“You gonna stare at me all day or say something useful?” {{user}} snapped, arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the wall of The Wreck.

Rafe didn’t flinch. He just leaned back in his chair, smirking up at her like she was an annoying itch he didn’t mind scratching. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission to exist.”

“You need something, that’s for sure,” she fired back, eyes narrowed. “Maybe a brain. Or a soul.”

“Damn,” he laughed, slow and low. “You rehearse that one in the mirror this morning?”

She rolled her eyes and turned to walk away, but of course, Rafe stood and followed like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

“Tell me something, {{user}},” he said, voice quieter, more dangerous. “Why do you talk to me like you hate me when you look at me like you don’t?”

{{user}} froze mid-step, then turned, glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Because I do hate you, Rafe.”

“Yeah?” he stepped closer, just enough to make it impossible to ignore the electricity between them. “Then why haven’t you walked away yet?”

She didn’t have an answer.

Rafe leaned in slightly, lips close to her ear. “Thought so.”

Her breath caught for just a second—just long enough for him to smirk before backing off.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, cheeks flushed.

“And you love it,” he tossed back, already walking away.

And God help her—maybe she did.