starkeymuse

[starkeymuse]

decode | rafe cameron | part two

summary: grace knew the outer banks were full of dangerous currents, but she never expected rafe cameron to be one of them.

warnings: mentions of violence.

this is a long one but i wanted to work on expanding my plot and the relationships more. enjoy!

✧ listen to: midnight love by girl in red ✧

grace's pov

the sunlight filtered through the trees around john b’s house, soft and golden, making everything feel deceptively peaceful. we were gathered on the porch, sprawled across mismatched chairs and cushions, the smell of sea salt and faintly burnt toast lingering in the air. i was seated cross-legged on the couch, a crinkled letter from denmark tanny balanced on my lap. my fingers absently traced over the faded ink, the curls of the handwriting worn smooth from age.

john b paced in front of us, his usual air of determination bubbling beneath his casual demeanor. kiara, sitting on the edge of a chair, looked like she might burst any second. i could almost hear the words she was holding back, the frustration radiating from her in waves. the sound of jj laughing at something pope had said in the background only partially registered as my mind wandered to the conversation from the night before with rafe.

"so, we know where the gold is,” john b said, his voice cutting through the chatter. “it’s not at the bottom of the ocean. it’s been hidden on tannyhill plantation all this time."

"no way,” i breathed, my pulse quickening. the idea of the gold being so close, right under our noses, was a lot to swallow.

“okay, but how are we supposed to get to it?” pope asked, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"we’re going to need sarah’s help with this. the original maps are in her house somewhere." john b. said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

i glanced over at sarah, sitting quietly across from me. i didn’t know what to make of her, not after everything kie has said about her. she was a kook, but something about her made me hesitate to lump her in with the rest of them.

kiara was the first to speak up, "wait a second. are you seriously suggesting we let her in on this?"

“yeah, i am,” john b said, meeting kiara’s glare head-on.

“you know,” kiara began, standing up so abruptly that her chair scraped against the floor, “i don’t remember taking a vote. this is our thing, a pogue thing. and now you’re just letting her in?”

john b sighed, running a hand through his hair. “kie, this isn’t just about being a pogue. it’s about finding the gold. sarah can help us."

“we were all fine until you brought her here!” kiara's voice grew louder, her anger boiling over. she took a step closer to him, eyes flashing.

my eyes flicked to sarah. she didn’t flinch, though her fingers tightened around the edge of her seat. the words were harsh, sure, but they weren’t entirely wrong. even if I didn’t agree with kiara’s anger, i was still trying to understand it.

"can you not talk about me like i’m not here?” sarah said, a tinge of annoyance creeping into her tone.

kiara’s lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowing. “then leave,” she snapped, and i could see the walls going up again, just like that. the hurt was clear on kiara’s face, and i knew this wasn’t just about sarah. it was about feeling betrayed by john b, too.

john b stepped in, trying to de-escalate. “sarah’s my girlfriend now, okay? so maybe get used to it.”

"so, what? that makes it all okay?" kiara’s eyes practically shot fire as she turned on him. "did you know your brother, topper , and kelce jumped pope?" kiara shot at sarah, her voice loud and seething with anger. "those are your people, sarah. so don’t sit here and act like we’re all supposed to pretend you’re just one of us.."

sarah looked at john b, her eyes softening for a moment before she responded, “i told you."

kiara’s lips curled into a sneer. “told him what? that you’re a liar?”

sarah’s eyes flickered with annoyance. “no,” she shot back, her tone suddenly biting, “that you’re a shit talking bitch.”

jj and pope gasp and start pulling money out of their pockets as kiara and sarah continued their back-and-forth, the two lounged side by side on the couch, their eyes flicking between the two girls with a mix of amusement and curiosity. they leaned in closer, speaking in hushed tones as they exchanged sly grins.

jj nudged pope’s shoulder with his elbow, his voice barely above a whisper. "who you got? kie or sarah?"

pope smirked, leaning back slightly. "kiara’s got the aggresion right now, but sarah’s got that whole ‘rich girl calm’ thing going on. bet kiara’s the one who throws the first punch."

jj glanced over at grace, raising an eyebrow as he nudged her with his elbow. "come on, grace, bet with us. five bucks kie breaks something."

i rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a small grin. "you guys are ridiculous."

pope gave her a playful wink. "10 bucks kie punches her first."

i smirked, my arms crossed over my chest as i shook her head. "i’m not betting on this."

but then, i caught a glimpse of john b’s face, and everything else faded away for a moment. his expression was a mix of panic and helplessness, like he didn’t know how to fix this, like he was already bracing himself for it to all fall apart. his eyes flickered between kiara and sarah. he didn’t know what to do. he needed help. i could’ve stayed quiet, and let them hash it out themselves, but something about the way john b looked at me made me realize i couldn’t just sit here and watch it explode.

“alright, enough,” i said, cutting through the bickering with a sharpness i didn’t even know i had. i wasn’t yelling, but there was enough authority in my voice to stop both girls in their tracks.

“look, i get it. you guys don’t like each other. but this isn’t going to solve anything,” i said, trying to keep my voice even. “fighting about this isn’t going to get us closer to the gold.”

i took a deep breath and stepped a little closer to kiara, my voice softening. “i get why you’re mad. but this isn’t the time for this. we’re supposed to be a team. we can’t let this mess things up.”

for a moment, kiara looked like she was about to snap back, but then she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “fine. whatever.”

without another word, she stormed off, the screen door slamming behind her with a force that rattled the whole porch.

jj let out a low whistle. “there she goes."

i didn’t know if i should go after her or let her cool down. but i wasn’t the one who was mad at sarah. i just couldn’t help but feel bad for kiara, watching her walk off in frustration like that, feeling not heard and betrayed.

“look, i had no idea pope was jumped,” sarah said, her words coming out slower, like she was thinking carefully about each one. “i’m really sorry.”

sarah’s apology hung in the air for a moment before pope spoke up, his voice softer than usual. “it’s okay, sarah. it’s not your fault.”

i couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at his words. it was a step toward peace, even if it was a small one. maybe things didn’t have to be as tense as they seemed.

but then, as if to shake off the last remnants of that uneasy feeling, i shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my thoughts drifting to last night. my encounter with topper and rafe. i hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but now it felt like it was sitting there, waiting to be acknowledged.

i let out a small sigh, meeting sarah's eyes briefly before speaking. i ran into topper and rafe last night," i muttered. 'topper grabbed me, but... rafe actually stepped in and stopped him."

sarah gave a small, tight-lipped smile, almost like she wanted to say something but held herself back. instead, she just nodded, and the group seemed to collectively exhale, ready to move on.

"well,” john b began, clearing his throat, “back to business. we need to get those maps."

marcy’s was a fixture on the island. named after paul’s late wife, it had been around for decades, a favorite for locals who wanted fresh seafood and tourists hoping to stumble upon a hidden gem. paul had poured everything he had into keeping it alive after marcy passed, and i’d been lucky enough to work there since i was barely fourteen.

paul had a way of handing out life advice when you least expected it. “grace,” he’d say, his voice gruff but kind, “sometimes you’ve got to let things simmer. rushing ruins the flavor.” he’d usually be talking about a chowder or sauce, but i’d long since learned he meant more than just food.

tonight, though, paul was gone, having handed me the keys hours earlier with his usual, “don’t forget to lock up, kid. and take home some damn leftovers.” before disappearing into the night. the restaurant felt different when it was empty, quieter, but not silent. it was like the walls still held onto the day’s laughter and chatter, leaving behind a hum of energy even after everyone was gone.

i was finishing up the last of my closing tasks, wiping down the counter, when the bell above the door chimed. my stomach flipped at the sound, i wasn’t expecting anyone this late.

“we’re closed,” i called out, setting the rag down and turning to the door. he looked out of place against the worn booths and framed photos of sunsets, his clean-cut appearance contrasting with the casual charm of marcy’s.

"i know," rafe replied.

he stood with his hands in his pockets, the faint light catching on the edges of his sharp jawline. his t-shirt clung just right against his frame. his jeans were perfectly worn, and for a brief, traitorous second, i thought he looked unfairly good.

i stared at him, heart pounding in a mix of surprise and irritation. “what are you doing here, rafe?”

he hesitated, like he wasn’t even sure himself. “you work here?”

i raised an eyebrow, the sarcasm slipping out before i could stop it. “no, i just wear the apron for kicks.”

