letters to you: ten - rafe cameron
summary: drunk words truly are sober thoughts
warnings: heavy drinking, swearing, kissing
wc: 6k
a/n: ahhhhh it's here! please enjoy and as always let me know what you think!!
series masterlist
Y/N,
I was right. Coming home to my empty apartment after dropping you off fucking sucked. I keep looking over at my coffee pot expecting to see a beautiful girl in pajamas and a crease in her brow trying to get it to stop making noise.
I’m sitting on my balcony right now, I’m sure you expected as much. Everything around here feels different now that you’ve been in my space. I keep looking at the empty chair across from me and wishing it was occupied. I sit down on my couch and I’m aware of how alone I am. I was never worried about this before you. In fact, I liked being on my own. It meant I wouldn’t get hurt. I couldn’t hurt anyone. Now, I’d give up just about anything to have you sitting across from me while I smoke, too shy to tell me what you’re thinking but smiling every single time I look up at you.
I’m trying not to go to bed because I know I’m going to get the same feeling when I lay down in my empty bed. Maybe having you sleep in there with me was a bad idea, because I know it will be the only thing I think about every night until you’re next to me again. I wouldn’t change it for anything, though.
Sorry this is so sentimental. I didn’t mean for it to be. I just keep replaying the whole weekend in my head. Even the moments I looked less than good. I’m sorry my baggage came out to play a couple of times. You don’t deserve to deal with that. I’ll be better.
Have a good week at school. Study and focus. Write to me when you can. You’re beautiful.
Yours,
Rafe
You reread his letter for the millionth time while you sit in Interpersonal Communications, not having taken a singular note. Normally, you’re engaged and writing down every last word, determined to ace every single exam. Today, you don’t have it in you.
As much as you try, you can’t stop thinking about Rafe. And Ava. And what could’ve possibly happened, how he could be involved. You constantly go back and forth: maybe he was there? Maybe he wasn’t involved at all? Maybe he was dating her? Maybe he never knew her? Maybe Kelce was dating her?
You sigh and fold his letter back up, tucking it into Pride and Prejudice and doing your best to engage with what’s being discussed. You know none of your questions will get answered any time soon, if at all, so logically, there’s no point in dwelling on any of it. Focusing on the past will not change how you feel for Rafe now, so moving forward seems like your best and only option. If only your brain would agree.
Class ends before you know it, having spaced out once again. You collect your things in your backpack and make your way out of the building with all of the other students, keeping your eyes trained straight ahead and focusing on getting home as quickly as possible.
The walk to your parking lot is about ten minutes, guiding you past the student center as you go. Unfortunately for you, the student center seems to be Ethan and Christian’s favorite spot to meet up after their ten o’clock class.
“Hey, Y/N,” Ethan calls from a distance, giving you a polite wave.
You return his wave with your own, sending a mediocre smile to both boys as you keep moving. You’re not in the mood to be friendly, and you’re sure Ethan would understand that. Christian, however, doesn’t seem to get the hint. You watch as he pats Ethan on the chest and mutters a ‘gotta run, dude’ to him before he’s sprinting over in your direction.
You curse under your breath, a rarity for you. You consider dialing Emma just to be busy when he gets to you, but you realize she’s in a class, probably napping under her sunglasses, and can’t pick up. Before you can come up with another option, Chistian’s beside you.
“Hey,” he says, sucking in a breath, “You missed another good weekend at the bar.”
You give him a smile, because despite your mood, being rude is impossible for you.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m glad you guys had a good time, though,” you say.
You keep your focus on your steps, letting Christian keep up with your pace. He tucks his hands into his pockets as he strolls beside you, and you’re not quite sure what else he wants you to say.
“Emma said you went home for the weekend,” he continues.
“Yeah, I did,” you nod, “It was a nice weekend.”
“Good,” he replies, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that guy that was in your apartment two weekends ago. Is he, like – are you–”
“I’m with him,” you quickly say, “He’s why I went home. He lives there.”
“Oh, shit,” Christian raises his eyebrows, more in shock than anything else, “I had no idea. Emma didn’t say you had a boyfriend.”
You nod quickly, “That’s because I didn’t. Now, I do. It’s new.”
