The music was loud enough to make the walls vibrate, bass pounding like a heartbeat. Topper’s house was overflowing with people, red cups clutched in every hand, laughter spilling out of every room. The air was thick with cheap beer, smoke, and the scent of summer sweat.

Rafe was already well past tipsy, cheeks flushed and smile loose as he threw another ping pong ball across the table. It bounced once, then landed cleanly in the red cup, prompting a chorus of cheers from the small crowd gathered around the beer pong table.

“Still got it,” Rafe slurred proudly, swaying a little as he turned toward his friends, fist pumping the air.

You stood near the kitchen, watching him from across the room with a soft shake of your head. He was on his fourth or fifth round and definitely past the point of trying to impress anyone. His laughter echoed even over the music, loud and carefree, that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

But the second he spotted you watching him, his whole focus shifted.

Rafe’s grin grew wider, but gentler somehow. He didn’t say a word. Just abandoned the table mid-game, ignoring the protests from his partner, and made a beeline toward you like you were the only solid thing in a spinning world.

“Baby,” he said, his voice thick with affection, arms sliding around your waist as he buried his face in your neck. “Missed you.”

You laughed quietly, one hand coming up to steady him. “You were literally across the room.”

“Too far,” he muttered, clinging tighter like you might disappear if he let go. “Way too far. You smell nice. Like—like home.”

His weight leaned against you, warm and heavy and undeniably Rafe. His tall frame curved protectively around yours as he tugged you close, refusing to let even air come between you.

“Rafe, you need water,” you said, trying to guide him toward the sink.

“No,” he groaned, chin dropping dramatically to your shoulder. “I need you. You’re the only thing that makes sense right now. Everyone else is loud and blurry and stupid. But you’re just… perfect.”

You blushed despite yourself. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m in love,” he corrected, eyes half-lidded and a little too sincere for someone slurring his words. “With you. In case that wasn’t clear.”