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࿐ ˊˎ embarrassed that he didn’t get into UNC, rafe breaks up with martini!reader, crushing her heart after he admits he stopped loving her.

“My fathers having second thoughts on UNC. That’s all.” Rafe watched your realisation in your face, he was using his father as a scapegoat. Rafe has never, and would never let his father dictate him—especially when it comes to you. You sit up from your close embrace, and separate yourself from his well-built figure. The orange hue painted over both of your faces and seemed to symbolise the death of your relationship, the death of us.

Now you stood at a distance, Rafe stayed put in his wooden beach chair, propping his face up with his palm as he stared into the dying fire. He was serious. If you didn’t break it off, he would. Nobody wants to be dumped at the end of summer by King Kook Rafe Cameron.

“I don’t think I’m in love with you anymore.”

The fire dimmed. “We’re done.” You exclaim quickly, reaching for your designer bag and scurrying off the beach sand. Leaving Rafe alone in the darkness.

　 　　 ҉ ҉　　

Sarah picked you up the next morning in her convertible, iced tea in hand and shades already on.

“I really appreciate this,” you muttered, sliding into the passenger seat, your sunglasses doing a poor job of hiding the puffiness in your eyes. “Of course that piece of shit couldn’t wait to break up with me before fixing my car.”

Sarah just laughed, tapping her nails against the steering wheel. “Oh please. He was never going to fix that car. He once tried to ‘tighten the brakes’ with a butter knife.”

You tried not to laugh.

“And besides,” she said, looking over at you with the softest smile, “you’re my sister.”

　 　 　　 ҉ ҉　　

UNC was prettier than you expected. A little colonial, a little too excited about tradition, but there were trees, and shade, and enough Carolina blue to make you feel like maybe you could survive it.

You checked in at the tour desk. Got your name sticker. Pulled your ponytail a little tighter and smoothed your tennis skirt.

Time to show them what a Martini girl looked like in college.

Your tour guide, Hayden, was overly enthusiastic, a Political Science major who wore too much sunscreen and spoke like he wanted to be student president. You were already zoning out by the third stop when—

“Uh, excuse me?” came a voice behind the foldable plastic table.

Oh no.

You turned. There he was.

Rafe. But not just Rafe.

Rafe in a borrowed Sigma Chi hoodie. Hair windblown. Smiling like he had a secret.

Hayden blinked. “Are you doing this tour?”

Rafe pointed to the table. “Obviously. I’m Santino. Pledging Sigma Chi.”

Hayden actually laughed. “Alright… Santino. Keep up.”

You glared at him as he fell in step beside you.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Rafe smirked. “Getting an education. Duh.”

“I’m reporting you to the admissions office.”

“You’d miss me if I left.”

“I didn’t even know you were still breathing.”

“You wore the skirt I like,” he said casually. “You knew I’d be here.”

You rolled your eyes so hard your brain shook.

　　 　　 ҉ ҉　　

Lunch was supposed to be with your assigned freshman mentee—some idealistic girl named Piper who emailed you an hour before to confirm. But when you got to the dining hall, she was nowhere.

Instead, a note was taped to the door in loopy handwriting.

“In protest of systemic food oppression. Meet me in the quad for rice crackers and silent screams.”

Of course. She was vegan. And boycotting.

You sat alone on the steps outside, sipping a cucumber water you didn’t even like, annoyed and underfed.

“Figured you’d get ditched,” came a voice to your right.

You groaned. “Go away, Santino.”

Rafe plopped down beside you and handed you a second drink. “Saw your girl post a story about soy injustice. Thought you might be lonely.”

You ignored him. Sipped the water.

He watched you. Quiet for once.

“I messed up,” he said finally. “I was scared. You got in. I didn’t. I flunked two interviews, both of them handed to me on silver platters. My SAT scores were… humiliating.”

You said nothing.

He went on. “So instead of dealing with it like a normal human, I torched the one good thing I had left.”

You looked at him then. “And you thought crashing my tour and calling yourself Santino would fix that?”

He smiled. “You remembered my fake name. That’s progress.”

You laughed once. Bitterly.

“You have so much work to do, Rafe Cameron.”

　　 　　 ҉ ҉　　

Earlier that week…

Rafe sat across from the admissions advisor in an ill-fitting blazer and damp palms.

“Listen, Rafe,” the man began. “You flunked two interviews. Ones your father arranged. And let’s not pretend your SAT score was… stellar.”

Rafe clenched his jaw. “I don’t think you understand who I am. My father—”

“We know who he is. And we’re grateful for his donations. But that only gets you so far.”

The advisor stood. “This is a problem you have to solve yourself, Rafael. Have a great rest of your day.”

And just like that, it was over.

Unless…

　　 　　 ҉ ҉　　

You were lounging near the quad fountain, legs stretched out, sunglasses on, finally relaxed for the first time since the bonfire.

Hayden was flirting with a girl in a rugby polo. You were halfway through texting Sarah that you might survive this school after all, when someone sprinted up, nearly tripping over a tour sign.

Rafe.

Sweaty. Breathless. Smiling.

“Interview—went—great,” he panted.