“Oh,” Christian says again, “That’s good, then.”
“Yeah,” you say quietly.
He continues walking with you, and you’re not sure if you’ve done enough to shut this down. Whatever he’s trying to do, you really want no part of it.
“I’m sorry to bother you, then. I was just hoping you’d go out with us on Friday.”
You can see the parking lot now, which is when you stop, turn, and smile at him. As nice as he’s being, you just want to go home.
“I’ll think about it.”
He beams, “Cool. I’ll see you sometime soon.”
You nod and give him another pained smile, watching as he waves and then turns around to go find Ethan again. You let out a long sigh, then turn and make your way to your car, no intention of following through with thinking about going out this weekend.
Rafe,
I’m almost through with Pride and Prejudice. Although I’m not inclined to admit it, your annotations really have me thinking. I can see how you perceived the story this way, even if I had to embrace my cynical side to understand it. I think you should read it again now and see if your opinion has changed at all.
I love your sentimental letters. Don’t be sorry about sending them. I’ve read the last one an unhealthy amount of times. Do you reread my letters, too?
I wish I was there with you. I hate to hear that you’re lonely and feeling it now. It’s Wednesday as I write this, and I’ve been studying all day every day since Monday. I really want to see you. Please tell me you’ll come. I’ll pay for your ferry ticket. I don’t like being separated from you. A part of me worries that that’s unhealthy, but if anything’s unhealthy, it’s the way I feel when I’m not with you. See? I can be sentimental, too.
Consider coming here, please. If you decide not to, that’s okay. Just think about it. That’s all I ask. You can stay with me, I’m not letting you pay for a motel again.
Don’t apologize for your past. Everyone has one. I admire who you’ve become because of it. It helped shape you into who you are, and I think he’s pretty great. You don’t need to feel guilty for anything.
Hope to see you soon. Miss you.
Yours,
Y/N
Your letter goes out Wednesday afternoon, and you spend the remainder of the evening pouring over your study materials. Emma stops you at one point to force you to have dinner, which you eat while cramming information into your brain.
“You really want to see Rafe Cameron,” she observes.
You take another bite of the pasta Emma made – a staple in your home. Nodding as you chew, she laughs at you.
“I feel guilty,” you confess, “Seeing him will make it better, I think.”
“Y/N, you don’t need to feel guilty–”
“Regardless of whether I should or not, I do.”
She nods slowly, taking her own bite of her meal as she stands in the kitchen, watching you eat and study.
“I’m sure he’ll come,” she says after a minute, “He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who says no to you.”
On Thursday evening, you’re studying at the desk in your bedroom, resisting the urge to open up a new tab on your laptop and search her name again. With the lack of self control you seem to possess, you’re staring at the picture of her at the top of the news article before you know it.
Your heart feels heavy in your chest as you look at her; so happy and beautiful, taken from the world in such a cruel way. Your phone rings beside you, and when you see his name, you click out of the article and close it completely, as if he’d be able to tell. With a deep breath and a smile, you answer.
“Hi,” you greet.
“Hi, honey,” he practically cheers, “Guess what I did today?”
You smile before you can help it, “What?”
“I bought my ferry ticket.”
Your eyes flutter closed, grateful that tomorrow around this time, he’ll be here with you. You’ll be able to feel him and kiss him and let him comfort you in ways he doesn’t even know he is. For a split second, you feel selfish. Selfish for needing him to comfort you, when he’s the one who’s fighting through these emotions. Selfish for making him come out here because you miss him too much. Selfish for not confessing what you know.
“I’ll pay for it,” you blurt, “I said I would, and I will. Assuming you got my letter. I guess you did, because–”
“Y/N, easy,” he chuckles, “What’s with the rambling? Are you all right?”
You suck in a deep breath, “Yes. Yeah, I’m fine. Just excited. How much was your ticket? I’ll get cash tomorrow.”
“You’re not paying for shit,” he says, “You’re not forcing me to come. I want to.”
“But I–”
“But, nothing,” he stops you, “Are you sure you’ll be okay with your exam? I’m leaving early Sunday morning so you have the day to study.”
