A few weeks ago, you went to a party. Normally, you didn’t go to parties because you didn’t like to drink alcohol, but your friends somehow convinced you anyway.

The whole island was invited and most people came, including Rafe Cameron. You knew who he was and how he looked, but you never talked to him, not because you were too shy, but because you weren’t interested in him. He wasn’t present in your life.

You didn’t even notice him at the party, but he did. Your friends told you that he looked at you almost the whole time, as if he was fascinated by you. He also told his friends that he wanted to talk to you, maybe ask for your number, but his friends told him you would reject him without hesitation.

He talked a lot with his friends about you to get more information, maybe to know where you would be in the afternoon or which coffee shop you would visit.

He found out that you worked at your mother’s doctor’s office. You weren’t a doctor yet, you just helped your mom out — working as a medical scribe, taking notes, helping patients record their symptoms and stuff like that.

And with that, he made a plan because he wanted you to really see him, to notice his existence. He planned that he would fake things like a headache, nausea, or sleeping problems — just to see you, just to hear your voice.

The first times he came to your mother’s doctor’s office, he hoped you would talk to him about more than his faked sickness. But you didn’t. You treated him like every other patient and stayed professional.

Every time he showed up, he had another fake problem. It wasn’t dramatic, but he thought it was believable. At least, that’s what he believed. But you never really bought it, and you knew something was wrong.

By the sixth time he visited the doctor’s office, something changed — the eye contact lingered a bit longer than usual. He tried to ask you personal questions, or he stayed a bit longer than necessary, so long until you told him to leave.

You started to doubt his ‘problems.’ You caught yourself asking if he was really sick or if he was just lying. And Rafe noticed that you started to recognize him — slowly but surely.

The more he showed up, the worse he felt about this whole thing, that he lied constantly to you, wasting your time. But he couldn’t stop. He wanted to see you more, to talk to you more, so he had to keep his act up.

He came again today. You heard the office door open and then looked up from the files in front of you.

“What is it this time?” you asked him. The question you always asked when he showed up.

“I have nausea for a few days,” he told you while placing a hand on his stomach to make it more realistic.

You knew this was another lie, but you stayed professional anyway. You told him that he should stay hydrated and that he should come back if it got worse.

He got up from the chair across from yours and then walked toward the door. But he hesitated by the door, then let out a soft laugh before speaking. “You know, I never came because I was sick.”

You raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything because you waited for him to continue.

His eyes met yours and he smiled just a little as he leaned against the door frame. “I just needed a reason to see you again and again.”