#surfa

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How an obscure advisory board lets utilities steal $50b/year from ratepayers

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in NYC on WEDNESDAY (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN and at PENN STATE on THURSDAY (Feb 27). More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

Two figures to ponder.

First: if your local power company is privately owned, you've seen energy rate hikes at 49% above inflation over the last three years.

Second: if your local power company is publicly owned, you've seen energy rates go up at 44% below inflation over the same period.

Power is that much-theorized economic marvel: a "natural monopoly." Once someone has gone to the trouble of bringing a power wire to your house, it's almost impossible to convince anyone else to invest in bringing a competing wire to your electrical service mast. For this reason, most people in the world get their energy from a publicly owned utility, and the rates reflect social priorities as well as cost-recovery. For example, basic power to run lights and a refrigerator might be steeply discounted, while energy-gobbling McMansions pay a substantial premium for the extra power to heat and cool their ostentatious lawyer-foyers and "great rooms."

But in America, we believe in the miracle of the market, even where no market could possibly exist because of natural monopolies. That's why about 70% of Americans get their power from shareholder-owned companies, whose managers' prime directive is extracting profit, not serving their communities. To check this impulse, these private utilities are overseen by various flavors of public bodies, usually called Public Utility Commissions (PUCs).

For 40 years, PUCs have limited private utilities to a "rate of return" based on a "just and reasonable profit." They always gamed this to make it higher than was fair, but in recent years, the "experts" who advise PUCs on rate-setting have been boiled down to a tiny number of economists, who have discovered that the true "just and reasonable profit" is much higher than it's ever been considered.

Mark Ellis worked for one of those profit-hiking "experts," but he's turned whistleblower. On paper, Ellis looks like the enemy: former chief economist at Sempra Energy, an ex-Exxonmobile analyst, a retired McKinsey Consultant, and a Socal Edison engineer. But Ellis couldn't stomach the corruption, and he went public, publishing a report for the American Economic Liberties Project called "Rate of Return Equals Cost of Capital" that lays out the con in stark detail:

https://www.economicliberties.us/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/20250102-aelp-ror-v5.pdf

I first encountered Ellis last week when he was interviewed on Matt Stoller and David Dayen's excellent Organized Money podcast, where he memorably referred to these utilities as "pocket-picking machines":

https://www.organizedmoney.fm/p/the-pocket-picking-machine

Dayen followed this up with a great summary in The American Prospect (where he is editor-in-chief):

https://prospect.org/environment/2025-02-21-secret-society-raising-your-electricity-bills/

At the center of the scam is a professional association called the Society of Utility and Regulatory Financial Analysts (SURFA). The experts in SURFA are dominated by just four consulting companies, who provide 90% of the testimony for rate-setting exercises. Just two people account for half of that input.

In order to calculate the "just and reasonable profit," these experts make use of economic models. Even in normal economics, these models are the source of infinite mischief and suffering, built on assumptions that legitimize the most abusive conduct:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful

But even by the low standards of normal economic models, the utility models are really bad. They rely on unique "risk premium" and "expected earnings" calculations that no one else in finance will touch. As Dayen explains, these models are "perfectly circular."

This might be a bit confusing, but only because it's one of those scams that you assume you must have misunderstood because it's so, well, scammy. In the "expected earnings" analysis, the "just and reasonable profit" a utility is allowed to build into its rates is defined as "the amount of money it would like to make." In other words, if a utility projects future revenues of $10 billion over the next ten years, that is its "expected earnings." "Expected earnings" are treated as equivalent to "just and reasonable profits." So under this model, whatever number the utility puts in its financial projections is the number that it's allowed to take out of the pockets of ratepayers.

This is just as bad as it sounds. In 2022, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission said that it "defied financial logic." No duh – even SURFA's own training manual says it "does not square well with economic theory."

In the world of regulated utilities, this kind of mathing isn't supposed to be possible. The PUC and its "consumer advocates" are supposed to listen to these outlandish tales and laugh the utility out of the room.

But it's SURFA that trains the consumer advocates who work for the PUCs, the large energy customers, and community groups. These people – who are supposed to act as the adversaries of the companies that pay SURFA members to justify rate-hikes – are indoctrinated by SURFA to treat its absurd models as accepted economic gospel. SURFA has co-opted its opposition, transformed it into a botnet that parrots its own talking-points.

Because of this, the private power companies that serve 70% of US households made an extra $50b last year, about $300 per household. What's more, because the excess profits available to companies that simply bamboozle their regulators are so massive, they swamp all the other tools regulators use to attempt to improve the energy system. No incentive offered for conservation or efficiency can touch the gigantic sums energy companies can make by ripping off ratepayers, so nearly all the incentive programs approved by PUCs have been dead on arrival.

What's more, utilities are allowed to fold the cost of hiring the experts who get them rate hikes onto the ratepayers. In other words, if a utility hires a $10,000,000 expert who successfully argues for a $1,000,000,000 rate-increase, they get to recoup the ten mil they spent securing the right to rip you off for a billion dollars on top of that cool bill.

We often talk about regulatory capture in the abstract, but this is as concrete as it can be. Ellis's report makes a raft of highly specific, technical regulatory changes that states or cities could impose on their PUCs. These are shovel-ready ideas: if you find yourself contemplating a sky-high power bill, maybe you could call your state rep and read them aloud.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/24/surfa/#mark-ellis

[luizdominguesfan]

www.crazyrock.com.br

Amigos: teremos uma edição diferente, desta feita com a participação do comunicador e ativista cultural, Tiel Neto, que nos trouxe uma lista com oito artistas escolhidos por ele, a somar com outras oito indicações de minha parte. Estarei junto ao professor Julio Cesar Souza e Tiel Neto, para tecermos comentários e contarmos muitas histórias sobre tais artistas escalados.

Ouviremos o trabalho de: Old Lamp, Coyotes Boratchos, Surfa, Saco de Ratos, Solis, Black Drawning Chalks, Tony Babalu, Papangu, Hard Point, Molho Negro, Mother Trouble, Ilegais de Casa Amarela, Bike, Cigarras, Los Índios e Semente de Vulcão.

Serão sete execuções em dias e horários diferentes, entre 30/9 a 6/10 de 2023.

Anote: Sábado, dia 30 - 14 horas Domingo, dia 1º/10 – 20 horas Segunda-feira, dia 2 – 10 horas Terça-feira, dia 3 – 31 horas Quarta-feira, dia 4 – 18 horas Quinta-feira, dia 5– 16 horas Sexta-feira, dia 6 – 12 horas

[luvo27]

ok the thing about learning how to carve spoons is that i have found myself asking what the heck a spoon looks like so often. today i found myself observing a spoon for five minutes and being like aha! like ohh you know what yeah that makes a lot of sense that a spoon is shaped that way and yeah you can carve that out of a piece of wood

[caterpillarinacave]

my bedroom is such a mess

[catbirthdays]

still fucked up about that jjk chapter. and now we have THAT episode today.

gege Give Me A Break Please

[girlreviews]

Review #390: Surfa Rosa, The Pixies

In honor of Steve Albini, who passed away this week at 61 and who produced an unbelievable amount of classic records… The Pixies’ Surfa Rosa is up. It’s just one of many he worked on.

I know I’ve whined about The Pixies in comparison to The Breeders, but I still adore them. Kim plays the bass on Pixies records, despite being a guitar player really. She learned the bass just to join The Pixies who were seeking a new player and she was the only one that applied. So there you go.

I love their shitty harmonizing. It’s so fun. I love their bizarre lyrics. They’re so fun. I love their loudness. It’s so fun. There’s plenty of Kim’s voice on this record which makes me happy.

