6

STELLA didn't belong here—and not just in the usual I-don't-know-anyone-at-this-wedding way. She belonged even less than that.

The bride was her father's business partner's daughter. The groom? Some guy her mother always described as "that sweet boy from the country club." Stella had never met either of them. Still, she'd been told to show up, smile politely, and "try not to look bored."

She wandered past another group of strangers in tailored suits and pastel dresses, offering tight-lipped smiles to anyone who made eye contact. Her heels were already killing her, the champagne was too warm, and she was beginning to regret not faking the flu.

Where the hell was Sarah?

The only reason she'd agreed to come was because her mother convinced Sarah Cameron to promise her it would be fun. "There's an open bar, a chocolate fountain, and hot men," she'd said with a wink, like that was a selling point.

Stella made her way to the bar, mostly to escape the polite small talk of a woman who'd been trying to guess which "old money family" she belonged to. She ordered something sharp and cold—gin, anything—and turned to scan the crowd again.

That's when she saw them.

Sarah was curled into Topper's side, laughing at something Kelce said. Topper looked like he belonged here—confident, relaxed, a little smug. Typical. Kelce was mid-rant about something, gesturing wildly with a beer in hand.

And then there was Rafe.

He was leaned back in his chair, detached from the conversation, half-listening with that unreadable look he always wore. A whiskey glass dangled loosely from his fingers. His gaze flicked upward—and locked with hers.

For a second, just a second, everything around her blurred. The music, the chatter, the clinking glasses—all of it fell away. Rafe didn't smile. Neither did she. But there was something in the way he looked at her that made her forget she was supposed to feel out of place here.

He looked at her like she was the only one who did belong.

Then Sarah turned, waved her over, and the spell broke. Stella took a breath, pushed her shoulders back, and crossed the patio toward them—like it didn't matter. Like her stomach hadn't just flipped.

Stella wove her way through the patio, trying not to overthink every step. She could feel the heat of Rafe's eyes still on her, even as he looked away, lifting his glass like he hadn't been watching her the whole time.

As she approached, Kelce was the first to speak—loud, of course. "Damn, Stella," he blurted, leaning forward with a wide grin. "You look hot."

Sarah rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. "Nice one, Kelce."

But then Sarah turned to Stella and gave her the real smile—the warm, unbothered kind she didn't give just anyone. "Seriously though," she said, reaching out to adjust the strap on Stella's shoulder, "that dress is insane."

Stella let out a soft laugh, more flattered than she expected to be. "Thanks. I almost wore purple."

"Boring," Sarah said, shaking her head. "This is so much better. You look like someone who belongs in a sex scandal."

Topper chuckled, his arm still draped around Sarah's waist. "You say that like it's a compliment."

"It is," Sarah said without missing a beat.

Kelce raised his drink. "To sex scandals, then."

Glasses clinked. Rafe didn't say a word. He just watched her—quiet, unreadable, a flicker of something behind his eyes that Stella couldn't name but felt anyway.

Stella let herself sink into the cushioned bench beside Sarah, accepting the drink Kelce offered her even though she wasn't sure what it was. The laughter around her was easy, familiar—for them. She played along, smiled in the right places, but her awareness never drifted far from Rafe.

He hadn't said much. Just watched. Same old Rafe— jaw clenched, distant, like he was always a few steps outside the moment.

Then a loud cheer erupted from across the patio, someone had dragged the bride and groom into an impromptu dance-off on the lawn. Sarah gasped and immediately stood, dragging Topper and Kelce with her toward the chaos.

"Oh my god, we have to see this," she said, laughing. "Come on!"

Stella started to rise too, but a hand brushed her wrist—barely a touch. She looked down.

Rafe.

He hadn't followed the others. Just leaned in slightly, voice low, barely audible over the music and laughter.

"Red suits you," he said, eyes locked on hers.

It wasn't playful. It wasn't casual.

It was the kind of compliment that felt like a confession.

Stella's breath caught in her throat. For a second, she forgot how to respond. Her fingers tightened slightly around her glass, heart tapping too fast against her ribs.

She didn't say thank you. She just held his gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world—the clinking glasses, the bad dancing, Sarah's voice in the distance—had dropped away.

Then she smiled, just a little. But she didn't respond to Rafe's last remark. She didn't need to. It was enough that he'd said it. The air between them still buzzed with something unspoken, a mix of curiosity and frustration she couldn't quite place.

The tension felt like it could break wide open—at any moment. Stella's fingers tightened slightly around her glass, the weight of Rafe's words still lingering in the air. She was trying to keep it light, but the way his eyes stayed on hers made it hard to breathe normally.

She opened her mouth to reply, maybe to challenge him back, but before she could get a word out, a loud, cheerful voice cut through the air.

"Come on, you've got to see this." Sarah beamed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "The bride is horrible at dancing—she's literally stepping on his feet. You're not gonna want to miss this." Sarah, ever the force of nature, was suddenly back in front of them, dragging Kelce and Topper along wherever she goes.

Topper flopped down next to Sarah, draping his arm around her shoulders. "It's bad, the groom looks like he has secondhand embarrassment."

Stella gave a small chuckle, but she could feel the tension still buzzing in the space between her and Rafe. He hadn't looked away from her, not yet—but his lips twitched into something almost like a smirk as Sarah tugged him toward the group.

"Well," Rafe said, his voice low again, but this time it was wrapped in sarcasm, "wouldn't want to miss that train wreck would I?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, and waved a hand in the air like it was nothing. "Don't be such an ass, Rafe. Try to have some fun for once"

Rafe leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking back to Stella for a moment before he pushed himself up. "I'm good," he muttered, clearly uninterested in following the group, but he didn't protest. "You're on your own for this one."

He walked off before Stella could say anything more, leaving her sitting there for the other blonde who had been eyeing him since they got there, Stella's heart racing with a strange mix of frustration and anticipation.

Sarah shot her a curious look but didn't pry. "You okay?" she asked lightly, already half-turned to rejoin the others.

"Yeah, fine," Stella replied, shaking her head. "Just—" She didn't know how to finish the thought. How do you explain that something as simple as a compliment from Rafe had thrown her so off balance?

"Come on. Let's go laugh at the bride's terrible dancing," Sarah teased, pulling her back toward the group.

hey ya'llll so finally some Stella Rafe action but just wait until next chapter... it's even more juicy

and the wedding is going to be split into several chapters!!! enjoyyyyy