The door slammed shut behind you, and the sound echoed through the room, amplifying the tension already crackling in the air. Rafe was pacing, running a hand over his blonde buzzcut, his jaw tight with frustration. His piercing blue eyes, usually so guarded, were stormy, locked on you as you stood your ground.

"Are you seriously defending him?" he snapped, his voice low but laced with anger. "That guy doesn’t just want to be your friend, and you know it."

You crossed your arms, trying to stay calm even though his accusations were starting to sting. "JJ is my friend, Rafe," you said firmly, your voice unwavering despite the heat rising in your chest. "That’s it. Just because you don’t trust him doesn’t mean you get to accuse me of something I didn’t do."

Rafe let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head as he stopped pacing to face you. "It’s not about trust, it’s about the way he looks at you. Like he’s waiting for his chance. And you—hanging out with him, with all of them—like you don’t see it?"

You took a step closer, your frustration boiling over now. "Maybe if you stopped looking for reasons to hate them, you’d see that you’re wrong. JJ isn’t interested in me, and even if he was, I’m with you. Why isn’t that enough?"

His eyes flicked down for a moment, his jaw clenching tighter. "Because he’s always around you," he muttered, his voice quieter but no less intense. "And it’s driving me insane."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat when Rafe suddenly closed the distance between you, his hand gripping your waist and pulling you against him. His lips crashed onto yours, urgent and almost desperate, as if he was trying to silence his own doubts.

The kiss was fiery, rough, his frustration bleeding into every touch. You could feel the tension in his grip, the way his fingers pressed into your skin like he was afraid you’d slip away. But there was something else, too—something raw and vulnerable beneath the anger.