Rafe Cameron and you were never close.

He lived his life, and you lived yours. That was just how things had always been. But when you and Sarah—his sister—started spending more time together, your paths began to cross more often.

Still, you never thought much of him.

He was just another typical Kook—selfish, arrogant, rich. The kind of guy who walked into a room like he owned it.

And the part that confused you the most?

He was attractive.

Annoyingly attractive.

But he was off-limits—your best friend’s older brother. Untouchable territory. You weren’t supposed to notice the way his jaw clenched when he got irritated, or how his eyes lingered just a second too long sometimes.

You definitely weren’t supposed to feel affected by him.

Until one night, everything changed.

It was a party at Topper’s. His parents were off in the Bahamas on some business trip, which basically meant the house was free territory. Music blasted through the walls, people packed shoulder to shoulder, laughter and shouting echoing through every room.

But none of that really mattered.

What mattered was that Rafe was there too.

And tonight… he looked at you differently.

You were dancing with your friends, drink in hand, laughter spilling from your lips as the music pounded through your chest. But even through the flashing lights and moving bodies, you could feel it.

His gaze.

Heavy. Focused.

Locked onto you.

Tonight, he saw you. Not just as Sarah’s friend. Not just as someone passing through his life.

He saw you.

Every movement you made felt noticed, like you were being studied under a spotlight only he controlled. Time slipped by in a blur of music and laughter, drink after drink disappearing from your hand.

You weren’t wasted.

But you were definitely drunk.

Tipsy enough to feel bold. Brave. Reckless.

Eventually, sometime around 2 a.m., the heat of the dance floor became too much. Your head buzzed lightly as you slipped through the crowded hallway and pushed open the balcony door, welcoming the cool night air against your flushed skin.

That’s when you saw him.

Rafe leaned against the railing, cigarette between his fingers, the faint glow lighting up his sharp features. He looked calm—too calm compared to the chaos inside.

“Hey, handsome,” you slurred lightly, a giggle escaping your lips as you leaned beside him on the railing.

His head snapped toward you, surprise flashing across his face.

“Oh—hey, {{user}}. You alright?” he asked, eyes scanning your face carefully.

“Me?” You laughed softly. “Yeah, I’m alright… had a few drinks too many…”

“I can see that,” he muttered, studying you like he was trying to figure something out. His jaw tightened slightly. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

You frowned, shaking your head stubbornly.

“No, I don’t wanna go,” you protested, words slightly slurred. “It’s fun here.”

“Forget it. We’re leaving.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

It wasn’t even a question.

It was a statement.

And he meant every word of it.

But you, in your tipsy haze, didn’t catch the edge in his voice. Didn’t see the warning behind his eyes.

“I’m an adult,” you huffed. “I can handle myself just fine.”

That was the moment his patience snapped.

Before you could react, his hands gripped your waist firmly. In one swift motion, he lifted you off the ground like you weighed absolutely nothing.

“Rafe!” you gasped, startled.

The next thing you knew, you were slung over his shoulder, your world tilting upside down as he carried you through the crowded house like it was the most natural thing in the world.

People stared.

Some laughed.

But he didn’t care.

He just kept walking, steady and determined, straight out of the house toward his car.

And this time?

You didn’t protest.

Because somewhere deep down… maybe you liked it.