Sarah’s room smells like coconut lotion and expensive perfume. You’re sitting on her bed, legs folded neatly, watching her toss tank tops across the floor, chattering about what to wear. You nod, pretending to care — but your heartbeat’s already picked up.

Because he’s here.

Rafe steps inside like he owns the place, lazy and quiet. “Just need my charger,” he mumbles, eyes not even grazing you.

Good.

You’re supposed to be invisible to him.

Sarah doesn’t notice the tension — how your fingers twitch against the comforter, how your throat tightens.

He grabs the charger and turns to leave.

Then Sarah’s phone buzzes. “Ugh. Be right back — I need to answer this downstairs.”

The door clicks.

You don’t breathe.

Rafe pauses in the doorway. Then turns.

He doesn’t speak — just looks at you. That look he only gives you, like he’s remembering the way you whispered his name last night.

You stay still. “Don’t.”

He walks slowly toward you. “Don’t what?”

“You’re her brother.”

He smiles — small, dangerous. “You always say that after.”

His hand grazes the bedpost. Then the edge of your thigh. Light as air. You should move. You don’t.

“She thinks I barely know you,” he murmurs.

“She’d kill me if she knew.”

Rafe leans down, his lips brushing your cheek, just shy of touching. “Then don’t let her know.”

Your breath catches. He smells like cedarwood and heat.

“I still have your ring,” you whisper.

He tilts his head. “You wore it the whole day. You think I didn’t notice?”

You bite your lip, and he smirks — a slow, sinful curve.

Then—

Footsteps.

Rafe straightens instantly. Crosses the room in silence. Drops into Sarah’s chair just as she opens the door.

“You two didn’t kill each other?” she laughs, flopping onto the bed beside you.

Rafe shrugs, scrolling on his phone. “Didn’t even talk to her.”

You don’t look at him.

But under your sleeve, you’re still wearing his ring.

And you feel his eyes on you like a secret promise.