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HEARTBREAK: OFFLINE | 64
All | MASTERLIST (SMAU)
Pairing â Ex-BF!Rafe x Radio Host!Female Reader
Summary â You and Rafe were the perfect couple. But after a mysterious breakup, you went off the grid. When your best friends pulls you back into the spotlight to host a on-campus radio show, you find yourself opening up to the world about your experience. This time, with everyone listeningâincluding Rafe. And him? He wants you back.
Content â college au, football player!rafe au
Navigation â Part 63 | Part 64 | Part 65
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RAFE CAMERON - not so cocky
F1!driver!rafe cameron x FEM!reader - MASTERLIST
SUMMARY: based on this request
WORD COUNT: +4.9k
GENRE: fluff
CONTENT WARNING: i couldn't help myself and made him drive for ferrari since thats the team i support :P
itâs a tuesday afternoon, and youâre in your pajamasâbaggy sweats and an oversized t-shirt you probably shouldnât still own. youâre curled up on your couch, a blanket cocooned around you as some random show plays in the background. the ice cream in your lap is half-melted, but you donât care.
then the knock comes. a sharp sound that instantly makes you groan.
you donât move at first, hoping whoever it is will just go away, but then your phone buzzes: âwe know youâre home. open the door.â
you shuffle to the door and open it, blinking into the daylight like a mole emerging from its hole. standing there, arms crossed and looking unimpressed, are your two best friends.
âitâs literally two p.m.,â abby says, squinting past you into your dimly lit apartment.
âyeah? so?â you reply, scratching your head. âitâs only two p.m.â
âon a tuesday.â
you shrug. âtimeâs a social construct.â
they both push past you into the apartment, already on a mission. jen opens the blinds, flooding your space with light, while abby heads straight to the kitchen. âwhenâs the last time you ate something that wasnât ice cream?â
âlast night?â you lie.
âweâre ordering pizza,â jen announces. âand donât even think about arguing.â
you donât argue. honestly, itâs kind of nice having them here. soon enough, the pizza arrives, and the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills your apartment. they bring out sodas, too, and one of them starts rifling through your collection of formula one merchât-shirts, mugs, even the throw pillow you bought on a whim last year.
âokay, since youâre clearly still in your pity era,â abby says, rolling her eyes dramatically
ânever say that again,â jen gapes at her.
abby rolled her eyes at her, âanyway, weâre doing a mid-week f1 sleepover. youâre not getting rid of us.â
you donât even try to fight it. this has become a weekly-ish ritual at this pointâyour friends invading your space, throwing on a highlight reel from last weekendâs race, and forcing you to laugh at their awful commentary. by the time the sun sets, the couch is littered with pizza crusts and soda cans, and for the first time in days, you feel something close to normal.
the three of you are sprawled across your living room, pizza boxes open on the coffee table, the tv blaring the sound of engines as the formula one race unfolds. abby is clutching a throw pillow like itâs a steering wheel, yelling at the screen.
âiâm telling you, charles is going to take it this time!â abby declares, pointing wildly at the screen as charles leclerc manoeuvres through the track.
âplease,â jen scoffs, leaning back with a slice of pizza. âverstappen has this in the bag, like always. heâs unstoppable.â
âunstoppable until he gets cocky and screws up his pit stop,â abby fires back.
you chuckle, keeping your eyes on the screen. âyou two have had this exact argument every single week. neither of you is changing your mind.â
âbecause sheâs wrong,â jen says, pointing at abby with a pizza piece.
âand sheâs delusional,â abby fires back, throwing a pillow.
âoh my gosh, both of you, can we just watch without fighting?â you groan, though thereâs a faint smile tugging at your lips. this bickering is as much a part of your race nights as the pizza.
jen smirks, not missing a beat. âoh, and youâre one to talk? we all know youâre obsessed with rafe cameron.â
you nearly choke on your drink. âi am not.â
âyou literally blush every time his name comes up,â abby teases, nudging your shoulder.
âdo not,â you mutter, sinking lower into the couch.
jen sits up suddenly, her face lighting up with an idea. âwait, speaking of himâdid you guys hear about that competition? the one where you can win a seat next to him for a day? he drives you around in his race car, and itâs for charity or something.â
âstop.â you wave her off, your voice flat. âjust stop.â
âno, seriously!â jen presses, pulling her phone out to look it up. âitâs legit. they posted it on the f1 page. all you have to do is enter, and they pick a winner. imagine sitting next to rafe cameron while he drives at, like, two hundred miles an hour!â
âjennifer, no,â you say, glaring at her. âthatâs insane. why would anyone want to do that?â
âwhy wouldnât you?â abby jumps in, grinning. âyou get to sit in a race car, with rafe cameron. i mean, if i could, iâd already be entering.â
âdonât lie, youâd only go if it was charles doing it,â jen shook her head.
âyou guys are ridiculous,â you mutter, shaking your head. âas if weâd actually made a chance.â
âbesidesâ she says innocently. âiâm just saying. you love formula one, and you obviously love rafe. iâve seen the way you look at the screen when heâs on.â
you groan, tossing a pillow in her direction. âshut up.â
âyeah,â abby chimes in, smirking. âall heart-eyes and âoh, rafe is such a good driver.ââ
you scoff, though your face is heating up. âi donât sound like that.â
âyou do,â they say in unison, and you hate how much theyâre enjoying this.
itâs friday morning when jen and abby show up at your door, both of them practically vibrating with excitement.
âopen up!â jen yells, banging on the door.
you groan, dragging yourself out of bed and to the door, still in your pajamas. when you open it, jen is already halfway inside, holding up a bright pink duffel bag. abbyâs standing behind her, an equally mischievous grin on her face.
âget dressed,â jen says, brushing past you into your living room. her dark curls are pulled back into a curly bun, and sheâs rocking a pastel tracksuit that looks effortless on her. âweâre going out.â
âand not to the grocery store,â abby adds, following closely behind. her straight, glossy black hair is tied in a high ponytail. âbut, maybe we should, just in case.â
âwhat is going on?â you mumble, yawning.
âspa day!â jen announces, setting the duffel down on your couch. âand before you say anything, no, you donât get a choice.â
âwhy?â you ask, blinking at them. âiâm good here. i donât need to go out.â
jen sets her bag down with a dramatic gesture. âgirl, no. youâve been âgood hereâ for three months, and weâre not letting you wallow anymore.â
âweâre going all out,â abby adds, stepping inside. her sleek ponytail swings as she gestures toward the bag. ânails, hair, brows, lashesâeverything.â
you blink at them. âwhy do i need a spa day?â
âbecause you need to get ready for spa weekend,â jen says, emphasizing the word with a grin.
you stare at her blankly. âwhat are you talking about?â
abby rolls her eyes and flops onto your couch, crossing her legs. âthe belgian grand prix. at spa-francorchamps. your favorite track. weâre going.â
your jaw drops. âyouâre kidding.â
âwe are not,â jen says, pulling out her phone and waving the email confirmation in your face. âtwo nights in a cute little airbnb, paddock passes for the race, and the works.â
âwe saved for this forever,â abby says. âand letâs be honest, you need this.â
âand you just⊠decided to surprise me?â you ask, trying to keep calm and collected whilst wrapping your head around the idea of going to a fomula 1 race.
jen smirks. âwell, we didnât think youâd agree if we told you ahead of time. and now, you canât back out.â
âbesides,â abby adds, âyouâve been talking about spa for years. âoh, itâs so historic, itâs the best track, the corners are iconic.â youâre gonna lose your mind when weâre there.â
you can feel your heart racing, the excitement bubbling under your skin despite yourself. youâve dreamed of going to spa-francorchamps for as long as you can remember.
âso,â jen says, crossing her arms. âare you coming, or are you gonna sit here in your sad little cocoon and regret it forever?â
âobviously iâm coming,â you squeal with delight, a big grin painting your face.
âgreat,â abby says, hopping up and clapping her hands together. âthen letâs get you race-weekend ready.â
the drive to spa-francorchamps is electric. you, jen, and abby are packed into a rental car, your bags crammed into the trunk, the radio blasting a mix of pop music and sing-along songs. every few minutes, one of you squeals about somethingâwhether itâs the scenery, the fact that youâre actually going to spa, or the vip paddock passes tucked safely in jenâs bag.
âcan you believe this?â you ask, practically bouncing in your seat. âweâre going to spa. i mean, eau rouge, blanchimont, la sourceâitâs iconic.â
âwe know,â abby says with a grin. âyouâve been talking about it nonstop since we booked this trip.â
âyouâre gonna cry when you see it,â jen teases from the driverâs seat. âi swear, youâre worse than those drivers who kiss the track.â
you laugh, but deep down, you know sheâs right.
the airbnb is a cozy, modern expensive cottage just outside the circuit. the three of you walk in, and youâre immediately blown away. sleek wood paneling, a spacious living area, and a kitchen stocked with snacks and, most importantly, champagne.
âthis is perfect,â abby says, dropping her bag on the floor and kicking off her shoes. âi feel like a celebrity already.â
jen pops open a bottle of champagne while you and abby explore the place, claiming bedrooms and marveling at the view of the surrounding hills. by the time you all settle in the living room, glasses in hand, the excitement is palpable.
âto spa,â jen says, raising her glass.
âto the best trip ever,â abby adds.
âto eau rouge,â you say with a grin.
you all clink glasses and take a sip, the bubbles fizzing on your tongue. for the first time in months, you feel light. happy. like yourself again.
âokay, okay,â jen says, pulling her phone out of her pocket. âbefore we get too tipsy, thereâs one more thing we need to do.â
âwhat now?â you ask, sinking into the couch.
jen exchanges a look with abby, whoâs barely containing her grin.
âwe have a surprise,â abby says, pulling her laptop out of her bag. she opens it up and types something in while you watch, confused.
âguys,â you say. âwhatâs going on?â
jen leans over and taps a key, turning the screen toward you. âread this.â
you blink at the email in front of you. the subject line reads: âCongratulations! Youâve won the Scuderia Ferrari F1 Experience!â
âwhat is this?â you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
âitâs that competition we entered,â jen says, smirking. âyou know, the one to sit beside rafe cameron while he drives you around in his f1 car? yeah, you won.â
your jaw drops. âyouâre joking.â
ânope,â abby says, grinning. âyouâre meeting him. this weekend. in spa. we didnât tell you earlier because we knew youâd freak out.â
âiâm already freaking out!â you yell, scrambling to reread the email. âhowâwhenâwhy didnât you text me?â
jen laughs, sipping her champagne. âbecause this reaction is way better in person.â
âplus, we knew youâd try to back out,â abby says. âand thereâs no way weâre letting that happen.â
you stare at the email, your heart pounding. rafe cameron. the golden boy of formula one. the guy whose posters are still taped to your bedroom wall. the one youâve lowkey crushed on for years. and now, youâre going to meet him.
âoh my gosh,â you whisper, looking up at them. âwhat am i supposed to say to him? what am i supposed to wear?â
âdonât worry,â jen says, smirking. âweâve got you covered. now drink your champagne and start practicing your âhi, iâm not a complete disasterâ speech.â
abby laughs. âyeah, maybe skip the part where you cried during the monza race last year.â
âshut up!â you say, throwing a pillow at her, but you canât stop the grin spreading across your face. because for the first time in forever, youâre genuinely, wildly excited.
monday morning feels surreal. the entire weekend at spa-francorchamps had been a dreamâa whirlwind of roaring engines, flashing cameras, and the electric buzz of formula one. the race had been the highlight: the screams of the crowd as rafe crossed the line in p3, a hard-fought podium for scuderia ferrari. youâd cheered so loud you thought you might lose your voice, jumping up and down with jen and abby as the tifosi flags waved around you.
now, the reality of whatâs about to happen is hitting you like a freight train. youâre sitting at the little dining table in your airbnb, staring at a perfectly brewed cup of coffee you havenât touched. the sunlight filters through the windows, but it does nothing to calm the swarm of butterflies in your stomach.
âyou good?â abby asks, leaning against the kitchen counter as she scrolls through her phone. sheâs already dressed for the day, her outfit chic and effortless.
âdefine âgood,ââ you mumble, tapping your fingers nervously on the table. âbecause I think Iâm having a heart attack.â
jen, whoâs been rifling through her makeup bag, snorts. âyouâre not having a heart attack. youâre just meeting rafe cameron. no big deal, right?â
âyeah, just the literal guy whose career youâve followed for years,â abby says, smirking.
âthe one youâre constantly defending on twitter,â jen adds with a teasing grin. âyouâre basically his unofficial PR rep.â
âyouâre both the worst,â you mutter, but thereâs no real heat in your voice. you know theyâre right.
abby sets her phone down and walks over to you, resting her hands on your shoulders. âlisten, youâve got this. heâs just a guy. a really, really attractive guy who drives at, like, 200 miles per hour for a living. no pressure.â
âyouâre not helping,â you groan, burying your face in your hands.
jen laughs, zipping up her makeup bag and tossing it onto the couch. âignore her. just remember: be cool, donât fangirl too hard, and for your sake, donât mention that you cried when he won monza last year.â
âiâm never telling you anything again,â you grumble, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward despite yourself.
after going to the ferrari hospitality room the three of you waited untilâa knock at the door makes you freeze. all three of you exchange a look.
âitâs time,â abby says, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.
âgo get him, tiger,â jen says, giving you a little shove toward the door.
your heart pounds as you open it, and standing there, in all his post-race glory, is rafe cameron. heâs in a casual scuderia ferrari polo, his signature blond hair slightly tousled, and those piercing blue eyes that seem even more intense in person.
âhi,â you manage to squeak out, which is honestly an achievement considering rafe cameron is standing two feet away from you, looking like he just stepped out of a Ferrari promo shoot.
âhi,â he says again, and the way his voice soundsâlow, smooth, a little gravellyâsends your brain spiraling. âiâm rafe⊠uh, cameron. rafe cameron.â
your heart swells, you were sure your face was heating up. hearing his voice in real life was so much different then in screen. you give him a nod as you replied, âiâm y/n.â
âyou ready?â
ready? absolutely not. but you nod anyway, because thereâs no way youâre backing out now. âyeah, totally. letâs do this.â
rafe chuckles, his smile growing a little wider, and he gestures toward the bright red Ferrari waiting in the driveway. itâs the sleekest, shiniest car youâve ever seen, and your heart skips a beat just looking at it.
âafter you,â he says, stepping aside to let you pass.
you move toward the car, hyper-aware of every step you take, and slide into the passenger seat. the leather feels buttery-soft beneath you, and the interior smells faintly of something expensive and clean. you fumble with the seatbelt, trying to act casual, but the buckle refuses to click into place.
âuh,â you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as you wrestle with it. âthis is fine. totally fine.â
âneed some help?â rafe asks, already leaning over before you can say no.
your breath hitches as he moves closer, his arm brushing against yours. he smells like a mix of cologne and engine oil, and the proximity is almost too much to handle. his fingers brush yours as he takes the buckle, and you swear you forget how to breathe.
âhere,â he says softly, sliding the buckle into place with a satisfying click. âgot it.â
âthanks,â you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. youâre hyper-aware of how close he is, his face just inches from yours, his blue eyes catching the light in a way thatâs downright distracting.
âno problem,â he says, his gaze lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary before he pulls back. âsafety first, right?â
you let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding, forcing yourself to focus on somethingâanythingâother than the way your heart is pounding.
âright. safety first,â you echo, trying to sound normal, which is nearly impossible when rafe cameron is looking at you like that.
he starts the car, and the engine roars to life, the sound sending a thrill through you. âready?â he asks again, glancing at you with a small, knowing smile.
âready,â you say, gripping the edge of your seat like itâs the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.
but deep down, you know youâre not ready. not for the car, not for the speed, and definitely not for rafe cameron.
the roar of the engine vibrates through the car as rafe pulls out onto the private track, the red Ferrari handling like a dream under his control. youâre gripping the seat, trying to act chill, but the sheer power of the car is making your heart race. or maybe itâs rafe. hard to say.
âso,â he says, his eyes flicking toward you briefly, a small smirk tugging at his lips, âhave you ever been in a car like this before?â
ânot even close,â you admit, trying not to sound too breathless.
âfigured,â he teases lightly, his smirk deepening. âmost people donât have âf1 passenger seatâ on their bucket list. youâre kind of unique that way.â
you raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a spark of courage. âunique? is that your way of saying Iâm a little weird?â
he laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and it makes you feel oddly triumphant. âno, itâs my way of saying youâve got good taste. not everyone appreciates what these cars can really do.â
before you can respond, he presses the accelerator, and the car launches forward with a force that presses you back into your seat. a surprised laugh escapes you as the world outside becomes a blur of colors.
âwhoa!â you exclaim, gripping the door handle.
âyou good?â he asks, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
âi think so,â you manage, your voice tinged with nervous laughter. âjust wasnât expecting that.â
âyouâve gotta trust me,â he says, his tone softening a little. âiâve done this a couple of times before, you know.â
âoh, really? i had no idea,â you say dryly, earning another laugh from him.
he takes the first corner with surgical precision, the car hugging the curve effortlessly. you canât help but admire how smooth and controlled his movements are, even at this speed.
âyouâre good at this,â you say, half-teasing, half-serious.
âthanks,â he says, shooting you a quick grin. âi try.â
he slows down just enough to let you catch your breath before speeding up again. âso,â he starts, his voice casual, âdo you have a favorite driver? besides me, of course.â
you roll your eyes, but you canât help smiling. âoh, obviously youâre the best,â you say, playing along. âbut charles and lewis are up there too.â
âcharles, huh?â he says, raising an eyebrow. âi shouldâve known youâd be a ferrari loyalist.â
âwhat can i say?â you reply with a shrug. âi love the drama.â
âwell, weâve got plenty of that,â he says with a chuckle. âbut if i ever see you in a lewis hat, itâs over.â
you laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a little. ânoted. no lewis merch around you.â
he takes another corner, and you feel the g-force push you sideways. heâs watching you out of the corner of his eye, clearly amused by your reaction.
âyouâre handling this pretty well,â he says. âmost people scream.â
âi might start,â you say, gripping the seatbelt as he picks up speed again.
he grins, his eyes sparkling. âdonât worry. iâll slow down if you ask.â
âdonât you dare,â you shoot back, surprising yourself with the boldness in your tone.
his laugh echoes through the car, and for a moment, you forget about the speed, the track, and everything else. itâs just you and rafe, the easy banter between you making the world outside seem far away.
after the ride, your nerves are still humming, but itâs not just from the speedâitâs from him. rafe parks the car back in the paddock with the smooth precision of someone whoâs done this a thousand times, then turns to you with that trademark grin thatâs equal parts cocky and boyish charm.
âso,â he says, resting an arm on the steering wheel as he looks over at you. âwhatâd you think? am i as good as the commentators say?â
you let out a laugh, shaking your head. âyouâre fishing for compliments already?â
âjust curious,â he says, leaning slightly closer. âitâs not every day i drive someone who actually knows the sport. figured youâd have some⊠constructive criticism.â
you meet his gaze, trying to hold your ground despite the way his blue eyes seem to see right through you. âokay, fine. youâre good. but donât let it go to your head.â
âtoo late,â he quips, winking as he steps out of the car and rounds to your side, opening your door before you can do it yourself.
âchivalry?â you ask, raising an eyebrow as you step out.
âwhat can i say? iâm full of surprises,â he replies, and you canât help the small laugh that escapes you.
stepping out of the car, youâre greeted by the crew from ferrari, their cameras pointed in your direction. you can see the bright red of the team logo on their shirts, and the reality of the situation hits you againâthis isnât just a dream. this is real. and rafe cameron is standing right next to you, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
âso,â rafe says, leaning casually against the car, his arms crossed as he looks at you. âwhatâd you think? was i as good as you imagined?â
you roll your eyes, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. âyou were fine. nothing i couldnât handle.â
he laughs, the sound low and warm. âfine? come on, i saw you gripping that seat like your life depended on it.â
âit was a fast car!â you defend, crossing your arms. âanyone wouldâve been nervous.â
âi think my soul left my body at least twice.â
he laughs, leaning casually against the car. âyou didnât scream, though. iâll give you that.â
âoh, i wanted to,â you say, crossing your arms. âbut i figured iâd try to keep a shred of dignity.â
âimpressive,â he says, his grin widening. âmost people lose it after the first corner.â
âwhat can i say?â you reply, your confidence bolstered by his teasing. âiâm just unique like that.â
his eyebrows lift with a teasing smirk. âoh, really? i should take those words back considering you couldnât figure out their seatbelt.â
you groan, covering your face with your hands as the crew chuckles behind their cameras. âyouâre not going to let that go, are you?â
ânot a chance,â he says, his voice full of playful arrogance. âitâs going in the highlight reel for sure.â
âthe highlight reel?â you ask, peeking at him through your fingers.
he nods, clearly loving the way heâs flustering you. âyeah, this is all for ferrariâs youtube channel. fans are going to love it. youâre a natural in front of the camera, by the way.â
the ferrari crew exchanges amused looks, clearly loving every second of the interaction. one of them steps forward, holding a mic. âso, whatâs the verdict? would you ride with rafe again?â
you glance at rafe, whoâs watching you with a smug smile, and decide to play along. âonly if he promises not to tease me about the seatbelt ever again.â
âdeal,â rafe says immediately, holding out his hand like itâs a serious negotiation.
you shake it, his grip warm and firm, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.
âall right, thatâs a wrap for now,â one of the crew members says, lowering the camera. âgreat job, both of you.â
âso,â he says, his eyes locked on yours, âany chance youâre sticking around? i owe you a proper debrief. you know, off-camera.â
you laugh nervously, your heart pounding again. âi donât think iâm qualified for that.â
âsure you are,â he says, that cocky grin firmly in place. âbesides, itâs not every day i meet someone who keeps me on my toes.â
you bite your lip, trying to play it cool even as your pulse races. âiâll think about it.â
âgood,â he says, straightening up. âbut donât think too hard. you might miss out.â
as he walks away, the faint smell of cologne and burnt rubber lingering in the air, you realize youâre smiling like an idiot. living in the moment, you remind yourself, and for once, it feels pretty damn good.
youâre pacing the airbnb living room, recounting every detail of your post-drive conversation with rafe to jen and abby. well, trying to, anyway. your thoughts are still jumbled, the memory of his smile and the way he said, âyou might miss outâ playing on a loop in your head like a song you canât stop humming.
âwait, wait, wait,â jen interrupts, holding up a hand as she sits cross-legged on the couch, her expression equal parts amused and incredulous. âyouâre telling me rafe cameron invited you to hang out after the drive, and you didnât say yes?â
you stop pacing, throwing your hands up. âi was stressed! it caught me off guard! do you know how many things were going through my head? i literally blanked.â
âgirl.â jenâs voice is dripping with disbelief. âhow do you blank on that? itâs rafe cameron.â she says his name like itâs your earthâs purpose, as if she canât believe youâre even capable of such an oversight.
âi know, okay?â you groan, collapsing onto the armchair across from her. âbut the cameras were there, and everyone was looking at me, and he was being all⊠rafe about it!â
abby, whoâs been lounging on the other end of the couch scrolling through her phone, looks up with a sympathetic smile. âitâs fine. youâre overthinking it. and, like, you might want to stop, becauseâŠâ she trails off, her smile growing into something mischievous.
âbecause what?â you ask, sitting up straight.
âlook at your phone,â abby says, her tone light, teasing.
you hesitate, your heart already speeding up. âwhy?â
âjust do it!â jen says, practically bouncing now, her curiosity piqued.
with a sinking feeling in your stomachâand a spark of hope youâre trying to ignoreâyou grab your phone from the coffee table. as soon as you unlock it, the notification stares back at you, big and bold and impossible to miss.
rafe cameron is following you.
your jaw drops, and for a moment, you canât even form words.
âwell?â jen demands, leaning forward. âwhat does it say?â
you hold up the screen, and both of them erupt into chaos. jen is practically shrieking, while abby claps her hands together like this is the greatest thing thatâs ever happened.
âoh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!â jen yells, grabbing your arm and shaking you. âhe followed you? this is huge. this is, like, life-changing!â
âitâs just a follow, right?â you mumble, though your face is burning, and you canât stop the big smile creeping onto your lips. you were scared you were reaching too far.
âjust a follow?â abby repeats, her eyebrows shooting up. âgirl, this is rafe cameron. this isnât just a follow; this is game on.â
âokay, but what do i do now?â you ask, your voice edging on panic. âdo i follow him back? do i message him? do i do nothing?â
âyou follow him back, duh,â jen says, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. âbut donât message him. play it cool.â
abby shakes her head. âno, you definitely message him. something casual, like, âthanks for the drive, it was fun.â or maybe something flirty, likeââ
âno flirty messages,â you interrupt, groaning. âi canât. iâll mess it up.â
âyou canât mess it up,â abby says confidently. âtrust me, heâs already interested. the ballâs in your court.â
you stare at the notification again, your mind spinning. itâs surreal, like something out of a dream. jen and abby are still debating the best approach, but all you can think about is rafeâs smile, his voice, and the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.
finally, you take a deep breath and follow him back.
âthere,â you say, holding up the phone like youâve just defused a bomb. âstep one: complete.â
âand now we wait,â jen says, grinning. âbut donât worry. heâs definitely going to make the first move.â
abby smirks, raising an eyebrow. âoh, heâs already made the move.â
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look at all the things my true love gave to me
masterlist - 04
on the first day of Christmas when you gave me all them kisses boy, you showed me things, come hold me please, and never let me go
Itâs the beginning of december, and the house is filled with warmth. Twinkling lights decorate the space, and the smell of pine fills the air. You and Rafe curl up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over the two of you. The crackling fire provides a comforting backdrop as you share quiet conversations, laughing at small jokes, and savoring the peace of the moment.
The weight of the holiday rush melts away when youâre together, and itâs just the two of youâalone, in each otherâs company. Rafe leans in slowly, his lips brushing against your cheek. You tilt your head, meeting him halfway, your lips touching softly at first. The kiss is tender, a gentle exchange of affection, but soon, the chemistry between you both deepens. His hand rests on your back, pulling you closer as his kiss becomes more demanding.
Your heart races, every inch of his warmth enveloping you as your hands move instinctively to touch him. The connection between you builds with each passing secondâhis lips soft yet hungry, his touch a slow promise. Your fingers trail along his skin, feeling the tension in his body, and his hands start to move, careful, almost reverent, as if heâs afraid to break the fragile moment between you.
With every kiss, with every touch, the intensity of whatâs between you deepens. âI want you to stay close,â he murmurs between kisses, his voice thick with the need to express everything heâs feeling, even if he canât say it all just yet.
on the second day of christmas, said you felt like something's missingso you promised me that promise ring to keep 'til we get old
The next morning breaks through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The rush of presents and holiday chaos has passed, and now, itâs just you and Rafe. The world outside feels so far away, as if itâs just the two of you in this little bubble of love.
Rafe, sitting beside you, reaches for your hand. He slides a small ring onto your finger, his eyes locked with yours. His voice is steady but carries so much emotion, âI know I havenât always been easy to figure out, but I want you to knowâyouâre mine. And Iâm yours. Always.â
Your heart swells as you look at him, seeing the depth of his feelings in the way his hands tremble just slightly as he slips the ring on. You press your palm against his, curling your fingers around his hand. The gesture feels monumentalâsmall yet full of so much meaning. Thereâs no need for more words; everything you need to say is understood between the two of you.
âIâm yours too,â you whisper, a promise, a declaration. He smiles, leaning in to kiss you softly, sealing the unspoken bond between you both.
on the third day of christmas; we got all in our feelings, said i love you and meant it
The next evening after dinner is quiet. The house is dim, lit by the soft glow of the tree lights. You and Rafe are curled up on the couch again, the fire crackling in the hearth. A glass of wine in your hands, you share the peacefulness of the night, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.
Rafe turns to you, his eyes soft in the low light. His gaze is full of affection, and the tenderness in his touch when he brushes a strand of hair from your face makes your heart flutter.
âYou know, I love you,â he says quietly, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your jaw. His words hang in the air, so simple yet profound, and you feel them deeply.
You breathe in, unable to hold back the emotions rushing through you. âI love you too, Rafey,â you murmur, your lips finding his. The kiss that follows is slow and sweet, full of meaning, as if you're both sealing the promise of your love in the gentlest way possible.
on the fourth we committed; any time, he could get it, he's the real one, I know it
The soft glow of vibrant christmas lights surrounds you as you stand together in the quiet of the room, the playful teasing from earlier falling away. The air between you thickens, the heat between your bodies undeniable. You can feel it in every inch of your skinâthe connection, raw and electric.
Rafe steps closer, his lips finding your neck, warm and needy. You arch into him, your breath catching as his mouth trails down, pressing soft kisses against your skin. His hand slides down your back, fingers brushing lightly before sliding lower to your waist, and then higher, cupping your breast. You gasp at the touch, the way his fingers gently squeeze your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine.
Your body responds, your hands running through his hair, pulling him closer as you kiss him fiercely. Your lips meet with a desperate intensity, hungry for more. His body presses into yours, and you feel himâhard, unmistakableâagainst your thigh. His hands move lower, cupping your hips, urging you toward him.
âFuck,â he breathes, voice thick with desire. His eyes lock with yours, the need in his gaze so intense, it makes your stomach flutter. âI want you. Right now.â
You donât need to say anything. You part your legs, pulling him closer, guiding him between your thighs. You can feel the heat of him, the press of his cock against you, and it makes your breath catch. Everything between you is slick, wet, ready.
He moves with you, his hands gripping your hips as he presses into you, the force of it making you gasp. Your body rocks with each thrust, your fingers digging into his skin as you pull him closer, needing him deeper, faster. Every movement is electric, every touch a promise.
âRafe,â you gasp, your hands clutching his shoulders as your body trembles under him. âYes, just like that.â
The wet sounds of your bodies meeting fill the room, the air thick with the sounds of your breathless moans. His lips trail down your neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks on your skin that are just for him. One hand moves between you, his thumb finding your clit, circling it with practiced pressure as his thrusts grow faster, harder.
You feel the coil in your stomach tighten, the pressure building until it snaps. âRafe, Iâmââ you canât even finish the sentence before the orgasm overwhelms you, your body shaking with the force of it. You cry out, clutching him, pulling him deeper as you ride the wave.
He follows right behind you, his body tensing as he spills into you with a low groan, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You stay connected, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing in the aftermath.
