ᯓ★ Everybody knew Rafe Cameron.

The quarterback.

The golden boy.

By sophomore year, Rafe had become one of those boys people stared at without realizing. Tall, broad shoulders from football, sun-tanned skin, messy blond hair that somehow always looked perfect no matter how sweaty practice left him. Girls lingered near his locker just to hear him laugh.

And somehow—he was nice to you. That was the problem.

⋆˙⟡ —

Nobody really noticed you, not the way they noticed other girls.

You were the “sweet” girl.

The one people copied homework from but forgot about the second class ended.

You hid in oversized hoodies and long sleeves even during warm weather since you were bigger than the other girls.

But Rafe still talked to you and sat beside you in class when nobody else did.

And God—you tried not to fall for him. But kindness feels enormous when nobody else gives it to you.

So of course you did. You noticed everything.

The way he smirked when he teased you, how he texted you late at night when he got bored.

You turned every small thing into hope. Even when maybe you shouldn’t have.

⋆˙⟡ —

The confession happened near the end of sophomore year.

Behind the gym after school while the distant football field lights still glowed.

Your hands shook so badly you almost dropped the note you originally planned to give him.

Instead, you just blurted it out. “I like you.”

Rafe blinked.

You swallowed hard. “No, like… really like you.”

For a second he just stared at you.

Not surprise, not flattered, his eyes flickered downward instinctively before he caught himself—and that tiny look alone made your stomach twist.

“Hey,” he said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “C’mon.”

Your chest tightened immediately. “I just thought you should know,” you rushed out quietly.

Rafe sighed awkwardly. “You’re really sweet,” he started.

The sentence already sounded rehearsed. “But… I think maybe you got the wrong idea.”

Your face burned. “I didn’t—”

“I mean, I was just bein’ nice to you,” he interrupted carefully. “That’s all.”

The words hit harder than yelling would’ve. Because suddenly every door he held open, every text, every conversation—felt fake.

Pity.

“You thought I was flirting with you?” he asked with a small laugh under his breath, like the idea genuinely surprised him.

You wished he’d just called you ugly instead, at least that would’ve hurt less.

Rafe noticed your expression immediately and sighed again.

“Look, don’t take it like that,” he muttered. “You’re nice. Seriously. But you should probably go for a guy who’s more… in your league.” He hesitated.

Your eyes burned embarrassingly.

“You don’t like me,” you whispered.

Rafe’s jaw tightened slightly before he shook his head. “Not like that.”

And there it was. You nodded too fast despite the humiliation crawling up your throat.

⋆˙⟡ —

That summer changed everything, you changed everything.

You cut your hair into soft layers that framed your face beautifully. Learned how to dress in ways that highlighted you instead of hiding you. Learning how to work out. Gold jewelry against warm skin, fitted skirts with oversized sweaters slipping off one shoulder, glossy lips and subtle makeup that made your eyes stand out.

And for the first time in your life—boys looked back.

Rafe barely recognized you at first.

He was leaning against his truck after football practice, jersey damp from sweat and helmet tucked beneath one arm, laughing with teammates when he saw you crossing the parking lot.

Rafe frowned slightly. “…Wait.”

Topper glanced over and whistled. “Dude, thats {{user}}.”

Rafe stared a second longer than he meant to.

Because suddenly all he could think about was the girl behind the gym looking at him like he’d broken something.

Your eyes landed on Rafe for a brief second. No smile, no nervousness, just acknowledgment, like he was anybody else.

And somehow—that bothered him much more than it should have.

He pushed himself off the truck before he could really think about it.

“Yo,” he called out casually, trying to sound unaffected.