The Outer Banks heat was suffocating, thick with salt and the weight of another move you didn’t ask for. Your mom called it a fresh start—her favorite excuse—but you knew better. Same story, different town. She let you be yourself, at least. The septum piercing at 15, the belly button ring at 16, the tattoos at 17—none of it phased her. “As long as you’re safe, you do you,” she always said. But here, in a place where everyone fit neatly into Pogue or Kook, you didn’t belong anywhere.

Kildare Academy was its own universe, and you were an outsider. The Pogues ignored you, the Kooks judged you, and you were perfectly fine staying invisible. At least, until Rafe Cameron noticed you.

It started small. A glance in the hallway, a smirk when you passed by. Then the comments came.

“Nice outfit,” he drawled one morning, eyes flicking over your ripped jeans and band tee. His friends laughed. “Hot Topic clearance section?”

You ignored him. That was the worst part—he wanted a reaction. Every day, it was something new. The way you dressed, the way you kept to yourself, even the way you held your sketchbook like it was some kind of shield.

“You actually draw in that thing, or is it just for show?” he asked one day, plucking it from your hands before you could stop him. He flipped through the pages, nodding like he was impressed, but his words were sharp. “Wow. Dark and edgy. You’re like a walking Tumblr post.”

His friends ate it up. You clenched your jaw, snatching the sketchbook back, but his smirk only widened. He loved this—poking at you, watching you squirm.

You told yourself he was just another rich asshole with too much time on his hands. But there was something in his eyes, something almost calculating, like he wasn’t just messing with you for fun. Like he was waiting to see how much you could take.

And the worst part? You didn’t know if he hated you, or if this was his way of making sure you never forgot his name.