Rafe lowers himself onto you, his body heavy but comforting. He kisses your forehead softly, his hands running through your hair as he pulls you close. âI love you,â he murmurs against your skin, the words feeling like home.
âI love you too,â you reply, your voice thick with emotion. And in this moment, you both knowâthis is just the beginning.
on the fifth day of christmas, you asked me what's on my wishlist; and i told you all i wanted was forever with my boo
The morning after feels soft, peaceful. Sunlight spills gently through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You're tangled up in the sheets with Rafe, your bodies still humming from the night before. The world outside feels miles away, distant and unimportant as you lie there together, wrapped in the silence of your shared contentment.
You kiss him softly, the touch of your lips a reminder of everything thatâs happened between youâof the intimacy youâve just shared, of the unspoken promises. Each kiss is slow, lingering, and as you pull away, you both just smile at each other, an understanding passing between you that words canât quite capture.
Later, as you sip hot cocoa by the fire, the warmth of the mug feels like nothing compared to the heat that Rafeâs presence brings. His eyes flicker with mischief as he turns toward you, his grin playful but his tone sincere.
âWhat do you want for the future?â he asks, his voice low, soft, and full of affection.
You smile, your heart swelling with a love youâre still trying to fully understand. The answer comes easy, from a place deep inside you that knows exactly what it needs.
âAll I want is forever with you.â
Rafeâs eyes soften, and without another word, he pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His hands linger at your sides, fingers brushing against your skin as he whispers, âI'll never let you go, babyâ
The words settle into you, as if they were always meant for you, and you know, without a doubt, that he means it. You've already given each other everything that mattersâthe deep trust, the love, the commitment. And now, nothing stands in the way of your future together. Youâve already promised each other forever, and in your heart, you know itâs a promise that will last.
after six days in your arms i got that tattoo on my heart; 'cause i'm your moonlight, you're my star and nothing's shining more than you
As the days draw closer to Christmas, something shifts between you and Rafe. Each passing moment seems to imprint him more deeply into your soul, like a memory that is slowly becoming a permanent part of you. The bond you share is no longer just a fleeting feelingâitâs a quiet, powerful force that has taken root, leaving an indelible mark on your heart.
Youâve always known Rafe as intense, a storm of emotions that could sweep anyone off their feet. But now, as the month unfolds, you begin to see another side of himâa softness, a kindness that surprises you. Itâs in the way he looks at you when he thinks youâre not watching, the way his smile softens when he speaks to you, the way he holds you as if youâre the most precious thing in his world.
It changes everything. The Rafe you thought you knew isnât the whole picture. The layers of him that were once hidden now shine through, and you realize that this man, the one who holds you with such tenderness, has always been there. And somehow, in the quiet of these days, you realize that you belong to him, just as much as he belongs to you.
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just one time (one-shot)
pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader
rating explicit 18+
summary youâre constantly venting to rafe about how unlucky you are in love. one night, he gets fed up hearing about your insecurities and finally shows you how badly heâs always wanted you.
tags best friends to (temporary) lovers. alcohol mention. filthy smut. angsty ending. divider credit.
Rafe Cameron gives it to people straight. Hell will be an ice rink before he offers anyone words that have been coated with sugar.
Heâs been like that since you befriended him in the twelfth grade, when you both donned private school uniforms and jaded scowls that had no business being on the faces of privileged teenagers.
The only thing steady about Rafe is his honesty. Itâs why you go to him for the truth. You know your best friend will dole it out without a single inhibition holding him back.
And itâs what you desperately need right now.
Youâre lying in your bed and holding your thumb against your phone screen, every passing second cracking your heart a little more.
The cycle continues, the curse lives on â another man you have growing feelings for has indirectly rejected you, this time through a story on social media. The photo shows his hand holding a womanâs over a car console, paired with a sappy caption.
When you saw him last weekend, you ended the date with a kiss. Heâs been on your mind since, while he probably forgot about you the second he drove off your street. Heâs already with another woman. One he actually likes.
The all too familiar feeling of inadequacy screws a hole into your chest. You hate that something as trivial as validation from the men you date can hit you this hard, but it can and it does.
Itâs a pattern now. Your texts go unanswered, your crushes unrequited, and at this point, you need to know what it is about you that men deem so unwantable.
You need Rafe and his unwavering disposition for telling the truth, no matter how ugly it is. You text him: come over?
He responds: Whatâs up? Iâm with the guys.
You reply: need your opinion on something when you stop being too busy for me.
Maybe if you ask nicely.
You scoff to yourself. Typical Rafe, acting like time with him is a gift. You text: jerk.
Damn. Right to calling me names. Is it that bad?
You close the conversation, knowing youâre taking your disappointment out on him, but too pissed off to curb it. He lets his anger drive him; itâs rubbed off on you.
Youâre just as upfront with him as he is with you. While he can tell you if youâre overreacting about a fight with a girlfriend, you can tell him when heâs been drinking too much. Honesty is the foundation of your friendship and you both hinge on this hard but necessary way of caring for each other.
After a few minutes, Rafe texts: Iâll head over soon. You know him well enough to imagine the annoyed huff he let out when he gave in to you and typed out the message.
As expected, Rafeâs friends give him shit when he tells them heâs leaving to see you. Theyâve been like that for years, jeering him for being so soft for a girl who doesnât even put out.
But their taunting doesnât get under his skin. They donât understand that Rafe could count the things he cares about on one hand and that youâre one of them.
They donât know him as well as they think. They were all friends when he was an eighteen-year-old with a chip on his shoulder, but they had no clue what he was going through.
They didnât know that he wasnât getting any sleep because the fighting echoing through the walls at home kept him up. They didnât know how hard he took the catastrophic divorce he had to watch unfold. They didnât know how badly he needed to escape.
But you did. You let him slump next to you at the back of class for an entire semester, sleeping while you took two sets of notes. You reminded him to bust his ass until the end of the school year, giving him the tough love he needed to graduate.
And it was all because of one night, at a party, when he drunkenly confessed to you how shitty his life was and how he just wanted to make his dad proud after his mom left.
Heâs never said it to you, but he owes you for pulling him out of the hole heâd fallen into back then. You were just a pretty girl assigned to sit next to him, until you became more, and heâs kept you close since.
Your bedroom is dimly lit. He doesnât know what it is, if itâs a perfume or shampoo or cream you use, but he knows that he finds relief when he smells the familiar fragrance that means youâre around.
You shut your door behind him, falling into bed on your back, your hands over your eyes.
âTell me,â he says, settling onto the edge of your bed. The mattress sinks with his weight. âWhyâd I come all the way over here?â
âWhatâs wrong with me?â you ask.
Rafeâs eyes trail to where your shorts end, the flesh of your thighs tantalizingly swelling past the hem.
âA lot,â he jokes.
You sit up and he looks away. Itâs a skill heâd mastered, forcing his eyes off of you at the right moment so you donât catch him staring.
âSeriously,â you say, a tremble in your voice that you werenât expecting. âI want to know.â
The hardness in his face fades, his stare melting into something gentler.
Moments like these, you see the guy you knew in school, the one whoâd pretend he was heartless, when really, his emotions ran layers deeper than he ever let on.
âWhat do you mean?â Rafe asks.
âWhy does every guy I like treat me like Iâm nothing special?â
His hardness reappears, like a light being switched on.
âThis shit again?â he mutters. âYou called me over to talk about guys?â
âBe honest. What is it about me?â
He sighs your name in frustration, having heard this so many times. This is territory he refuses to go into with you.
If heâs honest, youâll find the desire heâs hidden away from you and itâll open a door he wonât be able to slam shut.
Feelings donât last. Love is a joke. He learned that young. Heâs not about to put himself through the same lesson and fuck things up with his best friend just because he finds her so agonizingly attractive.
âI need the truth,â you say. âI liked this guy and I thought he liked me, too, but heâs with another girl now andââ
âAnd what?â Rafe interrupts. âDid you want to marry him? Youâre always crashing out over losers.â
You inch closer to him and pull your knees up to your chest, your stare doleful.
âAre they all losers?â you say. âOr are some of them right that Iâm missing something?â
âYou need to get your shit together,â he says sternly.
âIâm know Iâm being pathetic,â you say. You gaze at him, at the crease between his brows, at the way his lips firm when heâs irritated. âBut itâs just⊠whatâs wrong with me?â
âNothing.â
âYouâre being nice and I hate it.â
âBeing nice,â Rafe repeats in a disbelieving huff.
âJust tell me what to fix.â
A tense silence blankets you both, you anticipating harsh words, him clueless as to what to do.
âCall one of your girlfriends for this,â he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
âI love them, but theyâd just give me a pep talk and say that guys are intimidated by me or something,â you say. âThis is why I called you.â
âWhat do you want me to say?â
âCome on. I hear the gross way you talk about girls with your friends,â you reply.
Countless times, Rafeâs vulgarities have fallen on your ears, evidence of his rough and untamed edges. Youâll never be more than friends and thatâs okay, because if he ever were to find a girl that he wants to be serious with, sheâd have to tolerate his temper, his narcissism, his volatility.
And while you love him, you could never love him like that.
âJust pretend Iâm a stranger,â you continue. âWhat would you say to your friends about me if you saw me enter a room?â
Rafe would rather not imagine you as a stranger. The thought of his life without you makes an empty feeling spiral in his gut.
He wants you from any distance. He craves the taste of your tongue, something heâs never even had. He dreams about your legs wrapped around his hips. He wants to hear the noises you make when youâre drunk in pleasure.
Fuck. Had he known he was walking into this, he never would have gotten into his car.
âRafe,â you say impatiently, oblivious to the irritation that turns inside him whenever you force these types of conversations.
âFor the fiftieth fucking time, you donât need to change anything,â he says. âItâs like Iâm talking to a wall.â
You exhale slowly and look down to your bedsheets, so used to his abrasiveness that it doesnât even leave a scratch.
âThat guy kissed me when he dropped me off,â you mumble. âMaybe Iâm a bad kisser and thatâs why he isnât into me.â
Rafeâs eyes lower to your lips, glossy from the way youâd just licked them, and he canât imagine those lips going anywhere near him and not being appreciated for it.
âI doubt itâs that,â he relents. You meet his blue eyes.
âYou think so?â you ask.
âYouâd know if you were bad at it,â he says. The square of his sharp jaw tenses.
âHow?â
âYou can just tell,â Rafe says. âSeriously⊠just get it together. Youâll be fine.â
He shuffles to stand up, but you pull him back by the crook of his elbow, your touch sending an electric current through his body.
âWhy are you being more of an asshole than usual?â you ask. âDid something happen?â
He tries not to drown in your gaze, but he does, comforted by the sympathy that nobody else offers him.
âI canât hear you saying this shit about yourself,â he admits. âAnd whatever I say just doesnât register.â
âRafe, be real with me. I know my body isnât perfect and I know Iâm not the prettiest girl around, so itâs not like Iâm delusional.â
He scoffs. You are delusional. And it chips away at him, listening to you list your insecurities, ones that have no basis in reality.
Youâre fucking beautiful and you have nothing to change and he doesnât know nor care why the morons you date donât see it.
âI can take the truth,â you repeat. âI think youâre just scared to be honest because you donât want to hurt me.â
Your chest rises and falls with gentle breaths. Your eyes search his with caring curiosity. Youâre enveloped in privacy for the millionth time, but he hasnât ever felt this tempted to give in.
And he finally breaks.
âKiss me, then. Iâll be honest,â Rafe murmurs, selfish and selfless at the same time.
Shock doesnât touch your features, not for a second. You know heâd do anything for you, even go to these types of measures to prove you wrong.
You lean forward, your lips hesitatingly pressing on his. You slowly melt into the kiss, and itâs too easy to overlook the fact that the lips on yours are your best friendâs, as youâre revelling in how soft his lips are and tasting a hint of whiskey and savoring the arousal coiling in your core.
Your noses brush together as you push closer, perching on your knees, breath hitching when his big hands cradle your face.
His ring presses against your cheek, the ring youâve seen him wear over so many years, and its hardness is a reminder of how long youâve known him, how insane it is to be doing this with him.
He pulls back, dying to know if you feel it too, the spark sizzling in the air, the fire despairing to be stoked.
âYouâre good,â he rasps, his breath warm on your cheek, hands still cupping your jaw.
âJust good?â you whisper sadly.
âFuck,â Rafe mutters. His muscles are stiff and his boxers are getting tighter. Heâll go as far as youâll let him go so he can prove to you that the words describing how badly he wants you donât exist.
His grip firms, pulling you into him again. The more of your taste that he gets, the more he wants. Heâs hungry for you, ravenous, and if youâre letting him finally surrender to his appetite, heâll stop putting up this bullshit front that he doesnât fantasize about you.
Your tongues run over each otherâs, lips smacking as he pushes you down to your back.
Your mind is spinning. This is Rafe. The man who looks at you like youâre one of the guys, who tells you about his noncommittal hook-ups, who feels nothing but friendship for you.
Logic is dulled by lust and you give in completely. You hook an arm around his neck, writhing beneath him, begging for some friction.
He shifts to put his thigh between your legs as if youâve done this before, giving you relief when you grind up against him. Youâre tumbling into mindless bliss, starved for him, for the validation he can give you.
Heâs hard against your thigh. It makes desire heat you from the inside out. Youâre friends, but youâre not ignorant to the fact that heâs the most attractive man you know, so feeling his bodyâs charge for you is intoxicating.
You lower a hand, feeling for the bulge beneath his jeans, touching him in a way you never would have expected to, feeling yourself getting wetter.
Rafe ducks his head, teeth nipping at your neck, hips rolling into yours as you stroke his cock, too many layers of clothes between you.
âYouâre fucking hot, alright?â he murmurs into your ear. You can only nod as you continue to rub his length, anticipating how heâll feel inside of you. âIâll prove it to you.â
âJust one time,â you whisper, because even though youâre lost in the moment, youâre not so stupid that you wonât build a safeguard around your heart.
Youâve already been fooled by the familiar emotions rushing through you, tricking you into thinking that a man wanting to fuck is a man capable of love.
You need to remember it, especially now. You know Rafe. He doesnât want love and he doesnât want to give it.
âOne time,â he echoes. âTake your shirt off.â
Youâre trembling beneath him, your words caught in your throat, eagerly shifting to pull your top over your head. The moment youâre left in your bra, he digs his head into your chest, hands gripping your tits tightly, breathing in sharply.
Rafeâs kisses are sloppy and heated and he roughly pulls down the cups of your bra, exposing you, stabilizing himself on his elbows as he drinks in how goddamn perfect you are.
The closest heâs ever been to seeing you naked in the past was when heâd notice the peaks of your nipples under a shirt or a bikini. Heâd imagine how theyâd feel in his mouth. He doesnât have to imagine anymore.
His lips close around your nipple, sucking and licking, earning soft, surprised moans from you. Your hand finds his hair, fingernails dragging over his scalp as he wets your chest with his spit.
âWow,â you breathe. You can feel yourself clenching for him, your hips stuttering in need. Your hands drag down his back, bunching up his t-shirt.
He sits up to pull it off and throw it to the floor, looking down at you, his body broad and hard and heaving. You spread your legs wider, slowly pitching your hips forward with desperate eyes.
His lips part like heâs about to say something, but he speaks with his body instead, resting his hand between your legs to slowly stroke his thumb over you. You sigh in pleasure when he rolls over your clit, silently begging him to take whatâs left of your clothes off.
Rafe keeps his eyes on yours when his fingers hook under your shorts, wriggling to make sure heâs captured the band of your panties, too. He drags them down your legs, gazing at you like heâs never seen a naked woman before, his face pinched in awe.
âGod,â he moans. He doesnât waste a second. His chest is on your bed, his head between your legs, and his open mouth makes contact, hot and wet and perfect.
He laps at you, drool rolling down the side of his mouth, his face drenched in your arousal. You gaze at him through half-lidded eyes, gentle whimpers spilling out of your mouth.
The thought of someone not wanting you feels like an unknown concept, like something that never even crossed your mind. Heâs ravishing you like heâll die if he stops.
Heâs licking and sucking with abandon, reaching every inch, dipping his tongue inside and sighing in pleasure simply from tasting you.
âYour pussyâs so sweet,â he rasps against your inner thigh. âIâm going to fuck you so fucking hard. Say you want it.â
You throw your head back in ecstasy, thoughts a tangled mess. This is not what best friends are supposed to do. You donât care.
âPlease,â your voice comes out weak and honeyed, eyes shut. âNow.â
Anticipation rolls through you when you hear Rafe unzip his pants. His jeans are bunched up at the end of your bed and he hovers over you and youâre so glad that he doesnât wait.
He holds himself at his base, guiding into your heat, filling you quickly, the pressure hard but perfect.
Your stomach numbs when he bottoms out and surrounds you in himself, the realization hitting you like a wave that heâs inside you right now, that he feels you as intensely as you feel him, that your bodies are joined in a way you never thought they would be.
He rocks back to thrust into you, your body jolting, your legs wrapping around him. He finds a rhythm, every push into you paired with a heavy exhale as his cheek presses against yours.
The line between you blurs and breaks with every movement.
âTell me youâll stop talking like that,â Rafe demands. He rolls his eyes from the thrill of how tight you are around his cock, squeezing him in hot, wet velvet. Itâs so much better than he imagined.
âI will,â you promise. His chest is firm and hot against you, skin sticking with sweat.
âI donât want to hear it anymore,â he whispers, voice strained. âI want you to remember how bad I wanted to fuck you whenever you think that stupid shit about yourself.â
âYes,â you whisper. Rafe doesnât care enough to lie. Even if he wanted to, he couldnât fake what you do to him. Heâs being honest when he says thereâs nothing about yourself that you need to change.
Heâs driving into you at a perfect angle, giving your clit sweet friction against his groin, pulling you closer into an orgasm. Your hands are on his hard back, feeling his muscles tense and loosen.
He kisses your neck, telling himself to remember every single detail. Your noises and your aroma and your touch. You said it yourself, just one time, and youâre right, because heâs never had his heart involved in sex like this.
Itâs fucked up and wrong for him to feel what heâs feeling. Heâs proving a point, heâs indulging a fantasy, and thatâs it.
âShit,â you whisper, back arching as the coil in you gets closer to snapping. âIâmâŠâ
You come with a shudder, your entire body tightening around him, fireworks sparking every single nerve in your system. Pleasure pools you from head to toe, leaving you shaking.
Rafe groans when he feels you flutter around him, pulsating with your peak. He starts to thrust harder and sloppier, dismissing the notion of making this last and instead giving in to the impulse to take the same satisfaction heâs given you.
He comes inside you with a hitched breath, his mouth open at the crook of your neck as a rush of euphoria rips through him.
And he collapses. Body against body, still inside you, panting with you, blissed out and so fucking confused.
The lust dissolves and reality sinks in and he can tell by the look on your face that youâre thinking the same thing when he pulls out: What the fuck did you just do together?
It comes with years of knowing each other; he can read your expression, not needing to hear the words to know you regret this, too.
You sit up, pulling your sheet over your chest, eager to pretend thereâs a boundary even after what youâd just done.
âI believe you now,â you say with a thin voice, desperate to somehow put back together the pieces youâd just shattered, even through a lighthearted joke. âYou fixed me.â
Despite himself, Rafe huffs a chuckle, leaning against the wall, following your cue to cover up, acting like you hadnât just plunged into an unreal level of intimacy.
You stare at each other from across the bed, the weight of your friendship, all the shared memories and inside jokes and ridiculous arguments and promise of an uncomplicated bond, now on shaky ground.
His eyes travel over your pretty features, having never felt this after sex. Satisfied, but famished for more.
âI didnât mean for⊠I mean, thatâs not why I called you,â you say awkwardly. You take in his pink cheeks, the sweat sheened over his skin, his lips wet and parted. âI⊠didnât plan this.â
âI know,â he replies. âMe, neither. It was just one time.â
âRight,â you say.
Itâs what you agreed to.
He wanted to prove something to you and he did.
And if you have any respect for each other, if you have any cares for keeping your friendship and not messing it up with sex any more than you already have, you know itâll need to stay that way.
Just one time.
(the end)
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One Big Misunderstanding || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Summary: Tensions rise when an innocent comment about a missing bracelet sows doubt between you and Rafe, sparking suspicions of infidelity.
Warnings: ANGST GALORE
Word count: 2,711
MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)
The sunlight streamed through the grand floor-to-ceiling windows of the drawing room, casting a warm glow on the pristine marble floors. You sat perched on one of the luxurious cream sofas, a curated array of diamond necklaces sprawled elegantly across the glass coffee table before you.
Across from you, Eloise, your private jewellery consultant, adjusted her notepad, a professional yet friendly smile playing on her lips. âMadeline, sweetie, no touching, please,â you gently reminded, catching your daughterâs small hands as they reached out eagerly for the sparkling treasures.
Her curious blue eyes, so much like Rafeâs, widened in innocent protest before she giggled, retreating to your lap with a playful pout. Eloise chuckled softly, waving at Madeline. âSomeone has quite the eye for jewels already,â she teased, her gaze fond as Madeline shyly buried her face into the folds of your dress.
You let out a soft laugh, brushing Madelineâs hair back as your fingers glided over the dazzling collection. âI donât think itâll be too long before sheâll be in my position,â You softly say. The newest designs shimmered under the light, each more stunning than the last. âTheyâre all exquisite,â you sighed, lifting a delicate piece encrusted with diamonds.
âBut I think Iâll take this one, andâŠâ Your eyes roamed over the display again, settling on another necklace with an intricate design. âThis.â âExcellent choices, Mrs. Cameron,â Eloise praised, jotting down notes in her leather-bound book. Her tone brimmed with approval, and her smile didnât waver as she looked up.
Madeline squirmed in your lap, reaching up to tug at the simple necklace you were already wearing. You adjusted her gently, holding her small hands to keep them still. Eloise glanced up from her notes. âDid you like the bracelet Mr. Cameron gave you?â Her tone was casual, but her words made you pause. âBracelet?â you echoed, your brow furrowing.
Your voice held a slight edge of confusion as you looked at her. âThe gold bangle with the pavĂ© diamonds,â she elaborated, glancing up with a look of delight. âRafe spent so much time picking it out for you.â Her enthusiasm was almost contagious as she beamed. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, your mind racing.
You had no idea what she was talking about. A heavy silence lingered for a moment, and you felt the weight of Eloiseâs expectant gaze. âOh! The bracelet!â you quickly feigned recognition, a forced smile stretching across your face. âYes, of course. Itâs lovelyâhe knows me so well.â Your voice sounded light, but your heart sank as the lie left your lips.
Eloise didnât seem to notice. She rose gracefully, tucking her notebook under her arm. âWell, Iâll be on my way. Iâll see you next month, Mrs. Cameron,â she said cheerfully, giving you a polite nod before heading toward the door. You stayed seated, your posture still and tense as Madeline babbled happily on your lap.
The silence of the room closed in around you once Eloise left, leaving you to wrestle with your thoughts. Rafe had bought you a bracelet? Why hadnât he given it to you himself? Had he left it somewhere, expecting you to find it? Or had it been an afterthought, something he had no timeâor desireâto present personally?
The questions swirled in your mind as you absentmindedly stroked Madelineâs hair, your gaze fixed on the glittering necklaces on the table. As much as you tried to push it aside, the confusion, and a small pang of hurt, lingered.
~
Later that night, you sat before your vanity, the familiar routine of your skincare ritual grounding you in a semblance of normalcy. The soft hum of the bathroom light and the gentle swish of creams and serums felt like a small act of defiance against the questions that kept circling in your mind. The bracelet. Rafeâs strange omission of it.
The way Eloise had mentioned it so casually, as though it was something you shouldâve known. You brushed the thoughts aside, telling yourself you were overreacting, but they lingered, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. The bedroom door creaked open behind you, and without turning, you saw Rafe in the reflection of your mirror.
Still in his suit, looking as polished and untouchable as ever. You didnât acknowledge him, continuing with your skincare, your movements slow and deliberate. âBusy day?â you asked, your voice flat, more out of routine than affection. His response was distant, lost on you as you remained absorbed in your own thoughts, the quiet hum of your routine enveloping you.
The bracelet. âHow was the jewelry showing?â he asked, his voice still detached, but something in his tone caught your attention. You glanced up at him briefly through the mirror. His eyes were on you, studying you with a faint trace of curiosity. âIt was good,â you mumbled, your focus wavering again.
Rafeâs brow furrowed as he watched you, sensing the lack of the usual excitement you carried after these showings. His fingers paused at the buttons of his shirt as he tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. âDid you⊠pick anything you liked?â he asked, his tone slower now, as if he was gauging your mood, sensing something was off.
âYeah, I did,â you replied, your voice empty, devoid of any real emotion. Before he could continue, you stood up abruptly, tightening the robe around your body more than necessary. The familiar movement felt like a barrier, an armour you could slip into. âIâll just make myself some tea,â you said, the words sounding rehearsed, like you were already running from the questions.
You didnât spare him another glance as you walked past him, leaving the room without another word. You descended the stairs mechanically, but instead of following the usual route to the kitchen, your feet took you in the opposite direction, towards Rafeâs office. Your heart pounded as you approached the oak door, glancing over your shoulder to ensure no one was watching.
Slowly, you pushed the door open, the room still and quiet in its untouched state. The room was a sharp contrast to the chaos in your mind. Your eyes darted to his desk, and instinctively, you moved toward it. You knew Rafe kept everything meticulously in order, and his drawers were always locked. But tonight, your curiosity outweighed your caution.
You pulled open the first drawer, then the second. It was the third one that caught your attention. As your fingers sifted through papers, your eyes landed on a familiar logoâthe jewelry shop. Your pulse quickened as you pulled it free, finding a receipt tucked between papers. The words on the page seemed to mock you as you read, Rafe Cameron, the date, and the item listed: Nature Bangle, PavĂ©, priced at $18,000.
A photo of the bracelet accompanied the receipt. The image burned itself into your mindâelegant, delicate, and undeniably expensive. Your breath caught in your throat, and your mind spun. You quickly shoved the receipt back into the drawer, snapping it closed. The weight of what youâd seen was suffocating, the overwhelming question taking shape in your mind.
Was Rafe cheating on you? The thought gnawed at you, its edge cutting deep. You had been with him long enough to believe that something like this wouldnât happen. But the pieces didnât fit. Rafe had always been⊠Rafe. He wasnât the type to hide things, or at least, you never thought he was.
The doubts began to creep in, unsettling your thoughts, but before they could settle into a clear conclusion, you stood up from the desk and made your way out of the office.
~
The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the living room. You sat on the plush sofa, coffee in hand, its warmth grounding you as you watched Leo and Madeline play on the rug before you. Their laughter filled the room, a soothing balm to the unease still simmering from the night before.
The sound of Rafeâs footsteps descending the staircase pulled your focus, and soon enough, he rounded the corner into the living room, his presence unmistakable in the tailored suit that hugged his frame. Despite the domestic setting, he still exuded the same composed, businesslike energy he carried everywhere.
âJordan told me your schedule was clear for today,â you remarked, your voice calm but inquisitive as you tracked his movements. âHm?â Rafe hummed in response, crouching slightly to press a kiss to the top of both Leoâs and Madelineâs heads. The gesture was effortless, automatic, and yet it made your chest tightenâa cruel contradiction to the doubts swirling in your mind.
âI said, Jordan told me your schedule is clear today,â you repeated, watching him carefully as he straightened, his gaze finally meeting yours. A small, almost nonchalant smile tugged at his lips. âLast-minute meeting, thatâs all,â he replied smoothly, brushing off the question as if it were of little consequence. His tone was casual, but it didnât sit right with you.
You cocked an eyebrow, your expression neutral but sharp enough to suggest you werenât entirely convinced. âIâll be back before three,â he added quickly, as though the reassurance might settle you. Without waiting for a response, he stepped closer, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek. The gesture was familiar, practiced, and yet it felt hollow.
You remained still, your eyes fixed straight ahead, your coffee cooling in your hand as his cologne lingered in the air. âDrive safe,â you murmured, your voice even but distant. You didnât look at him as he pulled away and adjusted his cufflinks. The sound of his footsteps retreated, leaving a subtle void in the room once he was gone.
~
The door to your bedroom creaked open, and Rafe stepped in, his movements deliberate but calm. Your eyes lifted from your phone, following him briefly before drifting back to the glowing screen in your hand. âTheyâre asleep,â he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with exhaustion. You hummed in acknowledgment, barely lifting your gaze as he moved toward his side of the bed, shrugging off his jacket and placing it neatly on the chair by the window.
Rafe climbed into bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He leaned back against the headboard, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and letting out a quiet sigh. The silence between you felt heavy, the kind of quiet that wasnât comfortable but wasnât quite confrontational either. You placed your phone down on the nightstand, your fingers brushing its edge before folding neatly in your lap.
The glow of the bedside lamp softened the room, but it did little to ease the tension you felt knotting in your chest. âAre you cheating on me?â The words left your lips before you could stop them, your voice sharp yet trembling, slicing through the quiet. âWhat?â Rafeâs hand froze, his body stiffening as he turned to look at you, his tone laced with shock and disbelief. His brows furrowed deeply, searching your face for an explanation.
âAre you cheating on me?â you repeated, softer this time, the vulnerability in your voice stark against the tension building in the room. His lips parted, words stuttering for a moment before he finally asked, âWhat are you talking about?â You sat up straighter, folding your arms as you exhaled shakily. âThe bracelet, Rafe.â The words were laced with hurt as your eyes locked onto his, watching the colour drain from his face.
His expression shiftedâconfusion, then understanding, and finally a look that you couldnât quite place. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes began to water, the emotional floodgates breaking against your will. âEloise mentioned it. She said you spent so much time picking it out, but I never got it, Rafe,â your voice cracked slightly. âSo, where is it? Who is it for?â
Rafe ran a hand down his face, the exhaustion in his eyes now replaced with something akin to guiltâbut not the kind you feared. He pushed himself up against the headboard, facing you fully. âItâs not what you think,â he said firmly, his voice low, almost pleading, but it did little to ease the storm brewing inside you. âThen explain,â you demanded, your voice trembling with a potent mix of anger and sorrow.
Tears slipped down your cheeks, hot and relentless, and you swiped at them quickly, unwilling to appear completely undone. But your composure was already fractured, and Rafe could see it in your glistening eyes and the slight quiver of your lip. His silence was unbearable. The hesitation hanging between you wasnât just a pauseâit was an admission, a crack that threatened to shatter everything youâd built together.
