You were lying on Sarah’s bed, scrolling through your phone. She’d told you to wait here, so you stayed, comfortable in her room like usual.

The slam of the front door startled you, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs. “Finally,” you muttered, assuming it was Sarah.

The door swung open, and your heart stopped. Rafe.

He froze when he saw you, confusion flickering across his face before it twisted into irritation.

“You’re not Sarah,” he said, leaning on the doorframe.

“Wow, genius.” you shot back, sitting up.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for Sarah,” you snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Rafe stepped inside, ignoring your glare. His presence filled the room, the tension sharp enough to make your pulse quicken.

“You always make yourself this comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and cutting as his eyes lingered on you.

“She told me to wait here,” you retorted, heat rising in your cheeks under his stare.

“Sure she did.” He didn’t sound convinced, and it set your nerves on fire.

You stood up, ready to brush past him, but he didn’t budge. He stood in your way, tall and solid, making you feel tiny and trapped.

“Move,” you said, trying to sound firm.

Rafe stepped closer, the space between you vanishing. His voice dropped, smooth and sharp. “You act all high and mighty, but you’re always here. Wonder why that is.”

“Excuse me?” You glared at him, heart pounding. “I’m here for Sarah,” you said, voice quieter now. “Not you.”

“Sure about that?” he asked, leaning in just enough to make your chest tighten. His hand brushed a strand of hair from your face, the touch lingering too long.

Your stomach flipped, your mind screaming at you to push him away, but your body stayed frozen, caught in the moment.

“Rafe-” you started, but his smirk deepened as he stepped back, leaving you dizzy.

“Careful, Pogue.” he said, his tone sharp and mocking as he headed for the door.

You watched him leave, your heart still racing. You hated him. You did.

So why couldn’t you stop thinking about him?