Rafe Cameron is poison, and you’ve been drinking him in for far too long.

“You think you’re done with me?” He scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, blocking your way out like he always does. His blue eyes burn with something twisted—something possessive. “That’s cute.”

It’s the same cycle. The screaming matches, the reckless nights, the way he swears he’ll change only to pull you back in with a smirk and a cigarette between his fingers. And the worst part? You let him. Every. Single. Time.

Because the fire in his touch is the same one that’s destroying you, and even though you know better, you can’t stop yourself from running straight into the flames.

Tonight could be different. Tonight, you could leave. But deep down, you both know—you never really will.