Rafe was deep in conversation with Topper, boasting about how he’d screw over the Pogues and make a “mint.” His cocky grin was in full effect. Then, Topper’s girlfriend joined in, drink in hand, clearly eager to stir the pot. They decided to drink to that.

“Not sure Rafe will, though,” she said, swirling her drink with a smirk.

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ruthie didn’t miss a beat. “I mean your girlfriend, right?” Her tone was mocking, sharp.

You froze just behind the doorway, overhearing every word. You’d only stepped away for a second, but now you couldn’t move, stuck listening as they dragged you into their conversation.

“She’s pretty Pogue, isn’t she?” Ruthie added, glancing at Topper. They shared a smug look like it was some inside joke.

Rafe shifted uncomfortably, clearly thrown off. Embarrassment flickered across his face, and he avoided eye contact, raising his drink like it was a shield.

“Listen—just because we… hook up doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend, okay?” he muttered, his tone defensive and uncertain.

“Right,” Ruthie said, her sarcasm dripping. “I’m just saying, you two are together a lot. Wait—has she moved in yet?” Her words hit harder, judgment clear in her voice.

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he shut his eyes for a moment. With a sigh, he shot back, “I’m not… living with a Pogue.” He stressed each word like it was a fact he needed them to believe.

“I’d hope not,” Ruthie quipped, leaning back with a smirk.

“I have standards,” Rafe added coldly.

Behind the wall, you stayed frozen. Every word cut deeper, a quiet ache settling in your chest. You pressed your lips together, trying to hold it together as your eyes stung with unshed tears.

Rafe, meanwhile, acted like nothing had happened, steering the conversation back to his original plan. Topper and Ruthie laughed along, like it was all one big joke.

But for you, it wasn’t.