Promise *Rafe Cameron*

𝐀 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬

The sun reflected off the ocean like fire, gold and blinding, the waves curling and crashing against the shore with lazy rhythm.

But the peaceful sound of the tide was drowned out by the loud, aggressive whine of dirt bike engines, echoing across the beach like a battle cry.

It was the Kildare Enduro.

Every year, the whole island turned out for the annual dirt bike race.

Kooks, Pogues, and Tourons all came out of their holes and climbed onto the sand, pretending the social hierarchy didn't exist for one day, only to use it as an excuse to get louder, rowdier, and a little more dangerous.

Sage stood off to the side of the crowd, one foot buried in the hot sand, the other propped on the edge of the cooler.

She wore her brother's old racing jacket, red, worn at the elbows, smelling faintly like oil and bonfires.

The sleeves hung just past her fingers, but it felt like armor.

She watched as John B revved his engine at the starting line, leaning forward with a look of total concentration.

JJ beside him was anything but focused, helmet resting on the back of his head, cigarette dangling from his lips, talking to a group of kids like he was a celebrity.

"God, they're ridiculous," Sage muttered with a smile, popping open a beer and taking a swig.

From the corner of her eye, a familiar figure sauntered into view.

Sage groaned, nudging Sarah with her elbow. "Oh God, there's Topper."

Sarah followed her gaze, already bracing herself. Topper stood a few yards away, leaning casually against his stupid overpriced bike like he was posing for a Yacht Weekly photoshoot.

His hair was too perfect, his shirt too white, and worst of all, he had that smug Topper smirk as he nodded in Sage's direction like they were cool.

They were not cool.

"Oh, and there she is," Sage added, eyes narrowing as she spotted the girl beside him.

The brunette clinging to Topper's arm looked like someone who got kicked out of a Vineyard Vines catalog.

"Did you see his ugly new girlfriend?" Sage hissed under her breath, not even trying to hide it. "Clearly downgraded."

Sarah snorted, arms crossed over her chest. "Losers ride with losers."

"Hell yeah, they do." Sage lifted her hand, and Sarah gave her a satisfying clap of a high five.

Sage let out a sharp laugh. "You just know she thinks this race is, like, sponsored by Red Bull or something."

"Probably brought a white claw to the pit stop," Sarah replied, raising an eyebrow.

The two of them burst out laughing again, loud enough that a few Kooks turned to glance at them.

"Let them look," Sage said, tossing her empty beer can in the trash. "We're hotter, smarter, and we don't date men who peaked in sophomore year."

"Preach," Sarah grinned.

"Hey."

The voice was soft, but it cut through the chaos of roaring engines and chattering spectators like it was meant just for her.

Sage turned, beer still in hand, and saw a tall guy standing a few feet away.

Tanned skin, messy brown hair curling out from under the edge of his helmet, and a crooked, confident smile that didn't feel too practiced.