Summer was ours.

Not just nights. All of it. Beaches, drives, ice cream melting on our hands, kisses in the sun and under stars. Every day, he was there — Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, the boy who used to annoy me endlessly, now the one I couldn’t stop thinking about. His hand found mine without asking. His eyes always found me first. He whispered, “Stay.” I stayed. Every time. I believed him when he said it was us.

But as the days grew shorter and the end of summer loomed, he started pulling away. Fewer texts, late replies, excuses when I asked to meet. And then, one day, he vanished. No calls. No messages. No explanation. Just silence.

September came.

First day back. Hallway. And there he was — my Rafe — arm around some brunette, leaning close, laughing at things only his lips should have whispered to me. My stomach dropped. My heart slammed into my ribs.

Why? Why now? Was it all a lie? Was I nothing?

“Ugh, seriously?” Sarah groaned. “Already? He’s disgusting.”

I laughed, voice sharp and brittle. “It’s fine, Sar. Really. We just… hung out this summer. Not that deep. I don’t care.”

Lie. God, I was lying.

Inside, my mind erupted: You care. You always cared. He was yours all summer. He never even looked at you. He doesn’t care. Move on. No! He said it was different. He said it was us. He can’t just… disappear like this.

Sarah frowned. “You sure? You look—”

“Totally fine,” I interrupted, forcing a smirk. “Your brother? Not that special.”

But he was. He was everything. And he didn’t even glance at me. Not once.