waiting. Maybe it’s time I stop pretending to be patient. But then, the weight of her gaze—how she avoids meeting mine—makes me second-guess everything.

I glance over at her again. She’s looking at me now, but when our eyes meet, she quickly looks away, her cheeks flushing. It’s like she’s waiting for me too.

But what if neither of us ever makes the first move?