Something Against You almost has a little ska vibe as it begins, and really takes me back to being like 14 or 15 and just going absolutely bananas at any loud raucous show that I could. I’m currently en route to a festival — having sworn I’d never attend one again after the debacle of Primavera 2022 where me and all of my friends nearly throw hands at each other because we were so tired and cranky (and old and sore) and they just didn’t have their shit together. Oversold and underprepared for so many attendees. Getting a drink of any kind was an ordeal. Anyhow, thoughts and prayers for me to keep my chill at Kilby Block Party.

When I started attending festivals, I was 14 and got day tickets to Reading Festival, which was still a fucking riot at the time. I was so lucky to have that on my doorstep for all of my teenage years and I saw so many amazing bands and unforgettable music moments, one which is particularly memorable to me, is The Pixies. Don’t ask me to remember what year it was, I don’t know, I just remember I was with that shitty boy. And I vividly remember them playing Broken Face and it just blowing my socks off. It’s remained my favorite ever since. I just really enjoy the weird lyrics, the noise, the squawking and the brevity. The Pixies are really good at that. I’ve never thought too much about the verses, but the most fun is the chorus which is just hooting and hollering of the following:

I got no lips, I got no tongue

Whatever I say is only spit

I got no lips, I got no tongue

I got a broken face

Uh-hu, uh-hu, uh-hu, uh-hu, ooo

I got a broken face

It’s energy has always just done something to me. It’s my exact shit. But why that is I can’t tell you. It’s just some primal way of being that I find relatable. Just making a huge discordant nonsensical noise.

Most of us (probably?) are familiar with Where Is My Mind? Which I would assume is their most well known song. For good reason, it’s amazing, but also it’s been covered by so many different bands and artists with completely different styles I imagine anyone who hasn’t heard the original has still probably heard it. Off the top of my head, covers include: Nada Surf, Placebo, even Miley Cyrus has done some kind of cover/mash up. That is by no means a full list. I tend to enjoy a good Where Is My Mind cover. It’s a hard song to mess up and sounds good with lots of different arrangements. Check them out.

We already know my feelings on the members of the band (see The Breeders, Last Splash). Musically, The Pixies are just such a good time. At least they were in the 90s. I confess I haven’t kept up with them because I find Frank Black to be so off-putting (there is a brief interlude where he is — apparently — “goofing around” and what that sounds like is him shouting very loudly at Kim in a way that I find unpleasant). I appreciate I just have a negative bias towards him. He reminds me of someone I truly despise. Even so, truly some of their songs are just grungy rock indie classics that if you aren’t familiar with you really should be. Interestingly, by producing Surfa Rosa for The Pixies, both Nirvana and PJ Harvey sought him out for their own records. What is interesting about that is that Albini hated the record, and took plenty of opportunities to trash both Surfa Rosa and The Pixies… Can’t help but wonder if he found Frank immensely off-putting too, because in a new pretty recent podcast, Albini is quoted praising Kim Deal, stating how much he respects her and her lo-fi analog aesthetic. I think he and I would have been buds, based on this assessment alone. He did eventually recant his hatred for Surfa Rosa, and this was a pattern for him anyway. He also thought In Utero by Nirvana sucked, only to come around to it later and appreciate its place in classic 90s records. I guess some people just don’t know how good they are.

Cactus receives a mention simply for the line “I miss your soup, and I miss your bread, a letter in your writing doesn’t mean you’re not dead”, what is that about? I have no idea but I love it. A lot.

I’ll finish with the fact that there’s a song about a guy named Tony, who is apparently a superhero (reasons unknown) and they really just chant TO!NY! A bunch of times. It’s a racket. Tony must be a pretty rad dude.

Anyway, one of many memorable and powerful records that Steve Albini put his hands on. I intend to do more of a deep dive on his work because it’s some really great shit and I imagine I have new songs to hear and entire albums to fall in love with. Surfa Rosa is just a big fat dose of high energy noise and crazy tempos on the drums. It’s not for everyone but it’s for sure for me.

ETA: it’s not in The Rolling Stone Top 500 list, which I think is a big miss, but while I’m on the subject of Steve Albini and his work, everyone, and I mean everyone, should listen to Magnolia Electric Co by Songs: Ohia. As fast as you possibly can. The production and recording is some of the best to ever be done, and the result is an entire album where you can simply hear and feel a young Jason Molina’s deep pain. He did not live much longer. You understand why when you hear this record.

[thuyhoang80]

Revealing 15 Simple Ways To Speed Up Windows 10

[niveditaabaidya]

What Is The Colour Of Planet Pluto? 😀 #shorts #youtubeshorts #youtube #t...

[astrow0rldx]

PAC TAROT: Shadow Work

Piles read left to right. Really use your intuition for which one calls to you to read. This Reading will be a little different, because it's ai generated. But hear me out, it's extremely accurate. I pull the tarot cards, and questions and it makes a story using automatic creative writing skills. In the story format it should help understand better.

Pile One

You present yourself as someone grounded and nurturing, someone who has it all together—capable, reliable, and a provider of stability. You wear this mask of self-sufficiency with grace, offering support and care to those around you. There’s a warmth to how you handle life, as if you’re always the one others can lean on. Yet, beneath this persona, there’s a quiet dissatisfaction, an emotional numbness that you don’t let others see. You feel disconnected, like something essential is missing, but you avoid acknowledging it, preferring to maintain the image of having everything under control.

Deep down, there’s a fear of rejection and abandonment that colors how you see yourself and your place in the world. This fear stems from past experiences where you felt left out or unworthy, perhaps from moments when you reached out for support and were met with coldness or lack. That sense of being shut out has led you to withdraw emotionally, burying your desires and vulnerabilities under layers of self-protection. However, this hidden wound shapes how you move through the world—it keeps you from fully expressing the vibrant, fiery side of yourself, the part of you that is bold, passionate, and fearless. While you project strength, this shadow lingers in the background, holding you back from fully owning your power.

Your shadow comes to the surface when you’re confronted by people or situations that reflect confidence and control, especially when they embody traits you’ve repressed. These encounters stir something inside you, triggering internal conflict as your shadow self clashes with the persona you’ve carefully built. The lesson in this struggle is to reconnect with your emotional core, to allow yourself to feel deeply and openly once again. Healing comes through embracing the tension, acknowledging that inner battles are a part of your growth. By working through this, you’ll move toward a more patient and nurturing relationship with yourself, where you invest in long-term growth and understand that healing is a process—one that requires steady effort and care.

Pile Two

She finds herself in a state of suspension, caught between holding onto control and surrendering to the unknown. Outwardly, she appears strong, composed, and authoritative, someone who takes charge with ease and thrives in an orderly world. She presents herself as the one in control, the one who always knows what to do. However, beneath this confident exterior, she’s struggling with uncertainty. She feels stuck, as if the answers she’s searching for are just out of reach, and in order to find them, she knows she must let go of the rigid expectations she’s placed on herself. She wears the mask of authority, but behind it, she is deeply uncertain, torn between what she knows and what she longs to discover.

At her core, she craves connection—a relationship where she can feel deeply understood and loved. There's a romantic within her, yearning for a bond that feels effortless and sincere, as if she’s waiting for that perfect emotional partnership. But she’s haunted by past disappointments, memories of love that didn’t turn out the way she hoped. This loss lingers, making her cautious about trusting her heart again. She often revisits those past moments of grief, wondering what went wrong and fearing that opening herself up to love again will lead to more heartbreak. As much as she wants love, the weight of her emotional past makes her guard her feelings, holding back from diving fully into new connections.

Her fears and vulnerabilities surface when emotions become overwhelming, or when she’s faced with situations that push her to move too fast. In those moments, she becomes protective, holding onto her feelings and resources tightly, afraid of losing control or being vulnerable. Her instinct is to cling to what she knows, but there’s also a deeper truth: her dreams and fantasies about what could be are not just idle thoughts. They reflect her true desires, the part of her that longs to break free from her hesitation and embrace all the possibilities that life offers. To heal, she needs to release the fear of losing control, to trust that even if things are uncertain, the journey ahead is rich with opportunities—ones she’s fully capable of seizing, if only she lets go.

