The beach was packed. Dozens of kooks in their designer swimwear and gold jewelry littered the shore, laughing too loud, drinking too much. The kegs had been tapped hours ago, and the music thrummed from a Bluetooth speaker someone had propped on a cooler, bass vibrating through the sand.

And there, in the middle of it all, stood Y/n.

She looked perfect. That was the point, wasn't it? White sundress that caught the wind just right, hair curled and loose, gold hoops glinting every time she turned her head. She knew the effect she had. She'd spent enough time on it.

Some of the guys had noticed. Topper especially, hovering at her elbow, laughing a little too hard at his own jokes, leaning in a little too close.

Rafe was on the other side of the flames, his jaw sharp in the firelight. He had one hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, and he was smiling with his teeth, saying something to—

Kie.

She was sitting on a driftwood log, worn-out flip-flops digging into the sand. Her hair was messy, wet from a late-day swim, and she was wearing some oversized band tee over a bikini. She laughed at something Rafe said and shoved his shoulder.

And Rafe looked at her like she'd hung the moon.