“yeah, obviously i work here,” i added, shaking my head in disbelief.

he rolled his eyes at my response, but a smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips.

"we're closed. take the hint." i said, gesturing to the empty restaurant.

"grace, wait-“ he said, moving further into the room.

“no, seriously.” i dropped the rag on the counter, irritation flooding through me. “you think you can just show up here after midsummers and—what? make small talk? you’re unbelievable.”

i noticed for the first time how much the weight of his usual arrogance had disappeared. it wasn’t a look i was used to seeing on him. silence stretched between us, only the low hum of the restaurant lights breaking the stillness. he took a small step closer, but i didn’t back away. he could’ve walked out right then and left me alone, but he didn’t. instead, his eyes met mine and held them, looking like he was searching for something, anything that would make me understand.

“i wanted to apologize,” he said finally, the words hanging heavy in the air.

i blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of it. “what?”

he let out a short breath, like he was bracing himself. “i’m serious,” he said, his voice lower now. “about pope. About what i did or didn’t do. i… i should’ve stopped it.”

my chest tightened, and for a second, i felt like i couldn’t breathe. part of me wanted to laugh, to brush it off like I always did, but there was something in his face that made it hard to ignore. i felt guilty for noticing it, for even listening to him right now. as if by giving in, even a little, i was betraying my best friends.

"you can’t undo what happened, rafe,” I said, my voice tight.

“I know,” he muttered, looking away like my words had physically hit him. "you think i don't know that? i've been trying to pretend like it’s nothing, but…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "i hate myself for it."

i swallowed hard, the weight of his confession sitting in my chest. hearing him say it didn’t fix anything. but something in me shifted—cracked, maybe. i wasn’t used to seeing rafe like this—unguarded, honest. my gut twisted, caught between the anger i wanted to hold onto and something i still couldn’t name.

"why are you telling me this?" i asked, softer now, the words slipping out before i could stop them.

he looked back at me, his blue eyes searching mine, like he was hoping i could see past the mess of him. "because i think you're the only person who might actually believe me."

i didn’t know how to respond to that. rafe had always been this untouchable figure in my life, reckless, entitled, the kind of guy you hated without thinking twice. but right then, in the dim light of the empty restaurant, he seemed… different. i felt something stir in me that i didn’t want to acknowledge. it made my chest tighten.

i took a deep breath, trying to push that feeling down. "you can’t expect me to just forgive you," i said, the words more cold than i wanted them to be. i didn’t want to be nice. i didn’t want to let him in, even just for a moment. not when everything in me screamed that it would be a betrayal to my friends, to pope, especially.

“i don’t,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “i don’t expect anything, grace. i just… i needed you to know I’m sorry.”

i watched him for a long moment, the weight of his words pressing down on me. i sighed, brushing a hand through my hair. i didn’t know what to do with the part of me that wanted to believe him.

"go home, rafe," i said finally, my voice soft, but still firm. my hands trembled slightly as i crossed my arms again, the walls coming back up, again.

he looked at me for a beat longer, like he was hoping for something, anything from me. but when i didn’t say anything else, he nodded.

“goodnight, grace,” he murmured.

i didn’t respond. i just watched him turn, heading back toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the empty restaurant.

but then, before he fully stepped out, he paused. something shifted in his posture as he turned back toward me, eyes locking with mine again. there was an unreadable expression on his face, like he hadn’t quite said everything he needed to.

"oh, and topper’s a fucking idiot. everything he said? it's not true." he hesitated for a moment, then glanced back at me, his expression softening. "far from it."

with that, he turned, the door swinging shut behind him, his footsteps fading into the night.

i shook my head, muttering to myself, trying to push the thoughts away. "this is ridiculous," i whispered. but deep down, i knew it wasn’t just going to go away. not yet, at least.

turning back to the counter, i grabbed the rag i’d left behind and started wiping it down absently. the quiet of the night pressed in on me, but all i could hear now was the soft echo of his voice: "far from it."

denial is a river in egypt @ grace ;)

i hope you enjoyed this part! i enjoyed writing it. i love awkward rafe

please like and comment if u want, no pressure. <3333 mwah. stay tuned for part 3 soon.

