Rafe came up to Tanneyhill's balcony for some peace at his own party. Though he didn’t expect you to be there, looking utterly lost.

He knows you’re new. Seen you before, too, hanging out with Sarah’s crowd; under a Pogue’s arm whenever they see him around. Whatever. You’re not with them now, are you?

“You look lost,” he says, voice loud and blunt, walking closer.

People—and your friends—say that he’s no good. “You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s off-limits to guests.”