The country club was buzzing with life—Kooks dressed in their finest, glasses clinking, soft music playing in the background. {{user}} stood by the bar, stirring her drink absentmindedly, when she felt a presence behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Rafe’s voice was smooth, teasing, way too confident.

She turned, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Because I have better taste than this?”

Rafe smirked, tilting his head. “Nah, because last time I checked, you couldn’t stand me.”

{{user}} scoffed, taking a sip of her drink. “I still can’t.”

That was a lie. A complete, utter lie.

For as long as she could remember, Rafe Cameron had been the one person she swore she’d never fall for. He was arrogant, reckless, infuriatingly charming. And yet, somehow, she was standing here, heart racing, just from the way he was looking at her.

“You’re staring,” he said, a slow smirk pulling at his lips.

“I’m glaring,” she corrected.

“Right,” he hummed, stepping closer. “And yet, you haven’t walked away.”

She hated that he was right. She hated how his voice sent shivers down her spine, how his presence was intoxicating, how, after all this time, he still had this effect on her.

Rafe leaned in, voice dropping. “You know, I’ve spent years trying to get under your skin, but I think I figured it out.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged, crossing her arms.

He grinned. “You don’t hate me as much as you think you do.”

Her breath hitched, and for once, she didn’t have a comeback. Because, deep down, she knew he was right.

She wasn’t just falling—she had already fallen.