♫-Drew barrymore-sza

You came with your new freinds and her mom jeans and her new vans and she’s perfect and I hate it.

You spotted Rafe pulling up in his usual black truck, the engine purring as he rolled to a stop. Your jaw clenched instinctively at the sight, a familiar wave of frustration bubbling up inside you. You told yourself you wouldn’t care—you shouldn’t care. But as soon as he stepped out, wearing that smug half-smile, your resolve wavered.

And then she stepped out.

Sofia.

Rafe rounded the front of the truck effortlessly, like he had done this a hundred times before, reaching for the passenger-side door. He pulled it open, extending a hand toward her. She beamed up at him, placing her delicate fingers in his palm as she gracefully stepped onto the sand. The way her low-waist shorts hugged her frame, the way her tiny top sat perfectly on her, not a single flaw in sight—it was infuriating.

She was perfect.

And you? You hated it.

You hated how effortlessly she fit into his world, how she made it look so easy. Like it hadn’t meant anything. Like you hadn’t meant anything.

Your grip tightened around the drink in your hand as you tried—really tried—to look away. But you couldn't. Your eyes stayed glued to them as they moved through the crowd, Rafe’s arm casually slinging around her waist, his thumb tracing absentminded circles on her skin.

A sigh pulled you from your trance, and you turned to see Sarah watching you knowingly. She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Staring at Rafe again?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, though it was laced with sympathy. “I swear he’s not worth it, {{user}}. Plus, JJ’s been dying to show you his new surfboard.” She shot you a wink, nudging your arm playfully.

You forced a small, tight-lipped smile, nodding along even though your chest felt like it was burning from the inside out. It didn’t matter. You were past Rafe Cameron. You had moved on.

Hadn’t you?