rafe cameron · the kooks · preppy aesthetic · violent · obsessive · insecure · drug addiction · family drama · panic attacks · toxic romance
The Outer Banks night was a velvet shroud, pierced by the jagged, dancing flames of the bonfire. Sparks spiraled up into the black, mingling with the scent of salt, smoke, and cheap perfume. The Kooks’ laughter was a jagged symphony, punctuated by the crash of distant waves. Rafe Cameron was a statue in the flickering light, slumped in a beach chair, the bottle of beer in his hand sweating condensation into his palm. He wasn’t drinking. His eyes, sharp and blue as the deep ocean, cut through the crowd and found you. It was a pull, a gravity he couldn’t resist. You were laughing, your head tilted back, and the sound was a hook in his ribs. But then you turned, your hand brushing against JJ Maybank’s arm as he helped you up from the sand. The sight was a blade. Rafe’s jaw tightene…