7

RAFES POV

I've known Stella for a while—my younger sister's best friend, always hanging around the house, always in the background. She's not really my type—too... loud  for my taste, too open with her emotions, too everything. But tonight, there's something different about her.

Maybe it's the dress. Red. Bold. It's the kind of dress you wear when you want people to notice you. And she's wearing it like she knows everyone's watching.

I'm trying not to pay attention, but I can't help it. I watch her for a moment, laughing with Sarah, her smile genuine. It's not forced, not the kind of smile people wear when they're pretending everything's perfect for the cameras. No, hers feels real, like she actually gives a damn about being here.

She catches me looking—of course she does. And she doesn't shy away, doesn't turn her head like the others. She stares right back at me.

I don't know why, but something shifts when our eyes meet. It's like I've been watching the wrong person all along, and now it's too late to look away. I don't want to feel anything about her. She's just my sister's best friend, right? Too young. And yet, I can't help but feel this... pull. Something that makes me want to know more about the person who can stand there and make the room light up.

I try to look away, but it feels like she's still there, lingering in my mind. She doesn't belong here. Not like the others, with their fake smiles and perfect appearances. She's not pretending to fit in. She's just there, and maybe that's what bothers me most.

The second our eyes lock, I feel a flicker of something—annoyance, maybe? Discomfort? But it's there. And it pisses me off that I can't ignore it.

I pull my eyes away, focus back on my drink, and tell myself I'm overthinking it. She's just my sister's best friend. That's all she is. Nothing more.

I have an opportunity, though. The group—Sarah, Kelce, and Topper—seems distracted by something happening across the room. The bride's having a meltdown, or something.

For some godforsaken reason, I decide to take a chance.

I lean in just enough so only she can hear me. "Red suits you," I say, my voice low. It's the truth. She looks good. Too good. But the words come out before I can think about it. And for a moment, I can see that I've caught her off guard, just like I'm caught off guard by the fact that I even said it.

She just stands there, starring at me, opening her mouth like she is going to say something but then—just like that—the group reappears, Sarah dragging them back into their orbit, all buzzing about the bride's latest disaster.

The moment's gone. I shouldn't have even started it. I don't need to be talking to her.

But instead of just shutting up and walking away, I do the dumbest thing possible.

I stand up abruptly, mutter some excuse under my breath, and turn toward the bar. I need a drink. I need to do something other than stand here and think about whatever just happened.

And, of course, I go straight for the one girl at the bar I have no interest in. She's smiling up at me, her voice sweet like she's been waiting for someone like me to notice her. She's attractive enough, but I'm not really interested.

I'm not even sure why I'm here.

I should've just stayed with Stella. Finished the stupid compliment, walked away. But I didn't. And now I'm standing at the bar, talking to a girl I couldn't care less about, trying to convince myself I'm not still thinking about Stella.

•••

Stella and Sarah spun in dizzy circles at the edge of the dance floor, giggling like little kids. Their hands were locked, dresses swishing, heels nearly slipping as they twirled each other beneath the string lights. The music thumped around them, but all Stella could hear was Sarah's laugh, wild and bright and contagious.

For the first time all night, the awkwardness melted away—no stares, no pretending, no pressure. Just the two of them, flushed and laughing, like the world was finally spinning the right way.

"Okay, we need more drinks!" Sarah shouted over the music, dragging Stella toward the bar. Stella just nodded, letting herself be swept along.

As they reached the long table where Kelce and Topper were seated, Stella paused to place her drink down, her head spinning just a little.

"I'll be right back," she told Sarah, pushing her way through the dancing crowd. The urge to pee was insistent, attempting to ignore it with every step. She desperately needed to find a bathroom, so she started weaving the crowded dance floor, hoping the restroom wasn't too far.

Stella made her way through the crowd, apologizing at every slight nudge, but before she knew it, she was collided onto someone's chest. "Whoa, hey there," a thick Australian accent broke through the haze of music and chatter.

She stumbled back, feeling the warmth of his chest as he steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. Stella blinked up at him, and that was when she saw him.

A tanned, muscular guy with shaggy hair that looked like it hadn't been combed in days but still somehow worked for him. She had to fight back a laugh, not sure if it was the alcohol or just his charm, but she was suddenly aware of how hot he was.

"Sorry," she mumbled, trying to step around him, but he stepped with her, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"You lost?" he asked, his voice low and easygoing.

"I just—need to use the bathroom," she stuttered, glancing toward the far side of the room where the bathrooms were. But when she turned back to the guy, she found him still grinning.