It cut deeper than words ever could, leaving a hollow ache in your chest. âExplain,â you repeated, your voice firmer now, laced with urgency. âFor the sake of our children, for our marriage, Rafe. Tell me what Iâm supposed to believe right now.â He ran a hand over his face, his usual confidence, his composed exterior, seemed to falter under your gaze. For once, Rafe Cameron looked unsteady.
âIt wasnât meant to be like this,â he muttered, his voice low. You blinked, your breath catching. âWhat wasnât meant to be like this? Stop talking in circles and just tell me.â Your voice cracked on the last word, and you felt your chest tighten with the weight of your fears. Rafe exhaled sharply, finally looking up at you. His eyes locked onto yours, their usual sharpness softened by something unfamiliarâregret, perhaps.
âThe bracelet,â he began, his words slow and deliberate, âwas supposed to be a surprise. For you.â Your brows furrowed as you tried to process his words, your heart racing. âWhat?â He leaned back on the headboard, his hands clasped together. "Itâs⊠for our anniversary. I wanted to give it to you then. I even had it engraved.â His voice wavered, and he shook his head.
âI thought I was doing something thoughtful, but I shouldâve just given it to you right away. I didnât think it wouldââ He stopped, the weight of your reaction sinking in. You stared at him, your mind reeling. His explanation had knocked the wind out of you, leaving you unsure whether to feel relief or frustration. âYou⊠were planning to give it to me?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
âYes.â He looked at you earnestly, his expression softening. âI didnât realise it would make you question everything. Thatâs on me. Iâm sorry.â Your tears slowed, but the tension in your chest lingered. âWhy didnât you just tell me that when I asked? Why make me feel like I was losing my mind?â Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair. âBecause I thought youâd laugh at me, or brush it off as something meaningless.
You donât exactly make it easy to do⊠sentimental gestures.â His voice wasnât accusatory, but it held a hint of frustration. You exhaled slowly, processing his words. The weight of your accusation settled heavily on your shoulders, mixing shame with residual doubt. âYou shouldâve told me,â you murmured, your voice soft but firm. âAnd you shouldâve trusted me,â he countered gently, his tone not harsh but pointed.
âWe canât keep doing thisâassuming the worst about each other.â You looked away, your throat tight as his words sank in. Perhaps he was right, but the wounds of mistrust werenât so easily healed. âI just⊠I donât want to be a fool,â you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. âNot for you, not for anyone.â Rafe turned his head, his hand reaching over before settling on your knee. âYouâre not a fool,â he said quietly, his voice steady.
âYouâre my wife. And I know I donât always get it right, but I need you to believe that Iâm trying.â You met his gaze, searching for any flicker of insincerity but finding none. His blue eyes held yours, unwavering, and for the first time that night, you felt the tension in your chest begin to ease. âIâll believe it,â you whispered, the words tentative but genuine.
"But you have to meet me halfway, Rafe. No more secrets. No more hesitation.â He nodded, his grip on your knees tightening briefly in silent agreement. âDeal.â
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wish youâd ask me (one-shot)
pairing zach maclaren x female reader
summary you and your friend zach are on your way to a weekend retreat when suddenly, you wake up in the hospital with a concussion. zach is relieved youâre okay, until then he realizes that youâre under the impression that heâs your boyfriend.
tags plot-flip of âthe other zoeyâ where reader loses her memory. college setting. friends to lovers. mutual pining. mentioned song is âred loveâ by dream ivory (zach gives indie soft boy yfm). angst and fluff. no smut. hugs to my zach girlies @juniebugg & @nemesyaaa <3 divider credit.
» masterlist
âșâșâș friday
âUh oh,â you mumble.
âWhat is it?â Zach asks. His gaze is fixed ahead, the snowy road a stretch of glittering white under the afternoon sun. You bring your phone up closer to your face.
âChase just texted the group,â you explain. âApparently, the furnace broke.â
âUh oh,â he echoes.
âExactly,â you say with a defeated laugh. âWhat now? Do we cancel? We canât be out there all weekend with no heat.â
Zach checks the time on his dashboard to see you have thirty minutes left of the drive to the cabin you rented with your friends. The four of them are already there, waiting for you two.
âNevermind,â you say. âEsha texted. The only thing broken is Chaseâs sense of humor. Iâm this close to throwing him outside and locking the door.â
You hold up your hand in a pinching motion.
âAnd she used this emoji,â you explain with a giggle.
Zachâs eyes drift to you, an endeared smile pulling on his lips.
âAppreciate the demonstration,â he says.
He reaches a red light and forces himself not to stare at you. Heâs afraid that one day, his feelings for you will refuse to stay stuck in his heart and heâll just blurt them out.
The past hour in the car with you has been a dream. Really, any time he spends with you is a dream. Youâre usually all together as a group, so he cherishes the rare moments he gets to be alone with you.
He knows admitting his feelings to you comes with the risk of losing your friendship and fracturing the bond you both have in the group. But sometimes, itâs like keeping them in actually physically hurts.
âWhatâs your favorite emoji?â you ask. âNo, wait.â You think back to the texts youâve exchanged over the many months youâve been friends. âI already know. Itâs the guy running. Your version of saying on my way.â
âItâs efficient,â he replies with a shrug.
âOkay, so, whatâs your second favorite emoji?â you say.
Zach laughs heartily and says, âYou never run out of questions.â
âDo you mean that in a âyouâre so much funâ way,â you ask, âor in a âIâm too nice to say it, but shut upâ way?â
âPlease donât shut up,â he says in a rush. âYouâre keeping me entertained.â
âItâs the least I can do after you stayed back for me.â
You were the only person in your friend group who had a class you couldnât miss today. Zach offered to leave for the cabin with you, saying he had an important essay he wanted to finish this morning anyway, while everyone else drove up last night.
He had already finished that essay two days ago.
âIt was no problem,â he replies. He means it. Nothing is too difficult for him if itâs for you.
âIâll still pay you back,â you say. You stifle a yawn, fighting off the fatigue thatâs been melting into you for the past hour. âWhat can I get you? What do you want most in the world?â
Zach chews on his bottom lip, pretending to think, when really, what he wants most in the world is sitting in his passenger seat, the prettiest and kindest girl heâs ever known, her gaze burning into him in his peripheral vision.
âA life-changing cup of hot cocoa,â he replies.
âBig ask, but you got it,â you agree with a laugh. âYou can enjoy it in your grandpa pjâs.â
Zach smirks. A few nights ago, on a group video call, you amusedly pointed out the plaid button-up he was wearing in bed.
âTheyâre comfortable,â he counters.
âTheyâre still pajamas an old man would wear,â you tease. Your phone buzzes in your lap. âItâs Chase. Esha ruined my prank. Scaring us that weâll freeze? What kind of prank is that?â
âHeâs ridiculous,â Zach laughs.
The six of you met back when you were put together for a group project. You all got along so well that you started hanging out outside of class. Zach has grown to deeply care for everyone in the group. You, especially.
âIâve been playing my music this whole ride,â you realize. âItâs only fair that you get to choose the songs for the last stretch.â
âItâs okay,â he reassures. âYouâre a good dj.â
âFor once in your life, stop being so nice and just play what you want,â you tease. âSince your phone is the GPS, we can keep using mine. Do you have any public playlists?â
He scratches his cheek, nerves filling his chest.
âYouâll make fun of me,â he says.
âZachary,â you gasp. âWhen have I ever made fun of you?â
âLike, a minute ago.â
âOther than that.â
âFive minutes ago?â
You laugh again and Zach swears itâs the nicest sound heâs ever heard. Nicer than any song either of you could put on.
âMy music is either workout stuff or just⊠sappy,â he admits.
âIâd expect nothing less,â you respond with a chuckle. âNo pressure, but I promise, I wonât judge.â
He breathes a laugh and tells you his username, praying he can keep a straight face if the songs he listens to when heâs thinking about you play.
You tap on the playlist he titled âRelaxingâ and sink back in your seat as you gaze out the window. The glass is a little fogged, the world looking like it was dusted with powdered sugar.
The gentle guitar spills out of the speakers as your eyes travel over snow-covered peaks of evergreens that line the road.
Your heart pulls once you hear the songâs first lines, curious if Zach relates to them.
Iâm the type of guy, trying not to fight
Not so perfect but I always try to bring the light
Heâs easygoing and optimistic â that much is true. But not so perfect? If you had the chance, youâd tell him how perfect he is, over and over again.
Your eyes slowly flutter shut, lulled by the melody. You tell yourself not to daydream about the man sitting next to you when youâre certain he doesnât feel the same way you do, but itâs easier said than done.
You canât help it. The longer youâre Zachâs friend, the more you have to yearn for. Youâre convinced he has the purest heart youâve ever known.
But through the conversations youâve had with your friends about your love lives, youâve learned that Zach is a romantic, never nervous to pursue a girl he likes. And if he liked you, youâre sure heâd have told you by now.
When you swore Esha and Maggie to secrecy regarding your crush on him, they were confident he feels the same way. You still arenât.
I donât wanna feel insecure about a thing
But she makes me feel like I donât even know whatâs happening
Pull me closer and itâs like I forget what was wrong
The thought of pulling Zach closer, of making his insecurities and problems go away makes your stomach twist with warmth.
And then, youâre lying in bed with him, cocooned in a fluffy duvet, your hand on his cheek as you gaze at him. Your heart is full, the air buzzing with love. He worryingly asks you if you slept enough. You nod and he tells you how beautiful you are and you press your lips on his.
Sudden stillness stirs you awake. You meet his sweet blue eyes.
Oh. You fell asleep. And you had a dream about Zach so tender that your heart is still racing, your lips tingling from the kisses he never even gave you.
âDid we make it?â you murmur, tumbling back into reality, grounding yourself in the fact that youâre in a parked car, not a cozy bed.
âNot yet,â Zach says. âI wanted to make a quick stop. Sorry. I didnât mean to wake you.â
You look through the windshield to see a convenience store sign, the bottom skirted in translucent icicles.
âItâs okay,â you stutter, unbuckling your seatbelt. âItâll be good to stretch my legs.â
Cold air pricks your cheeks when you step out of the car. Even though Zach has no idea what your subconscious just threw you into, itâs embarrassing to be around him after such an romantic dream.
You round the car and approach the front door, which Zach is holding open for you. In your daze, you realize you forgot your wallet.
âMy wallet,â you say in a hush, turning back.
âIâll cover it,â Zach offers.
But youâre already scurrying to the car. And then, you lose your balance.
.â
â
â
.
The weight in Zachâs stomach is catastrophically heavy.
Youâve been in a confused daze since your fall. And heâs worried sick.
He stands next to you as you sit in bed, blinking slowly. Since he helped pick you up off the icy concrete and drove you to the nearest hospital, youâve been slowly coming to your senses.
The doctor comes in and asks a few questions. You get the first few right â your full name, your date of birth, your major, your address. All said confidently, even through the fog blocking your mind.
Thatâs a relief.
But then, youâre not sure what day of the week it is. You canât tell her what you had for breakfast. And, most confusing of all, when the doctor asks if you know who he is, you say, âZach. My boyfriend.â
He swallows hard, the word fluttering in his mind. Boyfriend?
The doctor runs a few tests, checking your coordination and reflexes, then offers a sympathetic grimace.
âYou have a mild concussion. Youâre not showing any serious signs Iâm concerned about, but we should do a CT scan just in case.â The doctor looks to Zach. âCan you come with me to help book it?â
He nods, giving you one more worried glance before he trails the doctor out of the room.
After he tucks the appointment card in his wallet, he listens to the doctorâs instructions. Rest. Hydrate. Reduce stress. No screens. Come back if symptoms worsen.
âWhat if sheâs remembering things wrong?â Zach asks. âI⊠uh, Iâm not her boyfriend. Weâre just friends.â
âHer memory will likely come back to her in pieces,â the doctor reassures. âItâs normal that things are jumbled. Sheâll be fragile for a bit.â
âWhat do I do? Is it best for her healing if I play along?â
âThe less stress on her brain, the better,â she says. âYou can calmly tell her what she has wrong or let her believe the minor, harmless things until sheâs herself again. Iâm sure sheâll be better soon and you wonât even have to correct her.â
Zachâs chest strains in anxiety, worried that heâll mess something up. The last thing he wants to do is impede your healing by stressing you out.
When he comes back into the room, your eyes light up in a way they never have for him before. He tries not to let it get to him.
âHey,â you say lazily, gazing at him with adoration. âIs it booked? Can we go now? Weâre so late.â
âThatâs what youâre worried about?â he says softly. âYouâre injured.â
You giggle, stretching your arm out. Hesitatingly, Zach steps closer, letting you warmly hold his hand atop the thin blanket. He feels guilty for enjoying it.
âDid you tell them what happened?â you ask.
âYeah, I â uh, IâŠâ He begins to stammer as you gently run your fingers over his knuckles. âI should update them, actually.â
He pulls away abruptly, taking his phone out, brows furrowed. A simple touch from you is overwhelming enough, let alone when youâre only doing it because youâre concussed and confused.
You watch him text, his expression tense. Heâs always like this, so worried about you. You think back to a few days ago, when he was concerned you didnât get enough sleep as you lazed in bed together.
âRelax,â you say gently. âShe said it was mild, right?â
âYeah.â Zach keeps his eyes on the screen, unsure of how to tell your friends youâre under the impression youâre dating. âYou just need to take it easy. Youâll be back to normal soon.â
.â
â
â
.
You catch up on the group texts you missed after your fall when you settle in Zachâs car. Youâre reading the last message, which is Aesha saying something about seeing you soon when Zach turns on the engine.
You canât quite make out the words. Then you realize Zachâs been trying to talk to you.
âWhat?â you say.
âYou shouldnât look at a screen,â he says gently.
âRight.â You lower your phone. âI can barely read right now anyway.â
âCan you put your seatbelt on?â
âYes.â You turn, the motion suddenly making you dizzy. Your eyes pinch shut and you hold your head with a pained sigh.
Zach has never been more upset at himself. Heâs supposed to be taking care of you. The doctor called you fragile. Heâs already messing up.
âSorry,â he says. âJust relax, okay? Iâll take care of it.â
He leans over, pulling your seatbelt into the buckle. You keep your eyes shut, feeling his forehead brush against your cheek, enjoying the warm, rich fragrance thatâs so Zach.
You might not remember everything, but you remember how much you love the way he smells.
âThanks, baby,â you murmur and plant a kiss on his temple.
Zachâs stomach goes wild with butterflies. Heavy guilt sets in again. He canât go on like this. It feels wrong to play along.
He pulls back and you look at him past heavy lids.
âWe should talk,â he says, âabout our friendship.â
He has no idea how to navigate this conversation. The doctor said to correct you calmly. Thereâs nothing calm about the way his heart is pounding right now.
âWe havenât told them, have we?â you ask. âI canât remember ever acting like a couple around them. Is that what you mean?â
You think heâs talking about your friendships with the group waiting at the cabin.
This might be the best way to do this.
Heâll let you believe that youâre keeping your relationship under wraps. Heâll avoid any opportunity to be alone with you until your mind is straight again. And eventually, itâll come to you that you and him arenât actually together.
âYeah,â he agrees. âWe have to act like weâre just friends in front of them.â
âWhyâd we decide to do that again?â you ask.
Zach nervously taps his knee.
âMalek had a really bad breakup,â he explains. âWe didnât want to rub it in his face.â
âOh, yeah,â you say. The memory comes to you, choppy but clear enough. âDumped via text. Poor guy.â
He flashes a relieved smile. Itâs reassuring that you remember something that happened a week ago.
âRight,â he says. He puts the car in drive. The sooner he gets to the cabin, the sooner he can stop putting on this act. âWe should get going.â
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Your friends are quiet and reluctant to come too close when you step into the cabin.
âGuys, Iâm fine,â you laugh.
âHow are you feeling?â Maggie asks, wide-eyed. âDo you remember me?â
âOf course,â you say. âItâs just a headache now.â
âYou should sit down,â Zach urges behind you. He puts down the bags he brought in from the car that he refused to let you carry.
âIt feels like Iâve been sitting all day,â you say. âExcept for the part when I fell.â
âSo, we can joke about it?â Chase asks with a grin.
âNo,â Zach says. âToo soon.â
You look at him over your shoulder, chuckling.
âI think Zachâs more traumatized than I am,â you say.
âWhat happened exactly?â Esha asks, waving you in.
You step further into the cabin, struck by the enormous living room windows. They present a stunning view of snowy hills and picturesque cottages under the setting sun.
If it werenât for the stubborn ache pulsing in your forehead, youâd want to explore more of the cabin. But Zachâs right. You should sit down. That walk from the car was enough exercise. Youâre already dizzy again.
âItâs my fault,â Zach replies. âI stopped at some random store and thatâs where she fell.â
You meet his eyes, heart breaking at the pained expression on his face. You wish you werenât putting on a farce right now, because if you could do what you wanted, youâd pull him into a hug.
âItâs not your fault I donât know how to walk,â you joke.
âYou fell in the store?â Chase asks.
âParking lot,â you say. âTo get my wallet. Even though Zach said I didnât need to. So, technically, itâs on me.â
You can tell by the look on his face that heâs not convinced. Heâs blaming himself for this entirely.
You sit down for dinner, downing the water Zach encouraged you to drink, while he catches everyone up on how to help support your healing process.
âHow do you know all this?â Maggie asks. âConcussions from playing soccer?â
âI asked the doctor,â he clarifies.
When youâre sure nobodyâs looking, you reassuringly squeeze his knee under the table. He tenses up under your touch.
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After dinner, youâre bundled up in a blanket on the plush living room couch as flames crackle in the stone fireplace.
Nobody has allowed you to lift a finger. Every chore, down to putting away your dinner plate, has been taken over by one of your friends encouraging you to rest.
Zachâs on the other end of the sectional, tapping his fingers against the armrest. You remember that itâs something he does when heâs nervous. Why is he nervous? And why does he have to be so far away? Youâre pretending to be just friends, but simply sitting next to you wouldnât be suspicious, would it?
You know youâre not yourself. Your thoughts are muddy and patchy, but youâre already feeling much better than you did at the hospital because another memory suddenly blooms in your mind.
âHot cocoa,â you say. Five heads turn to look at you as you point at Zach. âI owe you hot cocoa for staying back to drive me.â
âYeah,â Zach says, his dimpled grin making your heart skip. âYour memories are coming back.â
You nod with a bright smile. At this moment, as he gazes at you from across the room, he realizes just how much he worries about you, he thinks of the kiss you left on his skin, and he accepts that he was wrong.
Heâs not falling for you â heâs already in deep, completely enamored with no hope of pulling himself out.
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After you brush your teeth, you pad downstairs to the kitchen before you head to sleep in the bedroom youâre sharing with the girls.
Youâre walking back through the dimly lit house when you hear the floorboards creak under someoneâs weight. Zach rounds the corner at the bottom of the staircase.
âHi,â you say sweetly. He towers over you and your eyes drift down to the red and black flannel heâs wearing. âThe famous grandpa pjâs.â
âYeah,â he laughs, happy you remember yet another thing.
His chest twists, conflicted because he enjoys the familiar comfort of being alone with you, but is also anxious in case you still have the wrong idea about the nature of your relationship.
âProud of me for hydrating?â you ask, holding up the cup of water you just got for yourself.
âVery proud.â He walks past you. âSleep well.â
Youâre confused. Itâs unlike him. You remember enough to know heâs typically kind and talkative.
âHey,â you say, turning to look at him. He meets your gaze, lips slightly parted, visibly tense. âWhatâs wrong? You donât really blame yourself, do you? Iâm fine.â
His lips curl into a frown. Heâs not convinced.
âPlease donât worry,â you continue softly, stepping towards him. âYouâve been taking such good care of me. Youâre the best friend a concussed girl could have.â
Friend. Does that mean you no longer think heâs your boyfriend? Have you forgotten about the whole thing entirely?
Before he can ask to be sure, he realizes you were being playful with the word, because you quickly look over your shoulder, then unexpectedly pop up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.
âI made sure nobody saw,â you say in an amused whisper. âGood night.â
You rush upstairs, an electric current zipping through you even though youâve kissed him a million times before.
Zach is standing still in the hallway, heart hammering, blood running hot. Heâs lost count of how many times he daydreamed about kissing you. Now, he felt your lips against his for real, and his mind and body are a jumbled mess.
Thereâs a chance you like him back and now feel uninhibited to offer him the affection youâve always wanted to give him. Or youâre just confused and youâll be horrified to learn that he let you believe youâre dating when you were dazed and vulnerable.
If your memory isnât solid by tomorrow, heâll have to correct it himself. And he can only hope he wonât ruin your friendship in the process.
âșâșâș saturday
Youâre walking towards the kitchen, the taste of toothpaste fresh on your tongue. Youâre glad you woke up with a much clearer mind. You remember more of yesterday; itâs almost a complete picture in your head.
Zach and Malek are sitting at the breakfast table, cradling mugs of coffee. Zachâs eyes dart away from yours the moment he sees you. It makes your heart sink.
âHi,â you say to them.
âMorning,â Malek replies.
âFeeling better?â Zach asks.
âHeadacheâs gone,â you answer. He nods, but doesnât look at you again.
Heâs been acting weird and youâre not sure if itâs just guilt over your fall. The memory of you lying in bed with him a few days ago is so clear. What happened between then and yesterday?
You must have had a fight that youâre forgetting about. Youâre sure Zach would be selfless enough to pretend that youâre on good terms while youâre concussed, but he canât hide that heâs on edge.
âBad sleep?â you ask, looking down at his drink. âYou only drink coffee when youâre desperate.â
His eyes finally find yours again, softening when they do. Itâs the early morning and heâs wearing sweats and a hoodie and his dark honey hair is a tousled mess, yet he still looks so handsome and it feels unfair to not be able to kiss him.
âYou remember that, too,â he says with relief. âAnything else come up?â
âNothing that feels important,â you admit with a shrug. Disappointment flashes over his features and you chew on your lip in saddened confusion.
Zach hates seeing the hurt on your face. He needs to have this conversation now and get it over with.
âDo you want to get some fresh air?â he asks.
âThat sounds nice,â you answer.
âYouâre insane,â Malek says. âItâs like the North Pole out there.â
âExactly,â you reply with a laugh. âIt makes you appreciate being inside even more.â
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You stand side-by-side on the snow-covered balcony leading out to the back of the cabin, bundled up in your coats, hats, and mittens.
âItâs so pretty out here,â you whisper, gazing out at the frozen lake hugged by patches of trees.
âIt is,â Zach says. His breath comes out in a small puff of fog as he ruminates over how to tell you what he needs to tell you.
âAll that ice,â you mumble, âand so many different ways to fall on it.â
He cracks a smile.
âStill too soon to joke about it,â he says.
âEven I donât get a free pass?â you chuckle.
You reach for his hand, feeling his warmth through your mittens. Zach clears his throat and pulls out of your grasp.
âThereâs something I havenât told you,â he begins. His cheeks redden. âAnd please hear me out. I was doing what I thought wasââ
The sound of the door sliding open interrupts him. You both look back to see Malek ambling out onto the balcony with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.
âMaybe you guys are onto something,â he says. âWe didnât come all the way out here not to appreciate the views, right?â
He stands between you two and despite the tension, you and Zach share a smile, knowingly both irritated yet amused at your friendâs clueless intrusion.
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When you head back inside, everyone else has woken up, loudly chattering in the kitchen. Youâre pulled into a conversation with Esha and Maggie while Chase asks Zach to help him with starting the fire.
Itâs hard to absorb the words your friends are saying after the way you and Zach left things a few minutes ago.
âCan someone turn on some music?â Maggie eventually asks. âI left my phone upstairs.â
âSure,â you offer.
âNo screens!â Esha shouts.
âItâll just be for a second,â you laugh. You connect to the speaker. When you realize you have an unfamiliar playlist open, you curiously scroll through the songs.
Zach comes back into the kitchen, dusting off his hands.
You tap on the first track in the playlist. A slow, gentle song buzzes from the living room.
Then, it hits you like a wave.
This song played in his car on the way here. You dozed off listening to it. You woke up from a dream.
A dream.
Zach isnât your boyfriend. He never was.
The puzzle pieces have finally snapped together, and the picture isnât pretty.
You stare at him, the realization harsh and unsettling. The possibility of a fight you forgot about had run through your head, but the fact that you were never even together is startling.
Zach can see it immediately, the discomfort on your face. He thought he wanted you to figure it out on your own. Now that you have, he regrets not telling you the truth right away.
âUh, my⊠phone is about to die,â you stammer, stopping the song. âBe right back.â
You leave the room, and while everyone else carries on conversation, Zachâs heart is in his stomach. He messed up. Possibly irreversibly.
He trails behind you, whispering your name as you rush up the stairs. You turn to face him once you reach your bedroom, nearly breathless.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â you ask, the embarrassment wringing out your insides.
âIâm sorry,â he says. âCan you sit down? You need to take it easy.â
âZach,â you assert. He sighs in worry.
âI was about to tell you outside, but then we got interrupted.â
âWhy didnât you just tell me right away?â you say. âI⊠oh, my God. I kissed you last night.â
Zach rakes his hand through his hair as you step back and exhale in disbelief.
âThe doctor said I shouldnât stress you out,â he explains. âI didnât want to confuse you or embarrass youââ
âToo late,â you interrupt with a note of sadness.
Itâs a punch to Zachâs gut seeing you so upset because of something he did. Heâd actually prefer a real punch right now. At least then, heâd know the pain will fade. The guilt filling his chest feels like itâll be there forever.
âI â I was doing what I thought was best,â he says. âShe said you were fragile and it freaked me out and I promise, the last thing I want to do is upset you or mess with your healing.â
You can see that heâs in distress, but so are you. You spilled your heart out to him, you touched and kissed him while under the impression that you shared a love that wasnât there.
âPlease donât think Iâm a creep or something â I just â I honestly didnât expect that kiss,â he admits. âI wouldâve stopped it if I did.â
You have to look away. Why would he have stopped it? Because you werenât in your right mind? Or because he wouldnât ever want you to kiss him?
You hope he has it in him to at least admit if he feels anything for you. This is the time to do it after you embarrassed yourself so immensely. You stare down at the floor, silently praying that heâll reassure you.
Zachâs throat tightens. Seeing you like this makes his shame so overpowering that his eyes start to burn with tears.
âIâm sorry,â he repeats. He steps out of the room before you can see him cry. He doesnât want to make this about him. He wants to give you space.
Youâre left standing alone in the silence, your heart cracked right down the middle.
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Zach doesnât let his gaze linger on you for the rest of the day. Heâs terrified heâll have to face his fear of losing you.
Whatâll life look like without you? You met and then all of a sudden, you became a ray of light in his world, always able to make him smile, always on his mind. He canât stomach making you uncomfortable. You looked so disgusted that he went along with a lie.
After dinner, youâre all sitting in the living room and helping Maggie set up a board game. Thatâs when Zach finally allows himself to look at you.
Youâre sitting in front of the fireplace, quietly reading the instructions to yourself, lips moving with the words. Worrisome curiosity gnaws at him, eager to find out if your mind is clear again.
âDoes reading still feel weird or is it okay now?â he asks you from across the room.
âOh â yeah,â you say, caught off guard. You havenât spoken since your fight this morning. âItâs okay now.â
âWhere have you been, MacLaren?â Maggie laughs. âWe established sheâs back to normal like three hours ago.â
âDo we need to check your head?â Chase jokes.
Zach forces a laugh. Heâs been too lost in his thoughts to absorb himself in the conversations happening around him all day. The possibility of making you uncomfortable simply by being in the same room as you is too heavy to ignore at this point.
âMaybe,â he says. âI should probably turn in.â
âWhat?â Malek shouts. âI was going to kick your ass at⊠whatïżœïżœïżœs this game called again?â
âYou can kick my ass later,â Zach mumbles, standing up. âSorry, guys.â
âLame,â Maggie sighs.
You keep your gaze on him as he leaves the room, but his eyes stay on the floor the entire time.
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You gently knock on the boysâ bedroom door, listening to your friendsâ enthusiastic competition-fuelled conversations echoing from downstairs.
Itâs been fifteen minutes since you started the board game and two since you purposely knocked yourself out of it. You excused yourself to take a shower, but your intention was always to come up and talk to Zach. Even though youâd left things so tense, you need to make sure of one thing.
âYeah?â His voice on the other side of the door is muffled. You step into the dark room, the hallway light spilling in.
âItâs me,â you whisper into the dimness. âSorry. Youâre not sleeping, are you?â
âNo. I canât,â he admits. You hear a mattress creak. A light turns on with a click. Zachâs standing by a lamp, almost looking wounded.
You step inside, shutting the door behind you, nervous as you settle on the edge of one of the beds. He sits on another bed and faces you.
âI donât think youâre a creep,â you say. âI just had to make sure you know that, okay?â
Zach lets out a shaky sigh. He purses his lips, nodding slowly, and when you see a shine pool over his eyes, you still.
âThanks,â he breathes. âI hated the idea of you thinking I took advantage of you or something and I didnât want you to feel like you had to be around me if youââ
âWhat? Zach, no. No way.â
When he quietly sniffles, youâre certain heâs holding back tears. You knew he was sensitive, but witnessing him cry over the possibility of making you uncomfortable stings. Especially since he surely felt awkward with you touching him and kissing him, and still played along for you.
He doesnât deserve to feel like this. You shuffle over, sitting next to him on his bed.
âListen, I was just really embarrassed,â you say, desperate to console him. âI still am, to be honest.â
âItâs okay,â he says. âYou donât have to be. You were injured.â
âYeah, but⊠how would you feel if you ran around kissing me just for me to tell you I never wanted you to?â
Zachâs jaw tenses. Is that what you think? That he doesn't want to kiss you? God, heâd spend all day kissing you if you let him.
âIâve been thinking about it,â you continue, âand I get why you went along with it. I know you were just looking out for me. Sorry that I got so upset.â
âPlease donât be sorry,â he says. âIâm the one who should apologize.â
âWeâll never agree on this,â you say with a quiet laugh. âWeâre good, okay? Iâm gonna go take a shower and if youâre up for it, you should go downstairs. Iâll come down after and make you that cocoa I promised.â
Zach laughs, genuine and warm, and it makes your heart feel like itâs floating.
âCool,â he says.
âCool,â you echo. You stand up, almost out the door when he stops you.
âHey, can youâŠâ
âWhat?â you ask.
âJust⊠be careful in the shower. Donât slip.â
âIâll be fine. Jeez, you fall on your head one time,â you quip. He laughs. And his smile doesnât fade for a while after you leave the room.
