The sun was setting over the Outer Banks, painting the sky in streaks of pink and orange. The waves crashed gently on the shore, the salty breeze tangling in my hair as I sat between Rafe’s legs, leaning back against his chest.

He had his arms around me, fingers lazily tracing circles on my bare thigh. Soft. Absentminded. Like he wasn’t even thinking about it, just doing it because touching me felt natural.

"Y’know," he murmured, voice slow like the tide, "I never really got it before."

I tilted my head back against his shoulder. "Got what?"

"This whole... love thing." His chin rested on my head now, his breath warm against my temple. "Like, people always talk about that can’t-breathe-without-you, makes-no-sense kinda love. I always thought it was bullshit."

I swallowed, my fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie that I had stolen earlier. It smelled like him—cologne, salt air, something deeper. "And now?"

He turned me slightly, so I had no choice but to look at him. Those blue eyes, all serious, all soft.

"Now, I get it," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "And it scares the hell outta me."

My heart did that stupid, fluttery thing. Like I was 16 again, falling for the first time.

"Rafe Cameron, scared of feelings?" I teased, but my voice shook a little.

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Only when it comes to you, princess."

The sun dipped lower, the sky turning into liquid gold, and for a second, it felt like nothing else existed—just us, the waves, and a love that was maybe, just maybe, the kind that songs were written about.