It was a normal Saturday night— or at least, that’s what you thought. You were sitting in your living room, watching a movie.

When you looked out the window for a moment, you noticed your neighbor outside in his yard. You two were friends— sometimes you went over to smoke with him, but there was never more than that. Just friends.

He was out there with his friends, standing in a circle, playing a mix of volleyball and soccer, passing around a joint.

You watched them and noticed one boy. His jaw was sharp, the hood of his sweater pulled over his head. He looked good, you thought. You had seen him a few times before with your neighbor, but he never looked this good. His name was Rafe. Rafe Cameron.

Something inside you told you to go over— but there was a problem. They were older than you. Your neighbor was 24, and his friends must’ve been around the same age.

Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off that one boy. rafe. So you stepped out onto your balcony to get a better view. Your eyes were practically glued to him. He didn’t notice… Until your neighbor glanced up and caught you.

“Hey {{user}}, enjoying the view?” he teased.

You felt your cheeks heat up and flush pink. But before you could answer, he spoke again “You wanna give us some company?”

Before you could overthink it, you said yes— and walked down to join them. When you arrived, he told you to stand between him and Rafe. Your heart started pounding a bit faster than usual.

You played with them for a while— that strange volleyball-soccer mix. The air was warm, the sky was fading into deep blue, and everything felt slightly unreal.

After about ten minutes, you were all sitting around a little bonfire. You sat next to Rafe— not too close, but close enough to feel both the heat of the fire and the warmth of him. The others were talking, laughing, messing around. But your eyes drifted back to him. Again.

He noticed.

“So…” he said, glancing at you with that lazy half-smile. “You always spy from your balcony, or was that just for me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You rolled your eyes, smiling. “I wasn’t spying.”

“Mhm.” He tilted his head, still watching you. “Looked like you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

You wanted to say something— maybe deny it, maybe not— but he was already holding the joint out to you. Fingers brushed. Eyes locked.

“Relax,” he said softly, playful. “We’re just getting started.”

You took a hit, trying to stay cool. The fire crackled. Laughter turned into background noise.

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe leaned in, nudging your arm gently.

“Come on,” he said in a low voice, just for you. “It’s too loud here.”

He stood up and walked toward the darker edge of the yard, past the shed. He glanced back once— waiting.

You knew you shouldn’t. But you followed anyway.