nadvs
nadvs
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nadvs · 3 hours ago
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everything you write is a masterpiece. i’m already grieving the end of escapism. i wanted to ask if you have anything else you’re planning to write after the series? i need something to look forward to because i already know i’ll be crying when escapism’s over đŸ˜©
aw omg thank you so so so much!! đŸ„č yes i have an outline for a pogue!rafe series and an idea for a zach oneshot đŸ€­đŸ’˜
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nadvs · 1 day ago
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Rafe calling her "baby" again in Part 8 oh the effect that has on me! It's so soft and I'm a sucker for that kind of thing especially in enemies to lovers when they get to the point where there's terms of endearment reserved for only them đŸ„ș❀
eee RIGHT when the dynamic goes from tense and angry to protective and soft đŸ„č!! you get me. i love in enemies to lovers when they even surprise themselves with how tender they are to each other đŸ™‚â€â†•ïž tysm 💘
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nadvs · 2 days ago
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Power Play was the first time I was following along with the chapters updating weekly and again now with Escapism, it's a real joy to experience these chapters weekly/weeks however long. It's great bingeing chapters too but when we're getting chapters in real time, it hits a bit different, it's really fun to look forward to and it's a highlight of the day whenever you post so thank you 💛 Then when it's all over, it's great to re read and experience those feelings all over again 😁
aw this is so nice to hear đŸ„č thank you!! i love being in the middle of a series so much honestly my favorite state is when i have a fic in the works because i feel so inspired and excited to write throughout the entire process. tysm!! i hope you enjoy the rest of escapism đŸ„°đŸ’˜
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nadvs · 3 days ago
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chapter 8 was so beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. I can't get over how perfectly you wrote the way they've fallen for each other in this crazy situation and their real connection feels like it's slipping through their fingers the closer it gets to the contract being up. I'm soo curious to know how it's gonna end!
my heart is glowing rn, thank you so much đŸ„č it’s my first time writing enemies to lovers and i rly wanted the way they fall in love to feel real and unrushed so hearing that is so so so validating 😭💘 thank you!! i hope you like the way it ends!!
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nadvs · 3 days ago
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Throughout part 8, I couldn't stop thinking about how they found love where they least expected it and thought of these lyrics from the chorus of I Found by Amber Run:
I found love Where it wasn't supposed to be Right in front of me Talk some sense to me
I really can picture the scenes in my head with the way you write and if you could see the edits in my head hehe I feel like the beach scene after their date was such a pivotal happy, carefree moment for themđŸ„ș
THIS FITS SO WELL 😭 they found something in the last person they ever thought they would and “talk some sense to me” hits!!
aw ygm because i felt they needed a moment to be carefree and have fun and see what it could’ve been like if they met a different way đŸ„ș omg thank you same i am imagining edits allllll the time đŸ™‚â€â†•ïž the beach scene and every time he was looking at her with love while she wasn’t paying attention
 i would do anything for edits hehe they’re playing in my head constantly ❀‍đŸ©č
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nadvs · 3 days ago
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Wait I was re reading part 8 and when rafe says he doesn’t want to tell the reader the real reason he’s helping his dad do we know why he’s actually doing it I can’t remember also the part she says she’s leaving and that she can’t forget that he’s the reason she’s in the mess and her health is worse and everything ugh
yes, back when it started, rafe tried to back out but that’s when his dad told him that her dad indirectly blackmailed them into it because her dad helped with some shady business dealings a long time ago 👀 and we know rafe will do anything to feel like he’s worth something, so he agreed to do it to clear his dad’s debt and help the company
 but like you said, it was at the cost of her health and happiness 😓
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nadvs · 4 days ago
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nadia you’re my absolute favourite writer! the storylines, descriptions, writing, pace are just perfect!!! just wanted to let you know that you make my day everytime you post (i know i’m one of sooo many to say this but you’re just that amazing!)
AW wowowow thank you so much!! 😭 literally every single comment and ask i get matters so much to me, i mean it đŸ„č thank you. it’s so rewarding to hear that đŸ„°
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nadvs · 4 days ago
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Part 8
. I have no words all I can do is đŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„ș. They’re so PRECIOUS I LOVE THEM I WANT TO PUT THEM IN MY POCKET AND PROTECT THEM
no but seriously, definitely worth the wait. So beautifully written (as usual) and I will reread your other words as I patiently wait for the next part ❀❀❀
AAA LOVE YOU, thank you so much đŸ„č so glad you enjoyed the read and i hope you love what’s to come 💘
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nadvs · 4 days ago
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There's so many lines you write that are poetic and go straight to my heart. "And in this fragile, bleak, and completely unexpected moment, you see each other as who you are. Just two people, trapped in very different ways, trying to escape."
^That particularly got me! They truly understand each other now and the way they were after their date, everything was so light and they were just having fun and enjoying each others company then the contrast of the final part of the chapter of them knowing something like this can't last was so sad. The smut felt so emotional 😭
thank you đŸ„č YES when they met, they thought that they’d never see anything good in the other, but it turns out that nobody can understand them like they can understand each other ❀‍đŸ©č i thought they finally deserved some fun together, even for a little, before having to deal with the hard truth!! i appreciate you reading and sharing your thoughts so much đŸ„°
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nadvs · 4 days ago
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felt like standing up and clapping when Rafe told her brother off and made him apologize like yeah!!!
towards the end of the chapter when they were opening up to each other and at the very end, the sentence "how it's destined to end" made me tear up, oh my heart đŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„ș Idk if I can articulate it well but you convey the way they do have feelings for each other but in a way they're too scared to stay, they're not used to being so vulnerable and getting someone who *gets* them. My heart aches for them!!
ngl it felt so good for her to finally have someone in her corner đŸ™‚â€â†•ïž aw omg thank you so much!! that means the world to me đŸ„č TRULY, they are so alike and they feel the same pain of wanting someone to understand and love them but not knowing how to open up to it. tysm for reading and reviewing đŸ„°đŸ’˜
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nadvs · 5 days ago
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i’m literally giggling excitedly planning my part 8 reread for later in the day
ok i’m cheesing because a reread is such a big compliment đŸ„č!! tysm
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nadvs · 5 days ago
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The way we will have to wait a couple weeks for the next part of this beautiful story and then a few weeks after that for the last part
thank you so much 😭 i hope you enjoy the read đŸ„č💘
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nadvs · 5 days ago
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I read chapter 18 so fast and now I have to wait and my heart hurts pls đŸ˜«
AW đŸ„č two more very long parts are coming!! 💘
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nadvs · 5 days ago
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escapism .* part eight
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing rafe cameron x socialite! female reader
rating explicit 18+
summary you live a turbulent life in the public eye as an unruly heiress from a controlling family. you thought you had your future all planned out, until you learn that your trust fund hinges on marrying a stranger.
