The party was hot and crowded as usual. It had just begun, so there were still people trickling in, the smell of booze already coating your nostrils.

You were known by most people here in the Outer Banks, you being the only person to ever properly balance the kook/pogue life. Everyone somehow found you, establishing some kind of connection.

So of course, Rafe Cameron would eventually find you too. But you never thought the fiery tension you two had would become a relationship—or that it would end faster than it started.

It was at this very place where you met him, the subtle touch of his shoulder causing the first spark between you two. But that was long ago, and you were done with him, the thumping music fighting to get the thoughts of him out of your mind.

Because if you were being honest, it was hard to forget his sorry-ass.

Slipping through the crowd, your body managed to fit through the tight corners of the dance floor, a drink in hand. You had no intention of seeing Rafe tonight.

Yet the universe did.

A quick bump—that's all it took. Your drink spilled onto your dress, and all of a sudden the night felt like shit. “Fuck, dude! Watch where you’re going.” You scowl, your eyes still on your soaked dress, which was see-through now.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be walking in such a busy crowd with a drink in your hand.” A cocky voice says—one you knew too well. You look up, your mouth dropping. There he was, clear as day—Rafe Cameron.

His face matches yours as he realizes who he bumped into, the music seeming to fade out. “{{user}}? Fuck. What the hell are you doing here?” He asks, his eyes searching you, but landing on your chest, which is transparent now.

You cover up in disgust, scowling at him. “Partying. Or at least I was trying to.” You say, turning away from him.

Rafe sighs, his head dropping. “Here. Take my coat,” He says, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around you, the familiar smell of his cologne surrounding you. “Let’s get you outside.” He says, leading you through the crowd.