Pile Three

She is moving through a period of transition, quietly distancing herself from past conflicts and emotional turbulence. Her journey, both literal and metaphorical, is one of seeking peace and clarity after enduring a storm. On the outside, she may seem calm, as though she’s finally found her direction, but the waters behind her are still unsettled. Internally, she is recovering from struggles, possibly with others or even within herself. The tension and discord she’s left behind still echo in her thoughts, making it difficult for her to fully let go. While she appears to be progressing, there is a quiet battle inside her, as if she’s constantly bracing for the next challenge.

Her internal struggle centers on patience and the need to balance her desires with the reality of what she’s building. She has invested time and energy into something—perhaps a relationship, a career, or personal growth—and now she waits, unsure of the outcome. There's a restlessness beneath her calm exterior, a feeling of competition, either with herself or with others. She yearns for stability and celebration, for a moment when she can finally relax and feel secure, but she is deeply aware that the foundation she’s working on still needs time to solidify. Emotionally, she is tied to the idea of love and partnership, but her past battles have made her wary. Love feels both close and distant, like something she craves but is cautious about fully embracing.

Her emotional depth runs deep, though she doesn’t always show it. She is someone who feels intensely, yet she’s learned to control and temper her feelings. When her emotions rise, they are powerful, but she channels them carefully, maintaining a composed exterior. Her greatest strength lies in her intuition. She often knows more than she lets on, reading situations and people with a subtle, almost mystical understanding. But this also makes her guarded, as if she’s protecting herself from being hurt again. She’s been through many trials, and though she’s weary, she remains resilient. Her journey is far from over, and while the battles she’s faced have left her cautious, they have also made her wiser. She stands ready to move forward, but she knows the path ahead will require both patience and strength.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Permanent Tag List:

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@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

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@useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

[tipsynight0]

What remains of you// part two

Paring - Jeff the killer x female reader

Word count 1.2k

TRIGGER WARNINGS - suicide, self harm, death & decay, psychosis, violence, murder?

Summary - Jeff is struggling with the aftermath of (y/n) suicide attempt.

Author's note - ahhh!! Hello lovies. I honestly didn’t expect to have so much love on my last post and a lot of requests on part two. Thank you for all the support, my requests are always open <3 reminder if you feel this way, reach out for support.

The dripping of the faucet was constant, unyielding—a steady tap-tap-tap that burrowed into Jeff’s skull, gnawing at the last shreds of his sanity. He sat alone in his dim room, a cloud of smoke hanging thick around him, his bloodshot eyes locked on the night outside his window. Everything beyond it was lost in a heavy, swirling fog. Time had twisted itself into knots, and he couldn’t remember how many days had slipped by like this, blending one into the next. His mind was fraying, but there was one thing he was sure of: (y/n) was still here.

She had to be.

He could still feel her presence, sense her somewhere in the house, even if she was cold and silent, slipping around him like a shadow. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t look at him, or that her body was sometimes stiff when he tried to hold her. She was just… recovering. Healing from that night. He had saved her, hadn’t he? Pulled her from that bathtub, his hands covered in her blood as he whispered over and over, “You’re going to be okay. I’m here.”

But sometimes, late at night, he’d reach out to touch her, and she’d feel so cold, so rigid. Sometimes he’d lie beside her, whispering in her ear, begging her to say something, anything. And in those moments, a creeping fear would start clawing at his chest, but he’d push it down, refusing to let himself think about it. She was here. She had to be. She just needed time.

But his nightmares wouldn’t leave him alone. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her in that tub again, the water pooling around her, dark and red, her face slack and empty. The smell of blood filled his nose, thick and metallic, and he’d wake up gasping, his heart hammering in his chest. The image would stay with him, clinging to him like a sickness.

He had tried to find solace the only way he knew how. Each night, he’d go out, his knife glinting in his grip as he hunted for anyone who could distract him from the emptiness gnawing at his heart. But no matter how much he tore into them, how much he bled them dry, it wasn’t the same. He’d find himself cradling them, muttering, “Why did you leave me?” as though they were her, his mind slipping as he clutched them close, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. None of it filled the void. Nothing worked. He needed her.

One night, he came back home, stumbling through the door, his clothes stained with blood. The house was quiet, and as he kicked off his boots, he heard it—a faint sound, barely there. The trickle of water.

He froze, his breath catching. The bathroom. She was in there.

The hallway felt longer than ever as he staggered toward the bathroom door, his fingers gripping the handle with such force that his knuckles turned white. His mind reeled with flashes of her lying in that bathtub, her pale face tilted toward him, blood seeping into the water. Panic clawed at him, wild and relentless, but he forced himself to breathe. She was fine. She was just taking a bath.

He pounded on the door, his voice breaking as he called her name. “(Y/n)? What are you doing? Are you… are you okay in there?” Silence pressed back at him, thick and heavy. His chest tightened as he threw his shoulder against the door, once, twice, until it burst open.

She was there, slumped in the tub, her wrists under the flow of water, her skin pale as porcelain, veins like blue rivers beneath the surface. Red streaks trickled from her wrists, painting the water with dark, dizzying patterns.

“No… no,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he staggered forward, his arms reaching out. He fell to his knees beside the tub, pulling her into his arms, cradling her body against his. Her skin was so cold, so still, but her eyes fluttered open, just barely. He gasped, his heart pounding wildly with hope as he brushed a trembling hand over her cheek.

“You’re here. I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” he murmured, pressing his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. He could feel the damp chill of her skin seeping into him, but he ignored it, whispering, “You’re going to be okay. I’ll take care of you, like I always do.” His voice grew frantic, desperate, as he tried to warm her with his touch, his fingers trembling as he clung to her.

Slowly, he lifted her from the tub, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down gently, his hands shaking as he bandaged her wrists, his mind filling with a fierce, irrational hope. She was still here, and he would make her better. He had to. He sat beside her, running his fingers through her damp hair, his mind spiraling as he watched her face.

But something was wrong. Her skin was so pale, almost gray, her lips tinged blue, her limbs heavy and unyielding. A creeping coldness settled over him, but he pushed it away, refusing to see the truth staring back at him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “You’re just… you’re just tired. You need to rest.” He leaned over her, his hands shaking as he stroked her cheek, his touch growing frantic as he tried to warm her lifeless skin. “You’re still here, with me. I know you are. You wouldn’t leave me.”

But as he stared down at her, he couldn’t ignore the vacant glassiness in her eyes, the way her skin had taken on an unnatural stillness. His stomach twisted, a sick dread settling over him, but he fought against it, his fingers brushing over her sewn lips, her expression frozen in a ghostly, silent scream.

“No… no, no, no!” he gasped, his voice cracking as he clutched her to him, burying his face in her shoulder, his mind spiraling as he clung to her still, cold form. “I saved you. I saved you! You’re still here. You’re… you’re…” But his words broke off as he felt her weight, the unmistakable stiffness beneath his touch, and the truth clawed its way through his delusion, ripping him open.

She wasn’t here. She hadn’t been here for a long time.

A broken, choked sob tore from his throat as he rocked back and forth, her cold body wrapped in his arms, his mind splintering under the weight of his realization. All this time, he had been talking to a memory, a shell. Every whisper, every touch had been a desperate illusion. His heart shattered, and he pressed his lips to her forehead, his voice a broken murmur.

“I’ll stay with you. I’ll never let you go.”

He laid her back down, tucking her carefully under the blankets, as if that could bring back her warmth. And as he curled beside her, his arms wrapped around her lifeless form, he felt his mind slipping, darkness closing in around him. His whispers faded into silence as he lay there “I’ll keep you safe”

[tenshiblogposts]

Bakugo x reader

(+_+)

Just a quick warning: this little thingy contains cussing, dirty thoughts and masterbating but not explicit.. I think that's it.

Enjoy!

"That bitch..."