» masterlist
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Your hand trembles as you take in a slow pull of cold water, lingering in the kitchen. For once, you have to pause. While you’re used to running away in every possible sense of the word, what happened last night demands your attention.
The man who held you steady was a complete stranger. That couldn’t have been Rafe.
But it was. Those same blue eyes, softened instead of cold, that same low voice, comforting instead of combative. You think of the bite of the night air, the hum of the party behind you, the way he looked when he knelt in front of you.
In that moment of crisis, he gave you what you needed. But now, you can’t help but be bitter about it, because how dare he speak to you and hold you like that after how awful he’s been to you. He’d threatened you, uttered cruel things, suggested you deserved the horrible ways you’ve been treated.
The thread in you pulls again, weakening you as you remember his words in the darkness of the backseat on the way home. I want you.
When the key turns in the front door with a loud rattle, you realize you were wrong to assume he was still sleeping. You can’t rush away in time. His stare lands on yours, ushering in an unavoidable awkwardness.
“Hey,” Rafe says, his voice low.
You chew on your bottom lip, look down at your glass, the knot of mixed emotions lumping in your chest. You hate that he saw you like that. You hate that he knew what to do.
It’d be so much easier if he were simply a bad person. Irrevocably. Undoubtedly. But because his intentions are so unclear, because his behaviour is so unpredictable, you’re left with nothing but frustrating confusion.
You don’t know what to feel. Or what to think.
“They’re making a big deal out of nothing,” he murmurs as he crosses into the kitchen, standing across from you, leaning on the counter.
“What are you talking about?” you say, looking up at him.
He realizes you must have not seen Celeste’s group text demanding you two get to the house this morning.
“They got a picture,” he explains. “Last night.”
“Of what?” you snip.
You’re tense. That scowl you have reserved specifically for him is etched in your features. He thought you’d pick up where you left off last night. That the animosity between you had been extinguished. But you’re clearly pissed off.
“Of us. Outside,” he says.
Your heart drops.
“Show me,” you say quietly.
Rafe pulls out his phone, opens the article, and hands it to you. You hold his phone in quivering hands, giving him a chance to gaze at you as you stare at the photo.
And he looks at you, really looks at you, as your father’s words continue to sink into every gap in his mind. He’s seen firsthand what a chronic illness can do to a person. How much it can demand from them.
And Kal's indifference about it told him everything. You handle it by yourself. You’ve always had to.
“This is
” you say in a sigh of disbelief as you read. You have no words, eyes travelling over the story about you being comforted by your fiance in the middle of a public breakdown, heart pounding harder every time you glance up to the blurred image of him holding your face in his hands.
You’ve had your privacy invaded many times. This has to be the worst.
Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. Last night, in a wavering, nearly silent voice, you told him you were never wanted. Yet as he looks at you, all he can think about is how that can’t be possible, about how fucking wrong he was about you.
Between your fiery arguments and your passionate nights and the rare moments of fragility, he can see it now, that you’re the way you are because you have no other choice.
You don’t try to be difficult. It’s more complex than that. You’re constantly in survival mode because you have to be.
“What did you tell them happened?” you ask.
“What you told me,” he says.
“That I had a panic attack,” you realize in an cold tone, all in an effort to hide your anxiety that your father told him. That he knows. “They’ll use that against me. You know that, right?”
Rafe wets his lips, unsure of how to navigate this.
“I just – I wanted them to know how much this is fucking with you,” he admits.
You hate that his words make your heart feel a little less heavy. He sees the turmoil this is putting you through.
So, why did it have to get this bad for him to worry? Why did he have to witness three months of your pain to start giving a damn? None of this would be happening to you if it weren’t for his compliance in the first place.
You exhale, sliding his phone back towards him.
“Did you mention my inhaler, too?” you ask.
He decides to lie right now. He shakes his head. He doesn’t want the conversation to unfold like this. Not when you’re already upset and stressed out, looking at him like that.
“So, what then? What’d they say?” you ask.
“She’s going to write something. Damage control, I guess.”
“And my dad?”
Your eyes find his again. The anger in them has lessened, replaced with fear. And he’s sure of it now. You really don’t want him to know. So, right now, he’ll settle for half the truth.
“He said you’re dramatic,” Rafe answers, dipping his head in disagreement.
“Typical.” You wish you were in that room with them to defend yourself. “Why didn’t you just wake me up?”
Your nervous questions underscore it for him. You’re terrified of him knowing, as if it changes anything. The only thing it does to him is make the urge to protect you burn hotter.
“Thought you should get your sleep,” he admits.
You swallow hard. It’s a foreign feeling, someone caring about you when they don’t have to. It’s almost unsettling. Like it can’t be real.
You shift to rinse out your glass, your back to him, as if to shield yourself from how breakable you feel in this moment. But you have to ask.
“Why did you do that last night?” you say, your voice reduced to a hush.
Rafe doesn’t answer. When you turn, you realize he was waiting for you to face him. He leans closer, stares at you with those eyes you hate that you love to look into.
“Because I wanted to,” he answers.
His words ring in your head again. I want you.
“Why?” you press, looking up through your lashes.
It aches how bad he wants you to trust him enough to tell him. How bad he wants to just pull you in right now.
“Because
” He squints as he searches your face. “You never had anyone looking out for you.”
You stiffen, a rush of frustration stinging you. It still digs at you; why would he care now, and why would you think you need him of all people?
“I never needed anyone to,” you say. “Is that it? You pity me?”
There’s that defensiveness of yours, that stubborn pride that you seem to wrap yourself in all the time. Yet again, Rafe sees himself in you. Afraid to need someone. Desperate to let anyone see any weakness.
He doesn’t know why you’re keeping it quiet. But he won’t confront you. He won’t make you explain. He’ll pretend he doesn’t know you’re sick, that he hasn’t seen what that can do to someone, even if it hurts him to watch you do it alone.
Opening up that part of himself reminds him of what happened the last time someone he cared about lived the way you do. And he can’t run away from the fact that he does care for you.
Words refuse to form.
