You weren’t excited about moving from Los Angeles to Outer Banks. Your parents wanted peace, nature, something slower. You just missed what felt like home.
The house was quiet and way too bright. No sirens. No late-night city lights. Just silence, trees, and the sound of waves in the distance. For the first few days, you were busy unpacking, helping your parents set things up, pretending you were okay with it all.
But today, you needed a minute. So you stepped outside for a walk. No destination, no plan— just air.
The streets were unfamiliar. Narrow. Almost too peaceful. You let your thoughts wander as you crossed the road, not noticing the sound approaching behind you—
Until it was too close to ignore.
A roar. The screech of tires. And then— impact.
Not hard. Not fast. But enough to knock you off your feet and straight to the ground.
“Shit— are you okay?!”
Your eyes blinked open. A motorcycle had come to a shaky stop nearby, and someone jumped off. A boy. Tall, lean, hoodie halfway down his shoulders, dark helmet in one hand. And when your eyes met his— your breath caught.
Blue. His eyes were piercing. Curious. And locked completely on you.
“I didn’t see you,” he said again, stepping closer. “Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head. “I… I think I’m okay.”
He crouched next to you, reaching out his hand. You hesitated for a second— then took it. His touch was steady. Warm. And somehow, you didn’t want to let go.
Neither of you spoke as he helped you up. Neither of you looked away.
You didn’t even know his name yet. He didn’t know yours.
But something shifted in that moment.
It wasn’t just the accident. It was the way he looked at you. The way you looked at him. Like something had just… clicked.
He gave a small, crooked smile. “I’m Rafe,” he said softly, almost like it was a secret. “Rafe Cameron.”
And just like that, nothing felt unfamiliar anymore. Not the street. Not the town. Not even him.
Because somehow, in the middle of nowhere, you had just collided with something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for.