Bakugo Katsuki stood as a formidable force—a tempest of explosive energy and unwavering determination. But behind his fierce exterior lay a secret he dared not reveal—a deep infatuation for a certain classmate.

Yes,the same classmate he was looking at, or rather, staring at her meaty thighs, which were squished by her thigh highs.. goddamn.

She was doing it on purpose! He was damn sure of it!

It was as if she knew that his imagination would run wild, that he would want to tear that tiny fuckin' skirt to pieces and slam her on the nearst fuckin' flat surfa..

"That fuckin' bitch.."

And she just had to bend down, didn't she.. little minx.

"Bakubro, you good man?"

Does he look like he was good to you, Shittyhair??

"Mornin' firecracker! Hope you slept well last night~"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT YOU DAMN EXTRA!!"

-----------------------------------

He couldn't contain himself, his will and his dignity shattered whenever she was close, so he had to do what he had to do... in one of the school bathroon stalls..

Not his proudest moment.

"Fuck.."

Recalling how she looked today, her thighs, her tits, oh those perky little tits that he wanted to ravage and leave marks on, her little cotton panties with the little bunny print, even the way she calls him firecracker every time, it drives him crazy with the want, no, the need, to shut her bratty mouth with his cock, to see her tears streaming down her pretty face, to stuff her full of his cum over and over and over untill she begs him to stop and even then he wouldn't, it's about time to teach her a lesson. Because bad girls deserve to be punished.

Muffling his groans with his school shirt, biting on it and hoping nobody would hear him pleasuring himself to the thoughts of her.

Never in his life, had he lost himself in such a hormonal-induced way, it was her fault! Hers! He'll show her! He'll show all of them!

Fist pumping his hard, angry cock faster, his hips rutting violently. He'll fuckin' show her!

----------------------------

"It's okay girly, I'm pretty sure he'll notice how gorgeous you are soon!"

"I don't know what you see in that brute, he doesn't deserve you at all."

"Thanks guys.. I really don't know what to do anymore, maybe going commando would help next time?"

[brrmian]

something that so many star wars fans somehow fail to realize is that george lucas always intended for the fall of the republic to be a completely unavoidable tragedy. that’s what makes it such brilliant storytelling.

placing the blame on just one party in the galaxy-wide farce that was the clone wars just isn’t interpreting the story the way its writer intended. neither is saying that all players should be held equally accountable. i don’t think the jedi were at fault for the state of the republic, and (despite the fact that he did horrible things) neither was anakin, on a galactic or governmental scale.

the real villain is palpatine, who shaped the government into a corrupt system by his own hand. the blame for turning a democratic republic into an authoritarian dictatorship (which it was long before it became the empire) under the noses of thousands of incredibly corrupt politicians must be placed entirely on him, and him alone.

by the end of the war, the jedi council recognized that they had already lost the ability to hold onto what it truly means to be a jedi. in their prime during the days of the old republic, the jedi knights were “the guardians of peace and justice.” they’re meant to as diplomats, peacekeepers, mediators, and public servants. when the clone wars began, they were essentially forced into being soldiers, generals, and quasi-politicians by palpatine and the senate. all of those things are antithetical to the jedi’s beliefs, but they had no other choice.

placing even the smallest bit of blame on the jedi for anything leading to the republic’s downfall—and their own—is not only unfair, it’s factually incorrect. the jedi order is a monastic organization. they have no say in the senate and no voting power. saying they’re corrupt, when in fact they were just as conned by palpatine as the rest of the galaxy, is victim-blaming and scapegoating.

palpatine shoved the jedi face first into fighting the war, and pretty much threw the clone army into their laps on top of that. the jedi had no say in the matter, and they certainly had no say in the war itself being started, either. because he controlled both sides, palpatine was able to make the CIS and the republic declare war on each other even though its citizens wanted the same outcome: political independence and survival. if not for palpatine’s schemes, the separatists would have been allowed to secede peacefully, the republic would have continued existing, and the war would have been completely avoided. but that was unfortunately not the case.

so in a galaxy thrown into an unavoidable war by its own secret dictator, with an army of sentient slaves suddenly at their command, and the risk of billions of deaths at the hands of the droid army imminently approaching, what do the galaxy’s official peacekeepers have no other choice but to do? be peacekeepers. why wouldn’t the sworn defenders of the galaxy be out on the battlefields trying to end the war? if they sat in the temple and did nothing, they simply wouldn’t be jedi.

the jedi were forced into a lose/lose situation. every religion and organization has faults, but that doesn’t place any blame on them for the catch-22 they were trapped into falling for. when the clone wars started—and the key point here is that it never should have in the first place—the jedi still needed to be jedi. unfortunately for them, that meant having positions of power not meant for them being thrust upon their shoulders. they couldn’t drop the burden, because that meant actively choosing not to save lives—but the other option, becoming soldiers despite the tenet of their beliefs that dictates they shouldn’t, was no better.

see what a cruel trap palpatine set? it’s like a fish being caught in a fisherman’s net. the net is spread out across the ocean floor, and the fish swim above it, not knowing that the trap is waiting to be drawn in around them from below. in the end, when the net starts to tighten, dragging them closer to the surface, they can’t swim fast enough to escape from the middle to the edge—and to safety—before the net is completely tied. it’s the cruelest kind of trap: the kind that gives you just the right amount of time to think you can escape while being sprung just quick enough to make actually escaping impossible.

in the end, the order actively chose to fight the war because they needed to. there was no other way to continue on as who they were. militarizing the order was not the right choice in a vacuum, but this was not that; this was a situation in which every galaxy-changing choice was the wrong one. the jedi knew they were making a decision that drew them farther away from their beliefs, but it was the lesser of an infinite list of evils, and they didn’t see the walls closing in on them until it was too late.

lucas himself has even said that the order was not corrupt or decaying from the inside, nor did they make a series of bad choices that ultimately led to their own destruction. they were always just trying to do the right thing—but unlike literally everything else in fiction, the jedi order’s death was completely unaffected by any of the choices they made. no matter what they did, they were always going to lose. the fall of the republic wasn’t caused by its defenders choosing what they saw as the least bad choice. it didn’t come down to any decisions, political or not, that the jedi council made with the limited tools that they had. it certainly didn’t come down to one emotionally unstable twenty-three-year-old’s slow descent into insanity, either. the republic and the jedi would still have been destroyed with or without anakin’s unhinged nervous breakdown.

anakin, just like the order, the republic, and the separatists, was taken advantage of by palpatine. even if a person’s choices are their own, they don’t exist in a vacuum.

anakin would have made better choices if not for palpatine, but he didn’t. the jedi order would have kept the peace if not for palpatine, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t. the republic, and democracy with it, would not have crumbled if not for palpatine. not the order, not anakin, not the separatists, and not the republic.

in the end, they were all just pawns in a decades-spanning plan, one that none of them saw coming until it was too late—and by then, it was already irreversible.

[lancerchj]

does anyone know how to fget stickers off of the surfae of an ips-n drake's sheild.

asking because my scraps are coated in these and its starting to make me nervous just what the previous owner was into. there sso many and someof them are really weird

i woukd have used some water and soap and soem sticker remover but these thinfs are like. under a coat of sone kind of terrible resin

[kairiscorner]

hiii can you write a e42 miles (or both Idc) where they been dating for some time but we still haven’t meet rio and for some reason rio doesn’t know he got a gf, so one day Rio and us meet and we talk to her and after like a while we become like friends yk and she’s like you shoudl meet my son and you can do whatever you want with that thxxxx <33333

OHHHH SURE SURE ANON !! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

my son would love you. — miles 42 x reader

you waited by your parents' offices, what with the two of them being doctors, they were constantly busy and had a lot on their plates. you were just scrolling through your phone as you were seated down by the waiting area, patiently listening to the ticking of the clock's hands as the seconds passed by, getting closer and closer to the end of their office hours.

your attention was completely on your phone, not really minding anything else until you heard the clatter of some medical equipment by the small trolley this female nurse with long, dark curly hair was pushing. she accidentally bumped the trolley against the wall as she made way for the patients passing by her–she muttered to herself in spanish as she hurriedly crouched down to pick it all up.

looking up from your phone, you felt bad for the woman–you decided to help her as you got to your feet and began making your way towards her. you crouched down next to her and handed her the tongue depressors and gauzes you found sprawled on the floor. you handed them to her with a gentle smile, and you soon saw her smiling back. there was something about this woman that felt reminiscent of someone dear in your life, but you couldn't figure out who or why you were drawing that connection out of nowhere, but as you were thinking, the woman had thanked you repeatedly for your help.

