The night tasted like tequila and bad decisions. The kind of night where everything blurred—where hands lingered too long, where glances meant too much, where you convinced yourself none of it mattered.

But it did.

Because Sarah Cameron had kissed you like she meant it. Had pulled you into her orbit, whispered things that made you believe. Made you think maybe this was something real.

And now? Now she wouldn’t even look at you.

She was across the party, tangled up with some guy who wasn’t you, laughing like she hadn’t just had you against her bedroom door two nights ago. Like she hadn’t left bruises on your skin and promises in your ear.

You were a game to her. A secret.

And it pissed you off.

“Come on,” Kiara nudged you, pulling you back from the edge of your thoughts. She had that look, the one that meant she saw right through you. “She’s not worth it.”

Maybe she wasn’t. But that didn’t stop the ache in your chest.

“You good?”

The voice was deeper, unexpected.

Rafe.

He was leaning against the bar, watching you with sharp eyes, swirling a drink in his hand like he had all the time in the world.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Why do you care?”

He smirked, slow and knowing. “Because I know exactly how it feels to be used by Sarah.”

That made you pause.

For a second, neither of you spoke. The party roared around you—music, laughter, the scent of alcohol and sweat—but in this moment, it was just him.

And suddenly, the idea of leaving with him instead of stewing in this betrayal didn’t seem like such a bad one.

Maybe Sarah had played you. Maybe she had never meant a damn thing she said.

But if she wanted to pretend you didn’t exist?

Then maybe it was time to remind her just how much you did.