You blinked. “What?”

“I might actually get in. On my own. No bribes. No Ward.”

You stared. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because…” he breathed out slowly, “you’re the only reason I care.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms. “You’re lucky I believe in redemption arcs.”

He grinned. “So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

You exhaled, looking at the sun-drenched campus, the skyline beyond the trees, and the boy still panting in front of you.

“Don’t push it, Santino.”

He beamed.

┃ When a family deal ties Martini!Reader to Rafe Cameron, she tries to keep him at a distance—but he won’t be ignored. The more she resists, the more relentless he becomes, until she’s no longer sure if she wants to escape or be caught.

i know Rafe Cameron is trouble before he even says a word.

I feel it in the way his eyes track me across the country club ballroom, the way his smirk deepens when our gazes finally meet. He’s leaning against the bar, sleeves rolled up, looking like he belongs in a black-and-white movie—except there’s nothing classic about Rafe Cameron. No gentleman charm, no easy politeness. Just sharp edges and a reputation that should make me walk away.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

Not when I know why he’s here.

Not when I know that, no matter how much I pretend otherwise, Rafe Cameron and I are entangled now.

Ward Cameron made sure of that.

“Your father and I have an arrangement,” Ward had told me weeks ago, his voice smooth as he poured himself another glass of bourbon. “It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

But then the whispers started.

Then Rafe started showing up everywhere.

At first, I ignored him. I turned my back when he walked into a room, kept my conversations short and cold. I refused to play into whatever twisted game he was starting. But Rafe doesn’t take being ignored lightly.

And tonight, he proves it.

“You gonna pretend I’m not here all night?” His voice is low, amused, as he finally closes the distance between us.

I take a slow sip of my martini, willing my pulse to steady. “I was thinking about it.”

Rafe laughs under his breath, and it infuriates me—the way he finds humor in everything, like he already knows how this is going to end.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in just enough that I catch the scent of salt and cologne. “You wouldn’t want to be rude to business now, would you?”

I stiffen. I hate the way he says it, the way he reminds me that this isn’t just about us. That there’s something binding us together now, something I don’t fully understand yet.

He watches my expression shift, smirking like he’s already won.

I set my glass down with a soft clink, turning to face him fully. “If you think I’m going to let you walk all over me just because of some deal our fathers made, you’re delusional.”

Rafe tilts his head, amused. “Oh, sweetheart.” He reaches out, fingertips brushing over the inside of my wrist, and I hate how my breath catches. “I don’t want to walk all over you.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “I want you right where you are.”

The room feels too warm. The weight of his words lingers between us, heavy and unspoken, tangled with something dangerous.

I should push him away.

But I don’t.

Because the truth is, I know Rafe Cameron.

And the more I resist, the more he’s going to want to win.

┃ On a Fourth of July night, Martini!Reader tries to slip away, but Rafe Cameron is already waiting—daring her to admit she doesn’t want to leave.

The fireworks explode overhead, casting streaks of gold and red across the dark sky, but I barely notice. The party is still raging on the yacht behind me—music pulsing, champagne flowing, bodies pressed together in the kind of drunken haze that makes everything feel infinite. I should be up there with my friends, laughing, dancing, letting some trust fund boy twirl me around while pretending I actually care.

Instead, I’m down here.

On the dock.

With him.

Rafe Cameron leans against a wooden piling, cigarette balanced between his fingers, looking at me like he knew I’d end up here. Like he was waiting. His white button-down is open just enough to be intentional, the sleeves rolled up, skin sunkissed from too many days on the water. He smells like salt, cologne, and something I can’t place—but I know it’s trouble. It always is with him.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” His voice is lazy, teasing, but I hear what’s underneath.

I cross my arms. “You.”

Rafe smirks, exhaling smoke into the humid summer air. “Could say the same.”

I shift my weight, the delicate gold chain around my ankle catching the moonlight. I shouldn’t be here. Not alone with him. Not when I know exactly how this will go.

“I just needed a break,” I say, hating how defensive it sounds.

His smirk deepens. “From your date?”

I scoff. “He’s not my date.”

“Right,” Rafe says, pushing off the piling. He takes a slow step toward me, eyes flicking down to my mouth before meeting my gaze again. “So, what? He gets to take you out, put his hands on you, and I just get to watch?”

My pulse jumps, but I keep my expression even. “You don’t get to say things like that.”

“Why not?”

Because it makes me want to close the space between us. Because it makes me feel like I’m standing too close to an open flame. Because it’s Rafe Cameron, and I should know better by now.

I turn to leave.

His fingers wrap around my wrist—not hard, just enough to make me pause. “You really wanna go back up there?” His voice is lower now, softer, unreadable. “Be my guest.”

I swallow.

He watches me, blue eyes dark in the low light. “Or…” His thumb brushes over my pulse. “You could stay.”

The fireworks crackle above us, reflecting in the water. The yacht is still there, the party waiting. My perfect, predictable life is waiting.

But I don’t move.

“What are you up to, Cameron?” I murmur.

Rafe smiles, slow and wicked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And against every ounce of common sense I have, I stay.

