The Kooks threw parties like they had something to prove—endless booze, fake laughter, and overpriced outfits. You had crashed plenty before, but tonight wasn’t about making a scene. It was just supposed to be fun.

You, JJ, John B, Pope, Kiara, and Sarah slipped in easily, blending into the chaos. No one stopped you—not because they didn’t notice, but because they knew you. You weren’t just any Pogue. You were the one even Kooks didn’t mess with.

Well, almost no one.

Topper’s girlfriend, Ruthie, had always been the exception. She saw you first, her expression twisting into disgust. She didn’t come at you directly—no, she played dirty. Within minutes, the host was demanding to know who let the trash in.

You already knew who was behind it.

Finding Ruthie wasn’t hard. She was near the firepit, laughing like she hadn’t just tried to get you and your friends kicked out.

“You got something to say, Ruthie?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the party noise.

She smirked, but her grip on her drink tightened. “Yeah. You don’t belong here.”

The tension snapped. Before she could blink, you shoved her back against the patio column, your fingers twisted in her dress. The party stilled.

Everyone knew better than to step in.

JJ let out a low whistle. “She’s done for.”

Ruthie’s smirk disappeared. Her gaze darted to Topper, but even he hesitated.

“You think you can run your mouth and get away with it?” Your voice was low, dangerous.

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back.

“That’s enough,” Rafe murmured.

You struggled, but his grip held firm. “Let it go, Y/N.”

Ruthie scrambled away, silent. Rafe didn’t release you until he knew you were calm, then led you away.

“You’re bleeding,” he muttered, brushing a thumb over your lip.

You huffed. “She’s lucky that’s all I got.”

He smirked. “Didn’t do it for her.”

Your heart raced—this time, not from the fight.