“Why is this what it took?” you ask when he doesn’t respond.
“What?”
“Why did I have to be
 like that for you to give a shit?”
Rafe breathes a sardonic chuckle. He’s given a shit about you for a long time.
He held your hand when you needed an anchor, told that annoying publicist to stop making you wear uncomfortable things, looked at your project for you and left you a note you haven’t even mentioned.
You need to be convinced that he cares. And he can’t do that without opening up wounds. Without telling you that he understands being angry at the world, because he lost his mother to something that drained her of who she was, because he’s seen what a person’s body not cooperating can do to them.
He can’t fault you for not wanting to admit it. There’s a lot he doesn’t want to admit to himself.
You shake your head, uneasy with his silence, unsure if this is hesitation or manipulation. The quiet feels like a trap.
“Say something. Did you know reporters were out there?” you mutter. “Did you set that up?”
His face hardens, temper flaring at the accusation.
“I followed you outside,” he says. you serious right now?”
You step back. It’s all so overwhelming, the fragile and contradicting sense of safety you feel with this man. You can’t let yourself fall for it. You can’t forgive him for the role he played in forcing you into this.
Last night was a wake-up call. Rafe is getting too close. He’s seeing too much. And you can’t allow it to continue.
“You shouldn’t have,” you say, your tone thin as you glare up at him.
“I shouldn’t have what?”
“You shouldn’t have followed me.”
He takes you in, every moment of the last three months running through his head. Your recklessness and defiance read differently now. All he can think is that someone needs to make you feel safe. That it needs to be him.
But it can’t be. You’re cold and angry and he realizes that you’ll always do this. You’ll always push him away. You’ll always look at him like this, like you loathe him, like you regret every single minute you share.
You told him you’d always hate him. You meant it. Whatever he thought you had isn’t there. You clearly regret showing him that side of you last night. And it stings like rejection. Worse.
It’s another thing he has in common with you. He hardly ever feels wanted, too. But this is not just in his head. You can’t stand him.
His lips firm into a tight line, and he nods stiffly before he leaves. He’s not going to make a fool of himself again.
You wish his walking away from you didn’t hurt. You tell yourself to get a grip. You’ve spent your entire life protecting yourself from people like Rafe.
And as you stand in quiet solitude once again, you remind yourself that you can’t fall for it. For him.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
You don’t take the risk of Rafe catching you in the middle of your monthly check-up again. This time, you head back to your family’s home to meet with your nurse.
You go through the motions, until Iris stops mid-sentence when she reads your blood pressure. You notice the crease in her forehead as she resets, wraps the cuff around you again, shuffles in her seat.
The monitor beeps when it flashes a number again. Her lips turn into a frown.
“Are you feeling anxious or upset?” she asks.
You hesitate before you nod, divulging the details of the episode you had a few nights ago, sharing how the stress of awaiting your exam results has been affecting you.
It’s so much more than that, but you have no choice but to lie.
Iris goes through questions about your diet, your substance use, your sleep, your pain. Each one of your answers doesn’t seem to erase the worry in her face.
“I’d like you to see your doctor as soon as you can, honey,” she says. “Just as a precaution. I don’t like this number. Try to minimize stress when you can, okay?”
For someone with your condition, this is risky. Your doctor had told you before how it could affect oxygen intake, worsening your lung function, leading to heart strain. Possibly even worse.
Tears prick the back of your eyes. Beneath the worry, you feel lonely.
Until you remember the feeling of Rafe’s arms around you in the backseat of the car, calling you baby and offering you a way out. It shouldn’t, but it offers you a semblance of comfort.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
Everything about today, on the outside, is perfect. The campus is buzzing with an excitable energy. When you received your grades, confirming that you’d passed all your classes and completed your degree, you should’ve been happy. You weren’t. Because you knew this was coming.
Today was supposed to be yours. A representation of all your hard work. In another world, you would have already moved away, but come back for this, avoiding the spotlight, seeing the people you studied with, catching up with your friends, celebrating.
The reality is so far from that. There’s so much attention on you that it’s suffocating. The security guards surrounding you and your parents and your brothers and your supposed fiance are enough on their own to garner stares.
Rafe has to hold in his scoff. This shit is ridiculous. The photoshoot that’s been put up in front of the auditorium ahead of the graduation ceremony is such an exaggerated ploy.
The photographer makes his introductions. He’s clearly nervous meeting Kal, and Rafe finds himself wishing people knew that the man they see as so wildly successful fails every day at being a father to a woman who’s stronger than he’ll ever be.
He looks away, eyes drifting to you. You meet his gaze, breaking the streak of avoiding each other. He shakes his head, in disbelief, in frustration. You do the same, validating the stupidity of this stunt.
It’s quiet, but it’s there – a sign that you’re still in this together.
A dull pain has been digging into you since you last spoke a week ago. Thoughts of him won’t stop trickling in.
Your stubborn grudge refuses to release you, refuses to let you forget everything he’d done when you first met, but the night he held you feels like a dream now. A dream you don’t want to go back to, but if you did, you’d find peace in it even though you know it ends badly.
You wish you saw your feelings for him coming. You’d noticed the moments of fragile amicability, tried to ignore that the sex went from a physical release to something else, but nothing could have prepared you for the way you feel now.
You two went from hating each other to something new, something twisted and unavoidable. Whatever it is can’t possibly be healthy, because when a relationship begins drenched in blackmail and coercion, isn’t it destined to carry that rot within itself?
You hear your name called behind you. You crack the first genuine smile today when you spot your friend. Rafe notices.
“Hey,” she says, pulling you in for a quick hug. “We made it.”
“We did,” you say kindly. “Congrats.”
“You know I wouldn’t be here without you.”
“You would,” you say with a small chuckle. “It was nothing.”
“It was everything,” she says. By the way her gaze floats behind you, you can tell someone is listening in. You turn to see Rafe, features pinched in curiosity.
“Eavesdropping?” you say, hoping he gets the hint to mind his business.
“What was everything?” he asks your friend. Your teeth clench in frustration.
“Last semester, I had an insane syllabus,” she explains. “I could never afford all the textbooks. But I was rescued.”
She points at you and smiles again. It really was nothing. When she’d been venting to you about the bill she was dreading at the campus bookstore, having to put it on a credit card that was nearly maxed out, you transferred her the money without a word and refused to accept anything back.
She doesn’t have the privilege that you do. When you had access to your family’s wealth, even when it was limited, you couldn’t find a reason not to help someone in need.
