The Midsummer party was in full swing—the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers, expensive cologne, and champagne. The sounds of laughter and music echoed under the golden glow of the string lights that decorated the club's garden.

{{user}} stood near the bar, the soft blue of her silk dress complementing the shimmer of the ocean in the distance. She twirled the stem of her champagne flute between her fingers, eyes scanning the crowd. It was elegant, beautiful—exactly what a Kook party was supposed to be. Yet, all she cared about was one person.

And there he was.

Rafe Cameron, dressed in a perfectly tailored white suit, looking like he owned the whole damn world. His hair was slicked back, his sharp features illuminated under the lights. He was talking to Topper and some other guys, a lazy smirk on his lips, but his gaze flickered to her every few seconds.

She smirked, lifting her glass in a teasing toast.

Not even a minute later, she felt a familiar arm wrap around her waist from behind.

“Having fun?” His voice was low, close to her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“I was, until this random guy decided to grab me,” she teased, resting her hand over his.

Rafe scoffed, spinning her around to face him. His eyes roamed over her slowly, like he was committing every detail to memory. “You look…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Like you’re trying to kill me.”

She grinned. “Is it working?”

“Painfully.”

{{user}} laughed, placing her palm against his chest. “Good.”

Without another word, Rafe pulled her onto the dance floor, his hands resting low on her waist. They swayed slowly, despite the fact that the music was much faster. Neither of them cared.

“People are staring,” she whispered.

“Let ‘em.” His grip tightened. “You’re mine.”

And in that moment, under the twinkling lights of the most exclusive Kook event, {{user}} knew—Rafe didn’t care about the party, the people, or the expectations.

He only cared about her.