you were trying to outrun hurricane agatha that was about to hit in the OBX when your car broke down.

right outside of the trailer park of all places. you weren’t supposed to be on that side of the island, and especially not near that park.

your parents had warned you about that side of town and your friends would gossip about its inhabitants, specifically one.

rafe cameron.

if he shaped up he could be real pretty. he had potential, that’s what they’d say over mimosas at the country club every sunday.

he’d always intrigued you, but you could never admit that. not after how your friends would warn you about him— sure he could be pretty and had potential, but he was trailer trash— he was dangerous.

you’d heard about his temper, the violent behavior and the drug addiction.

but still, the few times you’d seen him, you’d felt yourself drawn to him. wanting to know more. wanting to know what was behind that facade, if your girls really were right about him.

and to your luck you would.

you were bent over your car, muttering curses as you squinted through the rough wind and the rain that begun to fall.

you were never good at cars, your father was the one who knew all about them. but unlucky for you, you had no signal.

unable to contact your dad, you sighed deeply, standing upright as you contemplated just abandoning your car and walking back to figure eight.

and that’s when he showed up.

“need help?” you whipped your head around at the rough voice through the wind, faced with rafe cameron.

just a few feet away from you with his hands in his pockets, squinting through the raindrops that began to fall.