“I’ve been trying to pay her back since,” she tells Rafe.
“Well, stop trying,” you respond to her with a lighthearted nudge.
“Can we get in front of the fountain?” the photographer calls.
Your friend steps back, catching on that she should go.
“I’ll see you after?” she says.
You nod, and when you turn, you find Rafe’s eyes again. He’s staring the same way he did the night of the fundraiser, like he’s seeing something he can’t look away from.
“Don’t tell,” you say quietly, worried that your family will find a way to use how you helped your friend against you.
He grimaces. That’s what you think of him? That’ll he’ll run to your father to tell him? Even after everything, you don’t trust him, even a little.
Rafe looks away when he says, “I wouldn’t.”
As instructed, you stand next to him. The camera shutters over and over, until a faculty member comes by to escort everyone to the ceremony.
“Wait, we actually have to sit through this?” Sam half-laughs as you make your way towards the auditorium.
“No,” you reply bitterly. “Leave.”
Rafe continues to walk next to you, listening in, and your brother scoffs and tilts closer to you.
“Tell me, who did Dad pay off to get you a degree?” he taunts quietly.
Rafe’s chest starts to tighten. He’s still aching over how you turned him down, but listening to this pisses him off more than anything.
You ran yourself into the ground to get here. He only saw glimpses of it, but he noticed how much you studied, how much work you put into your project, how concerned you were about your exams.
What an asshole to imply you took the easy way out. It’s like nobody knows who you are, and no matter how loud you scream, they don’t listen.
He was one of the people who wrote you off at first. You can be so damn spiteful and bratty and mean, but it’s not because you lack character. He was blind, and he hates himself for it. For being like them.
“I don’t get him to pay my way into places like you do,” you spit back.
“Oh, really?” Sam continues to taunt.
“Just shut up,” you whisper.
“What? I’m just curious how you managed to get through class blacked out.”
You’re trying to get a hold of yourself, to ignore him, to avoid stress like your nurse told you to.
Rafe catches it. The way you waver. And despite everything, the instinct to take care of you hasn’t gone away.
“She told you to shut up,” he snaps. You glance up at him, lips parting in surprise. Again, you didn’t know he was listening. Again, he’s inserting himself into a conversation that has nothing to do with him.
But this time, it’s oddly relieving.
Rafe glares at your brother, jaw tensed. He pays attention to you in a way nobody ever has. What you once saw as nosy and controlling, what you once hated, what you thought you were too proud to accept, now gives you a sense of safety that you don’t want to shake.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam scoffs.
Rafe’s eyes darken and he says, coldly, sharply, “Apologize to her.”
“Or what?” your brother huffs, gaze darting between you two.
“You think I give a fuck about causing a scene?” he mutters. “Apologize.”
You see it in Rafe’s stare. Nobody can feign that level of rage.
You reach the doors. You’re sure Sam can see it, too. Rafe isn’t bluffing. And your brother cares too much about the family’s reputation, or really, about disappointing your image-obsessed parents, to risk it.
“Sorry,” he finally says in a tense whisper, refusing to make eye contact when he says it.
You have no time to react, beckoned by another faculty member to take you backstage.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
The tv buzzes, flooding the living room in blue light, as Rafe reclines on the plush couch. He twists the ring on his finger, thinking about how he’ll be wearing a wedding ring within a few weeks.
Are you going to be putting it on him at the wedding? Are you ever even going to touch him again?
This is a familiar type of pain. He’s tried to prove himself as worthy all his life. And he’s longing to prove to you that he’s not who you think he is. Because you’re not who he thought you were at all.
You’re hardworking. Resilient. Kind, and timid about it, because you actually seemed shy when your friend praised you for helping her out.
You pretend to be heartless, when you’re anything but.
He’s seen your brother make cracks about your drinking twice now. You’d murmured to him at the engagement party that you know you have a problem. He’s sure your family knows it too, and they see it as a weapon to use against you.
He didn’t have any impulse control when he told off your brother. When all this started, his goal, his dad’s goal, was top of mind. He wouldn’t do anything to risk falling out of line. But you’ve been changing everything and it’s making him feel like he’s going crazy.
You snuck away after the ceremony. Your family didn’t care. Their job was done. But Rafe hated the drive back to the condo alone. So, when he hears the front door open, his heart lurches, because despite how twisted up you’ve made him, he misses you.
You hold your keys in your hand, standing still as the door shuts behind you, noticing the tv’s glare in the living room, wondering if he’s there.
You went out with your friends tonight. Rafe was at the back of your mind the entire time.
Apologize to her. Has anyone ever stood up for you like that? Is he doing these things, comforting you, defending you, because he wants to? Or is it all a manipulative game?
You’re afraid. You can usually turn off your feelings. He’s an unfair exception.
Your feet take you towards the living room, instead of your bedroom. And he’s there, stretched across the couch, an arm over his head, the other on his chest. His shirt has ridden up, exposing an inch of his toned stomach.
He looks over at you and it’s the first time you’re seeing him like this. Relaxed. You don’t know why your heart skips to being endeared, when this is the man who’d cut you so deeply, over and over.
You swallow hard as you stand by the wall, trying to ignore the resentment simmering in you, the lust blazing in your gut, to say what you’ve been thinking about saying to him since this afternoon.
“He’s never said sorry to me before," you break the silence. You look down. “I, um
 Thank you.”
Rafe sits up, his chest tight. He always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you like this is something else. Your guard is down, and you’re offering him a glimpse of the tenderness he’s seen you only give others.
“He always been such a dick?” he murmurs.
“Pretty much.” You cross your arms. “I thought you were about to swing at him.”
“I was.”
The two simple words make warmth flush through you.
“He’s lucky,” you say. “I’ve seen how hard you can punch.”
A smirk pulls on his lips. He swears he sees a hint of a smile on your face, but you look away again.
“Are you still telling my dad stuff about me?” you ask impulsively. You just want to prove to yourself that he’s only here for selfish reasons. That he doesn’t actually care about you.
Rafe’s been doing the bare minimum, sharing the updates he agreed to give Kal, omitting things and making shit up so that he doesn’t say anything that can be used against you.
“Nothing that’ll get you in trouble,” he replies.
You nod. The answer feels good and bad at the same time.
