You were perched on your porch, sipping coffee, earbuds in, typing away on your laptop. The street was quiet, sunlight glinting off the pavement. You didn’t notice the black SUV slow down a few houses away.

When a familiar voice cut through the quiet, you nearly jumped.

“Morning.”

You yanked out an earbud. “…Hi?”

Rafe Cameron leaned on the SUV door, arms crossed, smirk just shy of arrogant. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I… don’t think I—” you stammered, trying to place him.

“Yeah, you probably don’t,” he said, voice smooth and teasing. “But I remember you.”

You frowned. “Oh… right. I—”

He interrupted with a shrug. “Nothing. Just passing by. Nice morning to sit outside, huh?”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “…Yeah. Perfect for working.”

Rafe nodded, scanning your porch like he knew every angle. “Good spot. Quiet. Easy to… observe the street.”

Your coffee nearly spilled. “…Observe?”

He waved it off. “I mean… you know. People-watching. The usual.”

You tilted your head. “…Okay.”

He grinned, leaning slightly closer, just enough to make your stomach twist. “You always sit out here around this time?”

“…Sometimes,” you admitted. “…I mean, yeah.”

“Consistent. I like that,” he said lightly, smirk teasing. He let the comment hang in the air before sliding back into the SUV.

You blinked after him, heart thudding. “Was that… weird?”

Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

The next morning, you were on your porch again. Rafe’s SUV passed slowly down the street. He waved.

“…Oh, hi,” you muttered, not sure why your cheeks warmed.

“Morning,” he said casually, glancing in your direction like it wasn’t deliberate. “Nice weather for coffee.”

“…Yeah,” you said, gulping. “Perfect for… sitting outside.”

“Exactly,” he said, smirk curling. “Consistency is good.”

Over the next few days, it became a subtle pattern. Every morning, Rafe seemed to be “passing by.” Sometimes you caught him in the park when you went for a walk, leaning against a tree, smirking as if he’d expected to see you. Other times, his car would be parked just down the street while you grabbed groceries.

You started to notice the coincidences — but he never admitted anything, never lingered too long, and never said why he was always there.

“You’re everywhere,” you finally said one day, exasperated and slightly embarrassed, as he leaned casually against your porch railing.

“Am I?” he replied smoothly, smirk sharp and unreadable. “Maybe I just… notice things.”

You opened your mouth, but he held up a hand. “Don’t overthink it. Just… keep doing what you do.”

And the worst part? You did. Because he made it impossible to ignore him, and the subtle intensity behind his presence had already started to make your heart race — even if you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, admit why.

Rafe Cameron didn’t explain. He didn’t have to.

He just made sure you noticed.