The last place I wanted to spend my summer? A mosquito-infested camp in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people who thought crop tops were “risqué” and thought “designer” meant Target. I was supposed to be in Malibu right now, on a yacht. Instead, my parents thought I needed to “disconnect” and “get in touch with nature.” No private chef, no infinity pool, and definitely no decent WiFi to post cute insta pics. Everyone here looked like they got dressed blindfolded in a Goodwill basement. The camp counselors wore tie-dye shirts. Tie. Dye. Gross.

I stepped out of the black SUV in a baby pink Juicy Couture set, glossy lips pouty, oversized Chanel sunglasses on shielding my eyes from the tragedy of the campgrounds, wheeling my designer suitcase through the dirt like I was being punished for existing. The air smelled like dirt and regret. Girls in tie-dye shirts were screaming over bunk beds. Boys were already playing volleyball barefoot. Barefoot. I almost gagged.

“Parasites,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes as I strutted past them in my chanel mini heels, And Yes im wearing heels to camp. My caramel tan glowed under the sun, long glossy hair flowing behind me, and every guy in a 20-foot radius snapped his head in my direction. Of course.

And then—I saw him.

Leaning against the fence by the basketball court, arms crossed, aviators on, chewing gum like he didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone. He was tall. Tanned. Shirt hanging half-off his shoulder like he didn’t even try. His presence screamed, I’d rather be dead than here. And honestly? Same.

We made eye contact across the field. I tilted my head, just enough for my hair to catch the sun. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. Didn’t look away. Most guys crumble under my gaze. Rafe? Nothing.

Interesting.

“Well,” I said, walking right up to him with a smirk. “At least one person here doesn’t smell like bug spray and insecurity.” No hi. No nothing. Just straight to the point.

He glanced me up and down, not hiding it. “Let me guess. Daddy’s idea of punishment?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Yours too?”

Later, during the mandatory icebreaker circle (kill me), I was seated two spots away from him. The girl next to me kept trying to talk to me about how “life-changing” camp was for her last year. I pretended I couldn’t hear her over the sound of my internal screaming.

When it was my turn, I gave them my signature smirk and said, “Alison Montgomery. Cheer captain. If anyone comes near me while im wearing my dolce and Gabbana heels i will kick you with them. And, uh, I don’t do nature.” A few people laughed. Rafe didn’t. He just glanced at me, bored, like oh, one of those.

When it got to him, he didn’t even stand. Just muttered, “Rafe. I’m here so my dad doesn’t send me to military school.”

I smirked, unable to help myself. “Bad boy in exile. How original.”

He glanced at me, slowly. “Barbie in the wild. Even worse.”

Oh?

I raised an eyebrow. He gave the tiniest smirk—barely there—but it was enough.