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Youâve just washed the soap off your skin and are about to turn the water off when youâre plunged into darkness. Standing in the tub, naked, completely blind.
For a moment, youâre afraid this is a symptom of your concussion. But then you realize the power must have gone out. You feel for the tile wall, pushing the shower curtain to the side, more nervous to fall than youâd normally be.
âHey, you okay in there?â Zach asks through the door. Heâs nearly breathless. As soon as the lights went out, he raced up the stairs in worry, using his phone flashlight as a guide.
âYeah,â you call. âDid the power go out?â
âYeah,â he says. âDo you need any help or anything? I can get Esha or Maggie.â
You smile to yourself in the dark, not surprised that heâs being so considerate of your comfort. You feel for the robe you left on the counter and wrap yourself in its warmth, then open the door.
Zachâs standing in the hallway, phone flashlight aimed at the floor, concern etched into his face.
âDo we know what happened?â you ask.
Seeing you fresh out the shower feels oddly vulnerable. This is an intimate state for him to witness you in, but youâre not nervous at all, and itâs reassuring to have the hard proof that youâre not uncomfortable around him.
âI think itâs the wind,â he says. âIt must have knocked a power line down.â
âUh oh,â you reply in same way you did when Chase texted about the furnace breaking. He chuckles. At least he can find comfort in the fact that you really do remember everything.
âIâll get dressed and meet you down there,â you say. âThanks for checking on me.â
âOf course.â
The lights are still out when you come downstairs in your pajamas. Your friends are huddled around the fire, amber lights and gray shadows casting over their faces and on the walls. The crescent moon gleams in the cloudy sky past the massive windows.
âWere you at least at the end of your shower?â Esha asks with a defeated laugh.
âYeah,â you say. âI was just about to get out when the room went dark. I was scared my concussion came back.â
âThatâd be great timing,â Esha jokes.
âRight? While Iâm naked in a tub,â you laugh, settling on the floor next to her. Zach is glad nobodyâs looking at him right now, because his cheeks are burning at the mention of you being naked. âDid anyone message the owner?â
âYeah,â Maggie says. âHeâs not answering, but I donât know what he could even do. I checked online and the whole grid is out. I think weâll just have to wait it out.â
âChase cursed us,â Esha says.
âHow is this my fault?â he asks.
âYou tempted fate with your stupid joke yesterday,â she replies. âThe furnace broke. Now everything is broken. Are you happy?â
âHonestly, thrilled,â he replies. âPretty cool to have the power to control the weather.â
You continue to chat with your friends, feeling the temperature in the cabin slowly fall. Before you know it, itâs been half an hour and the power still isnât back on. Youâre shaking from the cold.
Zach notices the way youâre curled up, arms wrapped around your legs, surely colder than everyone else since you just showered.
âWe should keep the fire going,â he says. âI donât think the power will come back on any time soon.â
âWhat happened to the annoying optimism weâve grown to know and love?â Maggie asks.
âI told you guys, I traumatized him when I fell yesterday,â you say. âI broke my brain and his.â
âNo offense, but I probably wouldâve laughed my ass off if I saw you fall like that,â Chase jokes.
âThatâs why Iâm glad I was with Zach,â you retort. He smirks to himself as he builds the fire, hoping itâll radiate more heat for you soon. âI bet when my memory was messed up, you wouldâve convinced me that I owed you money or something.â
âShit,â Chase says. âWhy didnât I think of that?â
âShameless,â Esha mutters. âGuys, I think weâre going to have to sleep here in front of the fire. I bet the bedrooms are freezing.â
âAw, itâll be like a real sleepover,â Maggie says excitedly. âLetâs do it.â
Youâre all in a fit of laughter as you bring mattresses and pillows and blankets down the stairs, already sure that this is going to be a cherished memory. What happened yesterday has given you a new perspective on life, a realization that something as simple as your memory should be appreciated.
And itâs also made your crush on Zach even deeper. Heâs done nothing but look out for you, down to pretending to be your boyfriend to ease you into your healing. Now that the embarrassment has faded, you feel guilty that you were ever upset at him.
The six of you lie in front of the crackling fire, wrapped up in duvets as the wind howls outside. Youâre closest to Zach, your back inches away from his chest. As you gaze at the flames, you think about the way his lips felt on yours last night.
No wonder you felt so stunned after kissing him. Your mind didnât know it was your first kiss, but your body did. The thought that it was also your last kiss makes your stomach sink. Heâs had every opportunity to tell you if he likes you. He hasnât. Youâre just a friend to him and nothing more.
âWho wants to bet on when the powerâs going to be back on?â Malek asks. You hear the click of him unlocking his phone. âItâs 11:30 now. I donâtâŠâ
He suddenly stops talking.
âDid he die? Iâm too tired to turn around and check,â Esha says.
âMy ex texted me,â Malek says.
âDonât fall into the trap, man,â Chase says. âWhatâs done is done.â
âWhatâs it say?â Zach asks. He stares at you as you lie in front of him, backlit by the fire.
âSheâs apologizing,â Malek says. âShe wants to get back together.â
âNo,â Maggie says sternly. âShe dumped you over text, dude.â
You listen to your friends chat, your eyelids growing heavy. Admittedly, youâre worried youâll dream of Zach again. Having his heart in a delusion just to wake up and realize itâs not really yours hurts too much.
You shuffle your feet to get comfortable, accidentally bumping Zach.
âSorry,â you whisper over your shoulder. âWas that your kicking foot?â
âYeah,â Zach replies. âYou just blew my entire season.â
You giggle quietly, tightening your blanket around you. You wish you could hold on to a shred of hope that eventually, your feelings for him will fade. The sinking feeling in your gut tells you thatâll never happen.
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A harsh droning pulls you out of your sleep. Your eyes squeeze shut, then flicker open when you realize someone is snoring. Loudly.
âWho is that?â Esha whispers into the pitch dark. The fire must have died down.
âMalek,â Chase mutters. âHe sounds like a fucking dragon.â
âMalek,â Esha whines. His snoring suddenly stops and you figure she must have kicked him awake.
You chuckle to yourself, gently shuffling in place. Thatâs when you realize youâre up against a warm, firm surface, your nose brushing against the comforting fragrance you love so much.
Youâre cuddled up to Zach. You pull back an inch, your entire body tense.
âHowâd I get here?â you try to joke in a whisper. âSorry.â
âStay,â he mumbles sleepily. He pulls you in by your hip, squeezing gently in his daze. Your heart thrums and you obey, giving into what you want most.
âșâșâș sunday
You can feel the brightness of the sun behind your eyelids. The air isnât cold. The furnace is buzzing. The power is back on.
You gain your bearings and slowly sit up. Everyone else is still asleep. You smile in admiration as you look at your sleeping friends. You love them all so much. You turn to see Zach, his lips in a cute pout, and you accept the fact that you love him, too, in a deeper way.
Friends. Youâre friends. Youâll keep telling yourself that until your heart believes it.
You quietly make your way to the kitchen, determined to cook a big breakfast for everyone. Five minutes pass before Maggie walks in with a tired smile, commenting that something smells good.
âSit down,â you invite her. âCoffee? Tea? Iâm making a thank-you breakfast.â
âWhat for?â she asks.
âYou all took such good care of me,â you say.
âYeah, because Zach basically threatened us to when you first got here,â she laughs. âIâve never seen him so intense. Last night, when the power went out? He booked it upstairs to find you. Heâs been so worried about you.â
âYeah, I think he still feels responsible for me falling,â you say.
She sits up to look over the wall into the hallway to check that the coast is clear, then waves you closer. You turn off the range and sit next to her.
âI think itâs more than that,â she says.
âNo,â you say with a small laugh. âNo way.â
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Zach shuffles awake, exhaling deeply. He drags his hand over the blanket next to him, looking for you before he realizes thatâs what heâs doing.
It felt so nice when you turned towards him in a half-asleep daze, nuzzling your head into his chest. It took him a while to fall asleep simply because of how hard his heart was drumming.
He steps over his sleeping friends. Then, he hears a hushed conversation getting louder as he heads down the hallway.
â...think so?â Maggie says.
âNo,â you respond. âOkay, I wasnât going to tell you and Esha until after we got back, but⊠I was so out of it at the hospital that I thought he was my boyfriend and⊠he actually went along with it.â
âWhat?â she says.
Youâre talking about him. Heâs about to clear his throat to announce himself and pretend like he hasnât heard anything, but then he hears your next words.
âI know he didnât want me acting like that with him, but he tolerated it just so I wouldnât get freaked out when I realized my memory was messed up,â you confess. âHe was so awkward about it after. Trust me. He does not like me back.â
Zach slowly steps back towards the living room and goes up the stairs, trying to absorb what he just heard, trying to make sense of the fact that you not only truly think that he doesnât want your affection, but also that youâre genuinely disappointed about it.
Back. You donât think he likes you back.
This might just be the happiest heâs ever felt.
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You love how pleased your friends look at the breakfast spread youâve made for them as they trickle into the kitchen.
âItâs a good thing it was so cold overnight,â you announce. âNothing in the fridge went bad.â
Zach is the last one to come in and your heart, the traitor, skitters when you meet his striking blue eyes. How long until you can look into those eyes and not think about how it feels to be held by him, how it feels to kiss him?
âSleep well?â you ask to make casual conversation. He settles in the last empty chair at the table.
âYeah. My old man pajamas are really toasty,â he says.
You nod, skin buzzing. Does he remember cuddling you in the middle of the night? By the way his eyes linger on you, you think he just might, and in this simple, small moment, you feel a pinch of hope that he feels the same way you do.
You glance up at the clock hanging above the table to see itâs just past nine, leaving less than two hours before check-out. You try to enjoy the last little bit you have with your friends before you split up to clean and leave the cabin the way you found it.
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The cabin is spotless, the cars are packed up, and youâre hugging your friends goodbye as light snowflakes gently fall from the white sky.
Youâve been giddy with anticipation at the thought of having an hour and a half drive back to campus with Zach, even though he left such a confusing knot in your chest. Despite everything, heâs still a friend you love to spend time with.
âHave a nice drive!â Chase says as he heads towards Eshaâs car, raising his brows at Zach.
After breakfast, Chase had asked him to join you two on the ride home to have more space than he would have sharing a backseat with Malek, but Zach apologized and told him heâd rather not.
When Chase insisted he tell him why, Zach didnât see any reason to keep it in any longer. He admitted to liking you and said heâd finally tell you on the way home.
âBold,â Chase had said. âAnd if she doesnât like you, too? Thatâll be like, the most awkward car ride ever.â
âIâll take the risk,â Zach replied with a smile.
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â
.
âWow,â you say as you drive out onto the main road. âI never made you that hot cocoa, did I?â
âYou didnât,â he says, pretending to be deeply displeased.
âWill you ever forgive me?â you play along.
âIâll need to do some reflecting first,â Zach replies. You laugh, relieved that you two are joking like old times before this past weekend through you for a loop.
âFair,â you say. You plug your phone into his speaker system. âLetâs see if I can unlock any other memories. And donât tell me itâs still too soon to joke about it.â
Zach chuckles, cocking his head.
âIâll let it slide,â he says. âI woke up in a good mood.â
âYouâre basically always in a good mood,â you respond.
Zach can understand why youâd think that. Itâs because heâs never been in a bad mood around you. Life is bright and easy and rich when youâre around. And itâs been even richer since he overheard what you said this morning.
âWe passed a waterfall while you slept on the way up here,â Zach says. âWould you want to make a stop to check out the view?â
âYeah,â you agree, pushing away the reminder of what youâd dreamt about during that nap. âSounds cool.â
.â
â
â
.
Crystal blue water rushes down in an endless torrent, crashing down to the surface with a dull roar. Youâre in awe of how ethereal the waterfall is, white mist bubbling over the stream bordered by snowy land. The snow is still falling gently, the atmosphere cool but not cold, as if the earth is apologizing for the windstorm last night.
You and Zach stand at a height behind a railing, his car parked a few feet away on the side of the road. He purposely slowed down so your friends would drive far enough ahead to not notice youâd made a stop.
Now that heâs here, heâs painfully nervous. Worst case scenario, youâre not interested in dating him, and itâll lead to, like Chase said, the most awkward car ride ever. Heâs sure the remaining hour journey back to campus would feel like ten hours if this goes wrong.
But heâs always been optimistic and last night as he fell asleep with you in his arms, he thought back to every moment in your friendship when he had a spark of hope that he had a place in your heart like you do in his.
Over the months heâs known you, he got into the habit of trying to dull the spark, reminding himself of how much he had to lose if you didnât return his feelings.
Deep down, he always knew heâd eventually give in; he has so much love to give you and the thought of keeping it contained when you might want it was getting harder to bear.
You could break his heart if you donât want him, but itâd break his heart even more if you do and he doesnât do anything about it.
âWow,â you say in a whisper, taking a photo of the waterfall with your phone. âI shouldnât post this, should I? Our friends might be mad that we didn't include them.â
âI think theyâll understand,â Zach replies. âI told Chase⊠uhâŠâ
You lower your phone, looking up at him, unable to stifle your smirk because of how cute he looks from the way the breeze has messed up his hair. The road behind you is clear and quiet, the mid-morning sun offering mild warmth.
âYou told ChaseâŠ?â you say.
Zach licks his lips, his mouth gently opening before he finds the words. He shifts to face you, eyes searching your pretty features, heart in his throat.
âI told him I wanted to be alone with you,â he says. âI didnât mean to eavesdrop this morning, I swear⊠but I⊠I do like you. Back.â
Your eyes widen in surprise. You look down at the snowy concrete, letting out a nervous chuckle.
âI heard you right⊠right?â Zach mumbles.
âBack,â you repeat softly, finding the bravery to look back up at him. âYeah. Thatâs what I said.â
A sweet, honeyed smile grows on his face. He tilts his head slightly, looking at you the exact way youâd dreamt he would. How you always wanted him to, but convinced yourself he wouldnât.
âI didnât tolerate you acting like we were dating,â he says. âI liked it and I felt bad for liking it because it wasnât real.â
You mirror his smile, your heart full of love and joy and the comfort that heâs been giving you since the day you met him.
âI was just doing what I always wanted to do,â you confess. His eyes glint with endearment as he brings a hand up to gently cup your face.
âI really enjoyed being your pretend boyfriend,â Zach says, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you look up at him through your lashes. âCan I be your real one now, though?â
You sigh softly, nodding as he stares at you in nothing short of infatuation. He leans closer by a half-inch, silently testing if youâre okay with it.
You close the distance and your lips meet with a sweet, gentle tenderness like theyâve done this before. You pull back, remembering that they have.
âCan we count that as our first kiss?â you say.
âAbsolutely,â he chuckles.
âșâșâș one week later
Youâre stepping out of the kitchen in Zachâs apartment, tightly gripping the tray of six mugs filled with hot cocoa.
âWhoa,â Zach says, quickly standing up from his spot on the floor when you enter the living room. âCareful.â
âHer concussion is gone, man,â Chase says. âYou have the test results to prove it. She can handle carrying a tray.â
âHeâs helping her because heâs a gentleman,â Esha states. âDo you know what that word means or are you committed to being a caveman forever?â
âCaveman,â he repeats with a grin.
âDonât give him any,â Esha mutters. âHe doesnât deserve it.â
You laugh as you set the tray down on the coffee table with Zachâs help. You settle in your spot on the couch as Zach sits on the floor in front of you again, tucked in between your legs, the insides of your knees pressed against his shoulders.
âI have to say, I called it,â Maggie says as she gazes between you and Zach with a big smile on her face. âTell everyone how I called it.â
âYou called it,â you say, putting your hands on your boyfriendâs broad shoulders, gently squeezing.
Her eyes dart to Esha and you share a knowing grin. Youâd had private conversations about how if you and Zach were always a little obvious, Esha and Chase are the definition of the word.
âOw,â Malek snips, holding the steaming mug away from his face. âI burned myself.â
âItâs hot cocoa, Malek,â Chase says. âItâs literally in the name.â
âReally good, though,â Malek says, giving you a thumbs up.
âThanks,â you laugh.
The tray is eventually littered with empty mugs and you stand to clear away the mess, your heart glowing with the feeling it always has when youâre surrounded by your friends.
Youâre scrubbing a soapy sponge over a mug when you hear Zachâs voice behind you.
âYou donât have to wash anything.â
You look over your shoulder, smiling.
âItâs okay,â you say. He approaches you, hugging you from behind as you stand at the sink, surrounding you in his warmth as your friends talk a room away.
He always enjoyed moments of privacy with you, but since that day by the waterfall, every second with you is more than perfect.
âSo?â you say. âDid you get your wish? Was the cocoa life-changing?â
âAsk me again what you asked on the way up to the cabin,â he murmurs. âWhat I want most in the world.â
âWhat do you want mostââ
âYou,â he interrupts. You laugh breathily as he kisses the side of your neck. âI just couldnât answer honestly the first time you asked. But it was always you.â
You turn the faucet off and tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on your face as he leaves kisses on your neck and holds you tighter.
It was always him, too.
(the end)
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RAFE CAMERON - the language of roses
x FEM!reader - MASTERLIST
SUMMARY: your entire life rafe had been giving you roses in different colours, but you never knew what he really wanted to say
WORD COUNT: 3957
GENRE: fluff!
CONTENT WARNING: english is NOT my first language, soft!rafe cameron, oblivious!reader
rafe cameron was the kind of kid who never sat still. always running, climbing, jumping off something too high just to prove he could. but there was one thing he always slowed down for: you.
you didnât know why, back then. it wasnât like youâd done anything special. you were just the girl who lived two houses down, the one who tagged along on all his adventures because you were good at keeping up. youâd follow him through the woods behind the cameron house, across the sandy dunes near the water, and even onto the roof of the clubhouse his dad had built in their backyard.
but every so often, heâd stop, like heâd remembered something important, and heâd disappear for a minute or two.
the first time it happened, you were seven. youâd been playing hide-and-seek in the cameron yard, and youâd been crouched behind the garden shed for what felt like forever, waiting for him to find you. when he finally did, he was grinning, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead. in his hand was a single yellow rose.
âwhatâs that for?â youâd asked, wrinkling your nose.
âitâs for you,â he said, holding it out like it was no big deal.
âwhy?â
heâd shrugged. âjust âcause. youâre my best friend.â
that became his thing.
when you scraped your knee climbing a tree, rafe handed you a yellow rose from his momâs garden and said, âitâll make you feel better.â
when you had to spend a week at your grandparentsâ house and came back sulking about missing the beach, there he was with another yellow rose.
âwhat does it mean?â youâd asked one day, sitting cross-legged on his bed as he sorted through his pokĂ©mon cards.
âwhat?â he asked, not looking up.
âthe roses. why do you always give me yellow ones?â
he paused, his hands stilling. âitâs just⊠you know. the prettiest one i could find.â
âoh.â
heâd gone back to his cards, but youâd stared at the flower on the bedside table, something about it making your chest feel funny.
by the time you were ten, the roses felt like part of your routine. if you had a bad day at school, rafe would show up with one tucked behind his ear, waiting for you at your front door.
âhere,â heâd say, handing it over with a grin. âitâs magic. makes everything better.â
âthatâs not how magic works,â youâd reply, but you always accepted it anyway.
it wasnât just the big moments, either. sometimes he gave you roses just because. like when youâd meet him at the playground on a sunny afternoon, or when heâd knock on your window late at night to tell you about a new fort he wanted to build in the woods.
âanother one?â youâd tease, twirling the stem between your fingers.
âyep.â
âwhatâs it for this time?â
âi dunno. just wanted to give it to you.â
you never questioned it. rafe was rafe. the roses were just part of the deal.
but one day, when you were twelve, something changed.
heâd been quiet all afternoon, which wasnât like him. usually, rafe was the loudest person in the room, always cracking jokes or talking a mile a minute. but that day, as you sat side by side on the dock near his house, he barely said a word.
âwhatâs up with you?â you asked, nudging him with your elbow.
ânothing,â he muttered, staring at the water.
âyouâre lying.â
he looked at you then, his blue eyes serious in a way that made your stomach flip. after a long moment, he reached into his bag and pulled out another yellow rose.
âhere,â he said quietly.
you took it, studying his face. ârafe, whatâs wrong?â
ânothing,â he said again, but this time, he gave you a small smile. âi just wanted you to have it. thatâs all.â
you didnât push him. instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, the rose resting in your lap.
âthanks,â you whispered.
âanytime,â he replied.
by the time you were twelve, the yellow roses were a part of you. a part of him. they showed up in places they didnât belongâpressed between notebook pages, tucked into old shoeboxes, even wilting in jars on your windowsill. you didnât really know why you kept them, but you couldnât throw them away. they were yours.
but then, something changed, again.
it happened on a random summer afternoon. the sun was blazing, and you were sprawled out in the cameron backyard, sipping lemonade while rafe fixed the broken tire swing.
âyouâre gonna break your neck,â you called out, watching him balance precariously on the wooden frame.
he rolled his eyes but didnât answer. rafe never did listen to you when it came to stuff like this.
when he finally hopped down, covered in dirt and grass, he didnât head straight for the lemonade like you expected. instead, he disappeared into the house without a word.
âwhat are you doing?â you shouted after him, but he didnât answer.
a few minutes later, he came back, holding something behind his back.
âclose your eyes,â he said, a grin tugging at his lips.
âwhy?â
âjust do it!â
you sighed but obeyed, covering your face with your hands. âthis better not be another bug.â
âitâs not,â he promised, laughing. âokay, open.â
when you did, he was standing there with a single white rose.
âwhatâs this for?â you asked, staring at the delicate petals.
he shrugged, looking almost shy. âjust thought youâd like it.â
âbut⊠why white?â
âi dunno,â he said, scratching the back of his neck.
you didnât know what to say, so you just smiled and took it from him, your fingers brushing against his for half a second. you didnât notice the way his cheeks turned pink, or the way he stared at you a little too long before turning back to the swing.
that was the first white rose.
after that, the yellow roses didnât come often anymore. instead, youâd find white onesâon your doorstep, in your locker, or handed over with a casual, âhere, this is for you.â
you never asked why.
by the time you were fourteen, white roses were the new normal. rafe had grown taller, his voice deeper, his confidence sharper. but when he gave you roses, he was still the same boy youâd known forever.
âfor me?â you asked one day, twirling the stem of yet another white rose.
âwho else?â he replied, grinning.
then came your sixteenth birthday. you didnât expect anything bigâjust a day at the beach with rafe, like always. but when he showed up at your door, he wasnât empty-handed.
âwhatâs this?â you asked, staring at the bouquet of pink roses in his hands.
he shrugged, but his usual confidence was missing. âbirthday gift,â he said, thrusting them toward you.
you took them, your heart racing. âtheyâre⊠really pretty.â
âyeah, well. so are you.â
the words hung in the air, heavier than they shouldâve been. you stared at him, your cheeks burning, and for the first time, you didnât know what to say.
by the time you were seventeen, things had changed. it wasnât just the way you and rafe had grown upâit was the way heâd changed.
you could see it the moment he introduced herâlily, the new girl with the perfect hair and the perfect laugh and the perfect smile. she was everything you werenât, and you hated how easily rafe seemed to fall for her.
but that wasnât the worst part.
the worst part was that the roses stopped.
it was a sudden thing. at first, there were other flowersâa bouquet of daisies here, a random tulip thereâbut never roses. not the yellow ones youâd grown used to, not the white ones or the pink ones that had become a quiet declaration between the two of you. just... no flowers.
at first, you told yourself it didnât matter. it didnât. rafe had a girlfriend now.
he didnât owe you roses anymore.
but you missed them. you missed the thoughtfulness, the friendship, the feeling that, no matter what, you still had a place in his life.
and then the your biggest fear came trueâhe stopped being your friend altogether.
lily didnât like how close you and rafe had been. she didnât want him hanging out with his girl best friend anymore. so rafe, being rafe, did what he always did when he felt cornered: he let go.
you didnât get it at first. heâd stopped answering your texts, stopped showing up at the usual spots. at school, heâd walk by you without even looking up. youâd sit at lunch, watching him and lily from the other side of the cafeteria, and it made your chest ache in a way you couldnât explain.
there were no more texts to plan beach trips or late-night talks. no more spontaneous hangouts. nothing.
you tried reaching out once, twice, even three times, but it was always the sameâshort answers, distant replies, the kind that made it clear he didnât want to try anymore.
it was too painful. so you stopped trying.
instead, you focused on other thingsâother people.
it wasnât like you didnât have friends, but the friends you had before had always been people who had fallen into your life by default. you had never needed to work for them. they were always there, easy to hold on to. but now, as you walked down the hallway of your high school with a new group of girlsâgirls who wanted to be your friends, who made an effort to include you, to laugh with you, to spend time with youâyou realized something important.
you were learning to let go too.
the girls were different. they were fun and supportive in ways you hadnât realized you were missing. no one ever told you to back off from their boyfriends. no one ever gave you that uncomfortable look when you were laughing too loudly with one of the guys in the group.
it was easier, in a way. no complications. no unspoken feelings. just fun, carefree friendships.
but you couldnât help but feel that gnawing ache in your chest whenever you saw rafe and lily together. it was like a quiet reminder that everything between you and him was over.
and then, one day, you saw it.
lily posted a story on instagramâa picture of a vase of flowers. they were bright and pretty, but there was something painfully obvious about them. they werenât roses.
never roses.
they were daisies. lilies. tulips.
anything but roses.
you looked over at your new group of friendsâlaughing at something ridiculous, pulling you into their conversationâand for the first time in a long while, you realized something important: you were okay.
no, you werenât fine. you missed rafe. you missed your best friend. but you werenât going to stay in the past.
there was a part of you that hoped rafe would realize what heâd lost, that maybe, one day, heâd come back and apologize. but for now, you had other things to focus on.
and maybe that was enough for now.
but still, you didnât expect to see rafe cameron waiting for you after school.
the day had been uneventfulâjust the usual classes, the usual laughs with your friends, the usual reminder in the back of your mind that rafe wasnât part of your world anymore.
but there he was. leaning against the wall near the parking lot, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his hair a mess like heâd been running his fingers through it all day.
your first instinct was to ignore him. he hadnât spoken to you in months. months. heâd chosen lily, chosen her rules, chosen to let go of everything youâd shared.
but something about the way he lookedâlost, broken, sadâstopped you.
you stepped closer, hesitant. ârafe?â
his head snapped up, his blue eyes locking onto yours. for a second, he didnât say anything, just stared at you like he couldnât believe you were real.
âhey,â he said finally, his voice hoarse.
âwhat are you doing here?â you asked, your tone sharper than you meant it to be.
he flinched, but he didnât back down. âi... i needed to see you.â
âwhy?â
âbecauseââ he broke off, running a hand through his hair. âbecause i screwed up. and because i didnât know where else to go.â
you crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. âwhat about lily?â
he laughed, but it wasnât a happy sound. âsheâs gone. we broke up.â
âoh.â
you didnât know what else to say. part of you wanted to walk away, to tell him it wasnât your problem anymore. but the other partâthe bigger part, the one that still caredâcouldnât do it.
âcome on,â you said, jerking your head toward your car.
he blinked, surprised. âreally?â
âyeah,â you muttered. âletâs go.â
the drive back to your house was quiet, the air between you heavy with things unsaid. when you got home, you led him to your room, just like you always used to.
he sat on the edge of your bed, looking around like he couldnât believe he was there again. âyou changed it,â he said, his voice soft.
âyeah,â you replied, sitting cross-legged on the other side. âitâs been a while.â
he nodded, staring down at his hands. âiâm sorry.â
âfor what?â
âfor everything. for shutting you out. for choosing her. for being an idiot.â
you didnât say anything, letting the silence stretch between you.
âi missed you,â he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
you looked at him then, really looked at him, and you saw itâthe boy youâd grown up with, the one who used to make you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one who always brought you roses.
âi missed you too,â you admitted.
his head snapped up, his eyes filled with something you couldnât quite name. âyeah?â
âyeah,â you said, smiling faintly. âbut youâre still an idiot.â
he laughed, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.
you talked for hours, just like you used to. about everything and nothing, about the way life had shifted and the things youâd both been through. it was easy, familiar, like slipping back into an old rhythm.
when he finally stood to leave, you followed him to the door, your heart heavier than you wanted to admit.
âthanks for... for letting me in,â he said, his hand lingering on the doorknob.
âyouâre always welcome,â you said softly.
he nodded, gave you one last look, and then he was gone.
when you turned back toward your room, something caught your eyeâa splash of color on your bed.
frowning, you walked closer, and your breath caught in your throat.
a single purple rose rested on your pillow.
you picked it up, your fingers trembling as you held it to your chest.
you sank onto the bed, staring at the flower, your mind spinning.
he hadnât said it, but he didnât need to. the rose said everything he couldnât.
and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybeâjust maybeâyou and rafe werenât finished after all.
by the time you were eighteen, you and rafe had found your way back to each other.
it hadnât been easy, not at first. there were awkward silences, half-finished sentences, and moments where you both stumbled over how to act around each other. but slowly, the cracks healed. the space between you shrank. and before you knew it, you were best friends again, just like youâd been before everything fell apart.
except now, things were different in a way you couldnât quite put your finger on. it wasn't different as in your roses changed from yellow to white, it was just... different.
rafe spent more time with you and your friends than he did with his own. heâd show up at your place unannounced, invite himself to girlsâ nights, and make himself at home in your little world. your friends loved himâwho wouldnât? he was funny, charming, and could win over just about anyone with a crooked smile and a well-timed joke.
and then there were the roses.
at first, it had felt like slipping back into an old routine. rafe had always given you flowersâyellow for friendship, white for something deeper, pink for gratitude and love. so when he started showing up with four roses every time he saw you, you didnât think much of it.
a pink rose, soft and sweet. a white rose, pure and delicate. a yellow rose, bright and cheerful. and a dark pink rose, richer, deeper, full of meaning you didnât quite understand.
âwhatâs this for?â youâd ask every time, your voice teasing.
âdo i need a reason?â heâd reply, smirking as he handed them over.
youâd roll your eyes, tuck them into a vase, and move on.
it wasnât until one friday night, when rafe wasnât there, that your friends brought it up.
you were sprawled out on your living room floor with your two best friends, abby and jen, eating popcorn and flipping through magazines. the absence of rafeâs usual presence was noticeable, but you didnât mention it.
