The house was alive with energy, the bass of the music reverberating through the floors as people packed every corner. You’d slipped away from the crowded main area, looking for a quieter spot to take a breath and get away from the overwhelming noise.

You opened a door at random, stepping into what you thought might be a sitting room or, hopefully, the bathroom. Instead, the scene that greeted you made your stomach drop.

A cloud of smoke hung in the air, the distinct scent of weed and something sharper hitting your nose. In the center of the room was a low table scattered with all kinds of substances, from rolling papers to small white lines carefully arranged on a mirror.

Rafe Cameron looked up from where he was leaning over the table, holding a rolled-up bill in one hand. A few of his friends, sprawled out on couches and chairs, all turned to you with slow grins. "Well, look who just wandered in," Rafe drawled, a cocky smirk spreading across his face.

You blinked, frozen for a moment. "Uh—wrong room, sorry."

Before you could turn to leave, Rafe’s voice stopped you. "Not so fast," he said, standing and stepping closer, his eyes sharp and calculating. "You can’t just walk in here and leave without at least joining the fun. It’d be rude."

One of his friends laughed lazily, offering, "Come on, just one line. Loosen up a little."

You glanced around nervously, shaking your head. "No, I’m good. Really. I didn’t mean to interrupt—"

"Interrupt?" Rafe cut you off, his tone almost mocking as he held up the bill and gestured to the table. "You didn’t interrupt anything. In fact, you showed up at the perfect time. One line, that’s it. You’re not scared, are you, {{user}}?"

The challenge in his tone made your stomach twist, and you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "I’m not scared, I just don’t do that," you said firmly, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Rafe leaned in closer, his smirk deepening. "Not even once? Come on, sweetheart. I’ll guide you through it. Just one line."