8

"ARE we seriously doing this?" Stella whispered, leaning toward Sarah, heels dangling from her fingers.

Sarah grinned, already halfway out of her dress shoes. "Everyone's too drunk to notice. My mom's been dancing with some guy who's definitely not her husband for like twenty minutes."

Topper popped up behind them, buzzed and grinning. "Car's around the corner. Rafe's got it running. Let's go"

Stella bit her lip, glancing toward the glowing beach house where the wedding was still going strong. Laughter, music, the clink of champagne glasses—it all felt so far away already. "We're gonna get caught, my mom would freak if she found out."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Not if you move your ass."

Kelce waved dramatically from the gate. "Any day now!"

Rafe was waiting by the car, leaning against the hood. The headlights were off, but the engine hummed low and steady. He looked up when Stella walked over. His eyes met hers, and there was something there—tight, unreadable—but she couldn't tell if it meant anything or if she just wanted it to.

"Hey," She plainly said,

"Hey," He said back, voice low like he was still upset. Then she looked away, and the moment snapped.

The beach was dark and quiet, perfect for the group.

Sarah threw her heels into the sand and ran after the boys, while pulling off her cardigan and yelling something about the moon being "absolutely slutty tonight." Meanwhile, Kelce ran straight into the water, dress pants still on. Topper sprinting after him, shirtless and shouting.

Rafe and Stella walked slower. She bumped into him by accident—sort of.

"You're quiet," she said, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

He shrugged. "You're loud."

She laughed, but it came out kind of awkward. "You don't have to come, y'know. If this is lame or whatever."

"I didn't say it was lame."

"Okay, then what?"

Rafe didn't answer right away. He just looked at her like he wanted to say something but couldn't figure out how.

Stella drunkenly frowned. "What?"

"Forget it." He walked a little faster, toward the water. She stared after him, heart racing for reasons she didn't want to unpack.

They all crashed into the ocean like chaos—screaming, laughing, falling over each other. Saltwater stung their eyes. Sarah tackled Stella into a wave. Topper lost a shoe and didn't care.

They came out dripping, freezing, and stupidly happy.

Kelce jogged back from the car, holding something above his head like a prize. "Guess who got a bottle from the bar?" He yelled proudly,

"No you did not," Sarah gasped.

Kelce popped the cap. "Left it unattended. I had to rescue it."

They passed it around like it was sacred. Stella took a sip and winced. "Tastes like shit."

They sat in the sand, music playing low from someone's phone, waves crashing in the background. Everyone was drunk, glowing, and happy. It was perfect. Something nobody would expect from the 'perfect' Kooks like them.

Then Topper pulled a blunt from his suit like it was a magic trick. "One last gift," he said as he sparked it up, passing it around.

Kelce looked at Stella, noticing her empty handed. "Stella, want a hit?"

Stella blinked. She didn't smoke. Everyone knew that. But the way they were all looking at her made her feel like maybe she should.

"Sure," she said, grabbing it like it was no big deal.

Sarah's jaw dropped. "The Stella Valentine accepting weed?" Making Stella stick her tongue out in return teasingly,

Topper laughed. "She's a new woman."

Stella took a drag, coughing so hard she almost dropped it. Everyone was laughing, seeming proud of the girl.

Except Rafe.

He was sitting back now, arms crossed, not saying a word. Stella glanced at him, her smile slipping just a little.

"You good?" she asked, her head tilted at him.

He didn't look at her. "Yeah. All good." But his jaw was tight, and his eyes didn't match the words.

And Stella, drunk and half-high and trying to pretend she didn't care, suddenly wanted to ask him every question she'd been avoiding all summer.

But she didn't.

She just passed the blunt and looked away.

Sarah was curled against Topper's chest, bare feet tucked into the sand, already halfway asleep or pretending to be. Kelce was lying flat, staring at the stars.

It was peaceful, or at least until Kelce sat up suddenly. "Okay. Real talk."

"Oh no," Sarah muttered without opening her eyes.

Kelce ignored her. "Truth time. No dodging. One real answer. I'll start."

Topper perked up. "You better make this good, man."

Kelce grinned. "I hooked up with that chick from Brazil last month. The one with the fake accent."

"Jenna?" Sarah gasped. "Kelce, she stole her cousin's car last year."

"Yeah," he said proudly. "She also did this thing with her tongue—"

"Please stop," Stella said, grimacing.

Topper scanned the circle, eyes narrowing playfully until they landed on Stella. He smirked. "Alright, Valentine. Who've you been sneakin' around with lately?"

Stella blinked. "Why is that your business?"

"We all want to know" He shrugged,

Kelce leaned up. "Is it someone here?"

Sarah rolled her eyes at the stupidity in that question, "Obviously not, dumbass"

Stella could've said no. She could've shrugged it off. But the way Rafe stared at her like she was nothing—it all made her almost want him to be jealous.

She bit her lip, leaned back, and said, "JJ."

"JJ Maybank?" Sarah half-yelled, not being able to tell if she's continuing the lie from the other day or being serious,

On the other hand, Topper looked like he had just seen a ghost, seeming too stunned to speak. Kelce's eyes went wide. "You've been cracking a Pogue?"

Everyone was reacting — talking over each other, laughing, shocked — but Stella didn't look at them. She looked right at Rafe.

He hadn't moved.

But his eyes were locked on hers, and they said everything he didn't: Seriously? A "really?" look, half insulted, half pissed, all heat.