âso,â abby said, sitting up and tossing a kernel into her mouth. âare you and rafe, like... a thing?â
you blinked, startled. âwhat?â
jen raised an eyebrow. âyou and rafe. are you dating?â
you laughed, the sound a little too loud. âno. what? no way. weâre just friends.â
âjust friends?â abby repeated, her tone skeptical.
âyes,â you said firmly. âweâve been best friends since we were kids. thatâs all it is.â
jen exchanged a look with abby, then turned back to you. âokay, but... the roses?â
âwhat about them?â
âhe gives you flowers every time he sees you!â abby said, throwing her hands up.
âso? heâs always done that.â
âalways?â jen asked, her eyes wide.
âyeah,â you said with a shrug. âsince we were six.â
both girls gaped at you like youâd just confessed to a crime.
âyouâre telling me,â abby said slowly, âthat rafe cameron has been giving you flowers for twelve years, and youâve never thought it was weird?â
âitâs not weird,â you said defensively. âitâs just... a thing we do. it doesnât mean anything.â
âit definitely means something,â jen said, crossing her arms. âguys donât give roses to their best friends for over a decade unless theyâre in love with them.â
âheâs not in love with me,â you said, rolling your eyes.
âbabe,â abby said, leaning forward. âdark pink roses? those mean, like, admiration and gratitude, but also... yâknow. romance.â
you opened your mouth to argue, but the words stuck in your throat.
âand white roses? purity. pink? love. yellow? friendship. heâs literally giving you every part of him in flower form,â jen added.
you stared at them, your mind racing.
âheâs... heâs just being rafe,â you said weakly.
âexactly,â abby said. âand rafe is in love with you.â
their words echoed in your head long after the conversation ended, and when you went to bed that night, your eyes drifted to the vase on your desk.
four roses. pink, white, yellow, dark pink.
youâd never questioned them before. but now, for the first time, you wondered if maybeâjust maybeâthere was more to them than youâd ever let yourself believe.
your nineteenth birthday was minutes away, and you were already in bed.
well, technically you were sitting on your bed, legs crossed, scrolling through your phone while waiting for the clock to hit midnight. your hair was twisted into perfect heatless curls, your nose strip was firmly in place, and your face was freshly moisturizedâyour skincare routine impeccable as always.
you werenât expecting anything. your friends had already promised to make a big deal out of it tomorrow, and you figured the actual moment of your birthday would pass quietly, just you and your phone and a sleepy smile.
but then you heard the faint scrape of your window.
at first, you froze. was someone trying to break in?
ârelax,â came a familiar voice, low and teasing. âitâs just me.â
ârafe?â
you slid off your bed, rushing to the window to find him perched on the ledge, one hand gripping the frame, the other holding something behind his back.
âwhat are you doing?â you hissed, trying to keep your voice down. âitâs midnight!â
âexactly,â he said, flashing that boyish grin that always got him out of trouble. âhappy birthday.â
you blinked, completely thrown off. âyou climbed up here for that?â
he shrugged, effortlessly pulling himself through the window and into your room. âyouâre worth it.â
âyouâre insane.â
âand youâve got... something on your nose,â he said, his gaze locking onto the strip.
your cheeks flushed. youâd completely forgotten about your skincare situation.
âoh my god, i look ridiculous,â you muttered, turning away from him.
âno, you look... like you,â he said, his voice softer now.
you glanced back at him, narrowing your eyes. âwhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âit means i like you better like this,â he said simply. âno makeup, no filters, just... you.â
before you could respond, he brought his hand forward, revealing the bouquet heâd been holding.
âhere,â he said, holding it out to you.
you stared at it, your heart doing a strange little flip. the roses were beautifulâsoft pastel purple, deep dark purple, a single vivid red, and of course, the familiar yellow.
ârafe,â you whispered, taking them from him. âyou didnât have toââ
âyeah, i did,â he cut you off. âyou deserve them.â
ârafe...â you started, but the words wouldnât come.
he shrugged like it was no big deal, but the way he looked at you told you otherwise. âhappy birthday,â he said again, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.
you stared at him, your heart thudding in your chest. the weight of the flowers in your hands, the warmth in his gaze, the fact that heâd climbed through your window just to be the first to see you on your birthdayâit was all too much and somehow just enough.
âthank you,â you whispered, your voice unsteady.
he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as you clutched the bouquet.
âyouâre everything to me, you know that?â he said, the words tumbling out like he couldnât hold them back any longer.
your heart stopped for a moment, then started again, faster, louder.
ârafe...â
he shook his head, his hands moving to gently frame your face. âyou donât have to say anything. just... can Iâ?â
he didnât finish the sentence, but you understood.
âyes,â you breathed, barely able to get the word out.
he leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you didnât. when his lips brushed yours, it was soft at first, tentative, like he was afraid youâd disappear.
but then you kissed him back, and something inside both of you broke free.
the roses slipped from your hands onto the bed, forgotten as you melted into him, your arms winding around his neck, his fingers tangling gently in your curls.
when you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily, the world outside your room completely forgotten.
âhappy birthday,â he whispered again, his smile so full of affection it made your chest ache.
âbest one yet,â you replied, your own smile matching his.
and as he stayed by your side, your head resting on his shoulder, the roses scattered around you, you couldnât imagine a better way to start a new year of your life.
and for years, you kept them allâpressed between the pages of your favorite books, tucked into jars on your windowsill, little pieces of rafe that made you feel like the most important person in the world.
because to him, you were.
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happy birthday, baby (part two: birthday boy)
(boyfriend!rafe x girlfriend!reader two-shot) (18+ only)
summary When Rafe's birthday finally rolls around, it's your turn to show him just how much he deserves to be celebrated. you never expected to be the one whose deepest wish comes true...
content dirty filthy birthday sex, pinv, light bondage, m recieving oral, use of âdaddyâ sorry, 18+ minors do not interact!
(part 2 to this fic, but can be read separately)
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âTastes so good, baby.â
Little crumbs of red velvet cake collect at the corners of Rafeâs mouth. You laugh and brush them off with the pad of your thumb.Â
Heâd made you swear not to buy him anything for his birthday, ââs just another dayâŠâ heâd say. But it wasnât just another day, not to you. Today was the day your universe began, all those years ago. So youâd made all his favorites, a five-course meal with a big finish: a triple layer red velvet cake, extra frosting.
âWhat did you wish for?â You ask hopefully, plucking the blown-out candles from the cake, licking the frosting off. A little dab of red frosting lingers on your cheek, making Rafe smile, but he doesnât wipe it off, not yet.
âNothinâ,â he shrugs.
Your brows furrow in disappointment, you were trying so hard to get him to buy into the celebration of his birthday, to make him feel as special as he made you feel, and his answer seemed to confirm he wasnât, âOh. Okay.â
You step away from his hold and start to gather the dishes, failing miserably at hiding your disappointment. Rafe just smiles up at you, grabbing your wrist as you reach out to grab his empty dinner plate, pushing it out of the way with his other hand as he pulls you forward to sit on his lap.
Perched on his thighs, you avoid eye contact, feeling silly for being so emotionally invested in this. His grin never falling, he places two fingers under your chin, pulling your face to look at him.Â
âI didnât make a wish,â he begins, using his thumb to pull at your pouty lower lip, âbecause I already have everything I could ever want right here in my lap.â
A blush tickles the apples of your cheeks, warming at his pretty words. You smile big, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his firm shoulder.
âOh,â you laugh softly into the warm skin of his neck.
âYeah, oh,â he teases you, his hand rubbing loving strokes on your thigh.
âWait a minute,â you pull back suddenly, brow furrowed. âIâm supposed to be saying nice things to you!â
âNo oneâs stopping you,â he chuckles, lifting your hair and brushing it over your shoulder so he can kiss around the strap of your dress.
You pause him, hand on either side of his face to reclaim the moment. You lean forward so youâre the one kissing him, starting gently with his lips.
âI love you,â you whisper to him.
âYou do?â He teases, as if you donât already tell him twenty times a day and every single night.
âYou know that I do,â you roll your eyes, reuniting your lips with his, then moving your kisses over to his cheeks and across his jaw, whispering sweet nothings the whole way.
When you pull back, his eyes are half closed, chest rising and falling heavily. Heâs right where you want him, but tonight, the goal is to push him over the edge. You ponder what you can do to get him to let go completely, to give you the raw energy you know heâs been holding back.Â
Impulsively, you dip your finger into the thick icing on the edge of the cake, coating your fingertip in red frosting, and bring it to his lips. An incredulous smirk painted on his lips, his eyes narrow at you; the look a mix of whatâs your game? and do you know how fucking hot that is?Â
After a beat, he draws your finger between his lips with a swirl of his tongue, the movement so sweet and so sexy you nearly swoon.
His hands grip your waist and he pulls you in closer, and you feel his hardness bury itself into the soft underside of your thigh. He has that familiar mischief in his eyes, like heâs scheming.Â
Then he leans forward suddenly, warm tongue licking the frosting off your cheek. You gasp and giggle, laughing loudly until your silenced by his tongue dragging its way across your cheek and into your mouth, kissing you slow and sloppy.
The two of you are always like this, all over each other, addicted. But something about tonight feels different. You couldnât give him any presents, but you were ready to give him everything else you had. Everything youâd been too nervous to ask for, hoping heâd say it first.
He squeezes your waist, grinding you into him, and you know itâs time.
âI know you said you didnât want any presents, but I got you a little something anyway,â you scrunch your nose with feigned guilt, though you werenât actually sorry at all.
âOh did you?â He tightens his grip on your hips, but you manage to wriggle away from him with some difficulty.
He scoffs in annoyance when heâs alone in the chair again, so you lean down and leave a peck on his pink lips, âIâll be right back. Wait for me on the couch, yeah?â
âYouâre real bossy for someone who was not born today,â he quips, not rising from the chair as instructed.
âAnd youâre very unspoiled for someone who was,â you explain, âI think we need to fix that.â
Rafe falls back onto the plush couch with a sigh as you disappear into the bedroom. The long, heavy day wears on him, his head falling back to stretch the tightness in his neck. He wishes he didnât always feel so intensely, wishes a day could just be a day and not a weighted reminder of his messy past. He wishes, desperately, something could just drown out the noise, that someone could come take the weight of his shoulders.
Like an answer to his prayer, you appear in front of him.Â
You lean on the doorframe seductively, one arm up against the wood, popping out your hip, a silhouette he wishes he could bottle up and consume whole.
Youâre wearing a silky, red lingerie set, the bra featuring a big bow tied in the middle, pushing your breasts together and begging to be untied. You do a little spin so he can see the similar bow tied over your ass, cheeks perked up nicely by the sky high heels youâve added to the ensemble, clicking on the hardwood floor as you twirl for him.
âHoly shit,â he stammers, adjusting himself on the couch, already straining against his slacks just at the sight of you, all done up for him.
Rafe leans back on the couch, He raising both arms, fingers laced behind his head, doing everything he can to stifle the impulse to jump up and untie those fucking bows. He does that a lot, holds himself back, afraid to show you all of his fire and find out itâs too much for you.
âYou,â he chuckles darkly, eyes twinkling with lust and impatience, âare unbelievable.â
âDâya like it?â You bite your lip, fingertips twirling the ends of the ribbon innocently.
âCome here,â he raises his eyebrows incredulously, motioning for you, âcome see just how much I like it.â
An excited giggle rises from your throat, your heels tapping as you hurry towards him. He opens his legs for you to stand between, rubbing your hands over his shoulders. The ridges of his taut muscles are visible under his black button down, still in his suit and tie from his long day at work. He turns his head to kiss the inside of your forearms, smirking knowingly as he snaps the silky pink scrunchie on your wrist, âwhatâs this for?â
âYou know what itâs for,â you smirk, running your hands up the side of his neck and onto either side of his face, âgonna give you everything you like.â
âYeah?â He asks in a low grumble, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he examines the bow over your tits, now resting perfectly in front of his face.
One hand playing with the cartilage of his ear, the other runs up to the top of his head, lacing into his messy hair, tugging gently to lift his gaze to your eyes.
âIs that what you want? You want me on my knees for you, birthday boy?â
Steadying himself, he places his hands on your waist, the bob of his Adamâs apple prominent with the way youâve got his head pushed back. He swallows, something holding back his answer.Â
âItâs okay, baby,â you reassure him, âyou can ask for what you want.â
This is one of the many things you love about him, heâs so aggressive and demanding with everyone else in his life, but still hesitant to be too rough with you. Today, though, you wanted all his fire, craved that fury, determined to snap his restraint.
You tug a little harder on his hair, âIâm your present, Rafe. I want you to open me up and do whatever you want with me.â
His nostrils flare, sparks flickering in his eyes. His hands slip down to your barely covered ass, squeezing the soft flesh so hard in his broad palms you gasp and stumble forward slightly. He takes advantage of your body coming closer to his face, leans forward and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your hip, right above the line of your panties.
A high pitched gasp leaves you, picking up into an involuntary squeak as his teeth mark your skin. He pulls back and licks over the bite mark heâs left, blowing on it gently, lighting up your body with chills.
âMine?â He double checks.
âAll yours, always,â you nod, still breathless from his possessive display. âTell me what you want, Iâll give you anything.â
âGet on your knees,â he finally demands.
âYes sir,â you nod, unable to hide your giddy smile, releasing his hair from your hand and lowering to the ground.
âWait, wait,â he says, and you almost let out a frustrated sigh, assuming he was changing his mind. Before you could remind him that you wanted this, he grabbed a pillow off the couch, placing it down for you to rest your knees on, still loving on you even when he was about to do filthy things to you.
Your eyes are full of hearts as you kneel down on the pillow, gazing up at him lovingly once youâre settled between his legs. You pull your hair up, putting the scrunchie to good use, and sit back on your heels to take him in.
The sight of you, perched for him, eyes full of lust as your chest rises and falls with arousal, is all the gift he needed. But youâre nowhere near done spoiling him yet.
Once heâs settled back on the couch, you sit up, running a hand up each of his thighs, stroking slowly as you near his belt buckle. His abs tighten as the tips of your fingers brush against his stomach. Your eyes go wide at the large indentation of his cock against his pants, thrilled that heâs so hard already, the thought of his perfect dick sending butterflies fluttering through your tummy.
âGot me so wet thinking about taking you in my mouth,â you confess.
âYou donât have to-â
âShhh,â you shake your head slowly, not even entertaining the thought.
After pulling the button from its loop, you unzip his slacks slowly, Rafe lifting his hips from the couch so you can pull them down just enough to reveal the outline of his pulsing cock straining against his briefs.
Focused, you lean over him, fingertips teasing the waistband of his Calvinâs, and place the gentlest of kisses on his clothed dick.
âJust wanna be your dirty girl tonight,â you say before dropping another kiss to the very tip, savoring the salty taste of his precome seeping through his boxers. âYou gonna let me?â
Rafe nods obediently, eyes wide with amazement that youâre this good to him, âyes baby, give it to me.â
With that request, you pull the band of his briefs down, allowing his cock to finally spring free, humming contentedly at the sight. Before palming it, you pull his hand from your throat and move it to your hair. He catches on and wraps his fingers around your ponytail.
You wrap your fingers around his base, dribbling a glob of spit slowly from your lips onto the head, using it to ready him with a pump of your fist.
Rafeâs eyebrows knit together, in awe of you as he always is.
âSuch a pretty cock,â you hum, âbeen waiting all day to taste you. I think about this dick all the time.â
It isnât just for show, though you are speaking a little filthier than usual to add spice to his birthday gift, you really do think about him so often. Heâs given you so much, the life changing sex just one piece of the puzzle heâs assembled for you through his love and care.
Eyes darting up to lock onto his, you flatten your tongue and run a single stripe up the column of his shaft, finishing with a playful flick at the tip.
His whole body shudders, the fingers wrapped in your hair tugging so gently you wonder if youâre imagining it, his other hand balled in a restrained fist on the top of his thigh.
âYou know I love you, yeah?â Rafe whispers, soft like a prayer, like theyâre the last words he wants to say before his soul leaves his body.
âI love you more,â your lips curl into a smile, punctuating the statement with a swirl of your tongue over his now throbbing head.
âNot fucking possible.â
You slip the hand not holding his cock to your lips over his clenched fist, guiding him to unravel it and laces his fingers with yours. You finally hollow your cheeks and sink your head down on him, softly gagging as your jaw goes to slack to welcome all of him into your warm, wet mouth.
When heâs all the way in, you gag again, the motion of your throat clenching around him mixed with the pornographic sound forcing his eyes shut as he grits his teeth at the intense pleasure. You lift up slowly then bob at a steady pace, slurping and gagging as you go, making the prettiest sounds for him.
You pop off of him momentarily to catch your breath, âyouâre so big, love. âM gonna have to go slow.â
âT-a-ake your time,â he stammers out, hips jerking up unintentionally as you wrap both hands around his shaft and begin twisting your strokes at a steady pace.
As you stroke him, you rise up on your knees so your tied up tits move with each stroke of his cock.
âYou havenât opened your present yet,â you angle forward, eyes drifting to your barely covered chest until he catches on.
Rafe pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, fingers twitching with every stroke of your hand on his cock as he tugs at the edge of the ribbon covering your chest.
Pulling the bow apart, your tits bounce slightly, spilling out for him, and he nearly busts at the sight.
âFuck,â he moans out. âI swear to god, baby, itâs like Iâm seeing you for the first time every time. Youâre so fucking gorgeous.â
Still stroking him, you stretch up to kiss him, the soft skin of your nipple brushing against his leaking tip. Rafe gasps into your mouth at the sensation, and you look at him with wide, mischievous eyes.
âDid you like that?âÂ
You let your hardened nipple just barely brush against his overly sensitive tip again, and heâs nodding his head rapidly, âye-yeah, yeah, yesâŠâ
Lip between your teeth, you drag your nipple across his tip a few more times, collecting his precum on the hard bud. Heâs nearly crushing your hand, biting back whimpers. Youâre gasping again and again as your sensitive skin makes contact with his, surprised at how good it feels for you, too.
âThis shit making you wet, baby?â He asks, eyeing the way your thighs squeeze together, body rolling desperately.
With a wicked grin you drag his hands to either side of your breasts, guiding him to squeeze them around himself. He lets out an immediate groan when you hinge your hips to raise and lower your torso, dragging his cock, sloppy from your spit, between your tits.
âYes, so wet, Rafe. I love watching you fuck my tits, itâs so fucking hot,â you choke out between strokes.
Heâs never seen you like this, so filthy and forward. But the beaming grin on your face as you watch him panting for your touch tells him youâre doing just fine, enjoying it even. He wants nothing more than to keep you looking like that, to keep making you feel good.
âWhatâd you wish for?â He asks impulsively.
âWhat?â Youâre pulled from your focus on his pleasure at the unexpected question.
âOn your birthday, whatâd you want me to do to you?â
Your blush is immediate, shame swirling in your belly at the filthy fantasies that flash through your mind. Youâre supposed to be making him feel good, but itâs these kinds of gentle reminders that heâs still in control that make your thoughts spiral to the dirtiest places.
When you donât answer, Rafe leans forward, grabbing your hair again and tugging your head back just slightly, making you gasp at the pull. He kisses you hard and fast, a string of your mixed saliva hanging between your lips when he pulls back, just barely, to whisper, âsaid you were gonna be my dirty girl, yeah? Tell me what you really want, and I might just give it to you.â
The whimper that slips between your spit-slick lips is involuntary, and tells him exactly what he needs to know - that thereâs more youâve been waiting for, that you want him to be rough. Your next statement seals the deal.
âI waâŠI wished you would tie me up,â you confess, voice so wispy and hesitant he can barely hear it. âI wished for you to tie my hands and fuck me âtil I scream.â
For a second, you think he didnât hear it, until he rises from the couch, forcing you to sit back on your heels. Rafe towers over you, his still-hard cock angry in your face. You look up at him from your spot on your knees, perched before him, gazing at your man with wide eyes.Â
You gulp down the nervousness in your throat, knowing you and Rafe were about to enter territory youâd flirted with but never fully crossed over into before.Â
He looks down at you, tilting his head. Youâre so fucking pretty, perched for him, glassy eyes trained on him expectantly. He reaches behind your head and pulls the scrunchie out slowly, tossing it aside so your hair falls around your face. Hand returning to cradle your head, he thumbs your bottom lip gently, dragging it down with the pad of his large finger.
âIs that still what you want?â He breathes.
âYes,â you nod.
âGood,â Rafe grabs both sides of his tie loop, pulling hard, exposed forearms under his rolled sleeves flexing as he tears the luxury fabric from his neck with ease like itâs some flimsy knock-off.
Youâre practically drooling for him at this point. He rips his shirt open, revealing the sculpted chest and rigid abs youâve been thinking about all day. He looks so fucking strong and powerful above you, itâs thrilling - the man everyone is scared of, youâd trust with your life. With your body. Giving it to him tonight, along with your whole heart, is the best present you can think of.
âStand up,â he instructs.
You rise slowly, knees suddenly weak, trembling under his frame. He notices.
âYou know I love you right?â He repeats his earlier words, but thereâs something different about the question now. Itâs a confirmation, and a warning. The subtext is clear in his low tone: âcause Iâm about to fuck you like I donât.
You nod slowly, grabbing the hand thatâs not holding his tie, âMhm, I love you too.â
âGood.â
He takes over your hand, pulling so youâre forced to spin, facing away from him. He holds your hand behind you, leaning low to drop a kiss over the racing pulse point on your wrist, another reassurance that this was all done in love.
Holding the tie between his teeth, he draws your other wrist back. Swift hands twist the tie around your wrists to hold them together tightly.Â
âLay down,â he instructs with a final tug of the tie that makes you gasp, making moving your hands impossible.
Your knees sink into the plush fabric of the couch, turned head resting against the throw pillows as you arch your back up, ready and waiting for him.Â
The rest of his clothes torn off and strewn about the room, Rafe approaches, one knee in the cushions behind you. Itâs just now that he notices your panties are crotchless, untying the bow over your ass with a smirk. Fuck does he love you.
His large palms glide over your ass, stopping to squeeze hard, âgoddamn, I love this ass,â one hand wanders down, sliding through your slick folds without warning, making you suck in a sharp breath. âAnd I love this fucking pussy.â
One finger slips in, access to your core easy as ever with how drenched you are.
âYou this wet from sucking my cock? Of course you are because youâre always such a good girl for me.â
âI love when you call me that,â you whine out.
âI know you do. Keep being good for me and Iâll say it again,â he adds a second finger, pumping harder than before, preparing you.
You whine and writhe below him, your wrists already straining against the restraint of his tie, desperate for more, âplease, fuck me, Rafe. Please donât make me wait.â
âWhat happened to âitâs your birthday, Rafe. Iâm your present, Rafeâ huh?â He mimics your earlier words with a chuckle. Heâs never talked to you like this, but you love it, knowing itâs all per your request he goes rough this time.
âBut, yâknow what?â Rafe wraps his hand in the tie around your wrists, tugging you toward him and making you squeak out a strained groan. âYouâve been so good to me all night, so Iâll give you what you want.â
He fists his cock, still wet from your mouth, in the hand not gripping the tie, guiding it toward your entrance. He starts with just the tip, making you arch your back to take more of him, confused as he holds still behind you. Just as you open your lips to question him, he tugs on the tie, pulling your body back so your pussy swallows his cock whole.
âGah, fuck! Ohmygod, ohmygod do that again, please.â This position is everything youâd hoped it would be, and he knows it, grinning like a mad man as you babble below him.Â
Rafe braces himself, one foot still on the ground for leverage, his other hand gripping your hip so hard the imprint of his hand is surely permanent. He slides back out slow before pulling you back again. And again. And again.Â
Skin is slapping skin, and youâre barely coherent, a string of praises for him that he can hardly make out. Heâs panting like a dog, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip as he memorizes the sight of your hands tied over your lower back as your ass ripples with each smack of his hips.
âSo goodâŠb-baby,â you croak out, the edge of something unfinished in your words.
He knew you were holding back one last thing, one last fantasy that you were denying yourself for fear of being too much for him. He needed to hear you say it, to know you gave him absolutely everything.
âSay. Call me what you really want to call me. Let me hear it, angel.â
âFeels so goodâŠd-daddy.â
You worried itâd be too far, but it felt so good, like honey dripping from your tongue, and it sounded like music to his ears.
âAhhh, yeah, shit. Thatâs my good girl,â he drawls, dropping forward to sprinkle kisses over your spine. âHow long you been waiting to say that?â
âSince the day I met you,â you admit, your brain is too high off of him to filter your thoughts.
Rafe chuckles darkly behind you, picking up speed as he snakes his arm around your waist, fingers dropping low to run over your clit. And just like that, your wish comes true - he has you screaming for him now.
âOhhh fuck me too, baby,â you can hear the smile in his voice. âThought Iâd met a goddamn angel when I first laid eyes on you, looking so good in that little skirt, I knew I needed to have you. I knew youâd be mine. But I never could have imagined itâd be like this. That youâd be my slut and the love of my life? Iâm the luckiest fucking guy on earth.â
Tears slip from the corner of your eyes, a swirl of the overwhelming pleasure and the immense love you have for him. Heâs still pistoning into you, lips dragging up and down your spine, hand around the tie securing your wrists.
Your orgasm is building like a tidal wave, growing impossibly large and looming over you with the promise of destructive impact. The pleasure heâs giving you is building so intensely, you wonder if youâll be able to handle it when it crashes on your shore.
Rafe knows itâs coming, knows you like the back of his fucking hand.
âCome for me,â he asks with another pull of the tie, fucking himself into you so deep you feel like youâre one body. âBe my good girl and come.â
âYes daddy,â is the last thing you say before it hits you, soaking his cock and forcing him to empty himself into you, groaning your name like a gospel song into your ear.
He unties you almost immediately, and you know as much as he enjoyed having you like that, heâs still worried.Â
You twist under him so youâre chest to chest, his face wrinkled with concern as he pants above you.Â
Resting on one arm, he grabs your wrist, pulling it toward him to examine it closely. Thereâs a slight red mark where the tie was tightest, but they donât hurt and you know theyâll fade within the hour. His face, however, is twisted in worry like youâre terminally ill. He kisses over the red marks soft and slow, as if he can heal them with just his lips.
âIâm okay,â you whisper, your chest still rising and falling as you return to earth from the heaven he gave you.
âI- I justâŠâ you lay silent while he searches for his words. âIâve hurt people before, I never want to hurt you.â
You pull your wrist from his grasp so you can cup his face in your hands, pulling his forehead to yours, âyou didnât, you couldnât. I wanted it, Iâve never done anything like that before.â
âYou donât have to do things like that for me,â he shakes his head, eyes closed with worry.
âYouâre not listening to me,â you say a little louder, causing him to open his eyes into yours. âIâve never trusted anyone enough to do something like that. Iâve never felt safe enough with somebody to ask for it. But Iâd trust you with my life.â
âReally?â He mutters, jaw clenched tight, though his body starting to sink into yours is a telltale sign that heâs finally relaxing.
âIâm like over the top, disgustingly in love with you, actually,â you smile.
His lips quirk to the side, eyes twinkling with relief, âOh yeah?â
Your eyes soften, arms wrapping around his neck to draw him closer, âI adore you, Rafe.â
âBabygirl, I adore you too, you have no idea how much,â he promises before dropping his lips onto yours, his kiss slow and unhurried, like he plans to stay here for hours. âAnd I think Iâm starting to like my birthday.â
âReally?!â Your eyebrows shoot up in excitement, wrapping your legs around his waist.
âReally,â he smiles. âAs long as I always get to spend it with you.â
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november 4th december 4th same difference. happy birthday, sluts.
remember! writers live off of reblogs and replies, don't forget to feed your faves <3
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home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.
âïž a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series âïž
summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. Itâs gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you overâŠ
content âenemiesâ to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni
Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!
You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie
Brodyyy <3: iâm glad to hear ya say thatâŠbc i have one more favor to ask
You: whatâs up?
Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?
You: does he live near us?
Brodyyy <3: heâs from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my momâs car, so no extra driving for you!
You: yeah then i guess thatâs cool!!
You: as long as iâm home before 6pm on the 21st iâm good
Brodyyy <3: cookie day?
You: exactly, u get me
Brodyyy <3: dw weâll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!
You: np!
You: whatâs his name btw?
Brodyyy <3: âŠ
You: *questioned* âwhatâs his name btw?â
Brodyyy <3: rafe
You: be so fr rn
You: as in cameron???
You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??
Hour one
You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, youâd never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.
âBrody, I swear to god,â you mumbled under your breath, âfive more minutes and Iâm leaving your ass.â
Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.
âHey wait up!â a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.
Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus.Â
It wasnât a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.
âIâm Rafe,â he interjected when you didnât greet him.
âI know,â you said dryly.
âMy reputation precedes me?â He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.
âI wouldnât be too proud of that,â you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. âWhereâs Brody?â
Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though heâd barely said two words to you.Â
Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him.Â
âHeâs not coming,â Rafe informed you. âDidnât he tell you?â
âNo, he didnât,â you huffed, âIs he okay?â
âYeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but heâs gotta stay on campus to do it,â he explained.
âHe couldâve told me,â you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. âIâm gonna have to adjust the schedule.â
âThe schedule?â He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.
It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip.Â
âI need to be home by six at the latest, itâs nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eightâŠâ you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.
âSorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,â he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. âYou donât think this all just happens naturally do you?â He gestured to his face.
You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear heâd just woken up.Â
But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.
âI wasnât waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,â you shut him down. âAnd since heâs apparently not coming, Iâm gonna hit the road,â you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driverâs side door.
You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.
âWoah, woah, wait,â he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.
You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, âuhm excuse me!â
âYouâre excused,â he smirked down at you. âHow am I gonna get home?â
âGreyhound station is that way,â you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.
âIâd rather ride with you,â he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.
âDude, can you just let me into my car?â You shut him down.
âWhatâs the magic word?â God, did this guy have a punchable face.
âPlease,â you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.
âHmm, no,â he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.
âOkay seriously? I know youâre used to using your body to get what you want, but itâs not gonna work this time,â you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. âGet away from my car.â
âI will when you agree to give me a ride,â his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, âor we can keep standing here and talking about my body.â
You couldnât help but blush, and he couldnât help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.
âWhy would I do that? I donât even know you,â it wasnât entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.
âBrody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,â he suggested.
âIf he wanted to cash in on his favor, he shouldâve been here himself.â
âOkay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? Iâll cover the whole trip,â he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card.Â
You couldnât help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy?Â
âBrody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. Iâm going west and thereâs no way Iâm getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?â You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes.Â
Time to bring it home, he thought.
