Like this was all some game to him. And she hated that a part of her—some small, reckless part—was already wondering when he'd show up again.

She needed a distraction. She needed out. So, when her phone buzzed an hour later with an unknown number and a single message, she wasn't that surprised.

Unknown Number: Kook party tonight. You should come.

Zoe stared at the screen, her pulse kicking up. There was no name, but she didn't need one. There was only one person who would text her this.

She exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the phone.

Zoe: Yeah, not happening.

A few seconds passed. Then:

Unknown Number: Scared?

Zoe rolled her eyes. Classic Rafe—pushing, testing, seeing how far he could go.bAnd maybe she should've ignored him. Maybe she should've told him to go to hell.

But instead, she typed back

Zoe: I'll come if my friends can too.

She didn't expect him to agree. So when the dots popped up, then disappeared, then popped up again before finally settling on a reply, she actually blinked at the screen.

Unknown Number: Fine. But don't expect them to like it.

Zoe snorted. Yeah, no shit.

If Zoe had to pick a word to describe the party, it would be excessive. Music boomed from speakers bigger than her entire bedroom. People were everywhere—drunk, laughing, draped over each other like they had no concept of personal space. Bottles of expensive liquor sat out like trophies, and someone had even set up a champagne fountain, because of course they had.

It was the kind of party that only Kooks could throw—the kind that reeked of privilege and recklessness. And the Pogues stuck out like a sore thumb. "This is a terrible idea," Pope muttered, eyes scanning the crowd like he was looking for an escape route.

JJ grinned, already pocketing a bottle of something expensive. "Nah, this is an amazing idea." Kiara sighed. "We're gonna get in a fight." John B smirked. "Not if we drink fast enough."

Zoe should have been tense. Should have been watching her back. But then someone handed her a drink—something strong, something sweet—and the music pulsed through her bones, and suddenly, none of it mattered. Because for once, she didn't care.

She was just Zoe, and she was here, and she was alive. Somewhere between drink two and drink way too many, she lost track of the others.

And somehow, somehow, she ended up outside, leaning against a balcony, the world spinning just a little. "You having fun, Jones?"

She turned—maybe too fast—because suddenly, Rafe was right there, standing next to her, looking way too amused. Zoe exhaled, steadying herself. "Oh, fantastic time. Love mingling with my fellow Kooks."

Rafe smirked. "You're wasted." Zoe grinned. "Yeah, and?" Rafe just shook his head, looking her over, like he was debating something.

Then, in a move so typical of him, he reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. It was soft. Unexpected. Zoe's breath hitched.

And she should have shoved him away. Should have said something sharp, something to cut through whatever this was. But instead, she just looked at him. And the worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing.

His smirk deepened. "Careful, Jones. Might start thinking you like me." Zoe's head tilted, her inhibitions blurred by alcohol and bad decisions. "And what if I do?" Rafe's smirk faltered for just a second—just long enough for Zoe to catch it—before it came back sharper, more dangerous.

"Oh, jones ," he murmured, stepping closer, voice like a low hum against her skin. "Then you're in a lot of trouble." And God help her- She liked the sound of that.

Zoe didn't know who kissed who first. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was Rafe. Maybe it was the alcohol and the music and the reckless, stupid energy of the night.

But suddenly, his lips were on hers, and nothing else mattered. His hands were in her hair, her fingers fisted in his shirt, the world spinning too fast around them.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It was all heat and tension, years of insults and glares and almosts crashing together in a way that felt inevitable. And for a second—for just one wild, insane second—she let herself fall into it.

Into him. Then reality slammed into her like a brick wall. She pulled back fast, stumbling slightly, her breath ragged. "What the hell am I doing?" she muttered, mostly to herself.

Rafe just looked at her, his expression unreadable. She shook her head, stepping back. "No. No, this is—this is a terrible idea." Rafe tilted his head, smirk returning. "You weren't saying that a second ago."

Zoe clenched her jaw. "Yeah, well, I was also wasted a second ago." Rafe chuckled, low and knowing. "Still are, jones."

That pissed her off. Because he was right. And because he was looking at her like he had won something. Like she was just another thing he could claim, another thing to toss into the wreckage of his messed-up life.

She straightened, setting her shoulders. "This? Never happening again." Rafe just smiled, lazy and amused. "Sure, Jones." That infuriating confidence, like he already knew she was lying.

Zoe turned on her heel and stormed back into the house, ignoring the way her heart was still pounding in her chest. She needed to find the Pogues. She needed to leave.

She needed to forget this ever happened.

By the time she found the others, they were already in the middle of something. JJ was definitely about to throw a punch. Topper was definitely being a condescending asshole.

And Pope looked done with everything. "Of course," Zoe muttered, pushing through the crowd. "What now?" Kiara turned, exasperated. "Topper's being Topper." "Ah," Zoe said. "Say no more."

