Your heart nearly stopped when you saw him—when you saw him holding that letter in his hand. Rafe was walking toward you, his brows knit together in confusion, his lips tugging like he was trying not to laugh but didn’t quite know how to hide it. There was even a flicker of embarrassment on his face, though you couldn’t tell if it was for you… or for himself.

No one was ever supposed to read that letter. Those five letters—your secret little graveyard of every crush you’d ever had—were meant to stay buried in that box in your closet. Hidden. Forgotten. But now, the one boy who shouldn’t be holding it, who couldn’t be holding it, was staring down at the words you wrote years ago. Rafe. The popular guy. The guy who had just broken up with Sofia.

And this letter? It was about him.

You wrote it after that stupid middle school dare, after that kiss that wasn’t even real, not really—it was just a game he had to go through with. You hadn’t liked him in years, not like that. But still, he held your words like evidence, like a piece of your heart pressed onto paper.

His voice blurred as he started speaking, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than you could process. “I just… I broke up with Sofia, and this—this is… I don’t know, kind of sweet? Kind of—” The rest faded into static in your ears. You couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe.

Your head spun, and the world tilted until you felt your back hit the ground.

Rafe blinked, startled, before crouching down next to you. For a second, he just stared, like he was watching an apple drop from a tree in slow motion. Then his hand hovered close to your face, not quite touching. “Hey… you okay? Say something…” His voice came muffled, distorted, like it was drifting to you through water.

You weren’t prepared for this. You weren’t prepared for anyone to see those letters. And how the hell had they even escaped the box you’d protected so carefully? Whoever was behind this, they were going to pay.

But that problem would come later. Right now, there was only one question twisting in your chest like a knife:

What were you supposed to tell Rafe?

And worse—what if the other four letters had found their way to the people you wrote them to, too?