Rafe Maybank first spotted her at the corner of a crowded bar—bright red hair catching the warm glow of the lights, her fingers drumming idly on the rim of her glass. She looked effortlessly composed, lips slightly curved as if sharing an inside joke with herself. In the crowded chaos of music, clinking glasses, and shouted conversations, she was a moment of stillness.
“Who’s that?” Rafe leaned toward his friend Beau, tipping his head toward her.
“That? Hollis Cameron,” Beau said, grinning like he’d just caught Rafe staring at Medusa. “Careful. That one will chew you up and spit you out.”
Rafe’s lips quirked into a lazy grin. “Sounds fun.”
Beau laughed, loud enough to make Rafe wince. “Fun? I bet fifty bucks you can’t make her fall in love with you.”
Rafe froze for a beat, his ego rising to the occasion. “Fall in love with me? You think I’m that bad?”
“Oh, she’s immune to guys like you, man. Trust me.”
Rafe’s pride prickled. He didn’t back down from challenges, especially ones with red hair and legs for days. He knocked back the rest of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, “Watch and learn.”
At the other end of the bar, Hollis Cameron’s best friend Mia had just issued her own challenge.
“That guy at the end of the bar—you see him? Dark hair, way too confident? That’s Rafe Maybank. Thinks he can charm anyone.”
Hollis swirled her drink, unconcerned. “And why do I care?”
“Because,” Mia leaned in, conspiratorially, “I dare you to make him hate you.”
Hollis arched a brow, intrigued. “Why would I do that?”
“Because he’s a walking cliché. Handsome, cocky, probably thinks the world revolves around him. Crush his ego for fun.”
Hollis sipped her drink, her lips curving into a slow, devilish smile. “Challenge accepted.”
First Contact
Rafe approached her with the kind of swagger only he could pull off, confidence dripping from every step. He slid into the empty seat next to her, ignoring the slight twitch of annoyance on her face.
“Do I know you, or are you just the most interesting person here?” Rafe started, his smile a weapon.
Hollis didn’t glance at him, swirling her glass lazily. “You don’t know me, but you’re about to regret starting this conversation.”
Rafe smirked. Feisty. “I’ll take my chances.”
Finally, she turned to look at him, green eyes locking with his dark ones. For half a second, his breath caught; she was striking. “Do you come with a warning label?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back, grin widening.
“Fair enough.” Hollis took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch as Rafe waited. Then she smiled sweetly. “You’re in my seat.”
Rafe blinked. “Your seat?”
“You heard me.”
“Well,” he leaned in, voice dropping into something smoother, slower, “I’d rather share it.”
Her laughter was quick and sharp, and Rafe wasn’t sure if he’d been insulted or encouraged. “This is going to be fun,” Hollis murmured, mostly to herself.
Round One: The Games Begin
Rafe showed up the next morning “coincidentally” at her favorite coffee shop. Hollis spotted him instantly, her eyes narrowing.
“Are you stalking me, Maybank?”
“Stalking?” Rafe grinned as he slid into the seat across from her. “I call it fate.”
She rolled her eyes. “I call it pathetic.”
But then he did something unexpected. He pulled out a muffin—blueberry, her favorite—and set it on the table. “Truce?”
Hollis stared at him suspiciously, then snatched the muffin. “Fine. But I’m not sharing.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The days that followed were an escalating series of games. Hollis found Rafe everywhere—at her gym, at the bookstore, even at her go-to taco truck. Each time, his attempts at charm were met with sarcasm and sabotage.
At the bookstore, he leaned over her shoulder. “Need recommendations? I’m an expert at romance novels.”
She spun on her heel, holding up a copy of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. “You might need this.”
At the taco truck, she “accidentally” knocked her salsa onto his shirt. “Oops. Butterfingers.”
Rafe never lost his smile. In fact, the more she pushed, the more intrigued he became.
The Cracks Form
Hollis wasn’t prepared for the way Rafe wormed his way under her skin. Despite her best efforts to make him miserable, he was persistent, patient, and infuriatingly charming. Worse, he was funny—really funny.
