You were a Kook through and through, living a life of privilege on Figure Eight, but somehow you and Rafe Cameron just never got along. It wasn’t one of those friendly rivalries either—it was pure, bitter hatred. Every time you crossed paths, whether it was at a party or on the beach, he always had some snide remark, and you were more than happy to give it right back. To everyone else, it seemed like you couldn’t stand each other.

But what they didn’t know was how often you’d catch Rafe staring at you when he thought no one was looking. His blue eyes would linger on you for a beat too long, his jaw clenched as if he was fighting some internal battle. And as much as you hated to admit it, you could feel the tension between you two growing thicker every time you fought.

One night at a bonfire, things finally boiled over. After another one of your heated arguments, you stormed away into the dark, needing to get away from his infuriating presence. To your surprise, Rafe followed.

"You always have something to say, don’t you?" His voice was low, closer than you expected.

You whirled around to face him. "Yeah, and what’s your excuse? You can’t stand me, but you can’t seem to leave me alone."

He stepped forward, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. "Maybe I don’t want to."

The space between you disappeared, and suddenly the hatred felt like something else—something charged and dangerous. For a moment, neither of you moved, until Rafe's hand brushed against your arm, the tension finally snapping.

"You’re impossible," he muttered, almost to himself, before his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that held all the anger and something deeper, something he’d been hiding for far too long.