Then, you step away, ripping back the sense of comfort you gave him when you entered the room. You told him he shouldn’t have followed you. Because he refuses to open himself up to rejection again, he won’t.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
You booked the earliest appointment you could with your doctor. He found that your blood pressure was still at a dangerous level, and he put you on temporary medication and advised that you stay away from any substances.
He’d warned you about some possible side effects. You thought you were okay, until the bouts of dizziness set in. So, when you enter the bistro you’ve been scheduled to have lunch at with Rafe, his parents, and your parents, you’re clinging onto his elbow like your life depends on it.
The sight of you stumbling is the last thing you want to give them.
You reach the table. Rafe doesn’t like the feeling of you letting go of him. He especially doesn’t like the feeling of not knowing where you stand.
A pinch of anger bubbles inside you as you sit. It’s what you always feel when you’re around your parents. It’s been a week since you saw them last at your graduation.
Your fathers lead most of the conversation. Your mother mentions how well her campaign is doing, while Rafe’s mother asks polite follow-up questions.
Again, another event that on the outside, looks pleasant. Two families having lunch, meeting to celebrate an engagement. But the truth is that reporters are lurking outside, and the engaged couple doesn’t want any of this.
You notice a stiffness in Rafe that almost concerns you. When his father speaks, Rafe looks at him like he’s taking notes. Like he’ll be tested on it later, and he can’t risk missing a single word.
You hate it about him. This obedient admiration he has for the man who pushed him into this arrangement. Why does he have this ridiculous sense of being indebted to him? All because he had a rough time controlling his drinking once upon a time?
You’d asked him what he could possibly owe. He said whatever I can give.
“Not very good?” Rose asks. You snap out of your daze to notice she’s looking down at your plate, which you haven’t touched since it was placed in front of you a few minutes ago.
“I’m just not hungry,” you say. Your loss of appetite is another symptom of your new meds, another thing you keep private.
She looks at you for a moment, regarding you. You don’t see much of her son at all in her features.
“You’re much quieter than I expected,” she says.
Your knee-jerk reaction is to be on the defense. You’d typically ask if what she expected came from the bullshit they spew in the gossip rags. A party girl, boisterous and disrespectful and loud. But you keep your mouth shut, trying to maintain composure.
She looks to Rafe and offers a small smile.
“It’s what he needs,” she says, leaving you with an unsettled curiosity. You shouldn’t care. You’ve been telling yourself not to. But no matter how hard you try to ignore it, Rafe is a puzzle you want to put together.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
“Does your mom know?” you ask.
Rafe breaks his gaze through the car window as you drive away from the restaurant. Any mention of his mother, and the mistake you’ve made assuming it’s Rose, lodges a sharp pain in his chest.
He only stares at you, brows furrowed.
“I want to know if I need to keep an act up around her,” you explain. “Does she know this is a set-up?”
Rafe takes a beat. Ward told him his wife isn’t in on it. He said he doesn’t want her to have to keep up a lie. All that man cares about is protecting his wife and his daughters.
He shakes his head in response.
“Oh,” you reply. “Okay.”
“What?”
“She called me quiet. Then she said it’s what you need.” You look away. “I didn’t know what to say to that. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
You assume it’s the end of the conversation, picking up your phone. But then Rafe breathes a humorless chuckle.
“Don’t listen to her,” he says, with so much poison in his tone that it sounds like resentment.
It’s clear that he doesn’t hold the same level of respect for her that he holds for his dad. You thought he wanted to impress both of his parents, but you get the sense his loyalty lies with Ward only.
And it proves you right. Rafe doesn’t need a quiet girl. He needs someone to put him in his place when he’s acting like an asshole. If that’s what his Rose meant, that he needs a girl who’ll let him walk all over her, she’s dead wrong.
The ache in Rafe’s core tightens. Rose knows nothing about him. Neither does Ward. But his mom
 she saw him. And it’s an insult to imply that his step-mother is more than she is.
The words spill out, his pain, his sense of justice for his mother’s memory pushing him to say it.
“And she’s not my mom, alright?” he mutters. “Stop calling her that.”
Your stomach sinks, goes ice cold.
Now you’re sure that the conversation is over, because he shifts his body away from you completely, his gaze fixed out the window, as if he shut a door in your face and locked it tight.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
When you wake up a few days later, every bone in your body feels like it’s made of steel. It’s mid-morning. You check your phone to see that Celeste is expecting you and Rafe at the house at lunch for a meeting.
You’re a month away from the wedding. She surely wants to discuss the logistics.
You search online to see what the public is saying. The lie is working. There are still negative things swirling around you, like always, but people are actually saying good things, too, specifically surrounding the photo of you and Rafe at the fundraiser.
Celeste had spun the story, writing that your tears were a result of being moved by the charity’s presentation. The fabrication feels so wrong, but then again, all of this does.
You open the comments under a social post, still getting used to the fact that the ones with the most likes aren’t scathing at all.
Say what you will but you can tell she’s been through it. I love this for her
This is actually so cute like why am I tearing up right now?
This kinda melted my cold heart
You hate to admit it, but the rebrand is working. It’s ironic that so much of it is due to a photo that wasn’t even planned. You hate that such a painful, private moment is being splashed everywhere, but you’ve accepted long ago that there’s no stopping the rumor mill.
You land on the first harsh comment in the thread, scoffing at it.
I give it another week
You wish you could reply: Try a couple more months. You can’t define the feeling that twists inside you when you think about moving away and leaving everything, leaving Rafe, behind.
You scroll up to the photo again, never having seen yourself look so weak, curled up under his jacket.
Things between you are in another tense, silent period, catapulted by your conversation in the car. Rafe does a very good job avoiding you.
You’re glad, because you can feel yourself starting to long for him, and that’s the last thing you need. You need to keep him at a distance. You need to forget the way he held you.
You muster up the strength to stand up. You brush your teeth. You make your bed. And you have to lie back down. Your illness is going to make it a difficult day.
A few minutes pass before there’s a knock on the door. It’s surely Rafe, keeping tabs on you, making sure you’ll be attending today’s meeting.
“What?” you call.
“Can I come in?”
This isn’t the man who used to barge into your room, who acted like privacy was a privilege. Still, it hurts that when he met you, he saw you as someone who didn’t deserve respect. That he had to see you get hurt to treat you decently.
“Yeah,” you answer. You wait for him to make a harsh comment about how you’re still in bed, just like he did mere days after you met, when he sees you. But he doesn’t.
If Rafe didn’t already know you were sick, his experience of living with someone with a chronic illness would make him suspect it now. You’re clearly exhausted. You’ve been exhausted. But you won’t let him in.
