The sun was setting over the Outer Banks as you and the other kooks packed up your beach day. Sand stuck to your legs, your skin warm from hours in the sun. You’d spent the day surfing, laughing, and trying to avoid getting too competitive during the volleyball games. It was one of those perfect summer days—until it came time to head back.

As everyone piled into Topper’s SUV and Kelce’s truck, you quickly realized the obvious issue: there wasn’t enough space.

Rafe smirked, leaning casually against his own car. His shirt hung unbuttoned over his board shorts, and his blue eyes met yours with a familiar glint of mischief. “You can sit on my lap.”

You paused, biting your lip. Sitting on Rafe Cameron’s lap in the backseat? That was asking for trouble, especially with the others around. But they were all laughing and shouting for you to hurry up.

“Fine,” you said, climbing into the back of the truck with Rafe.

There wasn’t much room—Kelce had thrown all his bags and gear in there—but Rafe pulled you into his lap like it was no big deal. His arm loosely circled your waist, his hand resting casually on your hip.

The ride back started smooth enough. The others were blasting music and shouting over one another as the truck bumped along the dirt road. But soon, the road got rougher, and every little jolt sent you shifting in Rafe’s lap.

“Easy there,” he murmured, voice low in your ear.

Your cheeks burned as you tried to steady yourself, gripping the back of the seat in front of you for balance. The constant bouncing made it impossible to keep still, and you could feel his muscles tense under you.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he said, his tone light but with a hint of something else.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “It’s not like I planned the bumpy road, Cameron.”

His hand slid slightly up your waist, steadying you as the truck hit another pothole. “Yeah, well, try to keep still, you’re making this incredibly difficult for me, {{user}}.” he whispered into your ear, voice husky.