You and Rafe Cameron were never friends. If anything, you were enemies.

Growing up on Figure Eight, it was certain your paths would cross. Same parties, same people, same rich kid drama.

But Rafe? He always knew exactly how to get under your skin. His smug attitude, that cocky grin, the way he’d call you ‘princess’ just to piss you off.

But tonight was different.

It was almost midnight when you heard a loud knock on your door. You groaned, dragging yourself off the couch, ready to yell at whoever thought it was a good idea to show up uninvited. But when you opened the door?

Rafe.

His lip was busted, knuckles scraped, and there was this broken look in his eyes. You blinked, stunned, gripping the door tighter.

“What the hell do you want, Rafe?” you snapped, instantly slipping into old habits.

But he didn’t have that usual smug comeback. Instead, his voice was low, desperate. “Please … please let me come live with you.”

You stared at him, your mouth falling open. Was he serious?

“ … What is happening right now?” you asked, breathless. Your voice tinged with that familiar annoyance, but your heart was pounding. Rafe Cameron, begging? This had to be a joke.

But he didn’t laugh. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time ever, you saw something vulnerable behind them. Something real.

“Please! I promise I’ll be- I’ll be a good boy. Okay? I- I’ll be quiet ... You won’t even notice i’m there!”

His voice cracked, and it wasn’t the confident, cocky Rafe you knew. It was like all that bravado had been stripped away, leaving just him — pathetic, desperate, and standing on your doorstep like he had nowhere else to go.

You hesitated, your mind racing. This was Rafe. The guy who lived to annoy you. The guy who made your life a living hell. But the way he was looking at you now?

It felt like the ground had shifted beneath your feet.