┃rafe cameron accepting charity? or is his charm more formidable than he thought?

The Midsummer’s Night Gala at the Island Club was the kind of event people spent weeks preparing for. Girls in the Kook world planned their dresses months in advance, held trial runs for hair and makeup, and booked photographers to capture their ‘spontaneous’ moments by the twinkling string lights. You? You’d pulled your look together three days ago and still managed to outshine every one of them.

The pale blue silk dress hugged your figure perfectly, the plunging neckline just shy of scandalous and the high slit on your left leg a subtle middle finger to the prudes circling the crowd. Your gold strappy heels, a last-minute splurge, glimmered under the chandeliers, and every step you took on the cobblestone patio sounded deliberate. You felt the eyes. You always did. But tonight, only one gaze mattered.

Rafe Cameron.

He was leaning against the bar, an untouchable picture of wealth and arrogance in a crisp white suit. His collar was open just enough to give a glimpse of his tanned chest, and his light brown hair looked purposefully messy, like he’d run his hands through it after some girl told him it was sexy. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in, his lips curved in that half-smirk that made you want to slap him or kiss him, depending on the day.

You were standing with a group of your parents’ friends, humoring their compliments about how “grown-up” you looked, when you felt him approach. It was impossible to ignore Rafe’s presence. He didn’t walk—he prowled, his movements deliberate, like he knew the universe revolved around him.

“Martini,” he drawled, and you cursed the way your stomach flipped. “You look… breathtaking.”

You took a slow sip of champagne, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Wow, Rafe. Two whole syllables. Impressive.”

His smirk deepened as he slipped his hands into his pockets, looking you over with an intensity that should’ve felt invasive but somehow didn’t. “I aim to please.”

“You aim to annoy,” you shot back, your voice light but cutting.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, stepping closer. He was too close now—close enough that his cologne wrapped around you like a warm, dangerous hug. “But admit it, you missed me.”

You tilted your head, arching a brow. “Missed you? Rafe, this party is one of the highlights of the summer. Why would I waste my time thinking about you?”

“Because I’m the most interesting thing here,” he replied without missing a beat. His hand brushed against your arm, just enough to make your skin tingle.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing interest,” you quipped. “Staring at me from the bar for an hour? Bold move.”

“I wasn’t staring,” he said, feigning innocence. “I was… admiring. Big difference.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Rafe Cameron, admitting admiration? What’s next? A sincere apology?”

“Don’t push it,” he teased, his blue eyes glittering. “But you do look good, Martini. Like, ‘steal the crown and run the kingdom’ good.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you replied, but your lips twitched despite yourself.

“Won’t it?” He stepped even closer, the space between you nearly nonexistent now. “Dance with me. Or are you too scared?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Scared? Of you?”

“Of what’ll happen when you let yourself have fun,” he shot back smoothly.

You hated him. You hated how charming he was, how his cocky grin made your heart race, and how much fun it was to spar with him. Most of all, you hated how he always knew how to push just enough to get you to say yes.

So, against your better judgment, you let him take your hand and lead you to the dance floor.

The band had shifted into something slower, sultrier, and Rafe wasted no time pulling you close, one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand. “This isn’t so bad, is it?” he murmured, his lips close to your ear.

“You’re lucky I’m in a charitable mood,” you replied, but the warmth of his hand and the way he moved so effortlessly with you made it hard to sound convincing.

As the song played and his thumb brushed small circles against your hip, you found yourself forgetting the crowd, the party, and the fact that Rafe Cameron was supposed to be nothing more than an overconfident headache.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours in a way that felt too genuine.

“And you’re full of something else,” you shot back, but your voice wavered just enough to betray you.

Rafe grinned, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Guess that’s why you can’t stay away.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but he spun you out and pulled you back in one smooth motion, making the world spin for just a moment.

Damn him. Damn him and his perfect suit and his perfect smirk and the fact that, for tonight at least, he felt like the most dangerous kind of fun.

┃king kook has a bad habit of looking for a game, and slipping bills seems to be his solution

The bell above the diner door jingled, and I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. The air practically shifted when Rafe Cameron walked in, like he owned not just the place but the entire block it sat on.

“Back again?” I called, leaning against the counter with a smirk. “What’s it now, Rafe? Fourth time this week?”

“Fifth,” he corrected, sliding onto his usual stool at the counter like he was making himself at home. “You counting, or are you just happy to see me?”

I snorted, tossing the rag I’d been holding over my shoulder. “Neither. I just don’t know why someone like you keeps slumming it here when I know you’ve got a personal chef at home.”

“Maybe I like slumming it,” he shot back, resting his elbows on the counter. “Or maybe I just like watching you pretend you’re not thrilled to see me.”

“Thrilled?” I leaned in closer, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’ve got some imagination, Cameron.”

“I’ve got more than that,” he said, his smirk widening. “But we can start there.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the coffee pot, filling a mug and setting it in front of him. “You know, if you weren’t so full of yourself, you might actually be tolerable.”

He leaned forward, fingers brushing the mug, but he didn’t drink. He never did. “And if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d admit you like having me here.”

