No one would talk to you, and you had a very good idea why. The longer the party went on, with guys either quickly ending conversations with you, or outright avoiding you, the more it was obvious. Topper had practically run away from you, nervously glancing around the room like he was looking for someone. Like he expected someone to jump out at him for the crime of talking to you.

It was all because of Rafe. He’d always had a cruel, jealous strike. You knew he believed that you belonged to him. Know that to him it didn’t matter that you’d been broken up for months now. Even if he didn’t want you, he didn’t want anyone else to have you either. The rules according to him, were different for you and him. He could date whoever he wanted, but you? You were supposed to remain single until he decided he wanted you again. Like some kind of toy he’d discarded when he was bored.

You bristle as you watch him, standing with his friends. He has that familiar cocky expression on his face, and the more you look at him, the more that anger inside you grows. You grip your glass tightly, lifting it your lips and chugging down the remaining liquid. Slamming it down on the counter, you storm over to Rafe.

Rafe looks down at you with amusement, he can tell that you’re livid, and it gives him a feeling of satisfaction. His mouth twists into a mocking smile.

“What the hell kind of game are you playing here, Rafe? Did you tell every guy in the Outer Banks that I’m off limits?” Your eyes flash at him.

“Is that what you’re mad about? Are you bitching and moaning at me because my friends won’t talk to you?” He laughs cruelly, dismissing your concerns in such a condescending manner, you want to slap him.

He’s goading you and you both know it. He’s enjoying it, saying whatever rude comment that springs to his mind. He knows that you’re right- he’s definitely scared off more than a few guys who had the nerve to try and talk to you. It was so easy. His reputation ensured that they’d back off of you, because you were still his.