"I'll take you there," he said, before his gaze flickered around the room and back to her. "But you know what, love? The bathrooms are pretty crowded. It might be easier to go this way."

Stella tilted her head, confused for a moment, before realizing that his hand was already guiding her away from the dance floor and toward the back exit. Something about it didn't sit right, but she didn't care enough to question it.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe she just wanted to escape the stuffy, overdone feel of the wedding. Either way, she followed him, her steps light but uncertain.

They pushed through the back door, and before she could process what was happening, the door slammed behind them, and the crisp night air hit her. The buzz of the crowd faded into the background, replaced by the sound of hushed voices and laughter. She blinked, realizing they weren't alone. A small group of people was gathered around the back of the building, smoking, chatting, and laughing.

One of them stood apart from the group, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and a familiar smirk on his face.

Rafe.

Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could step back, the Australian guy moved in front of her, blocking her from view. He seemed completely unbothered, but Stella's pulse raced. The last thing she wanted was for Rafe to see her—especially after the thing tonight. She took a quick, deep breath and pressed herself against the Aussie's back, trying to stay hidden.

The Australian turned around and greeted the group with casual ease. "Oi, Rafe, mate. Fancy seeing you here."

Rafe, still talking to the others, didn't seem to notice Stella just behind the man at first. He gave a lazy nod in greeting. "Didn't expect you at this. This your scene?" He asked, taking a deep hit of the cigar in his hand.

"Not really," the Aussie replied with a carefree shrug. "But I've got my reasons."

Rafe gave him a knowing look and moved closer, scanning the small group. His eyes finally landed on the woman behind the Australian. His gaze hardened in recognition, and then, his eyes narrowed.

Stella held her breath, feeling Rafe's anger creep through the air. He looked from her to the Australian man, his jaw clenching.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Rafe snapped, his voice suddenly tight and angry.

The Australian didn't even flinch, his posture still relaxed. "She's fine. We were just—"

"She's not fine," Rafe cut in, his gaze now fully on Stella, and the anger in his eyes made her freeze. Why was he so upset? "You don't need to be here, Stella. You don't belong here. Not with him."

Stella opened mouth to speak, to stand up for herself, but before she could say anything, Rafe was in her face, his words sharp. "Get back inside. Now." His tone sounding more intense, and Stella now felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

The Australian stepped in front of her, raising a hand to block Rafe's direct path. "Piss off, mate. She's not yours to boss around."

"And you're not the kind of guy she needs to be hanging around with." His gaze burning through the Aussie, his fingers twitching like he was ready to throw a punch.

Stella crossed her arms, keeping her eyes on her feet, trying to keep herself small, hidden in the tension between the two men. She hated this. She hated how Rafe could still make her feel like a child in trouble, even after all these years.

The Australian didn't take his eyes off Rafe. "This is none of your business, mate. She's with me."

Rafe's jaw flexed, his fists tight at his sides, but he didn't swing. Not with Stella standing there wide-eyed behind the Australian like a deer in headlights. His anger simmered just beneath the surface, but violence—right now—wasn't the move.

He didn't punch. Not because he didn't want to, but because she was watching.

Instead, he stepped forward, grabbed Stella's wrist firmly, and yanked her from behind the guy without a word.

"Rafe—" she started, stumbling in her heels.

"We're going inside," he snapped, not looking back at the other man. "Now."

He didn't give her a chance to protest. His grip was tight—not painful, but possessive—and his stride was fast and unrelenting. She struggled to keep up as he dragged her back through the doors, the music slamming into them again like a wall of noise. Heads turned as they passed through the crowd, some recognizing the familiar storm brewing on Rafe's face.

She spotted Sarah near the dance floor, mid-spin, but she couldn't even wave. Rafe was pulling her straight toward the long table at the back where Kelce and Topper were slouched in their chairs, laughing over something, half-drunk and watching everything unfold with wide, entertained eyes.

Rafe stopped at the edge of the table and shoved her down into the empty seat beside Topper.

"Stay here," he growled, loud enough for the others to hear. "And don't follow guys you don't know out of buildings, Stella."

Topper let out a low whistle, looking between them. "Damn."

Stella sat frozen, her heart pounding and cheeks burning, surrounded by stares. She didn't say anything. She couldn't. Rafe stood just behind her, arms crossed, shoulders tense like he was holding himself back from exploding.

And suddenly, she didn't feel like she belonged again—except this time, everyone was watching to make sure of it. Rafe made her feel belittled, like a child. She hated it.