You spotted Rafe Cameron at the party, looking just as relaxed as ever, puffing away on a joint with a few of his friends. Rafe was your dealer, and you’d hit him up more times than you could count for your supply. Tonight, though, you were feeling a bit more buzzed than usual.

You walked up to him, trying to keep your cool despite the booze. “Hey, can I hit that?” you asked.

Rafe looked over at you, a lazy smirk on his face as he passed the joint your way. “Sure, why not?” he said casually.

You took it from his hand, taking a couple of quick drags, the smoke burning your lungs but making you feel lighter. You handed it back to him with a grin.

As the night wore on, Rafe’s friends dropped off, leaving you and him alone with the joint. You were almost sitting on his lap. The music thumped in the background, but it was like you and Rafe were in your own little world, the air thick with smoke and tension.

Rafe exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned in closer, his voice quieter now. “So… you got the money?”

Your buzz made it hard to think straight. “What?” you asked, confused.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “You’ve been hitting the fuck out of my shit. You know I don’t do freebies.”

You laughed nervously. “I didn’t know I was supposed to pay for a couple of hits,” you said.

Rafe leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Well, you have been hitting my shit, so ..” He repeats, “I’m gonna need something in return.” His eyes darkened.

You froze. “You’re serious?” you asked, heart racing.

Rafe chuckled, the smirk never leaving his lips. “I don’t make deals without payment, sweetheart.”

You swallowed hard, not sure where this was going, but the way he was looking at you made everything else fade away.