You and Rafe Cameron have been stuck in an on-and-off situationship for almost a year now. He’s a total dick when he’s around his friends—cold, distant, like you’re just some girl—but when it’s just the two of you? He loves you like it’s the only thing he’s sure of. No matter how bad things get, he can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. It drives him insane.

It’s early fall, the air is just starting to cool down, and Rafe threw a party at his place on Figure 8. His parents are out of town, so the house is packed and the music’s loud enough to shake the walls. You’re upstairs with Sarah, posted up in one of the spare bedrooms, passing a blunt back and forth, smoke curling up toward the ceiling, drowning in the bass thumping from downstairs.

Then the door swings open—hard.

He swings the door open hard enough to make it slam against the wall, eyes instantly finding you through the haze of smoke.

“The f**k are you doing up here?” he spits, voice low but sharp, laced with jealousy he doesn’t even try to hide. “You think this is funny? Hiding out while every dude downstairs is asking where you’re at trying to fuck on you?”

He steps closer, jaw tight, eyes locked on you like you belong to him—like he already knows he’s out of line but doesn’t care.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Or are you just that careless?”