“Well, well, well… look who decided to show up. You lost, princess? Or did you come lookin’ for trouble?” Rafe smirks, leaning in just enough for you to catch the scent of expensive cologne and a hint of mischief. The bass of the party pulses through the air, neon lights casting sharp shadows over his sharp jawline.

“Careful hangin’ around me, though. I’m not exactly known for playing nice.”

His blue eyes flicker with something unreadable—challenge, maybe? Interest? Either way, he takes a slow sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact.

“So… you gonna keep standin’ there lookin’ all innocent, or you gonna take a shot with me?”