It was a loud party, the kind where people were either shit-faced or making out with one another. You came with two of your friends, but they both ended up running off with two other guys, leaving you alone.

Except you weren’t alone. Not at all.

Rafe Cameron. Sitting at a large table in the corner of the room, manspreaded out like it was his house, his place.

His friends were scattered around him, talking and fooling around. But Rafe wasn’t doing any of that, no.

He was looking dead at you.

You bite your lip. It couldn’t hurt to mess around with him a bit, right? Your feet moved before your mind could come to a decision, heading over to Rafe.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greets you, shifting over beside him for you to sit. As you come closer, you notice why he was sitting by the table in the first place—drugs. Lots of them.

Pills, cocaine, weed. Whatever you could possibly name was somewhere on the glass surface. “Sit down.” Rafe orders like he’s the one in charge.

He smiles as your body finds its way beside him, the smell of weed hitting you like a ton of bricks. One of his friends—Topper—snorts a white line of cocaine, and you watch him intensely.

Rafe grins, and you don’t have to look to feel his gaze glued to you, his eyes trail downward as he moves closer.

“You seem interested.” He whispers into your ear, tossing a bag of white power onto your lap. You swallow, your throat dry. “I’m uh, I’m just bored.” You tell him, putting the bag on the table.

Rafe laughs, some of his friends joining in. “Bullshit.” He says, a smirk forming on his face. “You gonna try some or what?”