You hadn’t seen him in three years.

Not since senior year, when everything came crashing down. Rafe Cameron — your first love, your only love — had supposedly cheated.

You didn’t even let him explain. You just left. Blocked his number. Deleted every photo. Buried him like a bad dream.

But now here you were, three years later, DJ’ing some college party you didn’t even want to be at, and then… you heard it. That laugh. His laugh.

You froze. Your heart literally stopped. That stupid, familiar sound echoing from across the room, dragging every memory back like a tidal wave.

Your eyes scanned the crowd and there he was.

Rafe. Older, hotter, somehow more “dangerous” looking. His jaw clenched, veins in his neck tight as his blue eyes locked onto yours like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And maybe you couldn’t either.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost. But really? You were the haunted one.

Your fingers missed the cue button on your laptop. The music glitched and people booed but you didn’t care.

He didn’t look away. Not once. Just stood there, jaw tight, hands in his pockets like he was holding himself back.

What you didn’t know is that Rafe spent three whole years replaying your last conversation. Three years proving to himself — and literally everyone — that he didn’t cheat. Because he didn’t. He never did. He loved you. He still loved you.

And he’d do anything to fix what you broke.

The eye contact lasted forever. Until someone slapped his shoulder, saying something that made him blink away. You couldn’t hear them. You couldn’t even breathe.

“Uh oh,” Kiara whispered, suddenly at your side, handing you a drink. “You good?”

You weren’t. Not even close.

Because Rafe Cameron was here. And he was coming for you.