Not surprisingly your brother Topper Thornton was best friends with Rafe Cameron.

The most powerful richest kook, son of Ward Cameron—Rafe was never the type to speak to you, just some cold heartless guy who ignored your existence.

And you did the same to him.

Unsure of what Rafe actually thought of you was valid, you two never talked, just empty cold stares across the room.

Could there be something more underneath?

Tonight, Topper had invited Rafe to hang out. Sort of like a sleepover, but knowing them they’d never call it that.

Studying for exams, the computer light glared at your face in the dim lit room. The light left open, the soft glow lighting up the walls of your room the slightest bit.

Surely Topper and Rafe were asleep at 2AM in the morning, right? You guess not, seeing as a tall figure stood in your door left cracked open.

Rafe.

He stood there at the doorway, leaning against the door frame. Bare chested. The only thing he wore was his boxers, Rafe’s sculpted figure completely visible.

Everything about him was defined, his jaw, Adam’s apple, collarbones, biceps, and, v-line, everything.

Flexing his muscles without noticing, Rafe and his damn boxers. At this point, just take them off. Glancing around, hearing the creek of your door.

Rafe being unbothered of the situation of how he was basically naked at this point, nonchalantly asked you, “Hey, you. Where’s the bathroom.”