[starkeymuse]

decode | rafe cameron | part one

summary: grace knew the outer banks were full of dangerous currents, but she never expected rafe cameron to be one of them.

warnings: mentions of violence.

masterlist

✧ listen to: menswear by the 1975 ✧

grace's pov

the midsummer's party was in full swing on figure eight, a chaotic blend of laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint hum of live music drifting from the veranda. the heat of the night clung to my skin, and the sticky air made it almost impossible to breathe. it was the kind of party where you could almost feel the weight of every whisper, every side glance, and the eyes that followed your every move. kiara had convinced me to come along, promising it wouldn’t be so bad. she lent me a dress and heels and told her mom that she would go only if i was her plus one. i slipped away from kiara, the cool, chilled air of the hallway hit me like a welcome relief as i stepped inside the country club.

the white walls gleamed under the soft lighting, adorned with gilded frames displaying paintings of serene ocean scapes and old sailboats. i wandered, my fingers brushing against the cool surface of a polished table and my eyes scanning the room in wonder, momentarily lost in the luxury of the building.

"you lost?", the voice was low, but it cut through the silence. I swallowed, the familiar irritation flickering inside me.

rafe cameron.

i turned around to see rafe standing a few feet away, his posture was relaxed but there was an edge to his presence. he was wearing a dark grey suit coat over a crisp white shirt, the fabric stretched slightly across his broad shoulders. he looked every bit the part of someone who belonged in a place like this, effortlessly polished—yet there was something in the way he looked at me, like he was studying me, weighing something in his mind.

"i was just looking for the bathrooms," i said, my tone sharper than i meant it to be. i couldn't help it, it was rafe, after all. "but i guess i can add getting harassed by another kook to my night."

"relax," rafe said, taking a slow step forward. "it's just me."

"exactly." I folded my arms.

rafe sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket. "are you gonna keep pretending i'm some monster?"

"aren't you?" i shot back, narrowing my eyes. "or are you going to tell me you had nothing to do with what happened to pope?"

the mention of pope's name made something flicker in rafe's expression. guilt? i couldn't be sure. he broke eye contact, looking down the hall.

"i didn't touch him" rafe muttered, his voice quieter now.

"but you didn't stop it either,' i countered, stepping closer. "topper and kelce went after him with golf clubs, rafe. golf clubs. and you just... stood there."

his jaw tightened, and for a moment, i thought he might snap at me. instead, he ran a hand over his head, letting out a scoff. "you think i had a choice? you think they’d listen to me? topper and kelce don’t exactly back down once they’re riled up."

"you didn't even try," i said, my voice softer but no less accusing as the image of pope stumbling toward us after they had jumped him flashed through my mind. rafe finally met my gaze, his blue eyes heavy with something i didn’t expect: shame.

"it won't happen again." he said.

i didn’t know how to respond. my anger was still there, burning hot, but underneath it, something else twisted in my chest.

"that’s not good enough, rafe,” i said finally, my voice steady. “not for me. not for pope.”

he nodded, just once, like he’d been expecting that. “i didn’t think it would be.”

rafe fell silent, his gaze flicking over my shoulder. i frowned, confused by the sudden change, until the sound of approaching footsteps and a familiar voice broke the quiet.

"there you are!" topper announced, stepping into the hallway. his tie was askew, and his drink sloshed precariously in his hand as he pointed at rafe. "i’ve been looking for you everywhere, man."

he stopped short when he noticed me, his eyes dragging over me in a way that made my stomach twist. “oh, look who we have here. slumming it, are we?”

"topper." rafe said, his tone sharp with warning.

i rolled my eyes, refusing to take the bait. "so fucking unbearable."

but topper wasn't deterred. he stepped closer, his grin widening. "hey, i'm just saying, rafe, you've got an interesting taste in company tonight."

i tried to side step him, but topper's hand shot out, grabbing my arm to stop me. "what's the rush? we were starting to have fun."

my body stiffened, the heat of anger flaring up in my chest as i yanked my arm back. "let go of me, topper."

before i could say another word, rafe was between us. he shoved topper backward with such force, his back slammed into the wall behind him.

