Your mother has been married to your stepfather for five years. And honestly? You can’t stand him. But what you can stand even less is his daughter — Sofia.

Your mother always says, “Be nice to her.” You were nice to her. At least you tried.

But you couldn’t stand her, because she was always like a fairytale girl — everything you weren’t.

And you’d had enough when she brought her boyfriend home. Rafe Cameron.

Your crush since high school. He was a bit older than you, and you still wanted him. But now? You had no chance anymore — at least, that’s what you thought.

The moment Sofia brought him to your house to meet your mom and her dad, his eyes fell immediately on you. It felt like he recognized you for the very first time.

From then on, he always looked at you. He practically stared. No matter where — at your house, at a party, or even if you just happened to see him outside.

You noticed that he came to your house more and more often.

One day, he was there because he’d spent the night with Sofia.

After your night routine, you lay down in bed, scrolling through your phone. You lost track of time, too fixated on the screen to notice anything else.

Until you heard a knock.

You thought it was your mom — your stepdad or Sofia would never knock on your door this late.

“Come in,” you said. And when the door opened, you swore your heartbeat stopped for a few seconds.

It was Rafe. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him — and locking it.

He leaned back against it, his chest rising and falling like he had just run a marathon. His eyes didn’t leave yours. Not for a second.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice trembling more than you wanted.

He smirked, low and dangerous, like he already knew the answer. “You really think I came here for her?” His voice was sharp, yet soft — carrying that edge that made your stomach twist.

He pushed himself away from the door, stepped up to your bed, leaned over you, and took your chin between his fingers.

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the blanket tighter. “Rafe… this is wrong. She’s—”

“Your sister. I know.” He cut you off instantly, taking a slow step toward your bed. “And I don’t care.”

His eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second before locking back on yours. He stood there waiting — close enough for you to smell his cologne.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too. Tell me to leave, and I’ll walk right out that door.”