âIâll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and Iâll be fine. Iâll be eternally grateful, Iâll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.â
âThe more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,â you said.Â
Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadnât missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.
âPlease? All flights are sold out and Iâd really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,â he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.
Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.
With a deep sigh, you finally said, âfine.âÂ
Rafe slapped his hand on the carâs roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.
âIâll get you to the ferry and thatâs it,â you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. âI need to be home by six, if Iâm late youâre gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.â
He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, âscoutâs honor!â
âYou can throw your stuff in the backseat,â you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.
âWhat, you got too much junk in your trunk?â He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passengerâs side.
You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driverâs seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.
Hour two
The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.
Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.
âSorry about the rattling,â you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. âSheâs a good car, but sheâs got creaky bones.â
âItâs cool,â he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.
âIâm sure the G-wagons youâre used to donât shake when you accelerate.â
Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.
âYou donât like me,â he surmised simply.
Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, âI- I barely know you.â
âThen why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?â
âMaybe I just donât like what you have to say.â
His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, ânah, I think itâs something else. Did we have a class together or something?â
âNo, just a couple mutual friends,â you smiled the fakest of smiles.
âYeah? Like who?â
âGirls youâve ghosted mainly,â you said.
âWhaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what youâre talking about,â he smirked.
âYeah right,â you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. âYou know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about, Iâve never done that,â he said.
âThatâs such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.âÂ
âGaslit? Me? Youâre crazyâŠâ he said.
You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.
You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.
âOh, câmon, lighten up,â he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat.Â
He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you.Â
âItâs college, itâs not that serious. Everybodyâs hooking up and breaking up. I mean, Iâm sure youâve had your fair share of flings,â his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.
You stumbled over your response. You werenât necessarily a shy person, but you didnât walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does.Â
âIâŠcan you stop looking at me like that please?â
âLooking at you like what?â He grinned, feigning innocence.
âLike you know me at all.â
âYouâre right, I donât,â he nodded. âThough I think Iâve pretty much figured you out.â
âOh have you?â Your eyebrows shot up.
âYeah, I mean, I have my guesses at leastâŠâ
âPlease, share with the class,â you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.
âYou were top of your class in high school, graduating with aâŠ3.97 GPA,â he began. âYou got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents Iâm sure. College isnât as easy as high school, but youâve settled around an A minus average final grade. Youâre not in a sorority, I wouldâve seen you at a mixer, but youâre definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, thatâs not practical enough, itâs gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said youâre what, pre-med? So youâre probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet youâve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but youâre too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?â
Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.
âMy high school GPA was 3.98 actually,â you said weakly. âAnd I donât like this game.â
Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.
âDonât worry, Iâm done playing,â he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. âWake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?â
âNo promises,â you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.
Hour three
Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.
Rafe snored. Loudly.
You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.
Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.
âWeâre not moving,â he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.
âYou have great observational skills,â you teased him.
âYou didnât think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?â He said smugly.
âI did,â you defended yourself, âjust not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isnât usually so packed.â
Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.
âSo whatâs happening at six oâclock?â He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.
âHmm?â
âBefore we left, you said you had to be home at six. Whatâs at six?âÂ
âOh, uh, itâs kind of silly actually, you wouldnât get it,â you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasnât moving anytime soon.
âTry me,â he said.
You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.
âItâs because of cookies,â you admitted.
âCookies?â He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.
âMy mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing Iâve ever tasted. Theyâre so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. Itâs an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isnât supposed to give it to me until sheâsâŠgoneâŠâ
You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafeâs eyes on you, you pushed them back down.Â
ââŠanyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, theyâll attack those cookies and there wonât be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or Iâll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.â
You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.
Finally he landed on, âgingerbread, really? They canât possibly be that good.â
âOh no, believe me they really are. Iâm not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing Iâve ever put in my mouth.â
Rafeâs eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre.Â
âOh shut up,â you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.
âI didnât say anything!â He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm youâd hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting.Â
âYou question the cookies and then you mock me,â you shook your head. âI should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.â
âNo, no!â He chuckled. âI would never question the cookies. Iâm sure theyâre delicious. Donât make me walk.â
You zeroed your eyes in on him, âfine. You're safe. For now.â
He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent âphew!â
After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.
âWhy canât you mom just make more cookies?â He blurted out.
Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldnât head in.
âShe, uhâŠshe just makes the one batch,â you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.
âI mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -â
âShe just canât, okay?â You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than youâd intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, âsorry. She justâŠshe can only make one.â
Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.
âAlright then, take the next exit,â he said.
âWhat?â
âIn a half mile on the right, take that exit,â he repeated.
âWhy?â you asked.
âI found a faster route,â he explained. âLetâs get you those cookies.â
Hour four
Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.
With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.
It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you werenât the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes.Â
âIn one hundred and twenty two miles, veer leftâŠâ refresh âin one hundred and twenty miles, veer leftâŠâ refresh âin one hundred and nineteen miles-â
âVeer left! Itâs gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really donât need to keep refreshing it,â Rafe grunted.
You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket.Â
âRemind me why you couldnât just drive yourself?â You snarled. âWhat, is the Beamer in the shop?â
âItâs a Range Rover, actually,â he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled âof course it is.â âAnd yes, actually, it is.â
âAh, you pimping your ride?â
He snorted, âwhat is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.â
âI knew I shouldnât let you drive,â you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.
âRelax, it wasnât my fault,â he assured you.
âLet me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?âÂ
âThere was no other driver,â he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. âGlad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.â
You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldnât see the way you were blushing.
âOkay so whatâs the story then?â You asked.
âItâs really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, thatâs it,â he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone heâd adopted.
âYou saw âsomething?â What âsomethingâ did you see?â You pressed, amused by his discomfort.
âJust, uhm, an animal in the road,â he said dismissively.
You nodded, a little âahâ leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.
âWhat kind of animal was -â
âOhhh my god, youâre so nosy, it was-â he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, âit was a bunny alright?â
Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image heâd conjured for you.
âAlright, itâs not that funny but whatever,â he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles.Â
âNo, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, âitâs not funny. Itâs nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didnât expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, itâs very cute.â
Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?
Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, sheâs just some girl.
âSo you and Brody, yâall sleeping together or...?â
Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.
Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.
âIs that a yes?â he continued.Â
âNot that itâs any of your business,â you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, âbut no, weâre just old friends.â
Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a pennyâŠ
âBut, câmon, youâre saying you two have seriously neverâŠâ
âEw no, heâs literally like my brother,â you shut him down. âWhy do you care so much? You jealous?â
Fuck, he hadnât meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field.Â
âYou just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasnât coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all thatâŠâ
âHave you considered itâs because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?â
Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway.Â
Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didnât give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.
His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun.Â
âWatch out!â You shrieked suddenly.
Rafeâs eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that heâd been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail.Â
âFuck!âÂ
He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.
Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.
âShit, my bad,â Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.
He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.
âThis is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!â You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.
âI said Iâm sorry! Jesus calm down, itâs not like I did it on purpose,â he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.
âNo of course not, you never do anything on purpose,â you quipped.
It took everything in him not to snap back with a âyou donât even fucking know me,â but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didnât like it, but he didnât like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.
âWeâre gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,â you said.
Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, âno can do, thereâs no stops on the schedule for an hour.â
âOkay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,â you argued.
âSo was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didnât stop then,â he countered.
âRight, because those things are comparable,â you scoffed. âItâs not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.â
You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.
âWell Iâm the driver and I say weâre sticking to the schedule,â he doubled down.
âSo Iâm just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?â
âI have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,â he offered.
The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafeâs bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said âKildare Academy Lacrosseâ and on the back âCameron #44.â
You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.
âUh, a little privacy please?âÂ
His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, âI just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,â he claimed.
You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.
Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.
The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didnât care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. Youâd tease him for that later.
Hour five
Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap youâd mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.
Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.
âThatâll be $2.79, dear,â the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.
With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.
âSorry sweetheart, thereâs a five dollar minimum for cards,â she informed you politely.
âOh, okay,â you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.
----â----
The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.
âHow much was it?â You asked.
âDonât worry about it,â he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life.Â
You shouldnât feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, âneither a borrower nor a lender beâ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.
âHere,â you passed him the bag of trinkets youâd bought inside.
Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.
âWhat am I supposed to do with these?â He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.
âYou couldâŠgive them to your sisters,â you suggested.
âWhat are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says âVirginia is for Loversâ?â
âWell itâs better than a slip of paper that says âIOU one christmas present,ââ You teased him.
âYâknow what? Very true,â he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station.Â
The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookiesâŠ
âWhat are you smiling about?â Rafeâs voice interrupted your revelry.
âIâm just excited to get home and see my family,â you said with a happy smile. âArenât you?â
It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so youâd give him a ride. He couldnât tell you the truth; that he wasnât sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love.Â
âUh, yeah, âcourse,â he said, hoping youâd drop it.Â
You didnât.
âDoes your family have any traditions?âÂ
âLike what?â He knew what you meant, but his brain wasnât working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.
âLike, okay,â you started. âMe and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.âÂ
âHowâs he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?â Rafe questioned logically.
âOh Rafe, Iâm so sorry I have to be the one to tell you thisâŠbut Santa isnât real,â you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him.Â
He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, âyou know what I meant!â he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.
âWhat else do you do?â He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.
âWell, you know about my momâs cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- Iâm sure theyâve already gotten it this year since I wasnât home- but weâd always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.â
It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldnât see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.
âDidnât Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?â He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.
Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble.Â
âYouâre a mean one, Mr. Grinch,â you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. âNot a Christmas guy, huh?â
âArenât you supposed to be napping right now?â He brushed off your question.
âI donât know, maybe you shouldnât drive so grumpy.â
âIâll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.â
âOkay fine, but donât forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,â you reminded him.
âI know, I know. Are you always this bossy?â He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish youâd never opened up to him about your family to begin with.
With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat.Â
âBah humbug,â you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.
Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice.Â
Hour six
In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dadâs Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread leftâŠ
Hour seven
The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.
And Rafe was out cold in the driverâs seat.
âOh my god!!âÂ
You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engineâs rumble shaking the dash. The car was off.Â
You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You werenât driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.
âOh my god,â you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.
Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.
âHi,â he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.
You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard.Â
âOww, what the hell?â He sat up, rubbing his arm.
âWhere the fuck are we?â You barked at him.
âWeâre in your car on the way home,â he avoided the true answer.Â
âI said Iâd get you to the ferryâŠâ
âAnd would ya look at that? You did!â He smiled sheepishly.
With scarily accurate comedic timing, the shipâs horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.
âRafe, weâre on the ferry!â You yelled, smacking him again.
âWould you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured weâd just hop the ferry real quick and youâll still make it home by six.â
You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.
âJust barely! At this rate Iâll be walking in the door at 5:58,â you argued.
âAnd just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,â he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the âI Hate Rafe Cameronâ club.
âIâm gonna kill you,â you mumbled.
âOkay, well can it wait until weâre on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.â
He wasnât letting up on the flirting, and you werenât giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.
----â----
âItâs just up here on the right, that metal gate,â he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.
Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.
âWhat is it?â He questioned.
âI knew you were probably rich, yâknow based on your wholeâŠâ you gestured vaguely to him, â...thing. But holy shit.â
He grinned, âyeah itâs alright I guess.â
âOh whatever,â you laughed. âItâs like a fucking castle!â
With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafeâs face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.
âHome sweet home,â he said, feigning holiday cheer.
He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.
âI should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,â you said.
âNah you can give it back to me at school, Iâve delayed your schedule long enough.â
You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.
It was strange, you felt like youâd known him much longer than eight hours and yet you werenât quite friendsâŠyou werenât enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.
âWell,â you shrugged, smiling back, âMerry Christmas I guess?â
He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, âyeah, Merry Christmas I guess.â
With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasnât too much traffic, youâd get home with about five minutes to spare.
You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldnât help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.
Only, he wasnât going inside. Or maybe he couldnât go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasnât right.
Even though you knew you shouldnât, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didnât notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudlyâŠ
âThe Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I canât believe you guys just left without me...well I wasnât and then I got a rideâŠthis couldâve been avoided if youâd just sent the jet like I askedâŠsince when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!âÂ
The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldnât make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.
âY-yes sirâŠIâm sorryâŠyes sirâŠno sirâŠokay I willâŠI lo-â
The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.
âYou should get going,â he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. âYouâre gonna miss your cookies.â
Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, âdid theyâŠare they not home?â
âNah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,â he explained.
âOh. So youâre just gonna be here, like, alone?â
âIâll be fine. Iâm not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?â He gave you a tight lipped smile that didnât quite meet his eyes.
âAre-are you sure? You couldâŠâ You couldnât quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldnât bring him home for Christmas.Â
The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.
âIâm really fine,â he said, nodding his head toward the road, âyou should get back on the road. Youâve got a schedule to keepâ
You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.
----â----
Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry.Â
He wasnât your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didnât owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldnât be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, heâd be fine. Youâd get your cookies and heâd be fine.
âMaâam,â the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention.Â
You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time.Â
Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.
âWeâve got a schedule to keep,â the attendant urged. âAre you boarding or not?â
----â----
The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.
You knocked three times, Rafeâs confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said,Â
âYou owe me a cookie.â
a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!
for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!
taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe
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TCH!READER ON THE INTERNET 04
Rafe Cameron's MASTERLIST
Pairing: Basketball Player!Rafe x Supermodel!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Content: marriage of convenience, fake dating, athlete!rafe au
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not the zoey you wanted (four)
pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!
summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.
content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope
a/n: a big big BIG thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this fic! I love seeing everyoneâs comments and inbox messages dissecting the story and making predictions! I wrote for OBX back in 2020 when the show first came out under a different blog (in case anyone here remembers a blog called jjmaybankx, HI! Though thatâs just a generic username, it might be hard to remember that specific iteration ahaha), but i had just created this blog the same day i put out this fic⊠and i am in awe of how well received and how much you guys are actually invested in this little world i have conjured up whilst dreaming of bf!drew. I am very honored <3
Masterlist | < part three | add yourself to the taglist
áŻâą
How you were supposed to just get up and go to your afternoon classes after what had just happened was beyond you, but you had an important peer workshop in one of your writing courses and then straight to the tutoring center for you.Â
Day one was hard, as you navigated the complexities of whatever the hell had just happened. You were angry: angry at the car for hitting Zach, angry that he had even for a second thought that Zoey Miller had been you, angry that she let him think that knowing it was wrong, angry that she did any of what she did at all. And most of all, angry that you were even angry with Zach for it.
Tuesday rolled around and you had to go to the class you had with Zoey Miller, with anger seething in your veins but the inability to cause a scene. You hadnât told anyone, not even your roommate Bree, what had happened. You felt like if you made a big deal and spoke about it, then you would likely never get over it.Â
You felt her eyes on you as you typed your notes during the lecture, having sat a few rows and seats to the left in front of you. Could she like⊠not? Face forward and pay attention to the class, stop staring at the girl whose boyfriend you tried to steal after trying to steal his cousin, thanks.Â
Your next shift at the tutoring center was on Wednesday. Instead of having assigned tutees for the day, you had a five hour shift in the tutoring center where you mainly did your own homework, helped student athletes figure out why the printers wanted to act up and not print their assignments, and help the few random people who would come up to the reception desk to ask you for help on a writing assignment or to proofread their essays.
You paused as you set your coffee up and laptop down on the desk, looking across the tutoring center to see Zach hunched over his own computer in one of the middle tables, typing away. He was one of the few athletes who wasnât assigned to mandatory study hall hours after he had gotten his grade up, thanks to your one-on-one tutoring sessions and then, once his girlfriend, study dates together in his dorm or yours. He normally wouldnât be caught dead in the tutoring center if he wasnât required to be there, preferring to do his homework on his own anyways.
But there he was, regardless.Â
A week passed and Zach didnât try to talk to you at all, just like you had asked. You also never saw him walking around with Zoey Miller, a recurring minor nightmare you kept on having. Thank God, you thought every time youâd see one of them around campus without the other. Zoey Miller came to class looking miserable every time, and each time you worked a shift at the tutoring center, whether it be study hall monitoring or a few hours of one-on-one tutoring, Zach was there, during his homework by himself at one of the tables.Â
âHey.â
You looked up from the book you were engrossed in, taking off one airpods to see Zach in front of you, his laptop in his arms.
âZachâŠâ you sighed softly.
âIâm not here to bother you, I swear,â he reassured you, sliding his laptop to face you. âI just⊠actually need your help with this one, promise.â
You looked down at his screen to see an essay typed out. You glance up at him again.
âItâs a big part of my grade, so I was wondering if you could proofread it,â he said sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets.
You exhale and nod, motioning with your head to the seat next to yours. A smile beamed across his face, and he rounded the desk to sit down next to you, both of you half facing each other as he watched you go over his essay in suggesting mode, making comments and edit recommendations.Â
âI like the color you painted your nails,â he said softly.
âZach,â you warned.
He shut up.
You got to page five of the essay, having only had to make a few small grammatical suggestions, a small smile building on your face for how well written the essay had been. When he wanted to apply himself, and knew how to, Zach would always be extremely smart. Sometimes, when it came to subjects he didnât quite care for, he just didnât care to put in the effort. But he was very smart, he had to be a student athlete.Â
Plus, you knew he had little moments of crises when he thought about his future. He didnât think heâd make it pro, but he also wasnât passionate for other things the way he was for soccer. He felt aimless sometimes. The ironic part of it all was that he chose English Literature as his major, the classes he struggled with the most and hence how you two met.
You had given him the idea before that if he really didnât think he could go pro, he could keep playing soccer or being involved with it through coaching at high schools or even middle schools. But you also always told him that you thought he had it in him to go pro. He was the schoolâs soccer star, you werenât sure why he always sold himself short.
âYou okay?â his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.
You had been stuck on page five for longer than it would have taken to read the page over twice, Zach just sitting there in anticipation of what you thought he needed to fix before he looked over at your face and noticed you were zoned out.
âYeah, yeah,â you shook yourself out of it, continuing to scroll down through his essay.
Another excruciating fifteen minutes until you were finished reading over every line intricately and leaving any commentary needed, you slid the laptop back closer to Zach.
âJust those edits, and itâs all good,â you told him, trying to avoid looking at him.
He tapped the desk, nodding. âThanks,â he said, and you pursed your lips and nodded.
You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from asking the question that has been hot on your mind, but the words vomit out before you can stop it, âHow come youâve been doing your homework here?â
You finally look into his striking blue eyes, seeing them widen before his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.
âItâs the student athlete tutoring center,â he pointed out, then pointed at himself. âStudent athlete.â
You titled your head to the side, giving him âthe lookâ as you said, âZachâŠâ
âFine, fine,â he sighed with a small laugh, closing his laptop closed. âItâs the only time I ever get to see you, okay?â
You had an inkling feeling that was it, and you just nod in response.
âI can stop if seeing me bothers you,â he whispered.
âSeeing you would never bother me,â you said back.
The hopeful smile that erupted on his face made your heart sting.
The moment you two were having was interrupted when another student athlete walked up, asking for help since the printers werenât working. You offered Zach a small smile, and he gave you a wave, before you got up to go to the opposite side of the tutoring center to figure out the printer.
áŻâą
On your way to class the next day, you paused in front of the class you had with Zoey to see she was standing a little bit to the side of the pathway talking to Zach. You slowed your steps down a bit as you stared at them. You couldnât see his face, but you could tell from the back of his head, jacket, and backpack that it was him.
That same guilty look was on Zoeyâs face, and she was shaking her head.Â
You could tell from Zachâs body language that he was upset, the way his shoulders lifted and his arms moved about as he talked, the way he did when he was trying to drive a point.Â
You didnât feel like watching them talk, putting your head down and heading into the building to go to class.
áŻâą
âSo, she broke up with you?â Zoey asked as she stood there staring up at Zach. She had asked him if they could talk when she saw him walking by on her way to class, and with an irritated huff, he agreed.
âShe did not break up with me,â Zach said back sternly, shoving his hands into his pocket, kicking a rock on the floor. âShe is just taking time to⊠process⊠what happened between you and I on the ski tripâŠâ
âI didnât mean for any of that stuff to happen⊠Iââ
âI donât really care what you meant to have happened,â Zach said back with a shrug. âYou knew you werenât my girlfriend, pretended to be anyways, and now she wonât talk to me.â
âWell, I donât get why sheâs upset with you when Iâm to blame,â Zoey quipped back, earning a look from Zach.
âDonât,â he shook his head at her. âDonât try to make her out to be the bad guy here.â
âIâm not,â Zoey shook her head. âIâm just sayingââ
âI donât care what youâre saying, ZoeyâŠâ he sighed. He wiped his face with the palm of his hands and huffed frustratedly. âLook. Itâs just a lot for her. First, she thought I ghosted her all weekend. Then, it looks to her like I had cheated on her, and then when she found out the truth, she hears that I was starting to feel things for you, andââ
âYou were starting to feel things for me?â
He gave her an irritated glare when that was all she had heard from that.
âI love Y/N, okay?â he said to her sternly, using his hands to point to himself and then off to the side for emphasis. âNot you, not anyone else, just Y/N. Whatever fake relationship you and I had when I didnât have my memories, thatâs all it was, fake. You are not the Zoey I wanted.â
Zach looked away from her, and that was when he saw the back of your head, face pointed to the floor, as you sped-walked away into the building. He couldnât tell if you had seen him and Zoey talking, but from the way you were walking so damn fast, maybe. Damn it.Â
He turned back to Zoey, who had tears in her eyes. And he felt bad, because he didnât enjoy making girls cry.
âJustâŠâ for the umpteenth time, he sighed. âJust stay away from me and my girlfriend, Iâm begging you.â
áŻâą
taglist: @faephoria @maybankslover @ursogorgeous13 @khiatonsx @enchantedstarfish @starsmoonn @zulema222 @10ava01 @ietss @rafegf-real @leather-n-velvet t @avengersgirllorianna @chalahyung01 @thaissette @emberaurora @isabellaxlilah @matchieee @purplerose291 @wtfdudesblog @mattyskies @onlyrealjoy @sabrina6272827 @probablyreadingsmutlol @loupiotesworld @tqd4455 @persefone200 @dreamygirli3 @tobucina @h1ghw4y-blog @k-k0129 @harrys-housewife @pillowprincess4him
hoping all of these tags worked, some of them weren't popping up when i typed them! i've retyped them all by hand like 3 times, but each time i save it, it comes up as half of the list not actually tagged, so pls let me know if it tagged you!
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not the zoey you wanted (three)
pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!
summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.
content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope
masterlist | < two
âąa/n: if you want me to add you to the taglist for this fic send me an ask! & remember to like & reblog if you enjoy!
áŻâą
When you get back to your on-campus apartment, you went straight into your room to take down the photos you had up of you and Zach, pulling a random old shipping box out from your recycled area to shove things into.Â
The drive back to campus was pretty smooth. You blasted Gracie Abrams and Maisie Peters on repeat, and your mind went into autopilot.Â
So, Zoey Miller was his girlfriend. That was pretty rich, considering you didnât even realize when you stopped being his girlfriend. Didnât even realize a guy as soft as Zach MacLaren had a mean bone in his body to be able to do something like this to you. You went to his house that morning half ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe something came up, maybe he lost his phone, maybe last minute his parents decided for it to be a family-only trip and took his phone from him in the name of âreconnecting with natureâ and so he was never given the chance to inform you.
But then his mother said those words, she said that Zoey Miller was Zachâs girlfriend.
You had pulled most of his sweaters that youâd had from your closet, throwing them into the box, by the time there was obnoxiously loud knocking at your front door. You had no plans, no one who was supposed to be coming over, so you paused for a moment to see if maybe your roommate, Bree, was home or not. When you didnât hear any movement from her side of the apartment and the knocking persisted, you let out a frustrated sigh, walking over to the peephole.
You rolled your eyes at the sight of him. What, he felt bad that he got caught and drove himself all the way back to school to finally have that talk with you in person. Between the few moments it took for you to open the door, your mind raced with all the different cliche breakup lines he could give you.
âIâm sorry, I just wasnât feeling the spark between us anymore.â
âLet me explainâŠâ
âI didnât mean for this to be how you found out.â
âItâs not what it looks like.â Yeah, as if his mother confirming that Zoey Miller was Zachâs girlfriend wasnât exactly what it looked like.
And more and more, until you finally wrapped your hand around the doorknob, unlocking the top latch, and swinging it open to look at him. He towered over you, guilt etched into his face and a small cut on his lip where you could only imagine he had bit over and over as he contemplated how to let you down softly on his ride over.
You peered out into the hallway, half expecting Zoey Miller to be outside, looking at you with those same eyes of remorse, but you only saw Zachâs luggage by your door and redness under his blue eyes.
âWhat?â you asked, your voice coming out in a hushed, annoyed whisper, holding the door open just enough so that he can see you.
âLet me explain,â he pleaded, his voice raspy. So, we were going with the scripted breakup line number 2.Â
He paused for a second, but when he saw that you werenât going to step back to let him inside of your apartment, he locked eyes with you. One thing about Zach MacLaren? He was very good at making intense eye contact. He licked his lips and sighed, as if searching for what else to say with his excuse.
As you waited for his lips to continue moving, you thought of what he could say next.
â...it just sort of happened.â
â...I didnât mean to fall for her.â
â...can we stay friends?â
But instead, what came out of his mouth was, âI got hit by a car.â
Your annoyed facial expressions dropped into a confused one, squinting at him in reaction to his words. Your chin moved closer to your neck as your head moved backwards in confusion. Your lips curled upwards, not in a smile, but in a bewildered grimace.
âIâm sorry, you got what by a what?â you asked, baffled.
He was staring back at you, so so so serious. He pulled a folded up paper out of his pocket, holding it out in your direction.
âMy after visit summary from the emergency room on Friday,â he mumbled.
He got hit by a car on Friday? you thought to yourself, wondering how he was going to use his, âI got hit by a carâ as reasoning for taking another girl as his girlfriend to a family ski trip that he had invited you on, first.
âPatient Zachary MacLaren is a 21 year old male who was brought in after a collision of a moving car with his bicycle occurred. At onset, he did lose consciousness for a few minutes, before regaining consciousness before the paramedics arrived. No sprains or broken limbs or joints have been sustained in the incident. Patient has some swelling to the left side of his skull. Tests and examinations are concurrent with a diagnosis of a concussion and anterograde amnesia.â
Anterograde amnesia, you learned that in one of her psychology courses last semester. Short term memory loss.
âAre you telling me you have amnesia?â you asked him, holding the paper up after youâre done reading it.
âYesâNo, had. I had amnesia,â he stuttered out while nodding his head.
âSo you donât have amnesia right now?â you asked to clarify.
He shook his head and rounded his lips in a pucker and put his hands behind his back, swaying a little. âNo amnesia right now.â
You blink a few times, still lost on what and how this was connecting to him bringing a different girlfriend on his family ski trip.
âAnd did this amnesia make you lose your goddamn mind and bring some random girl with you to a ski trip?â you asked, trying to find the connection here.
Though, you do feel really bad he got hit by a freaking car, and then he got amnesia, that sucks. You wished you had been there to help him with that.
âNo, no, see, what had happened,â he started to explain, putting his hands out to grab onto your upper arms and crouch a little down to your level so he could stare you in the eyes again. âI thought she was you.â
âExcuse me?âÂ
He licked his lips, turning his head to the side as if to say, âI know.â He sighed and continued with his story, âAfter I got hit with the car, she was there.â
âZoey was there with you when you got hit by this car? Why was Zoey with you?â you questioned.
âShe works at the bookstore.â
âThe bookstore,â you repeat after him with a nod, trying to keep track of all the different ways this story was branching out. âThe one with the book on Battletoads.â
âWell, no,â he shook his head. âI had to get her to order me a book on Battletoads for Idiots because they didnât have any in stock.â Then, he shook his head again when he realized you two were getting off track. He let go over her, using his hands to motion around and talk. âPoint is, I left my credit card.â He points to his side to emphasize leaving his credit card. âShe came outside to give it to me, I turned around to look at her,â and he mimicked how he looked at her, peering over his shoulder. âAnd a car didnât see me, I didnât see the car,â he pointed to himself and then down, before making a hitting motion with his palm, âand bam! I go flying onto the pavement.â
Youâre just nodding along with his entire story, waiting for him to finally give you that missing puzzle piece that could make it all make sense.
âAnd then when I woke up, she was there crouching in front of me. My brain was all mushy,â he made circular motions around his head. âAnd I knew her name was Zoey, and I somehow could remember that I called you Zoey a few times⊠and I⊠uhâŠâ he looked more sheepish as he got to this part of the story. âIn my moment of anterograde amnesiaâthat means short term memory loss by the wayââ
âI know,â you said, and if this was any other time, you may have laughed at the way he over pronounced âanterograde amnesiaâ and looked so proud of himself for knowing the term, a small smile on his face.
ââI may have thought she was.. you,â he trailed off as he said this part, looking guilty. âI just⊠I donât know how,â he put his hands up and them down in exasperation, practically breathing out his words. âI donât know how I thought she was you, baby, I donât. But then you came to my parentsâ house, and I saw you drive away, and it all⊠I knew she wasnât you.â
You just nod as you process the information. This sounded like some cheaply made romance plot, that one look at you and his amnesia would wear off. There was a lot of information processing that was happening at this point.
You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of footsteps, seeing a group of girls walking through the hallway, some of your various neighbors. They looked over at you and Zach, and you knew how this looked. The serious look on your face, the luggage, the pleading one on his. They probably thought they were watching a breakup between a tutor girl and the collegeâs soccer star.Â
You opened the door wider, not wanting anyone to somehow overhear the conversation. You stepped aside for him. âCome in.â
He smiled, hopeful, and rolled his luggage and walked himself into your apartment.
You two went straight for the kitchen, him just following you as you said nothing back to his explanation. You went straight to the coffee machine, and as you brewed yourself some espresso, Zach went to your fridge, pulling out the creamer he knew was yours and not your roommates, you know, since he didnât have amnesia anymore.
You stood there in silence for a little while, leaning against the kitchen counter as you sipped your latte, having made one for him after yours.
âSo⊠you thought she was meâŠâ you finally talk, and heâs standing across from you with a guilty nod. âDo we really look alike?â
âNo! No! Youâre like⊠a superstar, and sheâs⊠not you,â he said with a nervous laugh, unable to insult Zoey Miller just to bring you up.
