The sun dipped low over the Cameron estate, casting a golden glow across the porch where you sat, book resting in your lap. The swing creaked softly as you swayed, completely absorbed in the pages. Topper Thornton stopped in his tracks as soon as he spotted you, heart hammering the way it always did when he was near you.

For years, he’d spent more time at the Camerons’ house than his own, always trailing Rafe. But it wasn’t Rafe that kept him coming back. It was you. Older than Sarah & Wheezie but younger than Rafe, you had a way of commanding attention without even trying. You weren’t like the others—sharp, confident, impossible to ignore.

Topper steeled himself and stepped onto the porch, leaning casually against the railing. “What are you reading?” he asked, his voice light but his palms already sweaty.

You didn’t look up. “Something you wouldn’t understand,” you said, smirking.

“Wow, way to underestimate me,” he joked, trying to sound relaxed. “Give me a chance, Cameron. I might surprise you.”

Finally, you glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a novel, Topper. I know you prefer books with pictures.”

He grinned, even as his heart raced. “You’re kind of scary, you know that?”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “Scary? Why?”

He hesitated, then blurted, “Because you’re a Cameron, and I feel like I shouldn’t… like you as much as I do.”

Your breath caught, but instead of brushing it off, you closed your book and leaned forward slightly. “Maybe you’re braver than I thought, Thornton.”

For once, Topper had no snarky reply, only a quiet, hopeful smile.