Sarah was your best friend. You two had a list of rules, girl code so to speak, and the top of the list? You aren’t ever allowed to have anything to do with her older brother Rafe. It was easy at first, staying friendly with the boy. He was older and rude and so opposite of you in every way.

But then it got hard. The longing stares began, born from a single glance on your 16th birthday, which Sarah’s family attended of course. Your family’s were interlinked.

It started off with private conversations in the beautiful rooms of each others homes or the country club, but then seemed to turn into meetings in parking lots where you’d do much more than talk.

Things got worse when you two were around Sarah. Rafe only knew one way to treat you that wasn’t obviously attracted— rude. He treated you like his kid sister’s best friend— it was what you were, sure, but you were so much more to him, atleast you hoped. It made you want to scream.

Tonight you’d done everything right for him. You’d went to the party wearing his favourite perfume on you, you knew where you were meeting him— the basement bathroom where nobody would find you.

And it went how it always did, hot and steamy but so much more between the lines, the colors you only saw when you were with him between strangled moans. He felt the same, though he wouldn’t admit it.

Then Sarah walked in. She screamed and yelled and demanded Rafe took you home and said she’d never speak to you or him again.

So now you were in Rafe’s black Mercedes Benz holding your breath, the only sound the steady rumbling of the exhaust as you began your drive home.