“You good?” he asks.
You sit up, hardly hiding your wince. You’re far from good. You can’t even fake it. And you can only hope that the protectiveness he’s shown towards you is real and still there.
“I can’t go today,” you confess. “I must’ve caught something.”
He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. On the outside, he’s steady. On the inside, his heart is pounding so hard it hurts.
He’s stood in this place before, witnessing someone struggling with their health. And he remembers what his mom always asked of the people who took care of her; to never assume what she wanted. She was determined to keep her dignity, to prove that she was still her own person, who could voice her own needs.
He’s not sure if you’re the same way, but from what he knows about you, you hate when people try to speak for you or tell you what to do.
“What do you need?” he asks.
You bite the inside of your cheek, jarred. It’s just like when all this started, when he asked you what he had to do for you to comply. It came from a place of frustration. Desperation.
But the look on his face tells you this isn’t the same. You’re afraid to think it, but he looks like he cares.
You only need one thing right now. A way out of that meeting.
“Can you cancel?” you ask. “And don’t say it’s because of me?”
Rafe stills. Then, he pulls out his phone. To your surprise, he does it. He puts the phone to his ear. A few seconds pass.
“Hey, today’s not happening,” he says, voice low, eyes trained on you. “No, I’m too swamped at work. We’ll do it tomorrow, alright?”
He hangs up. You study him. Everything in your mind is screaming at you not to fall for it. It’s like your survival instinct is pushing you to question him, to find a crack in his facade. Your mind refuses to stop trying to find something to prove that he’s not being sincere.
“What if it gets back to your dad?”
He shrugs passively.
“Don’t you care about what he thinks?”
“I do,” he says. His answer disappoints you.
“Right,” you murmur. “Wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
Rafe scoffs. It’s like you’re repulsed with him for doing this for his father, even after he told you he does it because he owes him. After everything, after the things he’s done to try to help you and take care of you, you treat him like he disgusts you.
“We’re almost through this,” he mutters, “and you’re still holding this shit over my head. Give it a rest.”
He starts to turn away, tilting towards the door, but you can’t ignore the ache pulling at you.
“Okay,” you say, not thinking through your words, just wanting him to stay. “Sorry. Just
 sit for a second.”
He hesitates. But then, because you have some insane hold on him that he can’t shake, he does it. On the edge of your bed, in the corner.
You sit a little straighter, cocking your head, your eyes travelling over his hardened features.
“Do you regret it?” you ask, because maybe he’ll answer no, and then you can be sure he’s just as cruel as you thought he was.
“Regret what?”
“Signing up for this.”
He breathes a scoff, as if you should already know.
“Obviously,” he says, and honestly, it’s mostly because of how it made you see him. If you met another way, maybe everything would be different.
Your eyes are soft as they travel over his face. He’d do anything to know what you’re thinking. He loathes himself right now for agreeing to put the beautiful, complicated woman sitting across from him through this.
“But you felt like you had to?” you ask, the need to understand still pulling at you.
Rafe’s lips flatten, and it kills him to keep yet another thing from you, but telling the truth is too much of a risk.
You’ve shown him how spiteful you can be. If he fucked up everything he’s been working so hard for because he let something like his father’s deal slip, he’d never be able to live with himself.
He nods in response.
“And he’s the only one who knows?” you ask.
The reminder of your last conversation hangs in the air now.
“Yeah,” he answers.
The silence is thick and heavy. You take a breath. You can’t find it in yourself to hold onto any bitterness towards him right now, not even a little. If you understood correctly, his mother isn’t in his life.
“When did you lose her?” you half-whisper, thinking that if he doesn’t answer, you won’t push.
The air between you is fragile, a sort of vulnerability that even the other night at the fundraiser didn’t hold.
Rafe looks away. Your engagement ring sits on your nightstand. It should be a reminder of how artificial all of this is, but right now, nothing between you feels strained or fake.
If he has to lie about so many other things, he doesn’t have to lie about this.
“A long time ago,” he finally says.
Your heart twists in pain. There’s so much you don’t know. You didn’t think anything about him was worth knowing.
“I’m so sorry,” you say in a hush. Despite how heavy your body feels, you give into your impulse and shift closer to put a hand over his.
Rafe looks down at where you’re touching him, not out of obligation, not for a carnal release, but because you want to comfort him. It softens his walls, stirring a need to express just how much admiration he held for his mom.
“She fought hard," he murmurs.
The knife in you twists. It was an accident or an illness that took his mother. A battle she lost. And it tears into you. The day he found you with your nurse. You knew there was something more to his reaction, saying he didn’t want that kind of shit in his house.
It wasn’t about you having someone here without him knowing. It was about a painful reminder. It had to be.
“When you saw a nurse here
” Your brows furrow. “Was she sick?”
His throat goes dry. He should’ve known you’d be smart enough to connect the dots. You see it now, that that’s why he reacted how he did, why he shouted at you after you’d reached a place of amicability.
His eyes won’t meet yours. He doesn’t need to answer. He would deny it if you were wrong.
“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, moving to wrap your arms around him now, perched on your knees, your face buried in his neck.
Rafe doesn’t know how to relive this with a woman who rejected him after he’d tried to tell her that he’ll look out for her. A woman who’ll always hate him.
But your grip around him tightens, even when he doesn’t hug back, and it must mean that you don’t completely hate him, not all the way.
He gives in, holds you, breathes in your comforting scent, mentally scolding himself for the awful things he once thought of you. You’re flawed, but you’re perfect at the same time, and he was an idiot to not see it.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
Celeste had no choice but to agree with Rafe’s abrupt call to reschedule the meeting to the next day. But she moved it to first thing in the morning, in your home, giving you no way out.
She sits in the living room, going over the schedule on her laptop, rattling off information, unaware of the heaviness that’s lodged itself between you and Rafe.
You haven’t stopped thinking about him. Yesterday, he opened up a wound you didn’t know he had. Every one of your conversations since have been brief and careful.
“Your dress fitting is on Saturday at two,” Celeste tells you. “And a bachelorette party is not on the calendar.”
“As if I’d want one,” you say flatly. “Is that all?”
She crosses her arms, looking unimpressed as she studies both of you.
“You have reservations for tonight,” Celeste reminds you. “There are eyes on you. No more of your little panic attacks.”
Fire rips through Rafe, the reminder of the way you’d trembled in his arms permeating his mind.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he mutters.