One night, after yet another coffee shop encounter, Rafe walked her to her car, hands in his pockets.
“Why do you try so hard to hate me?”
Hollis raised a brow. “Who says I’m trying? It’s natural.”
“Liar,” he teased, stepping close enough that the heat between them felt tangible. “You like me.”
Hollis scoffed, though her breath hitched. “Like you? I’d rather swim with sharks.”
Rafe leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “I don’t know, Cameron. You keep letting me stick around.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but the words got stuck. His face was inches from hers, close enough for her to catch the faint smell of his cologne—something warm and clean that made her lightheaded. For half a second, she forgot why she was supposed to hate him.
“I’m a masochist,” she muttered, finally breaking eye contact.
Rafe laughed softly, a deep sound that rumbled through her chest. “You’re cute when you’re lying.”
Breaking the Rules
The tension between them built like a fire, the air buzzing whenever they were in the same space. Hollis started noticing things she didn’t want to—how Rafe always opened the door for her, how he’d brush his hand against hers when reaching for a drink, the way his gaze lingered on her mouth when she talked.
One evening, they were at the same party, both pretending not to notice the other. But as the night wore on, Rafe found her outside on the balcony, staring up at the stars.
“Escaping the chaos?” he asked, leaning against the railing beside her.
“Something like that.”
They fell into silence, the kind that felt natural, even soothing. Rafe glanced at her, watching as the wind played with a strand of her hair. Without thinking, he reached over and tucked it behind her ear.
Hollis stiffened, her breath catching. “What are you doing?”
“Breaking down your walls,” Rafe said quietly, his voice soft and sincere.
For once, she didn’t have a retort. The space between them shrank, his hand still lingering near her face, his thumb grazing her jaw.
“This is a bad idea,” Hollis whispered.
Rafe leaned closer, his lips a breath away from hers. “Maybe. But I don’t care.”
And then he kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rushed either. It was slow, deliberate—months of tension unraveling with every press of his lips against hers. Hollis gripped his shirt without realizing it, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as the world around them disappeared.
When they finally broke apart, Rafe rested his forehead against hers, his breathing unsteady.
“I think you like me,” he murmured.
Hollis blinked at him, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. “I think I hate you.”
Rafe smiled, brushing his thumb against her lower lip. “Keep telling yourself that.”
The Fall
After that, everything shifted.
They stopped pretending. Rafe would pull her into his arms when no one was looking, kissing her until her knees went weak. Hollis would grab his hand when they walked together, squeezing it once as if to remind herself that he was real.
But the bet still loomed over them like a dark cloud.
One night, Rafe showed up at Hollis’s door. She opened it to find him holding takeout and a sheepish grin.
“What now, Maybank?” she teased, though her heart fluttered.
“Dinner?”
They spent the night on her couch, eating noodles and watching bad movies. When the credits rolled, Hollis turned to him.
“This started as a bet, didn’t it?” she asked quietly.
Rafe froze, his face falling. “Hollis—”
“I knew it,” she whispered, voice breaking.
“It was a bet,” Rafe admitted. “But it stopped being one the moment I got to know you.”
She stared at him, tears stinging her eyes. “I can’t believe you.”
Rafe reached for her, his voice desperate. “Hollis, I swear to God, I fell for you. This—us—is real.”
She pulled away, shaking her head. “Get out.”
The Grand Gesture
Days passed, and neither of them could ignore the void the other left. Rafe was miserable; Hollis was heartbroken.
Finally, Rafe showed up at her door, drenched from the rain.
“I messed up,” he said. “I was an idiot. But I’m here because I love you.”
Hollis froze.
Rafe stepped closer, his voice soft. “I don’t care about bets. I don’t care about games. I care about you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that if you let me.”
Hollis stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “You’re an idiot, Maybank.”
Rafe grinned, stepping inside. “But I’m your idiot.”
And this time, when he kissed her, she kissed him back, holding him tighter than ever before.
The End.