"it's no problem, really, i'm just glad you didn't have to clean this all up on your own." you said with a gentle voice as the woman helped you get up on your feet. the woman smiled at you as she looked at you up and down. "such a kind soul you are, really, i can't thank you enough. say, you seem a bit familiar, do you by any chance attend brooklyn visions academy?" she asked you as you nodded. her smile widened as she witnessed your affirmation. "oh! that's wonderful, my son attends that school, too. you'd love him, he's just like you. though dare i say, he's a little cranky sometimes." she says with a chuckle as you chuckled back, being reminded of a certain boy you knew who was incredibly cranky during mornings when anyone but you would talk to him.

"that'd be nice, though, i... i kinda have a boyfriend already." you told her as her smiling expression morphed into one of surprise. "oh... oh, that's okay. you don't have to think of it that way, you guys can be friends." she said as her smile returned; she introduced herself to you as rio morales, and you introduced yourself to her–she found your name very fitting for a person as beautiful and kind as you, no wonder your parents named you that name. you spoke with that woman as you waited for your parents to finish up–with the two of you sharing about yourselves, your hobbies, and a certain person you two had deemed to be very important in your lives. you enjoyed rio's company and keeping her company, and these little exchanges and late night conversations between you two would go on for a few weeks–almost a whole month–until rio had mustered up the courage to ask you and your family if you could come have dinner with them.

your parents were okay with it, they did want some time away from work anyway and more time with you; and the thought of dining at their coworker's place intrigued them, they were more than willing to come over, and so were you. as your family neared the apartment unit where rio's family lived, you heard a barrage of voices inside–three voices to be exact. rio's voice surfaced compared to the other two, whose voices were male–one of which you swore you heard before, a voice you were far too familiar with. rio spoke out in spanish to one of the males there to open the door for the guests since she was busy making sure the food wouldn't burn.

footsteps were heard from the other end as the door's mechanisms clicked and the doorknob turned, and behind the door was rio's son, the young boy who bore the surname 'morales', and... was your boyfriend. the boy greeted your family, looking up at your parents first until he turned and saw you. his face became flustered almost immediately, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open as the words he was meant to utter just fell flat and his voice had ultimately gone mute. his uncle from inside the unit had called out to miles, gesturing to him to let your family in, breaking him out of his trance. he stepped aside and opened the door wider for you and your family to enter, with his gaze following your own bashful and surprised one.

"good... evening to you, my mom's new friend." he said with a slight smile as you chuckled and nodded. "you too... mrs. morales' son, handsome son, might i add. she says so, they were her words, not mine." you said in a teasing manner as miles felt even more sheepish and chuckled, thinking that, out of all the people in the universe... his partner had to befriend his own mother, without either one of your parents knowing you both were more than just strangers towards each other.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @onginlove @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @solecitoszn @meowmoraless @conitagray

[wisteria-beach]

Time after Time pt 2 | R.C

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: When your boyfriend ditches you on the night of senior prom you end up running into the last person you would ever expect to see, Rafe Cameron, your best friends older brother who you haven't seen since he left for college three years ago… (part two, part one is here)

flashbacks are in italics.

_______

The morning’s warm sunlight poured through the gap in the curtains, burning the back of your eyelids and you groaned in your sleep flipping over to avoid the glare. There was a dull throbbing in your temples that you tried desperately to ignore as you burrowed into the warmth of the pillow below you. You were dreaming that you were cuddling a huge teddy bear and you felt so content and cosy that you never wanted to wake up. Unfortunately your headache was beginning to build, your peaceful sleep all but being drained away. 

“What time is it?” You wondered out loud, voice thick with sleep, slowly trying to blink open eyelids that felt like they were being weighed down by led bricks.

“About 9” a voice right above your head replied - a male voice - and your whole body tensed. You suddenly became aware that the warmth beneath your head was not in fact a pillow but a chest, a shirtless chest. 

In a flash you’d sat up, ignoring the burning in your head as you stared wide eyed at the man laying below you. Surely this was a dream, it had to be because there was no way that Rafe goddamn Cameron was laying shirtless in bed with you. Your half asleep hazy mind couldn’t make sense of it.

“You’re not a teddy bear” you blurted out then clapped a hand in horror over your mouth as Rafe choked on a laugh.

“Not since last time I checked.”

You winced and absentmindedly pressed your fingers into your temples “okay okay” you said trying to inject some faux control into your voice “i'm going to close my eyes and when I open them again i'm going to be in my room instead of yours and you’re not going to be there.” 

You quickly screwed your eyes shut again pressing your palms over them before taking a deep breath, counting to 3 and moving your hand away.

Rafe was still there, propped up lazily by his elbow smirking at you as he tried to contain his laughter.

“Boo” he said suddenly, snorting when you jumped. 

“Not funny!” you reached out to swipe playfully at his chest but he caught your wrist before it could make contact, the subtle pressure of his fingers on your skin making butterflies erupt in your gut and you pulled away quickly hoping your cheeks wouldn’t betray a flush. 

He rolled over then leaning to get something out of his nightstand and you swallowed, stealing a glance at him while his back was turned. He was clad in only grey sweatpants and your eyes shamelessly roved over the powerful muscles in his back extending into his biceps. 

Despite the fact that he’d evidently just woke up, he looked unreasonably attractive. His eyes hooded with sleep giving off an effortlessly sultry look and his mussed up hair looking even better than when he carefully styled it. How could someone look that gorgeous just after waking up? You hardly thought it was fair you always woke up looking like you’d been dragged through a bush. 

It suddenly occurred to you that you had no idea what you looked like right now and you grimaced. You stood up from the bed and made your way over to his en suite. 

You were relieved to see you were fully clothed, still wearing your prom dress in fact and that Rafe while being shirtless had a pair of sweatpants on.

You sank down to the corner of bed pressing your palm into your temples “what in the world happened last night?”

Rafe chuckled again and wordlessly passed you a bottle of water and an aspirin.

“You don’t remember?”

You screwed your eyes shut again and groaned “gimme a moment.”

Rafe laughed, “take your aspirin, it'll take the edge off of hangover but you should eat something too.”

You nodded but made no move to take it, choosing instead to press the cold surface of the water bottle to your temple, the condensation soothing the dull ache. 

“Let me guess,” Rafe said teasingly, “ you still can’t take pills? Should I have hid it in a spoon of jelly or something?”

Your skin flushed with embarrassment as you opened your eyes to glare at him “I am not twelve anymore, I can’t believe you even remember that.” 

“I remember everything about you Ace.”

A smile tugged at your lips and you looked down choosing to take the aspirin to avoid catching his eye, you didn’t know what to say or how to react when he said things like that it still felt surreal that he was even here. 

“Remember anything yet?”

“Mmm” you nodded through a gulp of water, memories of last night were beginning to trickle in now that the fogginess of sleep was ebbing away. You remembered meeting Rafe on the sidewalk, him daring you to get on the bike, you remembered how he’d missed the turn in for your street and taken you to an ice cream place instead. 

“One scoop strawberry, one scoop vanilla, sprinkles and raspberry sauce?”

You stared at him incredulously for a moment “how the hell did you know that?”

He shrugged “I was always the sucker you and Sarah would rope into running to the ice cream van remember? And the one who had to drive you here every weekend after I got my licence.”

