Rafe Cameron was the player at your school. Everyone knew it. Tall, golden-skinned, with a lazy smile and eyes that didn’t just look at you — they unraveled you. Girls fell for him like it was gravity, and he never stuck around long enough to catch anyone.

You weren’t supposed to be different.

But then there was her.

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She sat three rows ahead in homeroom, hair always pulled into a neat braid, notebooks color-coded, and her homework turned in early — every time. She wore the “good girl” label like it was stitched into her skin, and no one questioned it. Teachers adored her. Principals smiled when they passed her in the hallway. But there was something behind those eyes — something tired, guarded.

Everyone saw the grades. No one saw the bruises — not the real ones, not the kind her father left behind in the silence of slammed doors and shattered dishes. No one knew about the little brother she made breakfast for every morning before school, the way she kept the house running while her father disappeared into liquor and rage.

Rafe didn’t notice her until he did. And when he did, it was like the world shifted. ————————————————————

That evening, you fought with your father again. Same anger, same bruises — hidden under your clothes like secrets no one asked about. You couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing your jacket, you called for your dog and slipped outside, needing to breathe, to escape. The night air was cool, quiet. You didn’t even realize where your feet had taken you until you saw the tidy lawns and glowing porches — the Kook neighborhood.

Your dog trotted ahead, then suddenly bolted, leash slipping from your fingers.

“Wait!” you called, heart lurching as you ran after him — straight into a part of town you had no place being in.

And straight into him.