Stella held the stare.

And then she smirked — slow, cocky, — and turned away like it didn't matter at all. "Yup, actually he's a pretty good fuck" She winked.

The conversation exploded with chaos. Sarah started rapid-firing questions — when, where, how long? Topper demanded if she was joking. Kelce just kept repeating "JJ?!" like it was breaking his brain.

But Rafe didn't say a word.

He just sat there, unmoving, watching the waves.

And then — when the noise started dying down, when the others started getting distracted by the bottle and Kelce's playlist — he stood.

No big reaction. Just up.

He dusted sand off his jeans, and walked away from the fire. He didn't say anything. Didn't even look at her again.

"Yo," Topper said, confused. "Where you goin', bro?"

But Rafe was already walking, fast, toward the car, hands in his pockets like he was trying to keep from punching something.

Stella's stomach flipped. Sarah looked at her. "What's up his ass?"

"I got it," Stella said quickly, already getting up. She jogged after him, heart racing, her wet dress catching the breeze. "Rafe!" she called. "Seriously?" He didn't stop. "Rafe, stop walking like I didn't just say your name."

He kept moving, shoulders tense, breathing heavy. She finally caught up, reached out, touched his arm.

He yanked away like her touch was killing him, "Don't," he said, voice low and sharp. "Don't do that."

"Do what, Rafe?" Her voice cracked. "You can't just storm off like that. This whole night you've just been ignoring me and the group."

Rafe stopped short, clearly not expecting the fire in her voice. "I wasn't ignoring you."

"Oh, right. You were just sitting there, not looking at me, not saying anything, just—" She waved her hand like she couldn't find the right word. "Judging me, maybe?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I wasn't judging you."

"Bullshit."

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You don't smoke, Stell. You hate that shit. You told me that."

"Yeah, well, maybe I changed."

"No, you didn't. You're just drunk and trying to prove something." He shook his head,

"Oh my God," She scoffed, taking a step back like his words stung. "There it is. That tone. You're always doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Treating me like I'm some little kid who doesn't know what she's doing. Like I need protecting or correcting or whatever the hell it is you think you're doing." Stella now couldn't figure out whether it was her talking or the liquor.

"I'm not treating you like a kid," He said, voice rising.

"Yes, you are!" she shouted. "You act like I'm this fragile thing that can't make her own decisions."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she wasn't done.

"I'm not your responsibility, Rafe. You don't get to decide what's okay for me. And you especially don't get to cockblock for me."

His face flickered—anger, betrayal, something else. "Cockblock? Stella, you don't even know Anthony." He began to yell,

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"No, not whatever," he snapped. "You follow me out here just to throw that in my face? For what? Because I didn't cheer when you dropped JJ's name like some badge?"

Stella flinched, barely, but held her ground. "I didn't come out here to fight."

"Then why are you here?" he shouted, hands clenching at his sides. "You say you don't want me acting like I care, but the second I don't, it's a problem. You wanna hook up with some random guy, go ahead. Don't make it my fault you're pissed when I don't clap for it."

"I'm not pissed—"

"Yeah? Then why are you following me like I owe you some reaction?" His words hit sharp, too fast, too loud.

And then he saw it — her shoulders pulling in, chin tilted down, arms wrapped tight around herself. The tears in her eyes weren't falling yet, but they were there, gleaming in the moonlight, glassy and blinking fast like she was trying to fight them back.

Rafe's face crumbled. Instantly. "Shit," he muttered. "Stella..."

She turned her back to him, wiped her face roughly.

He stepped closer, voice softer now. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I just... I don't know how to talk to you sometimes."

Stella shook her head. "It's fine."

"It's not," he said, quieter. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

She didn't answer him, instead took a big sigh, and sat on the sand beneath them. He sat down in the sand next to her, not touching, but close — quiet for a moment as the sound of the ocean filled the space between them.

Stella leaned back, eyes fixed on the sky. "You ever look up long enough to feel dizzy?"

He followed her gaze, breathing finally settling. "Sometimes."

"There's your problem," she said softly. "You don't look long enough."

They both stared at the stars.

Stella lifted a hand and lazily pointed. "That's Scorpio, right there. The one that looks like a fishing hook? That's me."

Rafe looked over at her. "You're not a Scorpio."

"Yeah, well, I read my chart once and apparently my moon's in Scorpio," she said, voice drifting. "Makes me intense. Or emotional. Or maybe just annoying."

"You're not annoying."

She kept staring up. "You see that one? That's Leo. Big, dramatic, center of attention. That's Sarah."

He snorted. "Sounds about right."

She smiled a little. "Topper's probably a Sagittarius. Loud and chaotic. Kelce is just... off the zodiac entirely."

Rafe watched her face in the dark. The soft smile, the way her eyes glittered even when they weren't crying. The way she talked like maybe the stars actually meant something.

"What about me?" he asked quietly.

She was quiet for a second, then tilted her head toward him.

"You? Definitely something fire. Like Aries or Leo. Stubborn. Intense. Too hot for your own good."

Rafe raised a brow. "You think I'm too hot?"

Stella gave a lazy, half-drunk laugh. "Not like that, idiot."

He smirked a little, but didn't push.

The night stretched out in silence again, but it felt easier now — like maybe for a second they weren't fighting or pretending or walking away. Just two people under a sky too big to lie under without feeling small and a little honest.

Stargazing.