And that was fine with you. You didnât need or want him insulting her. Just wanted to know if you two looked similar enough that he could mix you guys up in an amnesia concussion haze.
âSo it was just because her first name is also my middle name?â you questioned.
âI know, it sounds stupid, I donât⊠I donât really know how to explain it.â
You nodded your lips forming a line.
âSo⊠she just⊠pretended to be me?â you questioned, thinking about how insane that sounded. âFor what? Revenge for hitting her in the end with that soccer ball?â
He laughed at your questions, the way you sounded so irritated at not being able to understand Zoey Miller.
You continued with your little rant, âI mean, I heard that girl is anti-romantic, so what? Did she have some secret crush on you or something? Had to strike while I wasnât around, and you didnât know any better?â
âShe had a crush on Miles, actually,â he said with raised eyebrows. âKissed him in the pool while I was sleeping and everything.â
Your eyes widened, and you let out an unbelievable laugh.
âAnd Miles just⊠let her? Thinking she was you girlfriend? And wait, what about Emily?â you asked, putting the cup down on the counter. Loving Zach was knowing about all of the people he loved, too, which meant knowing his cousin Miles was dating a nice girl named Emily. âSorry, but your cousinâs an asshole! Cheating on her with the girl he thought was cheating on you while she was pretending to be me!â
Your voice kept raising as you got riled up on his behalf, and he couldnât help but let a small smile stay on his face because of it.
The more information you got, the more insane this whole story sounded. But he smiled at your reaction, the way your facial features were showing less and less that you were mad at him. He really hoped you werenât mad at him.
âApparently, theyâre poly.â
âDoesnât mean you are,â you retort back, walking to where he was to stand next to him.
You let out a deep exhale, leaning your head against his arm as you two stood against the kitchen island.Â
âIt felt wrong, the entire time,â he said softly, squatting down a little bit so he could lean his head on top of yours as well. âLike I knew deep down she didnât really like me. Like she didnât even know me, and that I didnât really know her. She said she was a computer science major and that made no sense to me, since we met because you were my English tutor. She had all these hobbies I donât remember you ever liking. Wouldnât let me hold her hand, spent most of her time with Miles instead of me since they could go out on the slopes and I couldnât because, ya know, mushy brains,â he sighed. âAnd then, she found out about Emily and got mad at him. Then, she finally spent the day with me.â
Despite being upset that some other girl went on the MacLaren ski trip instead of you, you couldnât help but feel bad that Zach spent the entire weekend with an inkling feeling that his girlfriendâor who he thought was his girlfriendâdidnât even like him.
He keeps talking, just expressing how the weekend felt and how things had gone.
âAnd it was sad coming back, you know?â he sighed. âI mean, I spent all of yesterday thinking I was having so much fun re-getting to know her, feeling like we were finally having a connection, feeling really good about it⊠just for it all to be a lie.â
You frowned and took your head off of his arm, making him move straight as well.
âYou felt like you and Zoey had a connection?â you asked softly.
His face contorted in concern at his misstep.
âWhaâNo. No, baby, no,â he moved to turn in front of you, his arms going to hold yours. âIt wasnât real. Itâs not real.â
âBut a part of you really liked getting to spend time with her,â you point out softly, looking away. âSo much so that it was disappointing when you came home and it was⊠me thatâs your girlfriend, and not her.â
âDonât put words in my mouth,â Zach said softly, shaking his head, trying to lead down closer to you to get you to look at him. âIâm not disappointed that I came home and there was you.â
âBut you were disappointed that your weekend with Zoey was built on a fake premise,â you said back. âAnd not entirely because she lied to you, but because you felt a connection to her.â
âNo!â
âZach.â
âOkay, fine, yes. I admit that I was⊠feeling something towards her on this trip, but baby, I thought she was my girlfriend.â
âSo, youâd date her?â you hated yourself for somehow twisting it the way you were, but a part of you was just hurt that this happened, hurt to know he spent the weekend falling for someone else, regardless of why and how. âIn a different world where I donât exist to you, youâd fall for her. Because you did. This weekend.â
A permanent frown etched into his face at your words.
âBut you do exist in this world,â he whispered, pleading.Â
âDid you kiss her?â
Itâs not fair, you know itâs not fair to be jealous or upset. Zoey practically catfished and scammed and lied and pretended to be someone she wasnât. But she didnât pretend to be you in the sense of your personality. Zach said it himself, she sounded so unlike you, with a different major, different personality, different hobbies. And despite that, he liked her.Â
âI thought she was you,â he reiterated, saying âyesâ to your question without the word itself.
âYou thought she was your girlfriend, not that she was me,â you denied, shaking your head and moving from your spot trapped between Zach and the kitchen island.Â
The pleading in his eyes could haunt you.
âYou didnât think she was me personally. You just thought you were with her. And you liked being with her, for her personality and her hobbies and just her,â you said softly.
Every part of you was screaming at you to take your words back, to stop yourself from talking. You knew it was irrational to be upset at him for something he had no control over. He had amnesia for crying out loud. But there was no rationalizing this situation.Â
There was no rulebook telling you how to react and respond to finding out some girl pretended to be your amnesia patient of a boyfriendâs girlfriend. There was no guide on how to take in and process him openly admitting that while she was so drastically different from you, he was starting to really like her.
âIâm sorry this happened, Zach,â you said softly, your bottom lip wobbling. âItâs not fair, and it really really sucks.â
He just stared at you, tears forming in his eyes as if he knew what you were about to say. His chin wobbled, and it pushed you over the edge, too. A string of tears fell from your own eyes.
âBut Iâm really hurt right now, and I donât mean to be upset with you because I know⊠I know itâs not your fault. I know you didnât mean for this to happen,â you admit, wiping your tears on the back of your wrists.Â
He steps forward to try and comfort you. You step back.
âBut I need time toâŠâ you suck in a breathe and lick your lips as you try to figure out what it was that you needed from him. âI need time to process this all⊠process that you were starting to fall for someone else.â
âBabyâŠâ he begged you not to do this with one single word.
âPlease,â you pleaded back. âJust⊠please.â
And how could he deny you, the one he loved so much, the one thing you were asking of him right now?
âOkay,â he whispered and nodded, a singular tear falling down his face as he forced himself to listen to you.Â
And that look on his face really felt like it could haunt you.
áŻâą
a/n: so i realized i have messed up the movieâs timeline, remembering that it started on valentineâs day, not december LOL, but soccer season for college is august-november for actual competitions and spring time for non-competition training and games⊠and Iâm also from California so while I knew some schools have like âski weekâ breaks in february (we always just called it presidentâs week break), it absolutely skipped my mind that that is a thing LOL. in this story it is a few weeks before holiday break lol.
taglist: @ursogorgeous13 @khiatonsx
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Quitting your job because Daddy Rafe is gonna take care of you now đ„șđ„ș. Yes I do the cooking yes I do the cleaning đ§č
+ pls rafe would not put up with you having a job </33 what do you mean you have to work and can't give him attention whenever he wants it? bffr rafe needs his girl available 24/7, wearing a pretty dress and baking him fucking pie :') also im so sorry I started writing and then it kept going lmao
Thinking of Rafe laying on the bed, eyes still sleepy while he watches you search frantically for your shirt on the floor. He groans, stretching his arms over his head. "Stay."
"I can't," you remind him, cheering silently when you finally spot the dark purple fabric half under his bed. Rafe rolls his eyes, snatching at your wrist to pull you down onto the bed when you try to scurry past him to grab at your jeans. You whine, "Rafe, I have work, you know that!"
Rafe grabs at your jaw, squishing your cheeks until you can't speak. He smirks at your little glare, pecking lightly at your pout. "See? So cute when you're not running your mouth at me."
You whine again but finally relax in his hold until your forehead rests against his chest and he starts running his hands dawn your back. "Rafeâ"
"Quit." He says it with so much finality you have to try your hardest to remind yourself why that's not a good idea. "I thought we talked about it."
"No," you argue against his warm skin. "You talked at me, and then started eating me out before I could argue."
"Hm," he hums, his hand running down until it pats at your ass. "You're welcome for that, then."
You squeal when he pinches at the fat, squirming until your knee brushes too close to his cock and he huffs, "easy."
By now, your face is right in front of his, every inch of your body glued to his as he holds you firmly on top of him. You smile gently at him, tracing the lines of his face with your finger. "I'm serious, you know I can't quit."
"You keep saying that, and yet I haven't heard a single good reason." You start to speak but he squishes your face again. "I've got money, baby. Like money money. You know that. And you know I'll take care of you, you never have to worry again. Y'know that right?"
You tap at his wrist and he begrudgingly lets go of your face but you grab at his hand before he can fully pull away, bringing it to your lips to kiss at it. "I do know that, baby. I justâ I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you, I don't want you to ever feel like that or..or that I'm with you only for the money." You kiss at his hand again, and then at his chin, then his lips. "Your money is the least interesting thing about you, Rafe."
He stares at you for a while, with his dark, bottomless eyes. You'll never fully understand how crazy what you're saying sounds like to him. His money has always been what people see first, the reason so many try to get close. His first instinct is to fight it, but at the same time he can't remember ever feeling that way with you. Something about the honesty in your eyes feels overwhelming, like salt on his raw nerves.
"Plus," you shrug shyly, "If you ever get sick of me and you leave... I need something to fall back on, Rafe."
"Don't say shit like that," he glares and you roll your eyes.
"I'm just saying."
"Well, don't" He pauses then clears his throat. "You're insane, you know that?"
You laugh, hands squishing at his face this time. "Yeah, well, and you still love me so what does that say about you?"
He smacks your ass when you move past him to finally grab at your jeans, a heaviness settling in his stomach while he watches you squeal and scurry away.
+ That night, when he has you folded over with your knees pressed to your chest and the little anklet with his initials tinkles right next to his ear, Rafe Cameron grunts and presses his forehead against yours, firm hand at your jaw. "I' don't think that. I never will." Your eyes are glazed over as you look up at him, cheeks tearstained and lips bitten raw. "I want to take care of you because you're the only good thing I fucking have, and I'm keeping you. Forever. I'm not leaving, and you sure as hell ain't leaving either. Even if I have to hunt you down and keep you tied up for the rest of your life. You're mine. You got that?"
You nod, sobbing when his cock kisses at that special little spot inside you over and over and over...
"Tomorrow you're quitting your fucking job."
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Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part two)
(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.2k words)
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
âą series masterlist
A blood curdling shriek rang through the house, jolting Carter from her restless dreams.
She sat straight up in bed, heart racing as she looked around the dark room, head so heavy she could barely remember where she was or how she got there.
In her hungover mental fog, she pieced it together slowly. She was at the beach house, in her room, it was early, she drank so much last night and Topper said -
âOH MY GOD!âÂ
Another sharp scream came from downstairs, and her heart rate spiked all over again. She pulled the fluffy comforter around her shoulders and hurried out of the room, quiet on the stairs as she nervously approached the source of all the commotion.
When she saw what was inducing Sabrinaâs shock, she doubled back, hiding around the corner so they couldnât see her. Her stomach churned with bitter loathing, and something else even more nauseatingâŠ
She dropped the blanket and rushed to the half-bath off the houseâs entryway, doubled over the toilet bowl as last nightâs poor choices continued to haunt her.
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
Rafe drove faster than he had before your interrupted rendezvous, seeming not to want to drag this adventure out anymore. You eyed him nervously from the passenger seat, searching for words that werenât coming to you.Â
Tongue tied and exhausted was not how you wanted to begin thisâŠwhatever this was between you. Rafe had given you words, so many of them, back on the beach and all he asked in return was a simple yes or no.
Are you my girl?
No four words had ever felt so heavy. The shitty part was, you wanted to say yes. At the sound of his breathless question every cell in your body was screaming yes! Iâm your girl! Iâve always been your girl!Â
But then there was that pesky piece of self preservation that cemented itself in your heart all those years ago and didnât plan to give up any time soon.Â
He looked so disappointed when you couldnât give him a quick and easy answer, his chest now deflated and shoulders sunken as he drove the rest of the route home. Despite your lingering hesitation, you felt like you needed to give him something, needed to lift the frown that was settled on the lips you had tasted so many times this morning.
âIâm sorry,â you mumbled.
âFor what?â He asked.
âIâmâŠslow,â you began, âit takes me a while, yâknow? To find the words. Iâm not like you, I donât know how you came up with that speech in less than a minute.â
Rafe laughed, confusing you.
âWhat?â
âYou think I came up with that speech in a minute?â He chuckled, âIâve been practicing it every day since senior year of high school.â
Your heart clenched at the endearing thought of him in front of the mirror, driving to class, taking a shower all while rehearsing what heâd say if you ever gave him the chance.
âOh,â you tucked your hair behind your ear.
It was infuriating, your complete inability to get a grip on your own thoughts and feelings around him. It had always been this way. You were well-spoken and sound-minded, until this one person was in your atmosphere, his presence your own personal kryptonite.
To be fair to yourself, it wasnât just your own weakness for him that had caused you to build such high walls. When you were kids, he sometimes made you feel this way on purpose. He used to have fun watching you get flustered, just the right amount of flirting to send you into a tizzy, only to leave you spinning like a top with no one to stop you.
You truly tried to leave the past behind, burying it somewhere back in the sand on the beach. You reminded yourself that the Rafe of your memories was not the one sitting next to you right now. But that might just be the problem, because at least you knew that Rafe, you knew exactly what he would do next.
If he grabbed your hand, you knew he was about to drop it. If he said something sweet, you knew he was about to say something passive aggressive. If he acted like he loved you, you knew he was about to act like heâd never met you a day in his life.
But this Rafe, this new one, was completely unpredictable. Wild and dangerous in his apparent affection for you. How were you supposed to know what he did next wasnât going to hurt? He was right about what he said on the jet ski - you wonât know until you give him the chance. Easier said than done.
âYou donât have to say anything right now,â he offered after youâd been quiet for a long time.
âThis week has just beenâŠâ trying to come up with one word to describe it felt like a futile task.
âOverwhelming?â Rafe tried to help.
âSurprising,â you countered. âIâve never been good with surprises.â
âYou like to know whatâs coming next,â he nodded, once again displaying a deep knowledge of you that you never knew he possessed.
Like he could read your mind, his arm stretched across the small divide and his palm, warm and soft, settled on your thigh, a single soothing stroke to let you know heâs still here, heâs still yours. The feeling of his skin touching yours was like aloe vera directly on the burn.
With a grateful smile, you leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath as he steered you home.
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
Carter padded down the hall, stopping three separate times, trying to decide if she should just go back to her own room. But the sight of her frantic texts to you still saying âdeliveredâ and not âreadâ was too concerning to ignore.
She opened Topperâs door without knocking.
He was sitting up against his headboard, typing feverishly on his phone. At the sight of her, he clutched his duvet cover, pulling it up higher over his nearly naked body.
âHave you ever heard of knocking?âÂ
âPlease, like I havenât seen it all before. Like I didnât see it yesterday,â she rolled her eyes.
âOh okay, so you do remember. Based on the way you were acting last night I thought maybe youâd forgotten weâd ever been together,â he snipped at her.
âI donât want to talk about last night,â she waved him off, dismissing his complaints flippantly, âare you aware of whatâs happening downstairs right now? Of who is happening downstairs right now?â
âYes, I saw her pull up,â he returned his attention to his phone and his frenzied typing.
Outside his cracked open door, Carter heard Kelce, Tom, and a few others come barreling up the stairs, chatting about the recent arrival.
âBe so fucking for real, did you invite her?â Carter said, attempting to lower her voice.
âI donât know if anyoneâs ever told you this but you do this thing where you think youâre whispering and youâre actually not,â Topper informed her.
âTopperâŠâ
âNo, I didnât invite her.,â he answered. âActually I was about to ask if you did.â
âWhy the fuck would I do that? I hate her.â
âWow alright, hate's a strong word, Carter, maybe calm down a little.â
Ever since their knock-down-drag-out at the club last night, the arguing that was usually playful and lighthearted had an edge of actual bitterness to it.
âFirst of all, if you ever tell me to âcalm downâ again, Iâm going full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass. Second of all, you need to go down there and tell her to leave,â she flicked her hair behind her shoulder and held her chin up as she bossed him around. He hated that despite how mad at her he was, he fucking loved it.
âHow does that job possibly fall on me?â He scoffed.
âArenât you Mr. Team Rafe-and-my-sister? Donât you want to get rid of the reason they stopped talking in the first place?â She reasoned.
âIâm not gonna tell her she canât be here,â he shut her down. âItâs not my house, and itâs really none of my business. Or yours.â
Her eyes narrowed at him, âoh yeah? Then who are you texting so much over there?â
âIâm just giving him a headâs up,â he shrugged. âShe should probably know too.â
âAnd youâre just assuming theyâre together?â She snarled.
âPuh-lease,â he rolled his eyes, âdid you see them at the club last night? Thereâs no way they didnât hook up.â
She wouldnât accept it, couldnât, even though she knew somewhere deep in her gut that he was probably right.Â
When Rafe still didnât answer any of his texts, Topper sighed heavily, âfuck it, I donât care if Iâm cockblocking, Iâm calling him.â
Before he could dial, the house shook with the slam of the front door. Carter and Topper hurried out to the hall and hesitated at the top of the steps. Your lone voice carried up to them, talking to no one in particular as you muttered, âun-fucking-belivable.â
Carter actually did whisper this time, âI think it might be too late for thatâŠâ
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â Â
The feeling of Rafeâs hand, warm and steady on your thigh, as he drove the rest of the route home was so nice and comforting, you let yourself slip into the possibility that this could actually be it. Maybe you really could just leave the past behind you, maybe you really had finally found each other and it could just be simple like this.
But your fantasy didnât last long.
Rafe parked in the spot across the street that you had taken Carterâs car from a few hours ago. Even when he turned the key and cut the engine, he didnât remove his hand from your leg.Â
âYou ready?â He sighed.
âFor what?â You questioned, eyeing him curiously, his face serious as he looked down at the site of his hand on your skin.
He shook his head like he didnât know the answer himself, âreality, I guess.â
You placed your hand over his, smirking at the sight of your fingers encompassing each otherâs, wanting so much more from these hands and truly believing youâd have all the time in the world to enjoy them.Â
âBring it on,â you gave him a small smile.
âHe leaned across the center console and dropped a deep kiss to your lips, causing you to sigh into his mouth. All the times you imagined kissing him, you never thought such a rough-around-the-edges guy would have such soft lips. You felt like you might be able to spend forever with them on your skin.
When he finally pulled away, you reached for the handle of your door, beginning to open it, but Rafe reached across your body and pulled it shut again.
âWhat are you doing?â You asked in surprise.
He smiled that perfect, dimpled grin of his, âextra credit.â
You giggled as he hurried to climb out of the driverâs side, hurrying around to your door and opening it with a chivalrous flair.
âWow,â you beamed, accepting his hand as he helped you down from the tall vehicle. âYou werenât kidding about trying to be a gentleman.â
âFor you, Iâll be anything,â he flirted.
Despite your best efforts not to, you blushed, the red hue on your cheeks deepening when Rafe kept your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked back to the house. It was the first time heâd held your hand out in the open like this, where anyone could look out from the windows of the beach house and see the two of you together. It was foreign to you, his public display of affection, and yet it felt so right. You couldnât help but wish it hadnât taken this long.
âCan I ask you something?â You said quietly.
âAnything,â he squeezed your hand assuringly.Â
âWhy didnât we do this a long time ago?âÂ
Rafeâs face fell slightly, watching his feet as they made less and less forward progress on the sidewalk, until he came to a full stop. The question was mostly meant to be lighthearted, a tease really, but his solemn reaction made your stomach twist with concern.
âIâŠâ he started, voice unsteady, not meeting your eyeline, âI donât know if I should tell you this but -â
You never knew what he wasnât supposed to tell you, because before he could, a sickeningly familiar voice called out from the front porch.
âHey guys!â
Head snapping toward the sound, you looked up, and there she was, as stunning as ever in that same signature everything-youâre-not-ness.Â
Cassie Bryant.
Her face was adorned with a glistening smile, yours was noticeably not. Everything in you sunk, including the corners of your lips, completely unable to hide the way your heart dropped six feet under the ground at the sight of her.
She was somehow even more golden and glowing now than she was back then. Glossy blonde hair flowing down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her perfect, blemish free skin glowed in the early morning light. Her big, round Disney Princess eyes quickly found Rafe and flicked over your joined hands, clocking the way they were folded together in unmistakable intimacy.
It happened so quickly, and yet it felt like years worth of hurt and heartache compacted into one small moment.Â
At the sight of Cassie on the porch, Rafe dropped your hand.
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
Surely, any minute now, a camera crew would pop out from the bushes and announce that you were being Punkâd.
Or maybe itâd be the Mythbusters:
The myth? That you can actually heal from your childhood trauma with just four years of painstaking hard work. Well, weâre about to prove that all of that can be unraveled in the span of 72 hours! Also, we will be using your heart as our crash test dummy. Myth busted!
You didnât look over at Rafe, couldnât bear to watch the way he pulled his body away from yours, ever-so-slightly, almost imperceptibly. But you could feel it all the same, and you were sure she could too.Â
Before Cassie could say anything else, the front door opened behind her, Sabrina stepping out of the house and taking in the unfolding scene on the lawn.
âOh shit,â she laughed, âthis is awkward!â
Itâs like her main goal in life was to find new and creative ways to make your bad moments worse.
âIs it?â Cassie asked, seemingly unaware of the cause of Sabrinaâs laughter. âWe were just saying hi.â
She caught your eye as she said it, a polite but knowing smile on her lips. You realized with shock that she absolutely knew what was happening and was trying to make you feel better about it. You should just be grateful for the unexpected kindness, but something in you was suspicious. The Cassie you knew wouldâve jumped at the chance to embarrass you, and she wouldâve loved the way Rafe was treating you like you had the plague.
Plus, her taking pity on you, acknowledging the way Rafe had just hurt you, was somehow worse than her just being mean to you. Youâd rather she go back to that.
âYâall having a good trip?â She asked you and Rafe when the silence had lasted just a little too long.
You looked to Rafe, waiting for him to answer, begging him silently to say something that indicated that you were in fact having a good tripâŠtogether.
But he just said, âitâs been cool. Weatherâs shit, though.â
âYeah thatâs what Sab told me, but I got a few days off my internship so I thought Iâd come hang with yâall,â she said, eyes on you as she spoke, like she owed you an explanation.
âWell, welcome, then,â you smiled a polite smile that didnât meet your eyes.
âYou ready?â Sabrina asked, linking arms with Cassie, thick as thieves.Â
âWeâre going into town for some brunch if you guys want to join,â Cassie offered.
âThatâs okay, I need to check on Carter,â you declined, all eyes turning to Rafe for his response.
âUh yeah, Iâm good here, th-thanks,â he stuttered, so awkward and shaky, a completely different person from the guy who was delivering monologues and sweeping you off your feet just a few hours ago.
Cassie just smiled politely once more as Sabrina pulled her into the car. As they drove off, you stood wordlessly with Rafe on the front walk, your chest completely hollow. You mustered some nerve and finally looked at him, head tilted, a completely unamused smile tugging your lips.
âWeatherâs shit?â You repeated his words back to him.
âLookâŠâ he began but didnât finish the thought.
You just laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at him as you stormed off toward the house. Rafe stood frozen for a moment, kicking himself mentally and begging his brain to catch up with the moment, finally rushing off after you, but not able to before you slammed the door in his face.
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
Carter and Topper exchanged nervous glances at the sound of you stomping into the house.Â
They slowly and quietly settled on the top step, sitting forward to listen in as the front door opened and closed again, Rafeâs voice echoing through the house.
âWaitâŠâ he said, following after you as you marched further into the house toward the kitchen.
You didnât stop, âNo, go ahead, you should go to brunch with her. Donât let me keep you from a good time.â
âWait, letâs just talk,â he pleaded.
âIâm too tired, Rafe,â you rejected him. âI canât do this right now.â
âSo youâre not even gonna let me explain?â
At the top of the steps, Carter and Topper simultaneously held their breath as they listened, both jumping as Kelceâs voice startled them, âwhat are we listening to?â
âShhh,â Carter waved her hand at him, motioning for him to shut up.
Kelce plopped himself between them on the top step, shuffling a bit so theyâd make room for him. He listened in, picking up your and Rafeâs raised voices quickly.
âOh shit,â he barely whispered, âtrouble in paradise already?â
âDude shut up,â Topper cut him off.
Soon, Maddie, Tom and Jack joined the little huddle on the top step, each cluing in on the source of the entertainment in their own disruptive way before being shushed by the group and eventually sitting. You continued your argument with Rafe, completely unaware you were performing in front of a live studio audience.
âYou donât need to explain,â you told him, trudging down the front hall toward the kitchen. âI know exactly what just happened because itâs happened a thousand times before. What I donât know is why Iâm even surprised.â
âCome on,â he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as his large frame rounded you. âIt is not the same as it used to be.â
âItâs exactly the same,â you side-stepped him, walking into the kitchen and dropping Carterâs keys on the counter. âI mean jesus Rafe, itâs the same fucking person! I canât believe Iâm here again, itâs like Iâm having a nightmare where Iâm back in high school. Next thing you know Iâm gonna walk into homeroom and I realize Iâm completely naked.â
âSounds more like a dream to me,â he smirked, trying to flirt.
You just blinked back at him, your sharp eyes cutting straight through his head.
âDo you think this is funny?â
His smirk dropped, snatched right off his lips by your ice cold tone. Good. Youâd been waiting years to wipe that shit eating grin off his face.Â
Something new was rising in your chest, knocking out the embarrassment and sadness with a closed fist, a fury long buried coming back with a vengeance.
âI thought all that shit was behind us, over and done.â Rafe reached out towards you but you stopped him with your own rough grip, lowering his hand away from you and dropping it like heâd dropped yours.
âOh, itâs fucking done alright, so fucking done,â you spat.
 âYouâre really gonna let ten stupid seconds ruin everything thatâs happened between us? Youâre not even gonna give me the benefit of the doubt. You really think that little of me?â
âItâs literally only been two hours, and youâve already lied to me once and pushed me away the second someone saw us. And you wonder why I'm having a hard time saying yes to being with you? Itâs because I fucking canât trust you, Rafe!â
âI donât know what else I can do to show you Iâm different,â he threw his hands up in exasperation. âThis is so fucking unfair.â
âAre you being fucking serious right now?â You stepped towards him as you snapped at him. âYouâre actually pissed at me?â
âYeah, I am!âÂ
âWhy?â
âBecause I lost my best friend!â
Everyone on the top of the stairs winced, air sucked from the room when Rafe raised his voice at you. For all his flaws and mistreatment, he had never raised his voice at you before.
âOh shit,â Kelce whispered.
âShhh!â Carter and Maddie hushed him in unison, everyone leaning in a little closer to hear how youâd react. But you said nothing. They couldnât see the widening of your eyes, jaw locked tight as you gave him space to follow up on his outburst.
âDo you really think it didnât hurt me when you just up and stopped talking to me back then?â He took the space you gave him and slowly unpacked the hurt feelings heâd buried for years. âI know I was a dick, I shouldnât have taken advantage of how you felt about me, I shouldnât have strung you along. But when that shit went down senior year and you just ghosted me, I wanted to talk to you and make it right. I tried, but you blocked me out, you went from talking to me every day to radio silence without giving me a single explanation. That fucking hurt. And youâre doing the exact same thing now, not even giving me a chance to explain things. So yeah, I am a little pissed. Iâm pissed that youâre just gonna throw it all away again over nothing.â
He waited for your response with baited breath, prepared for you to yell, or cry, or do something. But you gave him nothing, mouth closed in a tight line as you turned on your heel and walked further into the kitchen, lifting the coffee pot from its home and filling it in the sink.
He watched your back as you scooped the grounds into the filter and turned on the machine. Minutes passed and you remained silent, hands on the counter, looking out the big window towards the ocean while the coffee brewed one drop at a time.
Finally, after eight cups had dripped into the pot, you spoke.
âHow was prom, by the way?â You turned to face him, the edge of the marble countertop digging into your waist as you leaned back against it, hands crossed in hostility over your chest. âI never asked.â
Rafeâs gaze fell from you almost instantly. He didnât have to ask why you were bringing this up, the âhell hath no furyâ look on your face dragging the memory forth from its carefully hidden spot in the back of his brain. Nothing made him feel like a jackass quite like that memory, and based on the mocking curve at the corner of your lips, you knew it.
The memory used to keep you up at night.Â
For a full year after it happened, it was like a fire poker bent into the shape of regret and shame was branding your heart over and over.Â
Now, the burn was healed over, still calloused and red at the edges, but youâd done your best to cover the scar tissue in the healing balms of self-love and lots and lots of therapy. Still, it was the moment in your life you were the least proud of.
Youâd thought it was gonna be you. Really, earnestly, completely delusionally, you believed when he asked for your help with his grand prom-posal that it was all a playful ruse to ask you to be his date. You stayed up all night, decorating three different poster boards with glitter glue so he could pick the one he liked best. You bought out all the battery-powered candles at Michaelâs - he said heâd pay you back, he never did. You waited with him in the park until the sun set, giddy with the hope that heâd drop the ruse and pop the question any minute.
âWhat will you do if âsheâ says no?â You attempted to flirt.
âI guess Iâd just have to take you.â
Every muscle in his body flinched at the memory and the white hot regret he felt every time it replayed in his head.
The kid who said those words was such an asshole. Standing here in the kitchen, looking down at you, the love of his goddamn life, and facing the possibility that he might lose you for good, he wanted to ring the idiotâs neck.
Because he hadnât asked you. He made you watch while he asked her. And he didnât even give you a ride home from the park.
Fuck, he wouldnât forgive himself if he was you, either.
Rafe felt about two feet tall, looking back at you with absolutely nothing to say. He was relieved for a second when you opened your mouth to speak first, until he heard the words.
âYou donât understand. The voice in the back of my head, the one Iâve spent years trying to silence, the one that tells me Iâm not enough, that Iâll never be enoughâŠitâs your voice, Rafe.â
He grasped desperately for a reply, but there were no words in the English language that made that statement any less devastating.
âMaybe thatâs not fair,â you continued before he could come up with anything, âbut I donât think I have control over that. I donât know how to undo it, if it can be undone. So those ten seconds that just happened out there? Theyâre not nothing to me. When you dropped my hand at the sight of her, I felt like I was that stupid teenage girl again, giving my whole heart to the one person who knows how to break it. Blind and foolish and desperate for you to notice her. I donât like that girl.â
You made it through the whole speech with a steady voice, up until the last sentence. Your voice cracked on those words, your heart doing the same as you pictured your younger self. The one who would sit on her bed for hours, rereading the texts she sent him and praying heâd reply.
