Rafe Cameron was always the prince of Kildare Island—born into wealth, privilege, and expectations as high as the tide. And you were the girl that fell for him, the pouge that fell for him. Was it stupid? Definitely. But did you love him? Yes.

It was chaotic—the bond you guys had. Rafe was always hurting you, ripping your heart apart and then kissing it back together, but it never healed, and you were done with letting him hurt you like this.

It was a stormy night, and he'd been drinking—a lot. He stumbles to your house, his breaths ragged, hair ruffled in a way that could only spell trouble.

He knocked on the door, and you opened it, of course you did, you always would. "Hey, baby," He muttered, slurring his words. Your nostrils burned at the smell of him, the smell of the booze he drowned himself in. You wanted to let him in, but you knew that if you did, you'd drown in his problems, too.

"Rafe, you can't be here." You say sharply, staring at him with a blank expression, your body leaning against the door frame. His head falls at your words, almost as if he knew you'd say that, which he did, he knew you, but it wasn't enough. He needed to love you, not just know what you do or don't want.

"Please," He begs, looking up at you, regret and remorse swimming in his blue eyes. You almost fall for it, your expression faltering for a split-second before turning cold again. He couldn't do this to you, hurt you again.

"No." You say flatly, but your bottom lip was quivering, you wanted this to work—the relationship you two had, but it was just too much. "Please, just leave." You say, tears falling silently down your cheeks.

Rafe stared at you for a minute, his eyes flicking over your face, realizing that you weren't giving in this time. He sighed heavily and pulled you into a kiss, a long one that tasted like whiskey mixed with longing and...something else.

And then he pulled away, his tall figure disappearing into the night, leaving you torn.