The summer heat clung to your skin like sweat and regret.

You shouldn't have been on that side of the island.

Poguelandia was your world—bonfires, barefoot nights, JJ’s wild laugh echoing across the water. But something about the chaos, the adrenaline, and maybe the way Rafe Cameron looked at you like he was trying to figure you out—like you were a puzzle he didn’t quite hate—drew you to the wrong side of the tracks tonight.

"You know this is a bad idea, right?" JJ muttered, close behind you as you stepped onto the dock where the Kooks were gathered. His voice was low, but laced with something sharp—possessive, almost.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Since when do we care about what’s a bad idea?”

Before he could answer, Rafe's voice cut through the air.

“Well, well. Look who decided to come slumming with the rich kids.”

He was lounging on the railing, eyes on you and only you. His smile was lazy, but there was a dangerous gleam underneath it. Like he was amused. Like he was daring you to stay.

JJ stepped forward instinctively, already bristling. You put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“I’m not here for drama,” you said.

Rafe cocked his head. “Then why are you here? 'Cause I don’t think it’s for the beer.”

Your silence said more than words ever could.

You weren’t sure either. All you knew was this summer was going to burn—and you were standing right in the middle of the fire.