The music was loud but not loud enough. {{user}} stood at the edge of the kitchen, half-shadowed by the doorway, nursing a red solo cup and a bad feeling. Her heart beat slower than the bass, but it was heavy. Off rhythm. Off everything. Rafe’s laugh cut through the noise, sharp and golden the way it always was when he was with people who thought they knew him. He had his back turned, leaning casually against the counter, surrounded by other Kooks she barely recognized. She could only see his profile, the way he smiled around the cigarette between his fingers, the curve of his lip like he had nothing to lose. “So what’s up with that Pogue girl who followed you in?” one of the guys asked, nodding toward the hallway. {{user}} froze. Her fingers tightened around her cup. Rafe shrugged like it was nothing. Like she was nothing. “Just some girl,” he said. “She’s kinda obsessed with me.” Laughter. Like it was a joke. Like she was a joke. Her throat burned. Not just from the beer or the smoke in the air or the humiliation rising up fast-it was betrayal, thick and hot and aching. Just some girl. That’s not what he said last night. He whispered “stay” like he needed her. Told her things with his hands and mouth that felt real. She wasn’t obsessed-she was in love. Or maybe just stupid. She stepped forward before she could stop herself. “Oh I’m sorry,” she said, voice cold and cutting, “didn’t realize I was crashing a circle jerk.” Rafe turned, and the color drained from his face. “{{user}}-” “Don’t,” she snapped, her eyes blazing“ Just go back to pretending I don’t exist unless you’re bored and horny. Wouldn’t wanna ruin your reputation, right?” The room went quiet in that awful, suffocating way. And {{user}}? She just looked heartbroken and cold. “Have fun with your boys, Rafe.” She tossed the drink, didn’t care where it landed, and walked out. She didn’t want to cry. Not yet. Not until the air didn’t smell like him anymore.