“Like having you here?” I scoffed. “You’re a distraction. A loud, irritating distraction who thinks he’s God’s gift to the Outer Banks.”

“Who says I’m not?” he challenged, his grin unwavering.

I crossed my arms, refusing to back down. “You know, Rafe, for all your charm and confidence, you’re still sitting here, trying to impress someone who doesn’t need you.”

That got his attention. His smirk faltered for half a second before he recovered. “Oh, I don’t think you need me. But you’re curious about me, aren’t you? Wondering why I keep showing up here, why I tip like I’m trying to buy the whole place.”

“I’m not curious,” I said firmly. “I know exactly why you’re here. You’re bored, and you think I’m some game you can win. Spoiler alert: you can’t.”

Rafe tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. “Maybe it’s not a game. Maybe I just like the challenge.”

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts,” I said, leaning closer. “Because I don’t play by anyone’s rules but my own.”

His grin returned, but this time, there was a glint of something darker in his eyes—respect, maybe, or intrigue. “Good. I’d hate for this to be too easy.”

I straightened, grabbing the rag again and stepping back. “Drink your coffee, Cameron. Or don’t. Either way, you’re paying extra for taking up space.”

He laughed, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. He set it on the counter with a casual shrug. “Keep the change.”

“You always do,” I said, pocketing the money without hesitation.

“See you tomorrow, Golden girl,” he said, sliding off the stool and heading for the door like he hadn’t just turned the whole room into his stage.

“Don’t count on it,” I called after him. But as the door swung shut behind him, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. If Rafe Cameron thought he was wearing me down, he had another thing coming.

┃ in which rafe cameron plans the ideal date. for himself.

The rink is packed, with couples gliding effortlessly across the ice while fairy lights twinkle above. Rafe, naturally, looks like he owns the place. His skates are laced perfectly, his stance confident, and his smirk firmly in place.

“You know, if you fall, I’m not picking you up,” he says, leaning against the wall as you struggle to lace up your skates.

“Good thing I don’t plan on falling,” you retort, yanking the laces tight and standing up. The wobble in your stance doesn’t go unnoticed, and Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he says, stepping onto the ice like he’s done it a million times before. He holds a hand out to you, his grin cocky. “Need help?”

“I’ve got it,” you say, brushing past him and stepping onto the ice—only to immediately lose your balance.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his laughter as he skates back to you, his hands steadying your arms. “Wow, that was graceful. Do you need training wheels or something?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, gripping his forearms for balance.

He skates backward, pulling you along with him, his hands warm on yours. “So, this is your first time skating, huh?”

“Nope. I’m just letting you feel useful,” you lie, shooting him a challenging look.

“Oh, really?” He releases you without warning, and you immediately flail, grabbing onto the wall for dear life.

“Rafe!” you shout, glaring at him as he skates in a lazy circle around you, laughing.

“Just testing your skills,” he teases. “And, uh, judging by that performance, I’d say you’re a natural.”

You push off the wall, determined to prove him wrong. Unfortunately, your determination only gets you a few feet before your legs go out from under you, and you land hard on the ice.

Rafe skates over, crouching beside you with a grin. “You okay down there, Bambi?”

“Bite me,” you snap, though you can’t help but laugh as you shove his shoulder.

He grabs your hands and pulls you up, his touch steady despite your wobbly legs. “Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done,” he says, sliding an arm around your waist to guide you.

For a moment, it’s almost sweet—until he purposely skates a little too fast, throwing you off balance again. You yelp, clutching his arm, and he laughs so hard he nearly falls himself.

“God, you’re the worst,” you say, breathless and grinning despite yourself.

“And you’re the best entertainment I’ve had all week,” he counters, smirking as he steadies you once more.

It started as a harmless group hangout at the country club pool, with everyone lounging under umbrellas or diving into the cool water. Martini!Reader had purposefully dressed to catch attention, donning a flirty sundress and oversized sunglasses as if she had no idea she was walking into a battlefield. She wasn’t oblivious to the looks the other Kooks gave her—the girls whispering behind their drinks and the guys throwing lingering glances her way.

Rafe, shirtless and lazily sprawled on a pool chair with a beer in hand, watched her like a hawk. He couldn’t figure her out, and that infuriated him. Martini!Reader knew this, of course, and decided to add some fuel to the fire.

She made her way to Topper, who was telling some ridiculous story about his latest hookup. Giggling like she was genuinely interested, she leaned in close, resting a delicate hand on his forearm. Topper, ever the charmer, leaned into her space, flashing his cocky grin.

Rafe sat up straighter, the edge of his beer can crumpling slightly in his grip. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more: the way Topper was eating up her attention or how easily she gave it.

Martini!Reader glanced over, catching Rafe’s glare. Perfect. She laughed a little louder, brushing her hair off her shoulder in a way that practically dared him to come over.

And, of course, he did.

Rafe strode across the patio, sunglasses pushed onto his head and his jaw set. Topper noticed him approaching first and stepped back instinctively, mumbling something about needing a drink. Martini!Reader tilted her head innocently as Rafe stopped in front of her.

“Having fun?” he asked, his tone calm but sharp.

She shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “I was. Topper was just telling me the funniest story—”

“Yeah, I’m sure he was.” His voice cut her off, his blue eyes narrowing. “Come here.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, gently gripping her wrist and pulling her away from the crowd toward a quieter corner near the cabanas. She didn’t resist, more amused than anything, but made a show of pouting.

“What’s the problem, Rafe?” she asked, crossing her arms when he let her go.

His eyes locked onto hers, his jaw clenching for a moment before he spoke. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to your friend. Is that a crime?” she said with a smirk, but her voice carried just enough edge to keep him on his toes.

“You know what I mean,” he said, stepping closer. “You think I didn’t notice the way you were leaning all over him?”

She tilted her head, feigning confusion. “Jealous, are we?”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his sun-bleached hair. “You wish.” He stepped even closer, his voice dropping low enough that only she could hear. “I don’t like games, sweetheart. If you want to mess with me, fine. But leave my friends out of it.”

Martini!Reader raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re awfully protective for someone who claims not to care.”

For a moment, his expression softened, his irritation giving way to something more vulnerable. But he masked it quickly, leaning down until they were almost nose-to-nose. “Just stop,” he said firmly. “Because trust me, you don’t want to see what happens when I get serious.”

Her breath hitched, and she hated the way her pulse quickened under his gaze. But she wasn’t about to let him win. She stepped back, putting on her best devil-may-care grin.

“Relax, Rafe,” she said breezily. “I’m just having a little fun.”

The salty ocean breeze swept through The Wreck’s open patio as Sarah Cameron, ever the master orchestrator of social chaos, slid into the booth with a triumphant grin. Martini!Reader followed reluctantly, barely catching Rafe Cameron’s smirk as he leaned casually against the back of the booth, his eyes glinting with mischief. Topper Thornton arrived a moment later, Sarah dragging him by the hand like a reluctant participant in her grand scheme.

“You two owe me,” Sarah announced dramatically, placing her designer bag on the table. “Topper and I can’t be the only ones suffering through a ‘couples dinner.’ You two need to join us.”

You raised a skeptical brow, folding your arms as you slid into the seat opposite Rafe. “Why do I feel like I just got roped into a bad rom-com scenario?”

Rafe let out a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on you just a second longer than necessary. “Because you did. Welcome to the circus, sweetheart.”

Sarah smacked him on the arm as she plopped down next to you. “Oh, please. You two love this. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the weird little game you’re both playing.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Game?”

Rafe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and flashing his signature smirk. “You know, the one where you act like you can’t stand me, but deep down you’d miss me if I disappeared.”

You rolled your eyes, though a playful grin tugged at your lips. “Disappeared? Rafe, I’d probably celebrate.”

Topper, sitting beside Rafe, leaned back and chuckled. “Oh, this is going to be good. Sarah, I think they might be more entertaining than us.”

Sarah grinned knowingly, her eyes darting between you and Rafe. “Exactly why I planned this. You’re welcome.”

The server arrived to take their orders, and as soon as they left, the banter picked up again.

“You know,” Rafe started, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, “if this is a double date, does that mean you’re officially admitting you like spending time with me?”

You reached for your water, maintaining a deadpan expression. “I think it means I officially lost a bet with Sarah.”

Topper laughed, nudging Rafe. “Man, she’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

Rafe tilted his head towards you, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’m not complaining. She keeps things interesting.”

You met his gaze, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “Glad to know I’m here for your entertainment.”

Sarah groaned, though her smile gave her away. “Would you two just admit you’re enjoying yourselves already? I can feel the tension from here.”

You glanced at Rafe, both eyes meeting for a fleeting moment of silent understanding before you smirked. “Fine. I’ll admit it.” you paused, voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “Rafe’s ridiculous attempts at flirting are mildly amusing.”

Rafe chuckled, raising his drink in a mock toast. “I’ll take it.”

Topper raised his eyebrows, leaning forward. “Sarah, I think we just became third wheels.”

Sarah shrugged, clearly satisfied. “Mission accomplished.”

As the night went on, you and Rafe found yourselves falling into an effortless rhythm of teasing remarks and playful banter. While you both would never admit it to Sarah or Topper, neither of you didn’t exactly mind being stuck on this “couples dinner” after all.

For the ladies in the back !! @lovinqbella 🥂🥂

1. Convincing You to Attend a Party

You stood in Sarah’s room, arms crossed, shaking your head. “No way. I’m not going to that party. It’s just going to be a mess of drunk people and bad music.”

Sarah groaned, flopping dramatically onto her bed. “You’re impossible. It’s one party, and everyone’s going to be there.”

“Exactly my point,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

She glanced at her phone and suddenly smirked. “Fine, don’t go. But you know who is going?”

“I don’t care,” you said quickly, but the way she raised her brows in response made your stomach twist.

“Rafe’s going,” she said, casually scrolling. “And honestly, he doesn’t go to these things that often anymore. Kinda weird, actually.”

You hesitated, looking out her window like you could avoid the conversation altogether. “That’s… irrelevant.”

Sarah grinned. “Is it? Because last time I checked, you two had been getting along pretty well. I’m just saying, he asked if you were coming.”

