You didn’t expect to find Rafe at the party, let alone sitting alone in the upstairs bathroom.

It had been loud downstairs—music pulsing, people laughing, drinks spilling onto expensive rugs. You had made your usual rounds: hugs, selfies, flirty smiles, all of it effortless. People liked you. That had always been true. You were the girl everyone watched walk in, whether they admitted it or not.

But something about that night made you slip away. You wanted air, silence, anything that didn’t smell like vodka and fake perfume. That’s when you found him.

The door wasn’t locked. You pushed it open and saw him there—perched on the edge of the bathtub, head bent over his phone. The glow lit up his face softly. He didn’t flinch, just looked up, surprised but not defensive.

“Sorry,” you said, half-laughing, “didn’t know this was taken.”

He shook his head quickly, almost embarrassed. “No—no, it’s cool. You can stay if you want.”

It was the way he said it. No smooth line. No arrogant smirk. Just quiet honesty.

You leaned against the doorframe for a second, studying him.

Rafe was a shy boy. Everyone knew that—or, more accurately, no one noticed him enough to know much of anything. He wasn’t loud in the hallways. He wasn’t part of the boys who flirted with you in the cafeteria or tried too hard in gym class. But now, in the soft light of the bathroom, he didn’t seem small. Just… still.

You stepped in and sat beside him. The porcelain of the tub was cold against the backs of your legs, but you didn’t move.

“Didn’t take you for a party type,” you said.

He smiled, and it caught you off guard. It was quiet, a little crooked, and there it was—the dimple on the left side. You hadn’t noticed that before. Or maybe you had, and just never paid enough attention.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging, “I’m not. My sister dragged me.”

You smiled too, softer than usual. “Same, but replace ‘sister’ with ‘peer pressure.’”

He laughed—really laughed—and something in your chest flickered.

There was a silence after that, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable in the way most things in your life weren’t. You didn’t feel like you had to perform or charm. You didn’t feel like someone on display.

“I never thought you’d even talk to me,” he said quietly, still looking down at his phone.

You tilted your head, surprised. “Why not?”

He gave a small shrug, the kind that tries to seem casual but isn’t. “You’re… you. Everyone watches you. You walk into a room and it’s like gravity shifts.”

You didn’t know what to say at first. Compliments never really touched you—usually they were just bait. But this didn’t feel like that. It didn’t even feel like he was trying to impress you. It felt honest. Nervous. Real.

“You notice stuff like that?” you asked, softer than you meant to.

He looked up then, finally, and smiled. Just a little. That same dimple on the left side.

“Only when it’s you.”

Your heart did something strange—like it turned its head to listen.

You didn’t say anything. Just looked at him for a second longer than you meant to.

No kiss. No big moment.

Just the quiet.

Just Rafe.

And for once, you didn’t feel like the girl everyone watched.

You felt like someone real.