You swore you hated him—you do. You’ve told yourself that a hundred times, and yet, here you are. The moment, though, it’s too perfect, too tempting to ignore. Your heart is pounding, your breath shaky, and the space between you and him feels charged with something you can’t quite place, but you know it’s dangerous.

You and Rafe are locked in some random bathroom at a stupid Kook party, the faint music and muffled laughter leaking through the door. It’s the kind of place you never thought you’d end up with him, but here you are, pressed against the cool tiles, caught in a whirl of impulses. He leans down, and for a brief second, you almost forget everything you hate about him—his arrogance, his smirk, the way he walks around like he owns the world. His lips meet yours, and for a split second, you don’t pull away. You push him back, and yet, before you can even think it through, your lips are back on his, more urgent now, as if you’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life.

He picks you up effortlessly, placing you on the sink counter, your tiny dress riding up your thighs, the cool porcelain sending a shiver through you. The room spins with heat and confusion, and you can’t decide whether to push him away or pull him closer. You shove him back again, just enough to get some space between you, but then you feel that pull, that dangerous attraction, and your hands find the loop in his jeans, pulling him back toward you.

“I hate you,” you mutter breathlessly, the words feeling hollow as they escape your lips. But your mouth can’t resist the temptation, trailing down his neck, tasting his skin as if it’s the only thing that matters right now.

But in the back of your mind, there’s that little voice—the one you’ve been trying to ignore. He has a girlfriend. Sofia. Your best friend. You’ve always been there for her, always promised you’d never cross that line, yet here you are, breaking that promise in the most twisted way possible.