Before you could respond, her bedroom door creaked open. Rafe leaned against the frame, one hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. “You coming or not?”

His blue eyes locked on yours, unreadable, though there was a flicker of something—expectation, maybe—that made your heart skip.

“I haven’t decided,” you said, standing straighter.

Rafe smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like a yes to me. I’ll see you there.” He turned and walked away, leaving you with a stunned expression and Sarah grinning like she’d won.

2. Persuading You to Go on a Group Hike

“Nope. Not happening,” you said, firmly tying your sneaker and standing up.

Sarah frowned. “Why not? It’ll be fun! Fresh air, great views, all that stuff.”

You gave her a pointed look. “It’s a hike. You know I don’t do bugs, dirt, or sweating unless absolutely necessary.”

Sarah sighed, tapping her phone against her palm thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to tell Rafe you bailed.”

You blinked. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, he’s coming. Said he wanted to get out of the house. Weird, right? Anyway, he’s probably going to make fun of you for being scared of a little exercise, but I’ll tell him you had a good excuse.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not scared. I just don’t see the point.”

Sarah smirked. “Sure. Tell that to him when he asks where you are.”

An hour later, you were trailing behind the group, muttering under your breath about Sarah’s manipulation. Rafe slowed his pace until he was walking beside you, his tanned arm brushing yours.

“Not so bad, right?” he asked, glancing at you with a slight grin.

You huffed. “I wouldn’t call this fun.”

“Guess you just need better company,” he replied, his voice low and teasing.

You shot him a look, but the warmth of his smile made the dirt path seem a little less annoying.

3. Convincing You to Go Paddleboarding

“No, Sarah. I’m not getting on a paddleboard,” you said firmly, eyeing the glistening water of the cove.

Sarah grinned mischievously. “You say that like you’ve tried it before.”

“Because I don’t have to try it to know I’ll fall flat on my face,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Not if someone’s there to help you balance,” she said casually, glancing behind you. Before you could ask what she meant, a low voice interrupted.

“Scared of water or just bad at sports?”

You turned to see Rafe leaning against the dock post, his hair tousled from the wind and a smirk tugging at his lips. He was shirtless, his tan skin catching the sun, and you suddenly found it difficult to form a response.

“I’m not scared,” you muttered, though your pulse betrayed you.

“Good,” Rafe said, stepping closer. “Because I’m not about to let you drown. Come on, I’ll even hold the board steady for you.”

Sarah nudged you with her elbow. “See? Easy solution.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were wobbling on the board, Rafe’s hands steady on your ankles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and calm. “You’re overthinking it.”

His eyes met yours briefly, and for a moment, you forgot all about the water beneath you.

4. Persuading You to Go for a Late-Night Drive

“I’m not getting in a car with Rafe,” you said, glaring at Sarah.

“Why not? It’s just a drive,” she replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“You mean with your brother who drives like a maniac?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “He’s not that bad. Plus, he said he’s going to the lookout, and you love it there.”

You hesitated. The lookout was your favorite spot, but…

Before you could argue further, headlights illuminated the driveway, and Rafe’s truck pulled up. He leaned out the window, his arm resting casually on the doorframe. “You coming or what?”

You glanced at Sarah, who gave you a knowing look, and reluctantly got in.

The drive was surprisingly quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space. When you reached the lookout, the stars seemed impossibly bright.

“You always this stubborn?” Rafe asked, leaning back against the hood of the truck.

“Only when I have a reason to be,” you shot back, but your tone lacked its usual bite.

“Noted,” he said, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary.

5. Persuading You to Help Fix the Dock

“You’re kidding, right?” you said, staring at the pile of wooden planks and tools. “I don’t know the first thing about fixing a dock.”

Sarah shrugged. “Neither do I, but Rafe does. And he said he could use an extra set of hands.”

“Why don’t you help him then?” you shot back.

“I have other plans,” she said, already backing away. “But you? You’d be perfect for the job.”

Before you could argue, Rafe appeared, carrying a toolbox. He glanced between you and Sarah, his expression unreadable. “You staying to help?”

You sighed. “Apparently.”

He smirked. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to get your hands dirty.”

“I’m full of surprises,” you replied, grabbing a hammer.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself laughing more than you expected. Rafe’s sleeves were rolled up, sawdust clinging to his skin, and the way he occasionally glanced at you—like he was trying to figure you out—left you feeling strangely flustered.

When the dock was finally finished, he leaned against a post, watching the sunset. “Not bad for a rookie,” he said, his tone teasing but soft.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made it hard to argue.

The sun dipped low over Figure Eight, casting a golden hue over the sprawling lawn of the Cameron estate. The event—hosted by one of the Kooks’ most prominent families—was as absurdly extravagant as you’d expect: a speed-dating competition, Kook-style. The twist? It wasn’t just awkward small talk. Participants would be paired up at random and forced to complete a series of ridiculous couple’s challenges. The grand prize? Bragging rights, free dinner at The Pearl, and a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

Martini!Reader had no idea why she was here. Technically, she wasn’t even supposed to be. But Pope and JJ thought it would be hilarious to infiltrate the event. While they snuck into the catering tent to swipe hors d’oeuvres, you were left to fend for yourself in a sea of Kooks, feeling every bit the fish out of water.