"don't touch her," rafe said, his voice low and dangerous.

topper blinked in surprise, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “whoa, man. what’s your problem?”

“you’re my problem,” rafe snapped, his eyes narrowing. “back off, topper.”

topper raised his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t falter. “alright, alright. didn’t realize you were playing knight in shining armor tonight.”

i turned on my heel ready to leave both of them behind. the soft click of my heels echoed in the hallway. but i wasn't far enough when topper's voice laced with cruel amusement, cut through the air.

“nice dress, grace,” he sneered. “too bad it can’t hide that you’re a still low-life pogue with nothing going for her. you look like a pig in lipstick."

the words landed like a slap, the insult more biting than i expected. my hands balled into fists at my side. i kept walking, ignoring the sick satisfaction i could hear in topper’s laugh. behind me, i could hear the scuffle continue before i saw it.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?” rafe’s voice was cold. his blue eyes burned as they pinned topper in place. my stomach flipped as i saw rafe slam topper into the wall, his fist tangled in the collar of topper's pastel-colored suit.

"dude, i was joking!” topper sputtered, his hands clawing at rafe’s grip.

"don’t,” rafe growled. His face was inches from topper’s, his expression dark and furious. “don’t touch her again. don’t talk to her like that. ever."

rafe’s hand lingered for a moment longer before he shoved topper back. the kook stumbled, nearly falling before catching himself. his face was red now, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

rafe looked down the hallway to see if i was still standing there, but i was already back outside, searching for my friends. he stood there for a moment, watching the empty hallway, a quiet anger simmering in him.

he had hoped that i would still be there, maybe looking at him with something other than the usual coldness.

my eyes scanned the party for any sign of my friends. the sooner we could leave, the better. i spotted kie, her arms crossed, looking like she was waiting for me. when she saw me, her expression shifted from curiosity to concern.

grace?” kie called, pushing off the side of the table she was leaning on and walking toward me. “everything okay?”

"yeah, can we leave? like now?" i asked, not really as a question, more of a demand.

kie didn’t question it. without missing a beat, she nodded and turned, starting to lead the way toward the edge of the yard.

"grace! kie!” i could hear the familiar voices of pope, jj, and john b calling out from the edge of the party.

The sound of kiara's parents’ protests faded behind us. we started running down the path, laughing as we dodged the occasional bush or branch, the freedom of it all exhilarating.

“don’t mind them,” kiara muttered, rolling her eyes. “they’re just being dramatic.”

our laughter rang through the night as we neared the boys, the cool air tugging at our clothes. That’s when I spotted sarah cameron standing a few feet away, framed by the soft glow of the party lights. She looked effortlessly perfect in her white dress and the flower crown perched atop her head. our eyes met for a split second, and i caught a fleeting look in her gaze, a mix of longing and curiosity. it was as if, for just a moment, she was tempted to leave her perfect little world behind and join in. but before i could really think about it, kiara was already pulling me forward, and we were swept up in our own world again.

the night carried on back at the château, laughter, music, and voices blending together like a dream I couldn’t quite hold onto. we were caught up in it, all of us—until my mind drifted back to rafe.

there was something in the way he looked at me, something that made my heart race and my skin prick with awareness. for a moment, i couldn’t tell if he was still the guy who stood back and let his friends do the dirty work or if there was more to him than i’d ever realized.

but for now, i kept laughing with my friends, keeping that thought pushed down, pretending the night was just about fun and forgetting that, somehow, it had already become something else.

and maybe I was running from that too.

hi there! :) this is the first part of my series, decode. i’ve never published anything on tumblr before, so please excuse any mistakes. just a heads-up: while I'm loosely following the plot of outer banks, i’m making some changes and tweaking rafe’s character and actions along the way. i’d love to hear your thoughts!

p.s if you were wondering, yes the title is inspired by decode by paramore from the twilight soundtrack! hehe.

thank you so much for reading if you've made it this far! <3