You smile, because of course he is. Of course he’d thought it all the way through before making the decision. This version of Rafe Cameron doesn’t seem to be impulsive in any sense of the word.
“I’ll be okay,” you confirm, “Just want to see you.”
He gives you a light chuckle, one that communicates how much hearing those words resonates with him.
“Me too.”
The call goes quiet, but it’s comfortable. You can hear him breathing, finding comfort in the rhythm he holds.
Neither of you seems ready to let the other go; the promise of twenty-four hours seemingly too long to wait before you hear his voice again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.
You bite down on your bottom lip and look around the screen of your laptop, your search history haunting you.
“I’m fine,” you say weakly, “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”
“Please do.”
“Okay,” you smile, “I’ll be there. Text me the info, yeah?”
“I will, honey. Can’t wait,” he replies, his smile audible, “Get back to your studying.”
“All right,” you sigh, “See you soon.”
“You have got to remain calm,” Emma lectures you, “One look at you and Rafe Cameron is going to know something’s up.”
You groan and pick up your mug of to-go coffee made by Emma, telling you she didn’t want you to get tired on your drive to pick up Rafe. When you told her you weren’t sure you could handle this, that you’ve had jitters ever since you woke up this morning, she’s been telling you exactly what to do ever since.
“I just want to see him,” you say, stepping toward the door, “I don’t want any of the other stuff.”
“Everyone comes with stuff, Y/N. You’re going to be fine. Just don’t ramble the way you do. Keep your head straight and everything will be okay.”
You nod and pull open your apartment door, blowing her a kiss and holding up your travel mug as a silent thank you.
“Be back soon,” you call.
“Good luck!” she yells back,
Where you’d normally turn music on for a car ride, today, you opt for silence. The silence is occasionally met with you speaking softly to yourself, versions of ‘you’ve got this’ and ‘just stay calm’ breaking the quiet stream.
The anticipation of seeing him combined with the anxiety of not being totally sure of yourself makes you feel loopy as you wait for Rafe to be one of the individuals coming in from the dock. You check the time on your phone and continue searching, feeling every nerve in your body relax the second you see his familiar, piercing blue eyes. He grins when he sees you, and as if the guilt and the nervousness could guide you physically, you’re rushing to him. He drops his duffle bag on the ground about half a second before you wrap yourself around him, inhaling his scent and letting out a long sigh of relief.
“Wow,” he murmurs, chuckling to himself, “Quite the greeting. Are you okay?”
You nod, squeezing tighter, “I am now.”
He laughs and presses a kiss to the top of your head, resigning to letting you carry out what you need to do. After a minute, you pull back and look up at him, eyeing his lips and tipping your head up just right so he’ll know what you’re after. With a smirk, he leans down and grabs ahold of your chin, pressing a painfully slow and passionate kiss to your lips.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, “How are you, honey?”
You smile, your lips feeling bruised from his kiss yet already demanding more from him.
“Missed you,” you reply weakly, “It’s been a tough week.”
Rafe frowns and allows his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing the skin underneath your eye as he observes the puffiness there. Your lack of sleep is physically evident to him, making his frown deepen.
“I’m sorry. You could’ve called me more to vent. You always can, you know that?”
You nod and lean into his hand, “I know, Rafe.”
But how can I when it’s about you? When it’s your secret haunting my dreams and keeping me up at night? When it’s you and your pain that has me pushing meals away and denying to discuss my feelings?
Your thoughts run so wild that you forget for a moment that he’s watching you, taking in every facial expression, every shift of your eyes, every calming breath you try to take.
“We need to get you out of your head,” he says, “You’re thinking too much. Always are.”
“Yeah,” you laugh, but it comes out uneasy.
His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” you nod, “I’m fine. Just nerves from being so excited.”
He hesitantly nods and gives you one last kiss, almost as if trying to relax you, then picks up his duffle bag in one hand and yours in his other.
“I missed you, too, for the record,” he says, tugging you toward the parking lot, “A lot.”
You smile and let his words relax your nerves. With a squeeze of his hand, you let him guide you to your car, where he dumps his bag in the backseat and climbs into the passenger side. You suck in a deep breath and follow him into the car, getting settled in your seat before you move to turn the car on.
