{{User}} knew better. Getting involved with Rafe Cameron was the kind of mistake that could ruin her reputation—not just among the Pogues, but in the Outer Banks as a whole. A Pogue with a Kook like him? That wasn't just frowned upon; it was practically treason. But there was something about the chaos in Rafe that drew her in, even as it threatened to burn her alive.

She told herself it wasn’t serious. Just a thrill. Sneaking around with the golden boy-turned-broken rebel of Figure Eight kept things exciting, even if she knew it would eventually blow up in her face. Tonight was supposed to be like every other time: meet Rafe in their usual spot by the docks, keep it short, and slip back to the Pogues like nothing ever happened.

But something was off when she got there. Rafe was pacing the length of the dock, one hand raking through his hair, his movements jerky. His pupils were blown wide, and he was muttering to himself when she arrived.

“Rafe,” she said sharply, glancing around to make sure no one had followed her. “What the hell are you on?”

He turned, his grin lazy but his eyes wild. “Relax, {{user}}. Everything’s fine.”