You smiled at the memory, so many weekends spent at your best friend's house, your mom used to joke you spent more time there than at home. You remembered all the candy you and Sarah would stockpile to bribe Rafe with and the ice creams he’d come running back with, two in each hand, half melted in the baking summer sun vanilla dripping down his fingers. 

“Still that was like a million years ago.”

“Feels like yesterday sometimes” he said and you couldn’t help but agree, sometimes it felt like if you closed your eyes you could still taste the summer days of your youth on the tip of your tongue. 

“I'll be right back”  Rafe said and you nodded sitting back on the low brick wall as you watched him approach the little building. The ice cream parlour was closing up but you knew Rafe, he could probably sweet talk his way into the white house. Predictably the employee working that night had no trouble getting two last ice creams for you both, he’d been on the football team with Rafe in high school and you could hear them reminiscing as his old friend made up your orders. 

You tuned them out as you waited, choosing to face the beach so that you could watch the sea. It was dark and the moonlight reflected silvery grey on the tips of the surf, there was something mesmerising about each pull of the waves on the shore and you found yourself lost in thought. 

“Hey” Rafe said, nudging you with his elbow and you jumped making him laugh “you were away with the fairies.”

“Yeah I was sorry.” You took the ice cream from his outstretched hand resisting the urge to shiver when your fingertips grazed his warm knuckle. 

“What were you thinking about?” 

You shrugged “nothing really.”

He raised his eyebrows “tell me you weren’t thinking about that loser…because I can still beat his ass.”

You laughed “not exactly when he’s thousands of miles away.”

Rafe smirked, “I can drive.”

You snorted “Rafe Cameron you’re crazy…”

He looked at you seriously for a moment. “I just think what he did was really shitty and I don’t want your night to be ruined thinking about that waste of space jackass.”

“Rafe…” you reached out and touched his arm “I wasn’t even thinking about him” come to think of it your shitty ex boyfriend had barely crossed your mind since you’d run into Rafe “you’re a good distraction.”

He smirked, “that's what all the girls say.”

“Rafe!” you gasped smacking his arm lightly as he laughed. 

You lapsed into a quiet contemplative silence as you ate your ice creams and you trailed your feet in the soft sand below. 

“Thank you,” you said after a moment.

“For what?”

“For distracting me, for making sure my prom night isn’t a complete disaster.”

He knocked his shoulder into yours “it was my pleasure ace.” Then he reached across with his little plastic spoon and stole a swipe of your ice cream.

“Hey!” you protested “that’s mine”

He locked eyes with you as he popped the spoon into his mouth, grin intact and you pouted.

“Thief.”

“I just wanted to try it,” he said, “mine's still better by the way.”

You rolled your eyes “pistachio? That's like the worst flavour.”

“You’ve never tried it” he accused you, pointing his spoon and you gasped.

“Yes I have!” 

“I knew it,” he laughed, “you're lying.”

You shook your head.

“You are,” he insisted “you did the thing.”

“What thing?” you asked sulkily.

“The thing you always do when you’re lying, like the time you and Sarah broke my xbox controller and said it was baby Wheezie.”

“I always wondered how you knew that was us! You laughed “so what is my tell?”

Rafe smirked “and give up my leverage? No way.”

You scoffed “shut up dork” and he held out his spoon.

“Try it.”

You looked at him for half a second contemplating it before quickly eating the ice cream. The flavour of pistachio burst across your tongue but you found to your surprise that you didn’t hate it, in fact it was delicious. 

Rafe smirked, “I knew you’d like it.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet!” you protested.

He shrugged, “you’re an open book.”

“No im not” you pouted and he leaned in, just a fraction closer but it was enough that you could feel the heat of his body against the cold sea breeze.

“You always have been to me” he whispered and you felt it, the electricity between the two of you humming in the air. It was palpable, the tension thick enough that you felt like you could reach out and touch it.

“Rafe” you whispered, he was looking at you in a way he’d never looked at you before, blue eyes so intense “Rafe -”

He leaned in closer, head angling just a fraction and you held your breath in anticipation when -

The shutters of the ice cream place slammed down and you jolted away from each other “nice to see you man!” Clay called out to Rafe as he walked to his car and Rafe’s jaw stiffened as he lifted a hand in goodbye. 

The moment - or whatever it had been, you weren’t even sure - was over and you coughed awkwardly and jumped off the wall. You needed a little breather from his proximity, you could still smell his cologne on the borrowed jacket around your shoulders and that was intoxicating enough. 

Your heels were still strapped around your wrists and the sand felt cold between your toes as you walked across the beach. It took Rafe less than two strides to catch up, damn him and his long legs. You walked in silence for a while, just watching the moonlight on the ocean until he broke it. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

You sighed, swinging your heels. “Prom” you admitted, you’d been trying not to think about it but you couldn’t help but feel sad, this was not how your night was supposed to be. You felt stupid for being so upset but you’d been dreaming of this night for so long and it was supposed to be the last hurrah for high school. You might not have loved every second of high school but you’d spent a lot of time there and it was sad that it had to end with the shitty memory of sitting on the sidelines all night watching your classmates dance and have fun. 

Rafe looked at you sideways, quiet as he thought about something. “I have an idea,” he said finally.

“What is it?” you asked and he smiled.

“It's a surprise…do you trust me?”

You’d known Rafe practically your whole life, he was your best friend's annoying older brother and you’d loved him in secret for years, you didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes” you whispered and took his outstretched hand. 

The ride back home felt like flying, your arms wrapped around Rafe’s torso, your head pressed into his back. You could feel the wind dancing through your hair, see the stars soaring overhead. 

Before you knew it you were at Tanny hill, the infamous residence of the Camerons. You’d pretty much grown up here, spending all your free time with Sarah, but you’d never come here with just Rafe before. 

“What are we doing?” You asked as you dismounted the bike but Rafe just tapped a finger to his lips. 

“Shhh,” he whispered, pointing silently upwards. Rose and Ward’s bedroom was right above you shrouded in darkness. 

The garden was dimly lit, the distant fairy lights adorning the trees lining the edge of the property providing the only light. Truthfully you’d walked the path up to this house enough times that you could probably do it blindfolded in your sleep but when Rafe held his hand out to guide you up the path you couldn’t help but take it. 

His fingertips were only lightly threaded through yours but you wondered if he could feel your pulse hammering in your wrists. The anticipation was almost more than you could bear. Too wrapped up in thinking about the smell of Rafe’s cologne and the mystery of his plan you tripped on a dislodged stone. Before you could even think about hitting the ground Rafe’s arms were around you, holding you upright. 

“You okay?” He whispered and your heart beat even louder. He was so close, close enough that you could probably count his eyelashes even in the low moonlight.

You nodded and he smiled, choosing to take a hold of your whole hand this time as he led you up the path. It was cold yet somehow you felt like you’d never been warmer, your whole being on fire with every glance, every touch.

Finally you reached the house and Rafe let the two of you into the spare garage where the soundproof walls assured that your voices wouldn’t be heard. 

“So are you finally going to reveal this grand idea of yours?” You asked. 

The corners of his mouth lifted up “I’m not letting go of my cards that easily ace.”

You laughed “I’m starting to think your plan is to murder me, what’s with all the secrey?”

He grinned, teeth flashing “you said you trusted me.” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it, you did. You’d known Rafe Cameron so long and though you’d not always been close the two of you would always have shared memories, shared experiences. You’d always have time and that meant something. 

Rafe led you up to his room, taking your hand once more in the dark corridors and you had to press a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he dramatically acted out a spy mission to make you laugh. “Coasts clear” he whispered in your ear before slowly moving around the wall. 

“You’re a dork,” you whispered back.

In his room Rafe gestured for you to take a seat on his bed. “I need twenty minutes” he said “to set it all up, then I promise I'll reveal it all.” 

“Okay” you said “i'll wait.”