Rafe reaches over and swipes the keys from your hand before you can stick them into the ignition, a wide smirk on his face.
“What are you–”
“I know once we get back to your apartment, Emma’s going to be firing off a million questions. I’d like to squeeze in a few kisses before that happens.”
You wince, because you’re not so sure that will happen based on what Emma knows, and the fact that Rafe is so intuitive already scares you. The idea that you’ll get through this weekend without him noticing anything off between the two of you suddenly seems much more far-fetched than you thought it might be.
“Okay,” you say weakly.
Instead of leaning in, Rafe’s shoulders fall and he relaxes into his seat. You perk up, praying silently that you didn’t do anything to push him too far.
“All right, out with it. Why are you being weird?” he asks.
You frown and attempt to look offended, “I’m not being weird.”
“Yes, you are,” he scoffs, “Something’s off with you. What is it?”
“Nothing–”
“Y/N–”
“Rafe.”
“It’s that exam, isn’t it?” he groans, “I knew I should’ve left you alone this weekend. You need to–”
“It’s not the exam!” you defend, too scared that he’ll leave if he thinks that’s what it is.
“Then, what?”
You groan and throw your head back, feeling the pressure to come up with an answer quickly. The first thing that pops into your head is suddenly leaving your lips before you can think twice about it.
“Christian asked me to go out with them tonight,” you say, “I didn't know how you’d feel about it.”
You suck in a deep breath and convince yourself that that sounds realistic enough to be something that would bother you, even though it doesn’t. You haven’t had one intention of following through with that, but knowing Rafe’s feelings toward Christian makes it even more believable.
Rafe nods his head slowly, processing the information. You shrink down in your seat, the silence only growing louder to you as you sit and wait for a response. After a minute or so, he reaches over and grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a comforting kiss to your palm.
“We’ll go,” he says against your skin, “We’ll go and have a great time.”
Your jaw drops slightly at the response, no part of you even wanting to go out tonight. Then, you consider the fact that the alternative is sitting at home and not thinking about what you know every time you look at him. Judging by how well that’s going so far, you consider that maybe getting a few drinks in might help you relax and enjoy Rafe.
“Are you sure?” you question him.
He nods and gives you a smile, “Yes, honey. You deserve to blow off some steam from your tough week. It will be fun.”
You’re not so sure about that, but you nod anyway. He presses one more kiss to your palm, then drops both of your tangled hands into his lap.
“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “That I made a big deal out of it.”
Rafe shakes his head, “You can talk to me about anything, anytime. I promise.”
“Thank you, Rafe,” you reply.
He grins, “So, how are we looking on those kisses?”
You smile, your heart melting to nothing in your chest as you think about how amazing he is. He’s done so much, you know, to convince you that he’s a good man. That he’s not the guy you heard about in high school. That he’s deserving of someone like you. Which makes you feel that much more guilty about all of it. You know the best thing to do is confess it to him and have a heart-to-heart. The fear that he’ll be hurt or betrayed, or mark you as untrustworthy is just too strong.
As if to silence your mind, you lean your head closer to him and angle it just right, letting your eyes close and his taste take over all of your senses. The second his lips brush yours, every doubt slips away. It’s just him, the man you have fallen head over heels for, dying to kiss you in your car before you spend the weekend together.
He lets you assume control of the kiss the way you always do, cupping your cheek with one of his hands and letting the other splay across your rib cage, warming your skin through your shirt. You kiss him until your body craves to climb over the console and sit in his lap, which is when you pull back. He grins when he sees you, pupils blown and lips bruised.
Your heart swells in your chest as you take in the blue of his eyes, the feeling you get every time you see him overwhelming every one of your senses.
“I–” you start, then bite down on your bottom lip before you can confess it, “I’m really happy you’re here, Rafe.”
He smiles then, and you swear that he knows what you were going to say. His eyes soften and he licks his lips, nodding slightly as if to coax you into the understanding that he feels the same. You suck in a deep breath and take his hand, knowing you’re still not going to be able to reveal how intimate your feelings for him are.
“Me too, beautiful,” he whispers, squeezing your hand, “C’mon. I want some time with you before we go out.”
