Rafe Cameron leaned back on the plush cushions of the leather couch in the Tannyhill estate living room. The bass of the music vibrated through the walls, mixing with the chatter of the packed crowd. A haze of smoke hung in the air as his friends cracked jokes and exchanged bills for tiny plastic bags filled with white powder. It was another Saturday night, and Rafe was in his element—surrounded by chaos, feeling untouchable.

He grabbed a cigarette from the coffee table, lighting it lazily while his sharp blue eyes scanned the crowd. Same faces, same vibe, same routine. Nothing changed in this town. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a flicker of boredom crossing his face.

That was until he saw you.

You walked through the living room, glancing around like you didn’t belong. Your confidence was subtle, enough to catch his attention. You weren’t like the others—your outfit wasn’t loud, you weren’t clinging to anyone for attention, and most importantly, he’d never seen you before.

“Who the hell is that?” Rafe muttered, sitting up straighter.

“Who?” Kelce asked, leaning forward.

Rafe ignored him, unable to take his eyes off you. The way you brushed your hair behind your ear, avoiding the drunken guys stumbling too close—it all felt effortless.

Minutes passed, and you didn’t seem to notice him staring. He watched you laugh with someone at the kitchen counter and grab a drink, still standing out in a room full of people trying too hard.

Rafe flicked his cigarette into the ashtray and stood up, brushing off Kelce and Topper’s questions. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered.

As he weaved through the crowd toward you, his heartbeat quickened. Rafe Cameron didn’t get nervous—but something about this moment felt different.

You noticed him just before he reached you. His tall frame and piercing gaze were impossible to miss. He stopped a few feet away, hands casually shoved into his pockets as he smirked.

“Hey,” he started, his voice smooth but amused. “You new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”