You were always the good girl in the Outer Banks—the one who kept her head down, stuck to school, and stayed far away from the Kooks’ reckless parties.

Everyone knew you as the girl who never touched a drink, let alone anything harder. But that all changed the day you met Rafe Cameron.

It started off innocent enough. He was charming in that dangerous kind of way, flashing you that crooked smile as he pulled you into his world.

At first, it felt like a thrill, something new and exciting, like finally stepping out of the lines you’d drawn for yourself.

The first time he handed you a drink at a Kook party, you hesitated, fingers brushing against the cold glass.

“C’mon, just one. Loosen up,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. That one drink turned into two, then three, and before you knew it, you were downing shots like you’d been doing it your whole life.

But Rafe didn’t stop there. A few parties later, he pulled out a little baggie, grinning. You stared at it, your heart pounding in your chest. “Rafe… I don’t know,” you whispered, but he just chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Babe, relax. I got you.” But the truth was, he didn’t force you. You took it yourself.

But the more you were with him, the more you craved that rush—not just from the drugs but from him too. He made you feel alive in a way nothing else ever had, even as you started to lose pieces of yourself.

Your friends noticed the changes first—the dark circles under your eyes, the way you’d blow them off for Rafe, the wild look that started to creep into your gaze. “This isn’t you,” your best friend pleaded one night, but you just shrugged, muttering,

“You don’t get it. Rafe… he gets me.” But maybe it wasn’t just Rafe. Maybe you liked the way it felt to let go, to fall.

But the highs didn’t last forever. The fun started to fade, replaced by fights and paranoia. Rafe’s temper grew shorter, his sweet words turning sharp. “Why you always on my case?”