He holds up your keys and presses one last kiss to your palm before he releases you and hands them over, making himself comfortable in his seat. You start up the car and take another deep breath, praying that the last five minutes will reflect how the rest of the weekend will go.
“I’m warning you,” Rafe announces as you reach your front door, “I’m going to snoop through your bookshelf the same way you did mine. I finished The Storyteller.”
“Finally,” you tease, pulling the door open, “You can take whatever you want.”
He presses a kiss to your temple as a thank you, then follows you inside. Emma and Ethan are sitting on the couch in the living room, Emma’s head in Ethan’s lap as they watch Friends.
“Rafe Cameron,” she greets him with a wave, not bothering to stand up, “Glad you could make it. She’s been studying like a crazy person.”
“So I hear,” Rafe laughs, “Good to see you.”
“You too,” she sits up and hikes her thumb in Ethan’s direction, “You remember Ethan.”
With a smile, being the polite boy he is, Ethan stands from the couch and holds his hand out to Rafe, who shakes it.
“How you doin’, man?” Ethan asks.
“Better now,” Rafe replies, pulling his hand back from Ethan and wrapping it around your waist.
“For sure. I’m glad Y/N will have someone here tonight,” Ethan says.
“Actually, I think we’re joining you,” Rafe informs him, patting your hip.
Emma’s eyes widen, “You are?”
You nod and widen your eyes back, trying your best to communicate with her silently. She glances between you and Rafe twice, then nods slowly.
“We are,” you confirm.
“That’s great,” Emma replies, still eyeing you, “Chris is coming, too. I think he’s bringing Caroline.”
You groan internally, but keep your thoughts to yourself. With a smile plastered across your face, you nod, but inch toward your bedroom. Rafe moves with you, forced to based on his hand still resting on your hip.
“Okay,” you say, “We’ll be out later.”
“Can’t wait, babe. Glad you’re here, Rafe Cameron.”
Rafe laughs, “Thanks, Emma.”
You drag Rafe into your bedroom and close the door once he gets inside, sucking in air and sighing once you two are alone. He chuckles and wraps you up in his arms, letting you groan and grumble into his chest.
“Is she ever going to stop calling me by my full name?” he asks quietly, his voice playful.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
He laughs, guiding you back and sitting down on your bed. Without his guidance, you crawl into his lap and nuzzle your head into his neck, feeling his hands support your back and hold you against him.
“Honey,” he says quietly, “I’m a little worried about you.”
“Why?”
He sighs, “You look tired. And you’ve been clinging to me since I got off the ferry. Not that I’m complaining. I just want to make sure it’s only because the week has been tough for you.”
You swallow and close your eyes, “It is. I’m sorry.”
He chuckles, “Don’t be. I’ll hold onto you for as long as you need.”
“Was your week difficult?” you ask.
“No. Don’t worry about me,” he says gently, “Let’s lay down, yeah? Take a nap?”
You barely nod before he’s pulling you back with him, laying himself down and letting you make a home in his side. His hand runs through your hair and his lips press to your forehead, calming you down and doing his best to care for you.
“You’re mine?” you ask, your voice quiet and weak.
“I’m yours,” he whispers, “Sleep, honey.”
Emma knocks on your door hours later, yelling through it that you have half an hour until pregaming starts. Rafe laughs against your mouth, causing you to pull back from your kiss. You’d slept for approximately twenty minutes before shifting up for a kiss, and haven’t stopped since.
“Think she’ll come in here and drag us out if we’re late?” he jokes.
You nod, “She will. I’ve tried it.”
He laughs and tightens his grip around you, leaning down for one more kiss before he moves to stand from your bed.
“It’s time for me to snoop,” he announces, “Are you okay if I stay in here while you shower?”
“Of course,” you reply, “Make yourself comfortable.”
He stands up and so do you, moving toward your bathroom while he leans down to observe the books on your bookshelf closely. You turn and smile at him before you slip inside, hurrying through your shower and your makeup application just so you can get to him again.
