You’d been dating Kelce for a few months now, and you kept telling yourself it was fine. Good, even. It wasn’t the kind of relationship you dreamed about, but maybe that was just you being unrealistic. Maybe first relationships weren’t supposed to feel like the ones in movies. Maybe you were asking for too much.

Rafe didn’t see it that way. He never liked how Kelce treated you. You brushed off his teasing and his annoying comments, thinking he just didn’t like you. But the truth was, his words, his eye-rolls, the way he needled you—that was his version of affection. Beneath the cocky smirk, he cared more than you could imagine.

He told Kelce plenty of times what an ass he was as a boyfriend. Kelce always laughed it off, saying Rafe didn’t have the right to judge. That pissed Rafe off even more—because he knew he would treat you better than Kelce ever could.

Then midsummer came.

The party was packed, lights strung up around the yard, music spilling out of the house. You stood there with a drink in your hand, looking for Kelce, hoping maybe he’d pull you into a dance or just notice you the way you wanted him to. But he was gone.

You searched, weaving through the crowd, until you found him behind the house. His hands on Ruthie. His lips on hers.

Your chest clenched so tight it hurt to breathe. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t scream, didn’t cry out, didn’t let him know you saw. You turned, walked away as quietly as you could, even though your heart was breaking apart inside your ribs.

You slipped away from the party, down toward the dark beach. The laughter and music faded behind you until it was just the sound of waves and your own uneven breathing. You sat down in the sand, wiping at your face, hating the tears that wouldn’t stop.

From a distance, Rafe saw you. He saw the way your shoulders shook, the shine of tears catching the moonlight. And without hesitation, he followed.

He approached with that trademark smirk, like he couldn’t help himself. “What’s up, crybaby?” he teased. But this time, the bite was missing.

You didn’t answer. You just dragged your sleeve across your cheeks, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He let out a heavy sigh, muttering something under his breath, then crouched in front of you. His hand was surprisingly gentle when he tipped your chin up to face him. “What’s up?”

The words cracked out of you before you could stop them. “Kelce and Ruthie…they make out…” Your voice broke, your breath shuddering as fresh tears slipped free.

His jaw locked tight. He scoffed, but not at you—at them. “He’s not worth your tears,” he said firmly. “You deserve better.”

You just looked at him, eyes aching, throat raw.

He pulled off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders before sitting down beside you. He didn’t touch you otherwise, but you felt him there—solid, close, steady in a way you didn’t expect.

And in that moment, his presence soothed you more than words ever could.

That night changed something. You weren’t sure what yet. But the teasing and bickering between you shifted into something else. Something softer. Something that lingered.

Maybe friends. Maybe more.