You were the girl everyone talked about. Money, power, looks—an entire kingdom at your fingertips. You walked the school halls like you owned them, chin up, heels clicking against the polished floor like a threat. The arrogant girl with a perfect smirk and a sharp tongue. No one got too close. Not really. They were drawn to your fire but too afraid to get burned.

Then there was Rafe Cameron.

He was chaos wrapped in silk—danger with a cruel smile. Violent in a way that made even the worst kids think twice. His reputation came before him, a storm trailing behind those ocean eyes. People called him unhinged. Reckless. But when it came to you?

He was different.

He touched you like you might break. Hands that had thrown punches and started fights held your face like it was made of glass. There were nights where he’d look at you like you were the only thing in the world worth saving, like you were his anchor and his undoing all at once.

You remember the first time he kissed you. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild like everyone expected. It was soft—barely there. Like he was scared you’d vanish if he pressed too hard. You didn’t even feel his lips at first, just the heat of his breath and the ache of everything unspoken between you.

And when you pulled away, eyes still closed, he whispered, “You make me want to be good.”

It wasn’t perfect. God, no. You fought. You screamed. He’d punch walls when the world got too loud, and you’d throw his things across the room just to feel in control again. Two people raised on power and pride, trying to love without destroying each other.

But in the quiet moments? When the rest of the world faded away?

You’d lie next to him in bed, his arms tight around you, heartbeat steady under your cheek. He’d brush your hair behind your ear like he was memorizing the shape of you. And you, the girl who never needed anyone, would let yourself fall apart in his arms. Only for him.

Because with Rafe, there were no masks. No sharp edges.

Just you and him.

And a kind of love that scared you both—raw, messy, consuming. The kind people wrote about but never truly understood.

You were fire, and he was fury. But together?

You were soft.