Her face pinches in frustration, while yours softens with relief. Being protected still feels unfamiliar, and your impulse is to mistrust it, to fight it, but you let yourself embrace it. Just for a little.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
After Celeste leaves, you lock the door behind her and glance over your shoulder into the living room. Rafe is about to head to his side of the penthouse, but you stop him when you speak.
“She looked mad when you stood up for me.”
He scratches the back of his neck, reminded of how he thought the same thing about your father when he defended you.
“Yeah,” he replies. “It pisses them off that we’re getting along.”
You nod, studying him with a curious glance.
“Who said we’re getting along?” you joke.
His lips curl into a smirk. You smile back. And although you’re exhausted, you find yourself looking forward to your date tonight.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
You’re at the same restaurant you came to for your first date, on the balcony, overlooking the sea, candles flickering and waves crashing. When the waiter comes by offering wine, you politely decline.
“No?” Rafe mumbles.
You look at him with subdued confusion. It’s like you’re so used to being seen in a bad light that you think you’re invisible when you do something that’s not fuel for criticism.
“I’m cutting back,” you answer honestly.
And it’d be nice to say it out loud. The truth. That as much as you’d love to loosen up right now, your last trip to your doctor has frightened you too much to drink. But it’s a piece of you that’s yours.
Your lips twist in thought as you gaze out at the water. You wonder how bad it got for him, the rough patch he brought up before. It springs your brother’s harsh comments about your own drinking to mind, which reminds you all over again about his wife’s pregnancy, and how it was the match that lit the fuse of your flare-up.
Rafe watches you, the way your eyes grow distant.
“What is it?” he murmurs.
You look at him again. He must have caught onto your grimace. It’s still so unfamiliar to be watched like this. To be cared for.
“I don’t think my brother’s going to be a good parent,” you confess. He recalls how you said you were scared for the baby. “He practically worships our dad. He wants to be just like him. And I think he will be.”
It reminds Rafe of the disdain you have for him for wanting to impress his own father. Your observation from all those nights ago stuck to him, when you pointed out his dad’s passive aggression, suggested that Rafe practically waits to be told what to think.
You’ve been around people vying for that kind of approval all your life. That’s part of the reason you’d thought so low of him. Maybe you still do. And he wants to know what they did.
“What was it like growing up?” he says.
You look down at the menu, your pulse picking up. You’d told your close friends about how difficult your family is, but the thought of saying it Rafe gives you a pinch of anxiety.
Even though he’s spoken badly about them, even though he’s been standing up for you, what if he agrees with them?
You care what he thinks. It’s frustrating, but you do. And because you keep trying to prove to yourself that he’s insincere, you decide to tell him the truth.
“I questioned everything and they hated that,” you begin. “I always figured they regretted having me, but my dad
 He told me I was a mistake to make sure I knew.”
You take a breath.
“My mom’s never said it out loud,” you continue, “but she thinks the same. She criticizes everything I do and she’d watch me get bullied by all of them and she’d say nothing. It was just
 four against one. All the time.”
Rafe’s face is pinched in ache, like you just physically hurt him with your words.
“He said that to you?” he says, his tone somewhere between shock and anger. “A mistake?”
“Yeah,” you reply. “So, I just
 I started doing whatever I wanted. There was no point in trying to please them.”
And that’s the difference between you. You stopped trying to win an unwinnable game. But Rafe is still playing, still determined to do well enough that it’ll make his father finally proud of him.
He can’t think about the possibility of not getting there. He won’t. He’s built his entire life around his career, around taking over the family business one day. His situation is different. You can cut the ties. He can’t.
“I know you think I’m like your brother,” Rafe says, his voice low, “but I told you that shit with my dad is complicated.”
“I don’t think you’re like him,” you say, admittedly touched that he cares about your opinion of him. “He wouldn’t regret anything he did to get ahead.”
“If I could go back, I would,” he confirms, and he means it.
No amount of impressing his dad makes putting you through this worth it. This was just another way for your parents to control you, and he hates that he helped them.
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” he says. “I just wanted to help him and – and prove myself and I shouldn’t have fucked with your life like this.”
“Yeah.” You blink, unsure if you can ever fully forgive him, but keen to put it behind you. “What’s done is done. We just have a wedding to get through and it’s over and I’m gone.”
“Gone?”
You gaze at him. Silently. And you nod and hope that it doesn’t backfire.
“And it does piss them off that we’re being civil with each other,” you say. “They were banking on you hating me."
You let out a shaky sigh, looking down at the menu again, unsure of what to do with how raw and exposed your heart is right now. You never thought you’d tell him all this, never thought that he’d care, and now it sits between you, this ugly truth you try to avoid.
Rafe grimaces. You’re right. Your father expected you not to cooperate. He even told Rafe to not let you manipulate him. It’s such bullshit. There’s so much to you and nobody has ever cared enough to look.
They were idiots for it. For making you feel so lonely. For calling you a mistake. For not giving you with the care you deserved. He doesn’t even know how long you’ve been dealing with your illness.
“They’re missing out on you,” he says.
You meet his gaze, lips slightly parted, stunned. Your eyes travel over his face, almost as if you’re waiting for him to take it back, to say that this is some cruel joke.
But he stares at you like he just said the most obvious fact in the world.
And in this fragile, bleak, and completely unexpected moment, you see each other as who you are. Just two people, trapped in very different ways, trying to escape.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
The beach is practically barren, blanketed in night. You suggested walking along the shore after dinner, craving to take a step outside of the staged dates and the condo you’ve been spending so much time in, eager to taste the cool, salty air, to walk beneath the stars.
The rhythmic waves are a hush in your ears as you hold your shoes in your hand, pacing next to Rafe, settled in the quiet comfortability you’ve found together. The sand is cool beneath your feet, birds calling in the distance, your heart pounding in your ears.
You’re thinking about how in the world you’re going to get through hours of photographs at the wedding when frigid water swells over your toes, causing you to squeal and rush away from the shoreline.
“It’s just water,” Rafe teases, a boyish chuckle in his words. “You scared?”
You scoff, glaring at him, that same spark he saw the moment you walked into the room the day you met now on your face. You stand firm, letting the impulsive idea that just sprung to your mind come to life.
“No,” you reply, finding the zipper on the side of your dress, staring at him as you pull it down. “Are you?”
His teeth drag over his bottom lip as your dress falls to the sand, leaving you to in your bra and panties as you pace towards the water. You look over your shoulder and Rafe swears you’re carrying his heart into the sea with you.
