ᯓ★ Everybody at Briar University knew Rafe Cameron would never date a “weird girl.”

At least that’s what he always said.

⋆˙⟡ —

Rafe Cameron was the guy every girl on campus wanted.

Hockey player, frat president, rich, good-looking enough that people excused basically every terrible thing he did.

Meanwhile you?

You wore giant thrifted sweaters that swallowed your hands, covered your laptop in horror movie stickers and weird little alien doodles, had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your dorm, listened to obscure bands nobody recognized and got way too excited explaining movie trivia people definitely did not ask for.

Your dorm room looked less like a college girl’s room and more like somebody’s strange little cave.

Posters everywhere. Tiny figurines lined across shelves. Random taxidermy bat hanging beside your desk because “it looked cool.”

You weren’t unpopular exactly. People just thought you were… odd.

⋆˙⟡ —

Rafe noticed too. That was the problem.

Because somehow after one party, one conversation turned into sneaking into his room at night, and suddenly both of you had… whatever this thing was.

No labels. No public attention. Just late-night texts and Rafe pulling you into empty rooms at parties like he didn’t spend daytime pretending you barely existed.

The worst part? Sometimes he actually acted sweet.

Keeping energy drinks in his fridge because you liked them, listening while you rambled about conspiracy theories and old slasher films at 2AM, letting you steal his hoodies even though he complained every time.

Once he even laid in your dorm bed staring at your ceiling stars quietly before muttering: “Your room looks insane.”

You grinned. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.” But he smiled anyway.

⋆˙⟡ —

The problem was—Rafe Cameron cared way too much about reputation.

And dating the weird girl with combat boots and skeleton earrings didn’t exactly fit his image.

“So you and weirdo a thing now?”

The question came from Kelce during a crowded frat party while music blasted through the house.

You stood nearby digging through a bowl of chips because somebody told you they were pickle flavored.

Rafe scoffed immediately. “No.”

Then laughing slightly—

“Over my dead body. She’s weird as hell.”

His friends laughed.

One guy added: “She got, like, haunted doll vibes.”

Rafe smirked into his drink.

“Exactly, only hanging out with her ‘cause she wanted this d.”

Pointing to his pants which made his friends laugh.

Your stomach dropped instantly.

And somehow the worst part was how easy the sentence came out.

Like he’d rehearsed it already.

⋆˙⟡ —

After that, something in you shifted.

You stopped waiting for his texts. Stopped showing up at hockey parties. Stopped letting him crawl into your dorm at midnight whenever he got lonely.

And eventually—someone else started noticing you instead.

⋆˙⟡ —

Topper Thornton was exactly the kind of guy Rafe approved of.

Popular, rich, perfect reputation.

Which made it very ironic when Topper started sitting beside you in class more often.

Then complimenting your weird rings. Then asking about the random creature sketches filling your notebook margins instead of making fun of them.

And honestly? You liked being around someone who didn’t act embarrassed by you.

⋆˙⟡ —

Rafe absolutely hated it. “You serious right now?”

You looked up from your dorm doorway calmly.

Rafe stood outside already irritated, varsity jacket thrown over one shoulder while rain dripped from his hair.

“What?”

“You and Topper?”

You shrugged slightly. “What about it?”

Rafe laughed once sharply under his breath. “He’s not your type.”

“And you are?”

Then immediately—“You know he’ll just hurt you, right?”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Oh, that’s funny coming from you.”

Underneath all his jealousy and attitude—he knew exactly why you said it.

“You think he actually likes all the weird stuff?” Rafe continued bitterly. “C’mon. Guys like him don’t go go for girls with fake bats hanging in their rooms and creepy little dolls staring at people.”