The party music drummed loudly in your ears and the scent of weed, cigarettes, and alcohol lingered in the air. Red solo cups already filled tables and windowsills. The dance floor was crowded with tipsy people and laughter.

Today, you were there with your friends, enjoying the party. A few of them had already gone, flirting with some boys or drinking their ass off. But you and your girls sat on the balcony, on the couch, gossiping about everything and everyone.

“How’s it going with Rafe?” one of them asked you with a teasing smirk.

You weren’t in a relationship with Rafe yet. But you definitely had feelings for him, just like he did, and he had a big glow-up so your friends couldn’t judge you anymore. But it wasn’t just that he looked extremely hot now. It was also how he was with you.

“I don’t know what’s going on between us,” was the only thing you could answer.

Your friends mocked you for a moment longer before switching the topic to gossip about someone else.

Suddenly, you heard a voice behind you.

“Well, {{user}}, how have you been?”

You turned around to look at Topper — a good-looking boy you seriously hated because he was an asshole. He was also a friend of Rafe’s.

“Uh… I’m good.”

“Anyway. Does Rafe know that he was just a bet to you?”

At this point, your breath caught. Topper wasn’t wrong — a few months ago, your friends had made a bet. You were supposed to give Rafe the biggest glow-up without catching feelings for him.

Back then, you had been so sure it would be easy, and well, you were completely wrong.

When Topper noticed your reaction, he smirked.

“Thought so. I’d love to know what he’d think if he found out.” That was the last thing Topper said before walking back into the house.

You were still shocked. How did Topper know about the bet? You didn’t have time to ask questions. You needed to find Rafe, quickly.

A few minutes later, you approached Rafe because you needed to tell him the truth before Topper could. But judging by Rafe’s face, he already knew.

“Don’t even try to explain it,” he started, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “I already know about the bet.”

“Rafe, I’m so—”

“Don’t ‘Rafe, I’m sorry’ me! I’m done with whatever this was between us,” he told you in a raised voice and stormed off.

You spent the rest of the night looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Then you remembered — sometimes, late at night, he went to the beach. So you made your way there.

Arriving at the beach, it didn’t take long to see him. He sat near the shore, knees pulled up to his chest, arms resting on them, the hood pulled over his head.

When you finally reached him, you sat down beside him on the sand, and before you could speak, he already did. “What do you want?”

You took a deep breath. “Rafe, you were always more than a bet to me,” you explained the truth in a soft, quiet tone.

“Yeah?” he looked at you with a cold gaze. “Was I?”