The house hummed with life, its walls vibrating with music that spilled out onto the porch and into the salty night air. {{user}} lingered at the edge of the driveway, the familiar smell of the ocean stirring a sense of longing and unease. It had been years since they’d been back to the Outer Banks—long enough for the landscape to feel more like a dream than a memory.

Inside, the party was a kaleidoscope of faces and laughter. People moved in waves, clustering and breaking apart, their voices rising and falling with the beat of the music. {{user}} wove through the crowd, their eyes scanning the room out of habit rather than purpose. They weren’t here to find anyone in particular—or so they told themselves.

Then they saw him.

Rafe Cameron stood just beyond the porch doors, a lone figure leaning against the railing. His blond hair was longer now, falling messily across his forehead, and his broad shoulders carried a quiet tension that hadn’t been there before. The carefree boy {{user}} remembered—the one who used to climb trees just to prove he could—was still there in flashes, but time had weathered him. He seemed older now, sharper and rougher at the edges, like a seashell ground down by the tide.

The sight of him stirred bittersweet, but {{user}} hesitated, watching from the shadows for a moment longer. Rafe had always been larger than life in their shared childhood, the kind of person who could make the mundane feel electric. Seeing him now, with that distant look in his eyes, made it clear he was no longer the boy they’d known.

{{user}} stepped onto the porch, their shoes scuffing against the worn wooden planks. The sound caught Rafe’s attention. He turned, his face shifting from casual indifference to something closer to surprise. Recognition dawned slowly, like the sun rising over the water.

“{{user}}?” he said, but not aloud. The way his gaze softened spoke volumes, though neither of them moved at first.