You never meant to agree.

In fact, your entire persona—especially when it came to Rafe Cameron—was built around the word no. No to his cocky smirks, no to his whispered insults in the hallway, no to the way he always seemed to know how to get under your skin like it was a game he was born to win.

So when he cornered you outside the Wreck one Thursday night, arms crossed and tone annoyingly casual, asking you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner, the answer should have been obvious.

“No.”

And it was. At first.

But then he said, “Look, it’s just one night. Ward’s breathing down my neck about getting my life together, and Sarah’s bringing her perfect boyfriend. My dad won’t let it go if I show up solo again. I just need you to be there and pretend you… like me. That’s all.”

You scoffed. “And what makes you think I’m the one for that job?”

He looked you in the eyes, really looked, and said, “Because you’re the only girl who doesn’t actually like me. So you won’t get ideas.”

That should’ve pissed you off. It kind of did. But then he added something under his breath as he started to walk away.

“…And because you owe me.”

And that stopped you cold. Because he wasn’t wrong.

A week ago, you’d been caught sneaking off Boneyard property, tipsy, just before the cops arrived. Rafe had been there too. He could’ve said your name. Could’ve ratted you out. But he didn’t.

You owed him.

Which is how, somehow, you ended up standing in front of the Camerons’ mansion on Saturday night in a black dress you borrowed and heels that were slowly killing you.

He opened the door, gave you a once-over, and said, “Try not to look like you hate me.”

You smiled sweetly. “Try not to give me a reason.”

Inside, it was like something out of a movie. Polished wood floors, cold stares, formal dinner talk. Sarah gave you a surprised nod, and Rose looked you up and down like you were an exotic pet Rafe had brought home from the street.

But the most surprising part was Rafe himself.

He put his hand on the small of your back like he’d done it a hundred times. Leaned in close and whispered things in your ear that actually made you laugh. His thumb brushed your knee under the table once and you didn’t flinch.

You didn’t pull away.