Thinking about that version of yourself, you werenât sure if you wanted to hug her or slap her. Surely, sheâd hit you right back if she saw what you were doing now, potentially pushing away the boy she loved more than anything, finally having him within your grasp and letting him slip right through.
At the top of the stairs, unbeknownst to you, Carter was picturing that girl, too. She would roll her eyes at you back then, using sarcastic comments like âare you sure Rafe even knows how to read?â to mask her truer concern; that he could but he wouldnât, and the heart you wore on your sleeve would end up crushed again. Even now, she couldnât protect it, couldnât save it from reaching out to this boy who did nothing but break it.
Frustration welled inside her, the absolute powerlessness to put an end to this cycle that hurts you feeling like a dark cloud over her head. The anger manifested into hot, watery tears gathering on her lash line. Without permission, one slipped through, rolling down her cheek slowly.
Topper caught the whole thing, and despite their fight and his resolve to freeze her out until she apologized, he couldnât stop his hand from reaching out and stroking her cheek softly, wiping the tear away with a gentle swipe of his thumb.
They shared a look so full of unspoken words and tender emotions that they almost forgot about the conversation in the kitchen, until Rafeâs voice cut through the moment and pulled them from their silent reconciliation.
âAre you okay?â He asked you after youâd been silent for nearly a minute, trying desperately to compose yourself.
âYes, that's all just a lot. Iâm processing,â you sniffled.
âTake your time,â he said, pulling out one of the high back stools from the counter and motioning for you to sit in it.
Your body was so exhausted, even your stubborn anger at him couldnât stop you from accepting the offer. You slumped on the plush stool, folding your arms on the counter and resting your chin on them.
âHow do you like your eggs?â Rafe asked.
âIs that a pick-up line?âÂ
âNope, just a question,â he said as he opened the high cupboard and pulled out a frying pan.
You tried to remind yourself you should reject his offer to feed you, you should storm out, you should tell him where he can put his frying panâŠbut you were hungry. And so tired.
âSunny side up,â you answered.
He nodded and got to work cooking you breakfast, eggs and bacon sizzling on the stove, Rafe close by with a spatula in hand, silent as he stirred and flipped. You rested your head on your folded arms, eyes half-closed and brain sleepy, watching him.Â
If you blocked out the last twenty minutes, you could pretend this morning was your real life, could let yourself imagine it really was all this simple and pleasant and sweet; heâd cook you breakfast, youâd make him coffee, and youâd kiss until the sun rose.
At the top of the stairs, Kelce stood and started descending, before Carter reached up and grabbed his arm.
âWhat are you doing?â She whispered.
âIâm hungry!â He whined.
âYou canât go down there,â Maddie scolded him, âgive them some space.â
âAre we just gonna stay up here all day?â Tom complained as he and Jack stood to join Kelceâs crusade into the kitchen.
âEverybody sit down!â Topper whisper-yelled. âGive them five fucking minutes, youâll all survive. You can fuck off back to your rooms if you want but no oneâs going down there.â
Carter couldnât help the heart eyes she made at him, surprised and delighted by his show of aggression in your defense.
Kelce groaned as he backed back down, Tom rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up as he trudged down the hall back to his room, Jack following with a huff.
âKelce, I have a granola bar in my purse, câmon,â Maddie offered, leading him towards her own door.
Alone again, Topper and Carter looked at each other for a long, quiet moment.
âIâm sorry,â she mouthed.
âI know,â he mouthed back.
She scooted towards him, nuzzling into his side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.
Downstairs, Rafe was done with your meal, scooping it onto a plate and sliding it to you across the counter.
âThank you,â you sat up and began nibbling at a slice of bacon.
Rafe took the stool next to you with his own plate of food. You sat in silence for a while, only the sound of forks scraping against porcelain and the occasional âcan you pass the salt?â between you.
Between bites, you rested your head on your arm again, nearly falling asleep.
âIâm so tired,â you mumbled sleepily.
âItâs been a long twenty-four hours,â Rafe agreed, taking a sip of his coffee.
âThatâs an understatement,â you snorted, sitting up again and finishing the last bite of your eggs.
âWhat aboutâŠthe next twenty-four hours?â He asked quietly.
You took a deep breath, the smile falling from your face as you considered the question underneath his question. You didnât answer him right away, hopping down from the stool and collecting your plate and his, carrying them to the sink. Rafe was quick behind you, arm reaching around and pulling the dishes from your hands to lay them in the sink. His hand rested on your waist, turning you to face him, pulling you in. Reluctantly, and without returned tenderness, you let him.
âRafe, I canâtâŠâ you said sadly.
âPlease just talk to me,â he pleaded, hands running up your arms and resting on your shoulders. You shook your head, blinking away fresh tears as you pulled away from him.
âIt hurts too much, Rafe,â your voice cracked. âAs great as the last few days have been, you canât see that being close to you hurts me. I worked so hard to get over you. So this isnât me throwing it all away, this is me protecting myself. Protecting what Iâve spent years rebuilding.â
âSo what, that's it then? Youâre just gonna go back to school and pretend this never happened?â The pain in his voice was palpable, and you cursed the part of you that wanted to reach out and make him feel better.
âI donât know, Rafe,â a small tear slipped through, gliding slowly down your cheek.
âYouâre just gonna stop talking to me, stop thinking about me?â He continued desperately.
You looked up at him finally, searching his face, nodding sadly.
âIâve done it before.â
Hurt flashed in his crystal blue eyes, flinching like your words had burned him. âYou didnâtâŠyou donâtâŠthink about me?â
âNo,â you told him honestly, another tear joining the one before it. âNever. Because if I let myself think about you, I wouldâve fallen apart. Iâm not strong enough, I wouldâve run to you, and every time I did that before, youâd let me down.â
âWhat about yesterday? What about this morning? Just think about the beach, everything was so good, it can be that way nowâŠâ
He reached out and cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing over the tears as he pulled you in toward him, kissing you out of sheer desperation. Like maybe if you tasted his lips, itâd transport you both back in time, back to the beach, back when heâd done and said everything right.Â
You allowed him to take you there for just a second, before the incident on the front walk flashed in your mind again, the pain of rejection like a knife to your gut. You pulled away from him quickly, side stepping him and moving to the other side of the kitchen, creating as much distance between you as possible.
âNo, no, you canât just kiss me and act like what just happened with Cassie didnât happen,â you shook your head rapidly, wiping your tear stained streaks with the backs of your hands. âI canât do this right now, I need some time to think.â
It required fighting every impulse he had, but he didnât push, didnât close the space between you, didnât try to regain the control he was so used to having. He just sighed deeply and nodded, eyes low.
âOkay, well let me know when youâre doneâŠthinking.â
With one last longing look at you, he stepped away to the basement steps, stopping at the top and turning halfway toward you.
âOh and that girl? The one who gave me her heart? For what itâs worth, I like her. Always have.â
With that, he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.
Carter and Topper could hear you approach the bottom of the steps. Carter stood first, fully ready to greet you and grill you on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Topper could see all her questions and comments written on her face. He grabbed her hand and squeezed gently, stopping her before she marched down the stairs towards you. She looked at him in surprise but understood quickly as he gave her a slight shake of his head, whispering, âgive her some space.â
Reluctantly, she nodded, allowing him to lead her quietly down the hall and into his room.
Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs, body aching. Your brain was so fried you couldnât even pick one thing from the morning to focus on, like the part of your brain that processes events was temporarily out of order. So you stopped trying to think and just let your feet carry you to your bed, crawling under the covers in your clothes, falling quickly into a restless slumber.
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
In your dreams, you were back in the kitchen with him, shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence as you did the dishes together. Rafe washed and you dried.Â
Only, it wasnât the beach house kitchen, it was one youâd never been in before. And in that dream-state way of knowing something you donât actually know, you were sure it was a kitchen the two of you shared, sometime in the distant, unwritten future.
(to be continued)
a/n: I'm so sorry, I had to do it.......also the prom thing may or may not be based on a true story and I may or may not have cried writing it....
also Iâm sick and tired so I didnât edit much sorry for typos! Iâll proofread again tomorrow đ
please note: the taglist for this series is closed. For updates when I post, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3
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Reader request with Rafe. Maybe she breaks down sobbing in the middle of sex and he has no idea why, thinking he hurt her. Her reasons arenât bad. As someone that has only been with one person personally, and he was such a selfish uncaring lover, I legit think I would start sobbing in bed if someone was loving and caring towards me and treating me like the most precious thing. Love your writing <3
a/n: thank you so much for requesting...hope you like it!!âïž
the room was drenched in golden light, the low hum of the bedside lamp the only sound as rafeâs hands roamed your body. his palms were warm against your skin, calloused but soft in their touch, tracing a path down your sides like he was discovering you for the first time. his lips followed, pressing kisses that started at your neck and trailed lower, his breath hot and deliberate.
âyou okay?â he murmured, the deep rasp of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. his fingers hooked under the hem of your shirt, brushing the bare skin of your stomach as he paused to look at you.
your lips parted, and though you nodded, the tightness in your throat betrayed you. âyeah,â you whispered. âiâm okay.â
rafe studied your face, his brow furrowing slightly before he leaned down to kiss you again. it wasnât rushed, wasnât desperate, but slow, sensual, the kind of kiss that set your skin alight. his tongue slid against yours, coaxing a soft moan from your lips as his hand moved lower, slipping between your legs.
âgod, youâre so wet for me,â he murmured, his voice thick with awe and desire. his fingers stroked you gently, building heat that spread through your entire body, but there was nothing hurried about the way he moved. "my baby, so perfect." he almost purred, everything about him was deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of thisâevery second of you.
you arched into his touch, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he pressed his body closer to yours. his hips rocked against you, his movements careful but firm, and the pressure sent sparks of pleasure through your veins.
but that was the moment it all became too much.
your chest tightened, your breath hitching as the weight of everything crashed down at once. the tenderness, the patience, the careâit was everything youâd never known, everything you thought you didnât deserve. and suddenly, the tears came.
a sob tore from your throat, raw and unbidden, cutting through the heated silence like a knife.
rafe froze instantly, his body going rigid above you as his eyes snapped to your face. ây/n?â his voice was sharp with concern, his hands pulling back like he was afraid heâd hurt you. âwhatâdid iâdid i hurt you?â
you shook your head, tears spilling freely now as you pressed a trembling hand to your face. âno,â you managed, your voice cracking. âno, you didnât hurt me. iâm sorry, iââ
âhey, hey,â he interrupted, his hands hovering near your arms but not quite touching. his voice softened, though there was still a note of panic in it. âdonât apologize. just tell me whatâs wrong. did i do something? did i push too far?â
you shook your head again, harder this time, your tears soaking into the pillow beneath you. âno, rafe. itâs not you. itâs⊠itâs me.â
his brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face as he searched your eyes for answers. âwhat do you mean? youâre crying, baby. i donât know what to do.â
the raw vulnerability in his voice broke something inside you. you forced yourself to take a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you reached up to touch his face. âiâm crying because youâre too good to me,â you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.
rafe blinked, clearly caught off guard. âwhat?â
âyouâre too good to me,â you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. âiâve only ever been with one person before, and he⊠he didnât care about me. not really. it was always about himâwhat he wanted, what he could take. i got used to that, and now⊠now youâre here, and youâre so kind and patient, and i donât know how to handle it.â
his expression shifted then, his confusion melting into something softer, though there was an edge of anger in his jawâanger directed not at you but at the person who had made you feel this way.
ây/n,â he said quietly, his voice steady. âthat guy? he didnât deserve you. not for a second. and i donât care how long it takes, iâll spend every moment proving to you that youâre worth everything. do you hear me?â
tears spilled down your cheeks again, but this time they werenât born of pain. his words wrapped around you like a balm, soothing wounds you hadnât realized were still bleeding.
âi donât want to scare you off,â you whispered, your voice trembling.
âscare me off?â rafe repeated, his tone incredulous. he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. ây/n, you couldnât scare me off if you tried. i just⊠i want you to feel safe with me. always.â
âi do,â you said quickly, your voice breaking with urgency. âi do feel safe. thatâs why iâm crying, rafe. because iâve never felt this before. no oneâs ever⊠treated me like this before.â
his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there as he exhaled deeply. âthen weâll go slow,â he murmured against your skin. âas slow as you need. or we can stop altogether. whatever you want, baby.â
âno,â you said firmly, your hands curling around his wrists to keep him close. âi donât want to stop. i just⊠needed to tell you. needed you to know why iâm like this.â
his eyes searched yours for a long moment before he nodded, his lips curving into the softest smile. âokay,â he said simply. âbut promise me, if you ever need to stop, youâll tell me. no matter what.â
âi promise,â you whispered, your voice steadier now.
he kissed you again, but this time it was different. there was still care in the way his lips moved against yours, but now there was something deeper, something hungrier. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him as his hips rolled forward, the friction sending a gasp spilling from your lips.
âyou feel so fucking good,â he groaned, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed wet kisses to your skin. his body moved against yours in slow, deliberate thrusts, his hands roaming your body like he couldnât get enough.
and this time, you let yourself feel it. you let yourself drown in the way he touched you, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. because for the first time in a long time, you believed that maybeâjust maybeâyou were.
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rafe having no boundaries and grabbing his girlfriend's ass in front of family during a family trip
A little Rafe and Sarah being siblings
â
ââCan you not do that here?ââ Sarah grimaced after Rafe wandered in and smacked your ass on his way to the fridge. ââWeâre cooking. Thatâs gross.ââÂ
You and Sarah had woken up earlier than everyone else and decided to whip some pancake batter. They were coming along nicely, slowly piling up on a plate.
Rafe rolled his eyes in response and leaned against the kitchen counter. ââChill out, Sarah. Iâm just saying âgood morningâ to my girl.ââ
Sarah scoffed, giving him a glare as you flipped out the pancake in the pan. ââWell, keep your 'good mornings' to yourself until after breakfast and when Iâm not around, alright? Iâve seen and heard enough things I didnât want to.ââÂ
Your cheeks turned red and you kept your eyes on the pan, embarrassed as memories of Sarah catching you topless in their pool and all the times she heard you through the walls of Tannyhill before Rafe got his own place. Youâll never apologize to her enough.Â
ââStop acting like a prude. Iâve heard you on the phone with that pogue youâre seeing. Ahh, John B., I wish your fingers were inside me. Iâm so close, I need toâââÂ
Sarah grabbed a blueberry and threw it at her brother, her face burning hot at his mockery. If eyes could kill, Rafe would be a dead man. She looked murderous.Â
Rafe smirked, unfazed by the blueberry that was thrown his way. He crossed his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes flickered with amusement. ââThese walls are old. Did you think I couldnât hear you?ââÂ
To avoid a Sarah vs Rafe duel from happening, you asked Rafe if he wanted chocolate chips or blueberries in his pancakes. You already knew the answer, but you needed to defuse the bomb before it would explode.Â
ââBlueberries. You know how I like my pancakes, baby,ââ he said, pushing himself off the counter and closing the distance between you and him in a few strides.Â
Sarah shot a glare in his direction, her eyes narrowing, but Rafe chose to ignore her and kiss your shoulder, standing right behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back and resting his chin above your shoulder.
ââRafe, youâre distracting me,ââ you warned, pouring batter in the pan and adding some blueberries.Â
Rafe laughed lowly, his chest rumbling against your back as his arms wrapped tighter around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear, his lips lingering on your skin for a few seconds. ââThese look good. Think we can take the pancakes to bed after youâre done?ââÂ
Breakfast in bed, away from everyone else, sounded tempting. You've had breakfast with the Camerons since you arrived, sticking to the polite routine. You missed being alone with Rafe in the morning, taking it slow and engaging in non-PG activities. Â
Before you answered, Sarah cleared her throat beside you, a disapproving look on her face. Rafe thought he was subtle and sleek when he had his hand wander under your robe.Â
He lifted his head and gave her a cocky grin. ''What?''Â
ââIn case you forgot, Iâm still here,'' the blonde recalled, taking a few plates from the cupboards and deciding to set the table. ââAnd Wheezie and Dad and Rose are gonna come down soon.ââÂ
ââI know,'' Rafe replied, stepping back and letting you finish the pancakes. ''If you had not been here, I would have her bent over the counter already.ââÂ
His words should have shocked you, but you were used to his bluntness by now. Rafe never held back, always saying exactly what was on his mind, no matter how outrageous. No matter the audience. You thought he would behave and tone it down with Wheezie in the house, but he didnât.Â
Thankfully, her young ears were not around.
You looked over your shoulder, failing at hiding the smirk that tugged at the corners of your lip.
â
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happy birthday, baby (part one: birthday girl)
(boyfriend!rafe x girlfriend!reader two-shot)
summary it's your first birthday as rafe's girlfriend, and he's desperate to show you just how special you are to him...
content fluff! smut! 18+ minors do not interact!
-----------------êȘà§â---------------------
âItâs too much, Rafe!â
The pile of presents in front of you is outrageous. Bows and bags and big, meticulously wrapped packages.
âNever too much for my girl,â he stands back, beaming as he watches you take in the display with your mouth agape.
âI donât even know which one to open first,â you muse.
âAny of âem. Just not,â he steps forward and plucks one bag from the pile, âthis one. This oneâs for last.â
You eye him suspiciously as he sets the bag on the kitchen counter, out of reach.Â
âWhat surprises do you have planned, Cameron?â
âIf I told you,â he smiles, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, âthen they wouldnât be surprises. Now pick a present or weâre gonna be here all day.â
âExcuse me, I will not be rushed on my birthday,â you say defiantly.
âNot rushing you,â he drops a kiss on your shoulder, âjust got a lot of shit planned for ya, I donât want to waste any time,â he clarifies.
âThereâs more?â You turn in his grasp, eyes wide.
Heâd already woken you up with breakfast in bed, and an adorably off-key, groggy voiced rendition of âHappy Birthday.â His bedroom was full of flowers and balloons, including two big pink ones displaying your new age. After you ate the fluffiest pancakes youâd ever had in your life, he slipped a heavy diamond necklace around your neck, kissing your shoulders as he clasped it. Giving him a million thank you kisses, you told him you loved your present, and he chuckled, leading you to the kitchen to the mountain of additional presents youâre now ogling.
âSo much more. Iâve got a whole day planned for you, so letâs get to it,â he said with a quick tap on your ass, making you giggle.
âOkay, okay! I wantâŠthat one,â you point to the largest package in the back of the pile, ââcause itâs big.â
âHuh, where have I heard that before?â He pretends to think, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
You roll your eyes, shoving him back by his shoulder and scoffing, âyouâre on another one today, I swear.â
âJust excited to celebrate you,â he grins, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling the biggest present out of the pile.
You sit in one of his dining chairs, opening present after present, each one delighting you more than the last. Flashy and expensive; a new bag, two pairs of shoes that have been on your wishlist forever, jewelry until youâre dripping in diamonds and precious gems. Sweet and sentimental; a printed album of all your instagram posts since the two of you got together almost a year ago, a gold ring engraved with a handwritten message, a crystal picture frame with a shot of the two of you on his boat at sunset.Â
You wonder if itâs possible for your heart to actually burst from affection.
When only one present remains, you eye the counter quizzically, waiting for him to bring you the little bag he had set aside. Rafe just makes himself busy picking up the discarded ribbons and wrapping paper, a little blush on his face as he focuses on the chore.
âRafeâŠâ you try to get his attention.
âYeah?â He leans down to pick up a bow that had fallen under the table, when he stands, you step in front of him, grabbing the trash from his hands and setting it to the side.Â
âI want my last present please,â you smile, hands cupped in front of you expectantly.
He scratches the top of his buzzed head, taking a deep breath, âwhy donât we wait? I booked you a spa appointment so you should probably get readyâŠâ
âRafe,â you cross your arms over your chest, âwhy are you being all squirmy?â
âI donât know, I just donât know if youâll like it, I donât want you to thinkâŠanything.â
You had no idea what he meant by âthink anything,â but this whole you not liking something he took the time to pick out for you business was just nonsense.Â
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood up on your tiptoes to place a soft, steady kiss on his lips.Â
âWell I do know. Iâm gonna love it, because you got it for me, and I love you,â you ease his worry.
You had told each other you loved each other for the first time a little over a month ago, but it still feels like fireworks everytime one of you says it. Nothing in life is sweeter than the sound of his quick, reassuring âlove yaâ before hanging up the phone, or his whispered, emotional âI love you so much,â when heâs buried inside you late at night.
âI love you too,â he grins.
âGood,â you place one more kiss on his lips, âthen I would like my last present now, please.â
âYes maâam,â he smirks, walking you toward the kitchen, kissing you all the way as he backs you up step by step.
By the time you reach the kitchen island, youâve almost forgotten about the striped gift bag waiting for you there, distracted by his lips and the cute little smooches theyâre making against your mouth with each step.
He reaches back for the bag without pulling away, holding it behind his back as he ducks down for one last peck before swinging it forward and presenting it to you.
âWe can take it back if you donât li-â you silence him with a finger to his lips.
âShhh, itâs my last present of the day, let me enjoy this,â you request.
He nods solemnly, waiting until you were looking away, too distracted by the tissue paper in the bag to see the smirk growing on his lips as he thought about his actual last present for you. A rush of nerves shoot through him as he pictures the little black velvet pouch sitting in his nightstand drawer.Â
Obeying your request, he bites his tongue as you pull out the rest of the tissue paper. When you finally see whatâs sitting in the bag, a slow, delighted smile spreads across your face. You donât pull the gift out, just bite your lip as you blink up at him through your lashes. His cheeks are adorably pink.Â
Heâs never bought you lingerie before. Heâs seen you in plenty of it, though. Hell, he cleared a whole drawer for you like a month after you started dating, telling you to take as much space as you needed as long as he was the only one who got to see you in it. But the thought of him actually going into the store and asking the sales lady for exactly what he wanted to see you in, surely pulling out his black card and telling her the price tag was not an issue, made your belly tighten with lust.
âAh I see,â you smirk, âitâs a present for me and for you.â
He nods with a lick of his lips, âyou gonna try it on for me?â
You lead him to the chair you were sitting in to open presents, guiding him to sit and placing one more kiss on his cheek before excitedly padding to the bedroom to get changed. He watches you go with his tongue pressed into his cheek, readying himself, wondering how the fuck someone like him got lucky enough to be with someone like you.
Rafe had picked out the cutest little set for you. Matching floral bra and panties, sheer and constructed with hardly any fabric at all, a matching garter belt and thigh high sheer stockings. You gasp when you see the price tag, understanding now why the fabric feels so nice and the stitching is so intricate.Â
You take your time pulling it on, both to be gentle with the expensive pieces and to tease the man waiting for you in the other room. The thought of him squirming in that chair wondering what the hell was taking so long makes you giggle.
âThe fuck are you laughing about in there?â He calls out impatiently from the other room. âYouâre killinâ me!âÂ
You laugh hard at that, head falling back in delight as you clip the last strap of the garter into place. You add a pair of kitten heels to tie it all together and run your fingers through your hair, one quick look in the mirror to appreciate yourself before stepping slowly from the room.
âSorry to make you wait, baby,â you tilt your head apologetically and step towards him tauntingly.Â
Rafe just smiles and looks to the ceiling, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.
âWhat?â You ask as you approach, hands finding his and bringing them to rest on either side of your waist.
His thumbs trace circles into your skin, âjust donât know how I got so fuckinâ lucky. Mustâve done something right in a past life.â
Your skin goes hot at his words, and the way his eyes are skimming over your body like youâre the eighth wonder of the world.
âNah, I think you just did a lot of things right in this life,â you pull his arms so heâll rise to his feet.
Rafe lifts his arm with his hand still holding yours, spinning you with his pointer finger like a ballerina, memorizing every inch of you as you twirl for him.
âNo man could possibly be good enough to deserve you, baby,â he responds, his large, rough hands running over your bare hips, guiding you to hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. âIâm just the luckiest guy in the world.â
You kiss him, too overwhelmed by the way heâs looking at you and holding you up to say anything in response. No one has ever made you feel so special, so wanted. Heâd kneel down and kiss your feet if you asked him to. But thatâs not what you want right now.
âNeed you, Rafe,â you mumble against his lips, legs squeezing him tighter, hands splayed on the back of his head like youâre trying to permanently seal his mouth to yours, âplease.â
âYou donât gotta beg, angel,â he coos, âIâll give you anything you want.â
âCause itâs my birthday?â You tease.
âNo. Iâll give you anything you want every day of your fucking life,â he swears, âyou deserve the world.â
But you donât want the world, you just want him.
âFuck, Rafe,â you sigh, lowering your core over his growing hardness, playfulness gone and replaced by frenzied need.
In response, he shifts to hold you up with one arm, using the other to sweep aggressively at the counter and knock all its contents to the floor chaotically. You love him wild like this, complete disregard for the dishes and various items heâs just sent flying across the kitchen, too drunk on you to even attempt making it to the bedroom.Â
He drops you onto the counter, not too hard to hurt, but just hard enough to make your tits bounce and a little âhmph!â to rise from your chest. Youâre pulling him to you in seconds, nails clawing at his shoulders and the back of his head as his lips devour yours. He slots his hips between your knees, forcing your legs to fall open for him.
âGonna make you feel so good, birthday girl,â he promises, chest hovering over you powerfully, lowering you slowly until youâre laying down on the counter, your legs dangling off the edge.Â
He kisses down the column of your throat, nipping and nibbling all the way as he hooks his fingers to slip under the straps of the garter belt, pulling until the clasps break away from the top of your stockings with a snap!
You gasp, âyouâre gonna break my present!â
âIâll buy you a new one,â he shakes his head, bent in half to lower his mouth down your body, sucking purple splotches into the sensitive skin of your stomach, claiming you with every mark.
When heâs satisfied with his artwork, he lifts himself up, piercing blue eyes consuming you with an adoration youâve never experienced before. You writhe a little under his hungry gaze, and his eyes wander to the panties he gifted you, corners of his mouth perking in a grin. His hand snakes up your thigh and he sweeps his thumb over your covered slit without warning, making you gasp and arch off the cold counter.
âLooks like you already made a mess of your present anyway,â his eyes twinkle with mischief as he spreads your wetness through the fabric.
âCanât help it,â you whine under the pressure, âyou always make me so fucking wet.â
Heâs desperate to taste you, lowering to his knees and dragging your panties down with him. Gripping your hips, he pulls you to the edge of the counter, closer to his mouth. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the sting outweighed by the pleasure.Â
You arch toward him, desperate to feel his mouth on you, but his fingers find you first. He spreads you, groaning a strained âfuckkkkâ at the sight. He gathers your slick onto his fingers so slowly, so deliberately, itâs driving you insane.Â
Finally, finally, he lowers his mouth and licks, ever so gently, up your center. Youâre on fire, the cold marble counter below you doing little to cool your spiked body temperature.Â
Between deliberate licks he whispers praises, his tongue and voice taking turns worshiping you.
âDo you know I belong to you?â He confesses, his other hand gripping the edge of the counter so hard it almost cracks. âDo you understand that you fucking own me?â
âYou talk so pretty, baby,â you moan, losing your grasp on language as he sends lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through your body, âlove that mouth.â
âItâs yours,â he promises, finally lapping at your clit with a pointed tongue, âitâs all yours, everything Iâve got.â
âJust want you!â you cry out when he pulls the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucks hard.
âYou have me, âm not going anywhere,â he says after releasing your clit with a pop. His middle finger, already soaked from you, dips into your entrance slowly. âYouâre my everything, forever.â
Rafe continues to wrap you in soliloquies of praise as his other hand kneads the skin of your stomach reverently, like a potter molding his clay.
Itâs these promises that make your head spin, drowning in the tapestry he weaves with his words until all you can think, all you know, is that you love him. When a second finger enters you and his mouth finds the spot he knows so well, everything in the world fades. The only thing that means anything is this man and the way he makes you feel.
His fingers twist and twirl inside you while his mouth works your clit. Youâre beside yourself, feeling your release creep closer and closer with each flick of his tongue. You grab the edge of the counter top for purchase, but itâs not enough. Your hands paw at his head, wishing there was something more to ground you.Â
You love his buzzcut, you had an appointment in your shared calendar each month for him to dutifully sit on a stool in the bathroom while you redid it with the electric clippers, but in this moment you wish for the first time that heâd grow it out. You tuck the thought away for later.
He loves the way youâre clawing at his scalp, and clenching around his fingers, knowing youâre close like he knows everything about you. He grabs one of your hands, offering his to you so you can squeeze as hard as you need to, loving the pain as he pushes you to the edge.
You cry out his name when you come, nearly breaking the bones in his fingers. He doesnât stop until the very last wave of ecstasy rolls through you, his body hovering over yours as he soothes you through the cool down.
âYou have no idea what you mean to me,â he whispers into your collarbone, following the vulnerable words with a shaky kiss.
âI think I have some idea,â your palm glides over his scalp, where you were just leaving scratches, inspecting to make sure you hadnât done too much damage. âBecause of how much you mean to me.â
He just shakes his head, his buzzed hair tickling your chin.
You both rise from the counter, Rafe straightening your lingerie set and taking in his gift to you one more time. He stands between your legs, fists on the counter as he leans forward on flexed arms.
âHow am I supposed to top this?â You wonder aloud, hands smoothing over his shoulders and your head tilting in that adorable way heâs obsessed with.
âWhat do you mean?â He puzzles.
âWhen your birthday comes around,â you explain, âyouâve set the bar so high.â
Rafe smiles, but it doesnât meet his eyes. His gaze wanders from you as he pulls back slightly.
âYou donât have to do anything,â he shakes his head.
âAre you joking? And miss the chance to celebrate you?âÂ
âWe- I donât really do birthdays,â he says, and before you can pry any further he adds, âplus yours isnât even close to over yet.â
Rafe lifts you effortlessly from the counter, making you yelp in surprise. You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you to the bedroom, thinking obsessively about the way he accidentally said âwe.â
Your heart breaks picturing younger Rafe, no birthday candles to blow out on his big day, no crowd of friends and family singing to him, no one to make him understand how special and worth celebrating he is.Â
No, that just wouldnât do. You start planning the second he falls asleep that night, determined to make his next birthday the best heâs ever had.
-----------------êȘà§â---------------------
part 2: birthday boy coming soon!
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