Everyone wanted Rafe. Only they never wanted him the same way you did. Kie called you crazy for liking a psycho, and JJ would always point out that he almost murdered Sarah. So when a party rolls around, you dress up in your favorite dress because, for some reason, your brain claims tonight that Rafe will finally be yours.

You had kept your eye on Rafe the whole night, feeling your heart break a little every time you saw him conversing with a girl, already imagining the flirty remarks he gave them. You had to remind yourself that he barely knew you, and he's basically been with every girl on the island.

You could've cared less, though. He was yours despite not knowing it. The other girls you saw, putting their hands on his biceps and giggling at his slightest comments, didn't like him like you did.

Sliding away from your friends, you watched Rafe through the crowd, music blasting loud into your ears. He found himself at the makeshift bar, getting another drink. That was your signal. You pushed your way through the crowd and made your way to get a drink. While you were pouring your drink, someone bumped you, causing you to spill your drink on the floor—thankfully, not on yourself.

When you turned your head, you felt your stomach flip when your eyes landed on him. Rafe. "Shǐt, my bad," he drunkenly said before looking at you. Letting out a whistle, he signaled for someone to clean up the mess before returning his attention to you.