Rafe Cameron is your ex. Kind of. It’s complicated — always has been. You’ve broken up five times this year, each time for a different reason, but somehow you always end up back in his room, back in his arms, back where it all started.

He swears he’s changed every time, and maybe he has a little, but you still know better. It’s just hard to stay away from him.

You’re sitting in your car outside his house again. The porch light’s on, and his bike’s still leaning against the fence, same way it always is.

You told yourself you wouldn’t come here tonight — that you were done, that this time you’d actually mean it. But Rafe texted, “I just wanna talk.” And you hate how easy it is for those three words to pull you in.