He’s gotten dressed when you emerge, wearing a polo instead of the tee shirt he arrived in. He’s laying on your bed, reading your beat up copy of East of Eden. He grins when he sees you, sitting up and closing the book before ushering you over to him. You’ve dressed in a black crop top and jeans, cute enough to pass for a night out but not exactly as flashy as Emma when she goes out.
“You look–”
“Y/N! Rafe Cameron! Let’s go!”
Emma’s voice drowns out Rafe’s compliment, which only makes you laugh.
“Beautiful,” he finishes, laughing to himself.
“Thank you,” you murmur, “Are you ready?”
He nods, “Yes.”
You guide him up and take his hand, leading him out of your bedroom. You can see Emma standing in the kitchen, Ethan at her side with a shot glass in his hand. Standing across from them is Christian, also holding a shot glass, standing beside Emma’s friend Caroline.
Caroline and Emma met their sophomore year at a party, bonding over boys and shots. They’d grown apart the last year, but Caroline is the person Emma calls whenever you don’t want to go out or you’re too busy to hang out with her.
You turn to Rafe before you reach the kitchen, practically colliding with his chest, “Maybe–”
“We’re going,” he says quietly, “You need a break from thinking. I’ll be right next to you all night.”
You solemnly nod and let him guide you into the kitchen, keeping his hand tightly bound in yours.
“Hey, Y/N,” Christian greets you, “You guys want a shot?”
“I’m good,” Rafe shakes his head, then looks down at you, “Want one?”
You want to shake your head, but you wind up nodding. Christian grins victoriously and turns to pour one for you. Emma taps your arm, gaining your attention quietly.
“A word?” she whispers.
Christian offers you a shot glass just as you nod, removing your hand from Rafe’s grip to accept it. You nod to him that you’ll be right back, to which he nods back.
“What?” you ask once the two of you escape the kitchen.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she says, “I’m sure going out wasn’t your idea.”
“It kind of was,” you confess, “He was asking what was bothering me and I kind of blurted out that Christian wanted me to join you guys tonight.”
She shakes her head, “I’m sorry, babe. We don’t have to stay out late, okay?”
You glance over your shoulder back to Rafe, finding Caroline smiling at him from across the kitchen. She steps closer to him, making your body tense. Without a second thought, you down the shot you hold and then step closer to hear them.
“Rafe, is it?” she asks him.
“It is,” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.
“And you’re with Y/N?”
Caroline practically laughs as she says those words, making your throat tighten.
“I am.”
You swallow, suddenly staring down at the empty shot glass and wish it was full. Emma watches you listen but doesn’t dare object.
“A man of many words,” Caroline laughs, “Is it just a fun little thing, like Ethan and Emma?”
“No,” Rafe answers.
“Oh? So you love her or something?”
You hold your breath. Emma’s lips part as if she’s about to speak, to break up their conversation, but you shake your head before she has the chance.
“I do.”
The liquor in your stomach suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. Emma looks at you and smiles so wide, it forces you to do the same. Quickly and discreetly, she gives you a hug and then points to Rafe, silently telling you to go to him.
“Hm,” Caroline hums, amused with herself, “Interesting. I’ve never even seen that girl step foot into a frat party, let alone a bar. We’ll see how tonight goes.”
You get to Rafe right as Caroline finishes her sentence. Without hesitation, he wraps both of his arms around you and then guides your lips up to his, proving his point without having to be spiteful. When he pulls back, he doesn’t even acknowledge Caroline.
“I’m yours,” he whispers to you, “Always.”
You nod, feeling the guilt burn up in your stomach with the liquor.
Emma ushers another shot into you before all of you leave the apartment, dividing into two separate Ubers to get to the bar. Ethan rides with you and Rafe, chatting him up the entire time about football and Rafe’s job. You remain quiet, content with having his arm wrapped around you as you replay his words to Caroline. Two very simple words with a very heavy meaning to them.
Rafe orders a beer at the bar, and you don’t miss the way he sips on it all night, not desperate to order another one. He’d been right about being by your side all night, keeping an eye on you and making sure you’re okay. In no way does he try to spoil your fun; Emma orders you drinks and you drink them, finding your way to inebriation quickly upon arrival.