“So, you are,” you shout over the waves, wearing a smile. Fuck, he’d do anything for that smile.
You slowly lower into the frigid depths, turning to face him all the way, shuddering as you sink until the water is at your collarbones.
Your core twists watching Rafe shake his head, then begin to unbutton his shirt, humoring you. When he gets down to his boxers, he reaches you, the water line at his torso, eyes searching your face.
“Cold?” you say.
“Not at all.”
“So, what’s happening here?” you tease, reaching forward, fingers tracing over the goosebumps that have formed along his chest, visible in the moonlight.
“Nothing,” he replies.
You chuckle, wait for the water to feel more comfortable, but the cold is settling into your bones.
“Why did I do this?” you wince.
“To prove a point.”
“What was it again?”
“I never know with you.”
You don’t stifle your laugh, letting it carry over the water. Rafe never thought he’d be the reason behind your smile or your laugh and it feels fucking incredible to be.
You wade in the water together, the moment stretching out, gazes locked, your hand still on his chest, the faint beating against your palm matching with yours.
His eyes drift to your mouth, and he closes the distance to lean in and press his lips on yours.
When he pulls back, his hands find their way to your cheeks, cupping your face like he did before. Holding you like he found something precious. And for the first time in your life, you feel like you are.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
It won’t kill her, but she likes to act like it will.
Rafe turns off the shower, stepping out and wrapping a towel around his hips, unsure if his heart has ever thumped this hard before.
Your father’s words won’t stop replaying in his head, a reminder of how you fight a silent battle every day, one that you feel like you can’t tell him about.
You don’t act like it will kill you. You act like nothing could. It takes bravery to be like that, to live your life so fearlessly, to refuse to play along with the bullshit your family puts on you, and it infuriates him to no end that you were forced to live such a hard, lonely existence.
You push him to his limits in good ways, in bad ones, and he’s never had that before. It’s fucked up not to tell you that he knows you’re sick. He thought he was doing the right thing, but he’s not.
When he hears his name in your voice, soft and sweet, on the other side of his bedroom door, he opens it like he just might die if he’s not fast enough.
Your eyes drift to the towel sitting on his hips, holding your own towel wrapped around your body.
“We match,” you say lightheartedly.
“Yeah,” he says with a soft laugh.
You take a few breaths, ready to tell him what you’d rehearsed in the shower. As unexpectedly incredible tonight has been, you know this can’t go anywhere.
Rafe’s brows furrow, the worried look on your face cutting into him.
“You okay, baby?” he says quietly. His words and the way he said them makes it harder for you to tell him.
He’ll always be the man that trapped you. He regrets it, and again, you find yourself wishing you could be better, but you’ve lived with so much anger for so long that you can’t let it go.
This whole thing has put your health in danger. It was just another way for your family to degrade you, to dangle your trust fund in front of you, and he let them.
Nothing and nobody could keep you tied here. You need him to know that.
“I meant it,” you say. “I’m leaving after the contract is up.”
Rafe’s mouth opens, just a little. He won’t make you explain yourself. Not when you look so concerned. So scared.
“Okay,” he answers.
Because that’s all he can say. You’ll leave. He’s not worth even thinking about staying for and it’s better this way, because what if it happens again? What if an illness takes away someone he loves again?
It comes to him in a rush. Love.
Even after seeing the worst of you, after being so sure he’s never been so damn frustrated with anyone in his life, you took a piece of him he can’t ever get back. And to you, whatever he is, whatever you have, isn’t worth keeping.
This whole thing was always destined to end and he’ll lie to himself that the remaining weeks he has with you are enough.
“Come here,” Rafe says, reaching forward before the words are even out of his mouth.
You obey, and his arms are around you within seconds, his open mouth hot and wet on yours, hands wandering. Your towels drop to his bedroom floor, your bare bodies pressed together as you stumble your way to his bed.
Your back hits the soft mattress and you watch as he shifts to hover over you, brushing two fingers over his tongue, putting them between your legs. You exhale in pleasure when his firm fingers graze against you, euphoria curling at the bottom of your stomach, hips bucking to his touch.
His eyes travel over your face as he traces over your soft core, feeling you get wetter, feeling himself get harder.
“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he rasps. You grip his shoulder, pulling him closer so he’ll kiss you again and again, writhing against him because you can’t wait to feel him.
His heart is in his throat when he feels you lower your hand to cup him, stroking his length as you guide him inside.
His eyes roll back when he sinks into your heat, groaning in pleasure. You wrap yourself around him and let the heavy, hard pressure consume you, let yourself drift into the pure bliss that only he can give you.
His breaths are hot on your cheek as he thrusts. His hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers. And every movement is perfect, rhythmic, unreal.
You come with a tremble, unraveling beneath him, shutting your eyes as he cups your face.
“Look at me,” he whispers, and you do, forgetting that one day, you’ll see his eyes for the last time, and instead, letting yourself believe that this will work out, that it has to.
Afterwards, you lie wrapped up in each other, bodies bare, skin warm. With the comedown, the truth settles in you.
This is what it was meant to be. Something destined to end. It’s why eventually, you find it in you to get out of his bed and leave his room.
You’ve spent your entire life giving into impulse. But this is the first time that it feels like if you do what you want, if you let yourself fall asleep in Rafe’s arms, let yourself believe this could turn into something real and healthy and lasting, it will destroy you.
The door creaks behind you. Losing your touch, your warmth, makes Rafe’s heart crack open. And as he lies in his bed, he has to face it: you’re basically already gone. And his world will always feels colder without you in it.
(to be continued)
my update account is @xorafe-library if you want post notifications.
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nadvs · 5 days ago
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whenever you are ready and happy to post, we will be here! You thank us for patience but thank you for all your hard work 💜💜 Very excited for the next chapter!!
my heart is glowing, i love y’all so much đŸ„č thank you!!
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nadvs · 6 days ago
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Do you know when you’ll post it no rush or anything
99% sure i’ll be able to post it tmrw night đŸ™‚â€â†•ïž sorry i’ve been so bad at posting when i say i will!! hugging y’all for your patience đŸ«‚đŸ’˜
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nadvs · 6 days ago
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just reread chapter 7 of escapism and the way my heart Soared when he called her baby for the first time
 life changing 😭
eee đŸ€­ and this man is just going to get more protective and more whipped from this point on hehe
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