He raised his eyebrow “that’s it? No begging, no more questions?”

You smirked “nope, I get twenty minutes to snoop at all your stuff…find out all your deepest darkest secrets Rafe Cameron.”

He rolled his eyes “good luck” he said and then swiftly left the room. 

For the first five minutes you sat on his bed just waiting but time always seems to move slower when you’re in anticipation and soon you couldn’t take it anymore. At first you checked Instagram, shooting off a like at Sarah’s latest post prom selfie featuring John B, resisting the urge to check your exes social media. Then you put your phone down and tried to wait again. But curiosity got the better of you. Is it wrong if you told him you were going to do it? Fuck it. A little bit of light snooping wouldn’t hurt. 

Rafe’s room was almost suspended in time. It was pretty much entirely as he’d left it before leaving for college so the pictures and books were slightly outdated but still him. The basketball hoop on the wall, the old forgotten guitar from his musical phase. The surfboard still chipped from that one party where Kelsey Stevens had tripped and knocked a keg into it. Above the desk were several old snapshots.Topper and Kelce with their arms slung around him, his dad and him on a fishing trip, two of Wheezie one when she was a baby and little Rafe was holding her and one newer selfie with their tongues sticking out. What shocked you though was the photo of you. It was taken at Rafe’s highschool graduation. You and Sarah smirking at Rafe and giving him the finger except you were standing in front of Sarah who was slightly out of frame so the picture was mostly only you. You couldn’t believe he’d kept it and put it on his wall, that he’d even thought about you back then enough to think the photo worth printing. 

“Hey” Rafe said as he came back into the room “what are you doing?” 

“Nothing” you lied trying to look casual bracing against the wood.

He raised his eyebrow and you could tell he didn’t believe you, once more you wondered what your tell was but he shrugged it off before you could ask.

“Come on,” he said, “the surprise is ready.”

You were led back to the garage and Rafe stood behind you as you reached out for the door handle, slipping his hand over your eyes.

“3, 2, 1…okay you can open them” he said, taking his hand away. 

Slowly you blinked open your eyes and instantly fought the tears that sprung to the surface. The garage was covered in silky blue and purple streamers, the floor dotted with balloons. It was like you’d opened your eyes and stepped into the past and you could almost see the tiny younger versions of you and Sarah playing ‘prom’. 

“Oh my god” you whispered.

“Do you like it?” Rafe asked, sounding a little more uncertain than his usual cocky self. 

You laughed, still in disbelief “do I like it…Rafe I love it, did you really do all this for me?”

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly “yeah I mean…yeah I wanted you to have a prom more like the one you deserved and I know it's nothing special but at least this way it's yours” he swallowed “kinda stupid I know but -”

You cut off his ramble by throwing your arms around his neck “it's not stupid” you murmured into his shirt as you blinked away the tears “it's perfect…who ever knew you could be this sweet Rafe Cameron.”

You felt the laughter in his chest as you pulled away to look at him “I guess i've just always had a soft spot for you ace” he said tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes were so blue and so soft that for a moment you froze and the air was thick with tension between the two of you until rafe cleared his throat. “But erm don’t tell anyone or anything don’t wanna risk ruining my tough guy reputation” he joked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Il get some drinks” he said and you wandered around the garage looking around the decoration. You remembered the streamers, the paper parasol, the silver hanging stars like it were yesterday. “Prom” had been your favourite game and you and Sarah would beg and beg Mr Cameron to put up the decorations. Sometimes he made Rafe do it and Rafe would grumble and complain, wishing to go back to some video game or his skateboard. It was fun to think about what your reaction would have been back then if you’d have known that one day Rafe would voluntarily put these up for you. 

While you were looking the music started and you laughed when you heard the song. Back in the day you had the highest just dance score to this, it was shocking and exhilarating all at once to know that Rafe had held onto all these tiny little details about you, that he’d even noticed them in the first place. 

“Still know the moves Ace?” he called out, half teasing smirk present on your face and you flipped him off. 

“I'm gonna need a couple of drinks before we get into that, Cameron.”

He smirked “you’re in luck” and held up a bottle of champagne that looked like it cost more than your car. 

“Rafe!” your eyes widened “where the hell did you get that from.”

“Wine cellar” he shrugged “they won’t notice it’s gone.”

You hesitated “it looks expensive…”

“Oh c’mon” he said “it’s your prom night live a little.”

You bit your lip, you weren’t adverse to drinking it was more so the idea of stealing one of Ward and Rose’s premium celebration champagne bottles but there was something about Rafe that made you wanna throw caution to the wind. This was your prom night, the last night of your adolescent life before you were thrown into a whole new world of college parties and guys and cities you wouldn’t remember.  It was the night you’d looked forward to your whole life and your stupid ex had ruined it…well you weren’t going to let him.

“Oh what the hell” you said and took the bottle from his hand. 

The first sip of champagne was sweet and fruity as it fizzed on your tongue and you giggled as you passed the bottle back. This was where the memory of the night got a little hazy, you remembered drinking the bottle fairly fast and then convincing Rafe that you needed to spike the punch “it's the classic prom experience.”

After that there was a lot of dancing with your hands in your hair, hips swinging, a lot of laughter echoing over the music, a lot of stories from both you and Rafe of the things that had happened while you’d been out of each other's lives. 

“No fucking way he crashed a yacht” you said “how does that even happen? bull shit Cameron.”

He held his hands up in a surrender position “im deadass, that's not even the wildest thing he did…college is kinda next level.”

You laughed into the rim of your cup “yeah…i'm excited for it.”

He arched his brow “are you sure about that? You didn’t sound so enthusiastic.”

You sighed and flapped your arm down dramatically “no no I am it’s just…” you’d not said this aloud before but the alcohol and the fact that there was just something about Rafe that made you want to open up. You’d known him your whole life and while he’d always been a little wild, a little unpredictable he felt like home to you. 

“I'm scared” you admitted.

He turned to face you, long legs brushing the bare skin showing through the slit of your dress “why?” he asked “the whole time ive known you you’ve always dreamed of the future” he nudged your arm gesturing around you “about prom, about your first kiss, about high school…hell I even remember you being excited about your first job at the country club. what's different about this?” 

You swallowed, not quite meeting his eye and he reached out and touched your hand “you can trust me” he whispered “I won’t tell.” 

“It wasn’t what I thought it would be” you blurted out “I I -” the anger and the sadness and the inexplicable feeling that you could never go back burst over you and it all came out at once, the emotion thick and raw in your voice  “I dreamed and I dreamed my whole - fucking - life and nothing ever worked out like it was supposed to. I mean look at tonight, the dream boyfriend, the dream prom and he turned out to be a cheating asshole and I left the prom in tears.” Your voice turned to defeat as a single tear slipped out “I - I just sometimes wonder what's the point in dreaming anymore? And then I'm scared because I don’t know what’s gonna happen…nothing happens how it’s supposed to.”

“Look at me” Rafe murmured and his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it before, you looked up and he used the pad of his thumb to gently swipe the tear away “you’re right, nothing happens how it’s supposed to. I was supposed to join Cameron Enterprises yet when I finish college next year? I'm telling my dad I'm doing something else.”

You wrinkle your brow “but - wasn’t that your dream? Did you fail an -”

He cut you off “I could join dads company tomorrow if I wanted to, that was my dream but not anymore.” he squeezed your hand, voice still uncharacteristically soft “life changes all the time ace and sometimes it’s fucking scary but we just get new dreams, new things to hope for and sometimes they come true and sometimes they’re not what we thought they’d be but they always lead to new things. So high school wasn’t what you thought, so your boyfriend wasn’t what you thought, well maybe college and maybe the next guy lucky enough to have your heart will be 1000% times better but how will you know if you give up on it all before it even begins.”

For a moment you were quite mulling over his words and you found that some of the fear and anxiety squeezing your heart relented, the tension easing out of your body. “When did you get so wise Rafe Cameron” you sighed.

