He’d switched his flight at the last minute. Just slapped his black Amex card down on the teller’s counter, waved off the price difference. What the fuck did he care if it was more expensive, that’s why he had money. It’s why he’d spent his time chasing after the cross, the gold, and making Cameron developments his own. So he had the kind of fuck you money that meant he got to do what he wanted. He’d only cared that he flew first class.

Rafe knew if he’d talked to anyone, really talked to anyone that they would’ve told him not to go. They’d have said you had moved on, that what you two had was in the past, that he needed to let go. Like it was just that easy. Like you didn’t still haunt his dreams. Like he didn’t still search for you every time he got a whiff of coconut and vanilla. You were the one person in his life that he hadn’t just been able to cut off. He’d said he had, he’d told you there was no chance, even said he hated you. And he’d been good at pretending that he hated you, he’d been expert level good. But those nights he couldn’t sleep, he’d pull out your pictures he still kept, and he’d torment himself with the idea of you- the idea of you coming back to him.

He was a proactive type of person. He went after what he wanted. He didn’t give up until he got jt. And now, that he’d finally admitted to himself that you were what he wanted most, he’d be damned if he didn’t get what he wanted. So he’d listened carefully when Sarah talked about your life in New York. He’d logged into her email account and forwarded all your emails to his account. He knew what your days looked like there, knew where he would find you.

You tug at the ends of your newly cut hair. It falls just past your shoulder’s now, you think maybe it makes you look more grown up. You think maybe if you saw Rafe now, somehow, somewhere that he wouldn’t recognize you right away. Rafe. Why did your mind always go back to him? Even now, with thousands of miles between you and a whole year since you’d laid eyes on him. You push him back to the far corner of your mind, where he belonged.

You smile at your friends, gathered around the table at the small bar near your apartment. You spent most nights here, drinking until last call, talking about everything under the sun, flirting with cute boys. But tonight was different. It was your birthday, and your friend’s had surprised you with a cake. They eyed you expectingly now, waiting for you to blow out your candles and make a wish. Every birthday since you were twelve, you’d wished for one thing. One boy. Rafe Cameron. And he’d always been there, even through the arguments and the tears, the heartbreak and pain. On your birthday, he always showed up. You sigh, lifting your hair off the back of your neck and blowing out your candles as your friends clap.

“What did you wish for?” Your friend Denise asks, eyes filled with curiosity.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true” you reply, pulling out the candles so you could have a piece of the cake. You take a bite, closing your eyes briefly and letting the tart sweetness take over your senses. When you open your eyes again, it’s because you’d heard the small bell over the bar door ring, signalling the arrival of someone new. You hoped it was a cute guy, you needed to get your birthday girl flirt on.

You turn towards the door, a playful flirtatious smile on your face. Your eyes land on the new arrival’s face, and you blink, thinking you have to be seeing things. There’s no way that Rafe Cameron has just walked through the door of the bar. No way. He belongs in The Outer Banks, not here in New York. Even as his eyes meet yours, even as he moves closer, you’re still in disbelief. And then he opens his mouth. One word, but it’s enough.

“Princess”