The island had been buzzing all summer with stories I had no part in—until now. Everyone seemed to know who Rafe Cameron was, and everyone had the same warning for me: stay away.

“Don’t even think about him,” Kiara said one afternoon, leaning close like it was serious life advice. “He’s trouble. The kind you don’t walk away from.”

The pogues had told me the same thing, in their rough, matter-of-fact way. “You’ll see. Just don’t get involved.” I nodded. I promised myself I’d stay out of it.

Then the end-of-summer ball came. The Kooks had thrown it at the mansion near the cliffs, all lights and music, the kind of night that made everyone forget reality for a few hours. I tucked my hair behind my ears, tried to blend in at the edge of the crowd, and kept reminding myself: Don’t look for him. You don’t even know what he looks like.

And then I did.

He wasn’t what I expected at all. He was standing near the balcony, talking to a group of people, but he wasn’t… scary. Not at first glance. He looked calm, perfectly put together, hair neat, suit sharp. Polite. Charming in a way that made you think of someone who belonged here, who wasn’t the “danger” everyone whispered about.

I couldn’t look away. My friends’ warnings faded in an instant. He laughed at something one of the Kooks said, and there it was—the pull, subtle but immediate, that made my stomach twist and my heart race.

Then he turned. And for a moment, it felt like he was the only person in the room who existed.

I tried to look away, to tell myself I shouldn’t notice him. But the moment my back shifted, I realized I didn’t have to.

Because when I turned around, he was there.

Calm. Polished. Smiling. And before I could even catch my breath, he said, “Hey.”