The air smelled different here. Warmer. Saltier. My mom said it was because I’d be near the ocean for a year, but I think it was more than that—it was the smell of everything I’d been dreaming about for almost two years finally becoming real.

Back home in Germany, I’d scrolled through endless videos of American high schools, imagining lockers and football fields and red solo cups at parties. And now here I was—in my denim shorts and white top, makeup perfectly blended, heart beating too fast—as the school taxi dropped me off in front of Outer Banks High. My host family had insisted on the taxi. I’d argued it wasn’t necessary, but they just smiled like it was normal. Rich-people normal. My own room, my own bathroom, fresh towels that smelled like luxury… yeah, this was another world.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, the stares came. Not mean, not judgmental—more curious, as if everyone was deciding who I was before I even spoke. Smiles flashed at me from every direction, and it was… a lot. I tried to remind myself, you’re the new girl, it’s normal.

And then, like it was staged in some teen drama, he appeared beside me. Tall, sun-kissed skin, a jawline so sharp it could cut glass, and those icy blue eyes locking on mine like he’d been expecting me.

“New face,” he said casually, walking in step with me. His voice was deep, smooth, and far too confident to be anything but trouble. “I’m Rafe. Rafe Cameron.”

I knew that name. Everybody did. The Cameron family—richest on the island. His presence made the hallway shift; people’s glances grew sharper, whispers floating behind us.

“I’m… uh, {{user}}. Exchange student,” I replied, my accent slipping through despite my careful English.

“Germany?” he guessed with a half-smile, eyes flicking over me with slow appreciation. “Yeah… I could tell. You’ve got that whole European-perfect thing going on.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And who said you’re my tour guide?”

He leaned closer, just enough to make my pulse skip. “I said,” he murmured, smirking like he’d just made the decision for the both of us. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

I laughed despite myself, and he grinned like he’d already won. He walked me to my locker, leaning against it like he owned the place—and maybe he did. The rest of the hallway blurred. For a moment, it was just me and the golden boy everyone wanted, and the dangerous thrill of realizing—he wanted me too.