That’s when you saw him: Rafe Cameron, standing by the check-in table, radiating smug entitlement in his crisp white polo and tailored khakis. His sharp jawline tightened when his eyes landed on you.

“Great,” he muttered, running a hand through his perfectly-coiffed hair.

“Trust me, I’m not thrilled either,” you shot back, folding your arms.

It turned out, through some cruel twist of fate—or maybe just Kelce’s bad handwriting—you and Rafe had been paired together.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” he said, stepping closer. His cologne was annoyingly intoxicating. “I’m only doing this to win. Don’t get in my way.”

“Likewise,” you snapped, squaring your shoulders. “Try not to screw it up.”

The First Challenge: “Newlywed Trivia”

The first event was a rapid-fire trivia game where couples had to answer questions about each other, despite having just met.

“Alright, Cameron,” you said, grabbing a clipboard. “Let’s make this quick. Favorite color?”

“Blue. Yours?”

“Green,” you lied, just to make it harder.

The game began, and to your frustration, Rafe was ridiculously good at guessing. He nailed your fake favorite color, guessed your favorite season (“Summer. You look like the type who likes sunburns”), and even got your dream vacation right (“Italy? That’s so basic.”).

Meanwhile, you struggled to read him.

“Favorite hobby?” you asked, scribbling.

“Winning,” he said, smirking.

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re stuck with me.”

Despite the bickering, you somehow scored the highest points, advancing to the next round.

The Second Challenge: “Obstacle Course”

The obstacle course was set up along the Cameron property, complete with water balloons, rope swings, and a three-legged race section.

“Try to keep up,” Rafe said as the whistle blew.

“Oh, please. Don’t trip over your ego,” you shot back.

It was chaotic from the start. Rafe was fast—annoyingly so—but you were nimble, darting under ropes and dodging water balloons like a pro. When it came time for the three-legged race, things got… complicated.

“Stop pulling!” you yelled, nearly falling as Rafe’s long legs dragged you forward.

“Stop being slow!”

By some miracle (and a lot of yelling), you crossed the finish line first, collapsing into the grass, breathing hard.

“Not bad, Pogue,” Rafe admitted grudgingly, offering you a hand.

“Not bad yourself… for a Kook,” you replied, taking it.

The Final Challenge: “Trust Falls”

The last challenge was designed to test trust. One partner would be blindfolded and guided through a maze by the other.

“You trust me?” Rafe asked, tying the blindfold over your eyes.

“About as far as I can throw you,” you muttered.

“Cute. Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Rafe’s guidance was steady, his voice calm as he navigated you through the maze. “Left. No, your other left. Watch the step. There you go.”

When you finally reached the end and removed the blindfold, you were face-to-face with Rafe, his smirk replaced with something softer.

“Not bad,” you said, brushing off your hands.

“You weren’t completely useless either,” he replied, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

By the end of the event, you and Rafe had somehow managed to win, much to everyone’s shock—and your own. The cheers and applause were almost drowned out by your mutual bickering as you accepted the prize.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” you said, clutching the Dom Pérignon.

“Good,” Rafe replied, leaning in closer. “Because I definitely still don’t like you.”

But the way his eyes lingered on yours told a different story….

The Charity Auction

Rafe lounged on the couch, lazily flipping through the flat screen's channels. He wasn't in the mood for Sarah's antics, but the sound of her heels clicking on the hardwood floors made him glance up.

"Don't forget, the charity auction is tomorrow," Sarah said, casually tying her hair back as she rifled through a drawer.

"Not going"

"You're unbelievable," Sarah shot back, slamming the drawer shut. "Dad donated half the prizes, and people are expecting us. Do you really want to deal with him if we don't show?"

Rafe scoffed "Since when do you care about what Dad thinks?"

"I don't. But the auction's important to people. Like... y'know who."

Rafe didn't need her to clarify. He could picture you now—probably making centrepieces out of seashells or whatever it was kooks like you cared about. He rolled his eyes, "Still not going."

Sarah smirked. "Right. Because you hate being in a room where people are actually impressed by you for once." She snapped, turning on her heel and starts to leave.

He threw the remote onto the couch with a groan "Fine. but if it's boring then I'm out."

The next evening. Rafe walked into the auction wearing a blazer that screamed "I don't care," through his hair that was carefully tousled. His eyes hovered over the luxurious room, until they had found you.

You were at the front of the room, adjusting a floral arrangement on a table, your dress soft and flowing, catching the light with every move. When you turend and saw him, your focused face turned into a surprised smile.

"Rafe? I didn't think I would see you here."

"Yeah, well...." He shrugged, slipping hsi hands into his pockets, "Sarah dragged me."

Your smiled softened, your voice quieter now. "Well, I'm glad you came. It's nice having someone I know here."

Rafe felt his chest tighten unexpectedly, the kind of feeling he'd never admit. "You seem busy." He said, motioning to the bustling room.

"I am, but..." You stepped closer, the warmth of your perfume wrapping around him "It's good busy. It's for a good cause."

