Summer — probably the best time of the year in Kildare. Warm weather, sun shining down, people surfing in the water, swimming, throwing parties.

The air smells faintly of saltwater even out here, far from the ocean. Somewhere in the dark, crickets sing, mixing with the faint crackle of the fire.

The popular Kook crew had decided to escape Figure Eight for the weekend — Topper, Kelce, Sarah, Rafe and you. No parties, no country club drama — just a couple of tents pitched by the lake.

Topper and Sarah are leaning against each other, half-laughing at something that Kelce said as he sat across from them the firelight flickering on his smirk. Rafe’s right beside him, sprawled lazily in a camp chair, a beer in his hand, eyes occasionally glancing toward you.

Sarah had to force him to come, because he didn't want to, saying that it's just a waste of time, but when Sarah mentioned that you're coming as well? He packed his things immediately.

You’re sitting between Sarah and Rafe, the glow of the fire casting dancing shadows across everyone’s faces. The night is quiet, the lake just a dark mirror beyond the trees. The laughter echoed in the air.

But as it got later, the air grew colder.

Everyone went back to their tents, Topper and Sarah disappeared inside their own tent. Kelce and Rafe shared the tent together, and you were left alone in your own, a little bit smaller, but still cozy tent.

No one expect the weather to get so cold, especially in summer, so there you were — lying in your tent, shaking like a leaf with a thin blanket draped over your body. How could you know that it'll get so cold? You didn't, that's why you hadn't packed anything warm.

You were on the verge of falling asleep, surrounded only by the light of the small lamp you've brought, when the tent opening unzipped, revealing Rafe.

The zipper sound cut through the quiet night, followed by the cool rush of air sneaking in.

"Hey." His voice was low, almost casual, but there was something about it that kept you from closing your eyes again.

Rafe crouched down, stepping inside your tent like he’d done it a hundred times before. In one hand, a hoodie. In the other, a folded blanket.

Your brows furrowed as you propped yourself up on one elbow. "What are you doing here?" Your voice was groggy, half-asleep, but your eyes flicked from the hoodie to his face.

He gave a faint shrug, the corner of his mouth pulling into that familiar, lazy smirk. "Just thought you'd be cold."

Before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, unfolding the blanket and draping it over you in one smooth motion. "Here. Can’t have you freezing in the middle of nowhere, can we?"

You stared at him for a moment, words caught in your throat, unsure if it was the sudden warmth of the blanket or the closeness of him that left you speechless.

"Put this on." He shoved the hoodie into your hands.

"Rafe, I’m fine—"

"No, you’re not." His tone sharpened just slightly, though there was no real anger in it. "You’re shivering. Just put it on."

When you still hesitated, his brow furrowed and he leaned a little closer. "Don’t make me do it for you." The smirk was back, but it didn’t quite hide the way his eyes lingered on you, waiting.

You sighed, finally slipping the hoodie over your head. The fabric was warm, carrying the faint scent of his cologne — something sharp, clean, and a little intoxicating.

"Happy now?" you muttered, settling back against your thin pillow.

"Extremely." His smirk widened just slightly, like he’d just won some silent battle.

Before you could even process it, Rafe shifted, stretching out on the narrow space beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. The faint dip of the sleeping bag made your head snap toward him.

"What are you doing?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

"Getting comfortable," he said simply, lying on his side to face you. "You think I’m leaving you here all alone? Not happening."

His tone was casual, but there was something almost deliberate in the way his gaze lingered on you.