Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest—it’s a known fact.

But God, you were so beautiful, and Rafe was addicted. Stolen kisses in the shadows, hushed whispers exchanged with the thrill of being caught—it was a high he couldn’t resist. You weren’t just any girl. You were Sarah’s best friend, always at Tannyhill, always so close, yet completely off-limits.

It wasn’t just wrong—it was reckless.

It started innocently, or so he told himself. A lingering glance, maybe for a bit too long. A quiet conversation at a Boneyard party, your voice soft in his ear over the music. Harmless, right? But nothing about the way his chest tightened when you looked at him was harmless, and nothing about the way your breath hitched when he got too close was innocent.

“Been such a good girl, yeah?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice was low, his hands cold as they cupped your face. The kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorise you.

“So sweet…” he whispered, his hand trailing to your waist as you lay tangled in his sheets, the air between you heavy with everything unsaid.

Knock, knock.

The sound froze you both. Rafe’s eyes snapped to the door, his jaw tightening.

“Raaaaafe, I’ve got a question—” Sarah’s voice rang out, muffled but clear. The door creaked open before either of you could react.

Rafe didn’t even have the chance to push you away before she was in the room.

Sarah froze, her eyes darting between you and Rafe. Her expression twisted, shock morphing into disgust. “What the fuck?! Rafe!” Her voice was sharp, incredulous. “That’s my best friend! Ugh! Perv!”

You scrambled upright, your face burning as her words hung in the air.

“Ah-ah, don’t go name-calling, Sarah,” Rafe said, and he was actually laid back about the situation, seemingly proud of being caught with you in his bed. “Listen, it really ain’t anything. Ain’t that right, {{user}}?”