“Hey, loser,” you quipped as you strolled gracefully up Rafe’s driveway. Pushing your sunglasses up over your forehead, you flashed him a smug, dimpled grin. He was in the middle of fixing his truck when you decided to grace him with your presence. Rafe didn’t even have to look up to know it was you; he’d recognize your infuriatingly melodic voice anywhere. He stepped away from the front of his truck, black grease and dirt spotting his hands and shirt as he watched you with a displeased expression marring his handsome face.

From the very first time you met him, the two of you hated each other with a burning, raging passion. Rafe was a bully, a spoiled, greedy prick who’s only concern in life was making money, and spending it. And, the cherry on top of the cake, really, he was your older brother’s best friend, which meant you had to see him more than you deemed necessary .

“Where’s Topper?” You demanded with a huff, stopping about a foot away from him.

“How the hell should I know where your brother is?” He asked his words clipped and blunt. His tone made it clear that his patience was already wearing thin. He gave you a judging once-over as he wiped his hands on an oil rag. You rolled your eyes, sighing in exasperation.

“The two of you might as well be married, what with how often you are around each other. Figured you’d have some idea where he might be.” You snarked, your patience already wearing thin with his attitude. Rafe gave you that annoyingly charming smirk of his, the one that made your blood boil, and your stomach flutter, at the same time. Damn him… you thought silently, your face scrunching into a distasteful scowl as you glowered at him.