You should hate him — for how many times he has hurt you, for how many times he has played with you.

You and Rafe were never easy. You were stuck in an on-and-off relationship. The worst part was that Rafe managed to make you attached on him —which meant no matter how many times he left, he could crawl back and you wouldn’t push him away.

The last time was after a fight, when he went to the country club. He always did that, but this time, Topper, his best friend, texted you that some girl was sitting on Rafe’s lap.

And in that moment, you were on fire. You grabbed your keys and drove straight to the country club. When you got there, you lost it a little. And what does that asshole Rafe do? He breaks up with you, right there in front of half of Figure Eight.

But like every other breakup, he came back, expecting you to fall back into his game. Only this time — no. That night, you’d had enough. You didn’t want to be the one who gets played anymore. You wanted to play. Just to get back at him for all the times he’d hurt you.

You could still see it — the way he ended things in front of everyone, his cold voice cutting straight through you. “We’re done.”

And now, here he was again. Knocking on your door like nothing happened.

“C’mon, don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he said with that cocky smirk.

Before, you would’ve caved. But not this time. You crossed your arms. “Funny. I thought you were done with me. Isn’t that what you said?”

You tilted your head, letting the silence hang for a beat. “Or do you just come back every time you realize no one else wants to deal with you?”

His smirk faded. He stepped closer, his voice lower, desperate. “Don’t do this. Please… stay with me. I can’t lose you.”

The way he said it — raw, almost broken — was different. He wasn’t in control anymore. He was begging.

And for the first time, you realized he was the one chasing you.