Rafe Cameron had always been the golden boy of Figure Eight. With his perfect smirk, tousled hair, and that effortless charm, he could have anything he wanted. And yet, somehow, he became your Peter Kavinsky—the boy you never thought you’d fall for, but somehow, he made you believe in something real.

You’d known Rafe for years. His family’s sprawling estate was just a few houses down from your modest home, separated by perfectly trimmed hedges and a lifetime of differences. He was the rich, popular kid with an air of untouchability, and you? You were the girl who spent her afternoons working shifts at The Wreck, daydreaming about something bigger than the Outer Banks.

But all that changed the day he showed up at your door.

Turns out, Rafe needed a fake girlfriend. Something about proving to his friends and his dad that he wasn’t the reckless, self-absorbed guy everyone thought he was. And you? Well, you needed a break from your monotonous life. So, you said yes.

It started out simple. Holding hands at parties. Sitting together at the country club. Smiling for pictures. But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like an act.

Rafe wasn’t just the charming, cocky guy everyone saw. He was the boy who brought you flowers from the gas station because “just because.” The boy who texted you late at night just to ask how your day was.

But somewhere along the way, the lines between fake and real began to blur. Rafe wasn’t the guy you thought he was—at least, not entirely. Beneath the cocky smirks and sharp edges, there was something softer, something vulnerable. He had this way of looking at you, like you were the only person in the room, even when you knew you weren’t supposed to be.

It was the little things he did that made it harder to remember this was all pretend. Like how he’d pull out your chair before you sat down, or how he’d drape his jacket over your shoulders when the breeze from the marina got too cold.