“Don’t be fooled” he winked “I'm still an idiot.”

You threw a hand over your heart “was that a confession? Can I get that in writing?” 

“Shut up” he said and then you shrieked as he pulled you suddenly to your feet. “Dance with me.”

You’d been dancing all night but never touching. “Okay” you said a little nervously, looping your arms around his shoulders, he wrapped his around your waist. The song was still quite upbeat, the dance not as intimate as a slow dance yet your heart hammered in your chest. 

You danced for three more songs, Rafe spinning you around like crazy until your insides hurt from laughing. Finally the song changed and your face lit up as you instantly recognised it as fool's gold by one direction. Rafe groaned, all too familiar with the song from the many times you and Sarah would belt it on the old tinny karaoke machine. 

Too drunk to be embarrassed you instantly launched into the performance, singing all the lyrics wholeheartedly while Rafe pretended to be exacerbated by the song, trying to hide how adorable he thought you were singing it. 

“C’mon” you shouted “I know you love it, sing along!”

“I don’t even know the lyrics” he lied but you dragged on his hand.

“Liar…you have a tell.”

He rolled his eyes “no you, have a tell.”

“Shut up” you laughed “c’mon sing don’t be boring.”

You sang the opening lines of the final chorus while Rafe stood stubbornly “And yes, I let you use me from the day that we first met…But I'm not done yet, Falling for you, fool's gooooold.”

You pointed to him dramatically then to your utter surprise and delight he (un-enthusiastically) sang the final lines “And I knew that you turned it on for everyone you've met. But I don't regret falling for you, fool's gold.”

“I knew you knew it!” you laughed clapping your hands together. 

“Whatever, whatever, I did it but now you owe me a slow dance.”

“What?” you protested “no, no, I didn’t agree to that!” you’d been artfully dodging slow dances all night, scared of your two left feet. 

“It's only fair” he said and before you could protest further he’d reached out and practically scooped you into his arms. You wrapped one hand in his, the other around his shoulder while his came onto your waist and laid your head on his chest.

“If I tread on your toes it’s your fault” you grumbled and you felt his laughter against your ear. 

It was then that you noticed the song playing “Time after time” by Cindy Lauper. It was a prom classic and as kids you’d danced with Sarah to it a million times “practising” for the real thing with your boyfriends. Tonight you’d watched Sarah and John B dance to it, her smile and joy radiant while you waited for a text back from your stupid ex. You’d have never dreamed all those years ago that you’d end your own prom night in the arms of her older brother dancing to this song. You’d dreamed of dancing with a million guys but somehow you knew none of it would have felt as perfect, as magical as this.

Laupers voice rang clear throughout the garage, the few balloons that had survived the earlier balloon fight kicking at your feet. “Suitcase of memories'' and your brain flashed through all the thousands of memories, the history you had with Rafe that had led you to here. 

The music continued 

‘If you're lost, you can look and you will find me

Time after time

If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting’

You thought about how Rafe had shown up tonight when you were wandering feeling lost and alone. You thought about how earlier you’d been so close to falling into panic and his words had caught you, made you feel safe. It was just like the song, really your whole life he’d always been there in some way or another, time after time. 

“Rafe?” you whispered looking up from his chest. Your faces were so close you could count his eyelashes.

“Yeah?” his hot breath fanned your cheek, blue eyes clear and serious.

“Thank you for finding me tonight.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, grazing the corner of your lips “ it’s nothing” he said humbly but you shook your head.

“No no I -” you swallowed “I'm glad my prom was ruined.”

His eyebrow shot up and he opened his mouth but you cut him off “don’t look at me like that I am, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been here with you and this has been way better than any real prom could have been, way more special.”

He smiled, not his usual edge of the mouth smirk but a real bright smile “you know I didn’t really know where I was going when I found you on the side of that road” he brushed your cheek again, this time catching your lip and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him if you tried “and I don’t really believe in destiny or all that bullshit but…” his eyes softened and he leaned just a fraction closer “I can’t help but feel like I was supposed to be there to meet you, like being here right now is exactly where i'm supposed to be.” 

You laughed “me too” you admitted “me too…undreamed, unplanned, unexpected and somehow it's better than all the dreams.”

“Ace” he said your nickname with a slight urgency like his mind was moving faster than normal like he was trying to convince himself to do something.

“What is it?”

“Look up.”

You barely had a second to angle your chin before his lips were on yours and it only took a second more for you to respond and kiss him back. 

His lips were softer than you’d have thought and warm. The kiss was gentle and sweet and as you pulled away you both laughed part in shock and part in relief. “Was that okay?” he asked and you smiled.

“Kiss me again so I can be sure.”

This time, he kissed you like he meant it and you could taste the spiked punch on his tongue as his teeth grazed your bottom lip and the song pulled to a close.

Pulling yourself from your memories you turned to see Rafe looking at you from his position on the bed “why are you looking at me like that?” you asked shyly and he grinned.

“You have spinach in your teeth.”

“What?” your hand flew up to your mouth in a panic before your brain caught up that you’d not even eaten spinach and you rolled your eyes and threw a cushion from the floor at him. “Asshole.”

He laughed “sorry that was just too easy.”

“Whatever whatever.”

He raised his eyebrow “memories come back now?” 

You smiled, picking at a thread on the carpet “yeah…” you said softly “guess I just needed a min to come round.”

Rafe swallowed “do you still want to -” 

His question was cut off by a pounding on the door “Rafe get up!” Wheezie called “breakfast is ready!”

You both jumped looking at each other slightly startled. You’d not had time to tell Sarah anything yet, only just getting a chance to text your mom that you were staying at Sarah’s before you and Rafe crashed asleep tired from the partying. 

“Shit” you muttered “Sarah’s gonna kill me.”

“C’mon” Rafe grabbed your hand, pulling you up from the floor “i'll sneak you out.”

You tiptoed down the hallways of the Cameron house, trying not to laugh too loudly at Rafe when he acted out mission impossible sneaking round the bannister.

“You’re such a dork” you whispered and he squeezed your fingers.

“Just for you Ace.”

___________________

At the breakfast table Wheezie Cameron sat down next to her sister. 

“Did you shout your brother?” Ward asked and she nodded. He gave her a nod of his own before turning back to his conversation with Rose. She waited until they were thoroughly distracted before nudging Sarah’s knee under the table. 

“Rafes trying to sneak a girl out of his room” she whispered and Sarah’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

“Really? How d’ya know?”

“I heard them whispering before I shouted him.”

Sarah pulled a face “gross.” They stared at each other for five seconds and then burst out laughing, both dashing for the door in an attempt to see the girl Rafe was sneaking out.

____________________

You’d just reached the side door, Rafe reaching over to open it for you when the door to the kitchen burst open. 

You stood frozen like a deer in the headlights staring right into the eyes of your best friend and her little sister. 

Sarah’s mouth flopped open and you swallowed “hey s…”

“My brother?” she shrieked “my brother and you didn’t tell me?”

You caught Rose snickering into her orange juice behind them, Ward’s eyebrow raised in playful amusement. Wheezie looked as though she wanted a bowl of popcorn.

“I was gonna call you but -” 

She cut you off with another high pitched shriek “my brother? My brother and my best friend?”

You gulped and glanced at Rafe “erm i'm gonna go, Sarah il call you I promise!”

You got halfway down the steps when Rafe reached out and grabbed your arm “wait!” he shouted and you turned to face him.

“I never got to ask you…now that it’s morning do you still wanna go on that date we talked about last night?”

Your heart swelled “i'd love to…if, if you still wanna go that is.”

Rafe grinned and stepped closer “i'll be dreaming of it.”

“Sap” you teased, he glanced back at his family before muttering “fuck it they already know” and leaning down and kissing you. 

Butterflies soared in your stomach and you were so wrapped up in Rafe that you didn’t even hear Sarah say excitedly “wait! If they get married she’d really be my sister!”