JJ was grinning like he wanted to get hit. "Come on, Thornton. One swing. I dare you." Topper sneered. "You're not worth it, Maybank." John B, who had clearly had enough, grabbed JJ's arm. "We're leaving."

JJ scoffed but let himself be pulled away. Zoe turned, about to follow— And then she felt him. Rafe. Standing just a few feet away, watching her.His smirk had faded. His expression was unreadable.

Something about it made her stomach twist. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to turn away, to walk out of the house and back into the night.

She didn't look back. But she felt him watching her the whole way out.

The drive back to the Cut was tense.

JJ was still fuming, muttering under his breath about Kooks with punchable faces. Pope looked like he was replaying every bad decision that led them there. Kiara sat with her arms crossed, staring out the window, while John B just focused on the road, probably wondering how he always got dragged into this kind of mess.

And Zoe? Zoe was spiraling. Not because of Topper. Not because of the party. Because of Rafe.

Because she had kissed him. Because it wasn't some stupid, drunken hallucination—it happened. And worse? She hadn't hated it.

Her fingers brushed against her lips, and she swallowed hard, shifting in her seat like she could shake the feeling of him off her skin.

"Okay, what the hell happened to you?" Kiara suddenly asked, snapping Zoe out of her daze. Zoe blinked. "What?" Kiara narrowed her eyes. "You were off tonight. Even before the Topper thing."

Zoe shrugged, too quickly. "I was drinking." "We were all drinking," Kiara countered. "You just looked—" She frowned. "I don't know. Like something happened."

Zoe forced a laugh. "Yeah. Something happened. I realized I should never go to a Kook party again." JJ huffed a laugh. "Amen to that." Kiara didn't look convinced, but thankfully, she let it go.

Zoe turned her gaze out the window, watching as the lights of Figure Eight disappeared behind them. She told herself she'd forget. That when she woke up, it wouldn't matter.

That he wouldn't matter. She almost believed it.

By the time Zoe got home, everything felt too quiet.
Barry was still out—probably dealing, probably handling whatever business kept their lives messy and dangerous.

The trailer smelled like smoke and gasoline, the air heavy with the kind of weight she never felt with the Pogues.

She kicked off her shoes and headed to the bathroom, flipping on the dim light. She barely recognized herself. Her hair was a mess. Her makeup was smudged. Her lips were—

She exhaled sharply and turned away from the mirror. She needed water. She needed sleep. She needed to not think about Rafe Cameron. But then—

A knock. Soft. Barely there. Zoe froze. For a second, she thought she imagined it. Then—another. Her pulse spiked.

She moved toward the door, hesitating just long enough to make herself nervous. Then she opened it.

And of course— Rafe Cameron stood on the other side. Zoe's heart slammed against her ribs. "Are you kidding me?"

Zoe's grip tightened on the doorframe. "What the hell are you doing here?" Rafe didn't answer right away. He just looked at her—really looked at her.

His usual cocky smirk? Gone. His eyes flicked over her, taking in the way she was still in her party clothes, the way she was standing there, barefoot and tired, like the night had wrecked her.

Like maybe it had wrecked him, too. "Needed to see you," he finally said, voice low. Zoe scoffed. "Yeah, well, I don't need to see you."

She started to shut the door, but his hand shot out, pressing against it. "Zoe." Her name. Just that.

And maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the leftover alcohol in her system, maybe it was him—but something in her wavered.

She exhaled sharply. "What do you want, Rafe?" He licked his lips, glancing past her, like he was checking for Barry. Then, quieter: "You really gonna pretend that didn't happen?"

Zoe's stomach flipped. She knew exactly what he meant. The kiss. The way she hadn't pulled away fast enough. The way her body had reacted before her brain could catch up.

She crossed her arms. "It was a mistake." Rafe's jaw tightened. "Bullshit." Her pulse jumped. "It was." Rafe just stared at her, like he could see straight through her. Like he knew she was lying.

And she hated that he looked at her like that. Hated that he was right. Hated that her brain was still stuck on the way he had tasted like whiskey and bad decisions and him.

She needed him gone. So she forced herself to look him dead in the eye and say, "I don't want you, Rafe." He didn't flinch. Didn't move.

But something flickered in his gaze. Something sharp. Something like a challenge.

And then, before she could process what was happening, he took a slow step forward, closing the space between them. Zoe's breath caught, but she didn't move.

Didn't step back. Didn't push him away. Rafe tilted his head, dropping his voice even lower. "Say it again." Zoe swallowed hard. "What?"

His eyes burned into hers. "Say you don't want me." Her pulse slammed against her ribs. She should have shoved him. Should have slammed the door in his face. Should have ended whatever this was before it started