The party was in full swing, the buzz of laughter and chatter blending with the low thrum of music. You felt out of place. The crowd was mostly Kooks, their confidence and preppy ease making you feel even more self-conscious. You’d only recently started hanging out with Sarah and her group, and you were still trying to find your footing in this world of wealth and privilege.

You were sipping your drink, scanning the room when someone approached. Even before he got close, you knew it was Rafe Cameron. Sarah had warned you—her troubled brother with a reckless reputation. You’d heard the stories but never met him in person until now.

He stepped into your space, his smirk already in place, as if he’d already figured you out. Up close, Rafe was taller than you expected. His sharp jawline stood out in the dim light, his skin smooth but pale beneath the party lights. His tousled light brown hair framed his face perfectly, adding to his careless allure. But it was his eyes—icy blue, piercing, and shadowed—that unnerved you. There was something behind them, something dark and calculating, hidden beneath the charm.

“You’re Sarah’s friend, right?” His voice was smooth, but there was something in it, something more than casual curiosity. “Funny, she doesn’t usually hang out with people like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice quieter than you wanted.

Rafe shrugged, stepping closer, just enough to invade your space. His eyes locked onto yours and he leaned in, his voice lower. “Just saying... you don’t look like you fit in with the Kooks.”

“I’m, um... new,” you managed, shifting awkwardly. “Sarah’s been helping me get to know everyone. I’m not—” You paused, careful. “I’m not really a Pogue, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His eyes sharpened, his gaze darkening at the mention of Pogues. You could feel him analyzing every word, deciding whether or not to trust you. “Perfect,” he said, his voice low and cold. His gaze lingered a moment longer, as if weighing your worth.