After about two hours, your eyelids are heavy and your body feels light from all the drinks you’ve consumed. You’re standing with your back to Rafe as you talk to Emma, feeling his hand around your waist and letting you lean on him while he talks to Ethan. The two seem to be forming a friendship, which makes you happy.
You turn to Rafe and give him your best drunken smile, watching him smile back.
“You okay, beautiful?” he asks you, leaning down to speak directly into your ear.
“Very okay,” you nod, “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t, y’know. Feel safe with you.”
You don’t miss the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, as if those words mean more to him than the simple truth they are. He doesn’t speak, he just presses his lips to your cheek.
Emma hands you a shot and cheers you to take it, watching you make a face as the alcohol flows down your throat.
“Get together with Rafe Cameron,” she demands, pulling her film camera out of her purse.
You roll your eyes but do as you’re told, both of you smiling as she takes a picture. You’re sure it will come out blurry, evidence of Emma’s drunkenness, but you don’t care.
“Rafe,” you gain his attention, all confidence sky high because of the alcohol coursing through your system, “I lo–”
He kisses you quickly, catching you off guard and stopping you from confessing how you feel about him. You accept the kiss but frown when he pulls away, mad he interrupted you. He smiles and leans down, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear as he speaks.
“Tell me tomorrow.”
“I will,” you promise, “Because I do.”
He grins, “I do, too.”
Emma rounds everyone up the second you tell her you’re ready to go, leaning all your weight on Rafe and not hearing one complaint from him about it. You all wait outside for your Ubers, Emma drunkenly trying to coordinate pickup locations while you steal kisses from Rafe. You’re sure nobody else wants to see the two of you, but you don’t care. You’re too wrapped up in him to care.
“You’re beautiful when you’re drunk,” he grins.
“Thank you,” you reply, “Lean down. Can’t reach you up there.”
He laughs but does as instructed, giving you another kiss after he’s already given you a million tonight.
Just as he pulls away, Emma starts barking out orders of who is in what car, where to go, and demands Rafe stay with you. He nods, because you know he will, and guides you into the backseat of the Uber Ethan leads the two of you to.
You lay your head on Rafe’s shoulder and close your eyes while the two of them talk. Ethan’s drunk and Rafe’s definitely not, but they still manage to have a halfway decent conversation. When the car stops at your apartment complex a few minutes later, Rafe guides you out and supports you with his arm around your waist.
“Had fun with you,” you tell him as you walk up the stairs in front of him.
“Me too, honey,” he replies, “Always do.”
You smile, and when you see Emma waiting outside your apartment door, you launch your arms around her. She laughs and squeezes you tight, Ethan and Rafe standing back and waiting on the two of you to separate.
“You okay?” she whispers in your ear, meaning more than just being drunk.
“Yes,” you whisper back, “Love you.”
“Love you, too, babe,” she grins, “He’s waiting.”
You frown and turn, reaching for Rafe’s hand. He guides you to your bedroom, laughing only slightly when you stumble a few times. You never fall due to his iron grip on your hand.
“Careful,” he lectures, “Come on, honey. Sit down on the bed, I’ll find you some clothes.”
You sit down as instructed and then fall back, pulling yourself completely onto your bed and closing your eyes. Rafe laughs and shrugs his shirt off, then his pants, and replaces them with shorts. He throws on a tee shirt before he climbs next to you, pulling you right into him.
“Rafe,” you mumble.
“Mhm?”
You don’t respond right away, too busy fighting off the sleep. You grab a fistful of his shirt and try to pull him closer, as if that would solve anything. Your mind runs back to Ava for a moment, thinking about how she never got this part of her night. She never made it home to bed.
“Rafe,” you repeat.
“I’m here, Y/N. Right here. Let me know if you want to change into pajamas.”
“No, Rafe,” you whine, tears stinging your closed eyes, “I’m so sorry. About Ava. Can’t stop thinking about how y’lost her. She was beautiful.”
He doesn’t speak, and his grip around you seems to go limp. You don’t notice, instead choosing to press a kiss to his cheek.
“M’sorry,” you say again, “M’sorry I had Emma google her. I just couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.” Without a word from Rafe, you fall asleep, the words I’m sorry still lining your lips and your mind.
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