He nodded, unable to look away from your glowing expression. "Yeah, looks good."

2. The Bonfire

“Don’t be lame, Rafe,” Sarah called from the doorway, jingling her car keys.

“Not going.” He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Right,” Sarah said, leaning against the doorframe. “Because sitting alone here and staring at your phone all night is such a better time.”

“It is when I don’t have to deal with John B and his idiot friends.”

Sarah shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m just saying it’s not a bad crowd. You know, people who don’t get on your nerves.” She paused, giving him a pointed look. “Like her.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

“She’s been talking about it all week. She even made s’mores kits,” Sarah added with a sly grin. “But whatever. Have fun being miserable.”

He sighed, setting his phone down with exaggerated annoyance. “I’m only going because I’m bored. Don’t expect me to stay long.”

The fire crackled against the dark sky, and Rafe stayed on the outskirts, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on you. You were crouched by the fire, your laughter mingling with the sparks as you tried to keep a marshmallow from catching fire.

When you caught him watching, you smiled and waved. “Come sit!”

“I’m good here,” he called back, though his feet were already moving toward you.

“Afraid of s’mores?” you teased, holding out a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

He smirked, taking it from you. “You’re lucky this one’s decent.

“Lucky?” you laughed. “I’m an expert.”

He shook his head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. The firelight danced in your eyes, and for the first time that night, he didn’t mind being there.

3. The Surf Competition

Rafe leaned back in his chair, his feet propped on the porch railing as Sarah walked past with a beach bag slung over her shoulder.

“You’re not going to the surf competition?” she asked, not breaking stride.

“Since when do I go to those things?” he shot back, his sunglasses hiding his glare.

“Since never,” Sarah replied. “But it’s kind of a big deal. The whole island’s going. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.”

“Pass.”

Sarah stopped, looking over her shoulder. “You know, she’s competing.”

Rafe’s hand paused mid-reach for his drink. “And?”

“And nothing,” Sarah said, turning away. “But she’s been practicing for weeks, and she’s actually good. But hey, stay here. I’m sure your chair needs you.”

Rafe grumbled under his breath, grabbing his keys. “Whatever.”

The beach was packed, the crowd buzzing with excitement. Rafe kept to the back, his arms crossed as he scanned the waves. When he spotted you paddling out, your determination written in every stroke, he couldn’t look away.

You caught a wave, carving effortlessly down its face, your smile radiant as you glided toward the shore. The crowd erupted in cheers, but Rafe barely noticed. He was too busy watching you, the way you seemed to light up in the sunlight.

Afterward, you spotted him leaning against a railing. “Rafe! You came?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral. “Didn’t have anything else going on.”

Your smile widened. “Well, thanks. It means a lot.”

He didn’t say anything, but the warmth in your voice stayed with him long after the competition ended.

4. The Family Dinner

“You’re coming to dinner,” Sarah said as she walked into the living room.

Rafe didn’t even glance up. “No, I’m not.”

“It’s just dinner, Rafe. Dad’s grilling, and—”

“And what? It’s going to be a train wreck like usual?”

Sarah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Stay here. I just thought you’d want to keep her company while the rest of us deal with Dad’s speeches.”

Rafe looked up, his brow furrowing. “She’s going?”

“She’s coming with her parents. You know how Dad is—he invited everyone with a trust fund.”

Rafe muttered something under his breath before standing. “Guess I’ll go. Someone has to keep you in check.”

At the dinner, Rafe kept his distance at first, leaning against a tree with a drink in hand. But when he saw you standing by yourself near the fire pit, your dress catching the glow of the flames, he found himself walking over.

“Didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” he said, his voice casual.

You turned, your face lighting up. “Rafe! I didn’t see you earlier.”

“Yeah, well… figured I’d make an appearance.”

You smiled softly, and for the rest of the night, Rafe found himself by your side, your laughter making the night more bearable than he’d ever admit.

5. The Lake Day

“Let’s go,” Sarah said, throwing a towel at Rafe’s head.

He caught it with a scowl. “Go where?”

“The lake. Everyone’s going.”

“Pass.”

“Typical.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “She’s coming too, but I guess that’s not enough of a reason for you to leave your cave.”

Rafe frowned, trying to mask his interest. “She’s going?”

Sarah didn’t answer, just smirked as she walked out the door.

By the lake, Rafe spotted you sitting on the dock, your feet dangling in the water. The sunlight danced across the waves, catching in your hair and making you look almost otherworldly.

He walked over, sitting down next to you without a word.

“Hey,” you said, smiling at him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Sarah dragged me,” he lied, glancing out at the water.

You bumped his shoulder lightly. “Well, I’m glad you came.”

You are a girl straight from paradise, and it showed in everything about you. Your skin shimmering in the light as the sun-kisses you, always glowing as if it followed you. The cameras seem to adore you— never a bad picture, never a dull moment.

With your perfect lip combo and flawless makeup, you are always put together, always radiant. People can't help but be drawn to you—not just for your beauty, but your charming personality. You are a breath of fresh air, warm and magnetic, with a confidence that made life seem brighter just by being in it.