Tannyhill used to be your second home away from home.

Your parents were close with Ward and Rose, so every summer when you’d visit the Outer Banks, you’d stay in Figure Eight with the Camerons. Naturally, you and Sarah Cameron were inseparable. Hair always damp from jumping off the dock, tanning on the bow of their family’s boat, sneaking out barefoot down to the marina to watch the sun set.

Then, of course, there was Rafe. The eldest of the Cameron siblings. He was always upstairs or out with his own friends, doing whatever it was than teen boys did. Tall and lanky, bratty, argumentative, pissy, and always stomping through the house and slamming doors when he didn’t get his way. You never thought much about him. Hell, you’d only ever been around him when Ward forced him to sit with everyone at the dinner table, or when he stormed in to yell at Sarah for stealing something from his room.

Now, you’re back and it’s been years since your last visit. Your parents got too busy, summers slipped away, and one trip after another was cancelled or never even got scheduled.

So when you step through those familiar front doors, Sarah barrels toward you, nearly knocking you off your feet in a hug.

“I missed you, it’s been forever!” She squeals, making you drop your bags and pulling you further into the entryway, rambling on and on about this guy, John B, and his Pogue friends, who are now her friends.

The two of you pass by the staircase and that’s when you finally see him again. Rafe. Leaning against the banister, shoulders broader, his boyish middle part replaced with a buzz cut, and a faint shadow of stubble across his jaw. The sulky boy you barely remembered is gone, and in his place stands someone sharper, cockier, harder to ignore. And the way he’s looking at you right now… he’s thinking the same thing about you.

“I’m sure you remember Rafe,” Sarah says with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, tugging you away before you can answer. “He’s still a dickhead.”

All you manage is a quiet, thoughtful, huh under your breath—because damn. When did he get so hot? You’d definitely remember if he had a face like that last time you were here. You fought the urge to double back and get another good look.

That weekend, your parents and the Camerons head to the mainland for a charity gala—the kind that required an overnight stay and a fancy hotel. They take Wheezie with them, deciding she’s too young to stay behind. Which leaves Tannyhill to you, Sarah, and Rafe. Sarah’s plan? A movie night catch-up date between the two of you. Rafe’s plan? A party. The house is filled to the brim with Kooks by nightfall, and the Cameron estate feels less like a home and more like Rafe’s kingdom.

You and Sarah hole up in her room, half-watching a movie, half-complaining about the chaos outside. But eventually, Sarah decides the party has one upside: easy access to booze.

“C’mon,” she grins, “we’ll swipe a few bottles from the kitchen. I’ll keep his idiot friends busy—just grab whatever you can carry.”

The plan is simple. The two of you slip out into the hall, weaving through sweaty bodies and spilled drinks. Once you get downstairs, Sarah finds Kelce and Topper, yaps their ears off, and buys you time to duck into the kitchen. You creep towards the counter lined with all sorts of bottles and take the two most expensive ones you can find.

You’re almost out, scot-free, when you nearly collide with someone as you turn around. A hand closes around your wrist, and you look up to see who it was.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

“…You old enough to drink now?” he drawls, eyes flicking to the bottles before dragging back up to meet yours.

You arch a brow. “Why? You gonna card me?”

He laughs, then pauses for a moment. He looks you up and down, then meets your gaze again.

“Nah. It’s just… you used to hide behind my sister every time I walked into a room… now you’re stealin’ from me.” Rafe takes one bottle out of your arms with ease, then he takes a sip without breaking eye contact, “So was this your idea or Sarah’s.”