the name’s isabel. she/her. you’ll never find someone less delusional than her. DREW STARKEY. she has more private sideblogs than close friends. orange and green. being a part of girlhood. italian but visited scotland once and is 100% sure she’ll end up there in a few years. attending a cinematography&photography school. FOXES. wishes she could write. a mix of greta gerwig, wes anderson and rob reiner. editing. never lived a day without anxiety and overthinking. summertime in the mountains. constant brainrot fueled by tumblr, pinterest and spotify. unfinished playlist. fan fictions ‘till i die.
music: conan gray. sombr. sam fender. noah kahan. role model. searows. alfie jukes. del water gap. harry styles. taylor swift before travis. lorde. olivia rodrigo. phoebe bridgers. sabrina carpenter. gracie abrams. tate mcrae. wolf alice. baby queen.
tv shows: the bear. normal people. psych (2006). new girl. heated rivalry. the office us. off campus. heartbreak high. tsitp. maxton hall. one day (2024). young royals. adults fx.
films: little miss sunshine. tpobaw. stand by me. httyd 2. dead poets society. the holdovers. the hunger games. when harry met sally. fantastic mr. fox. the holiday. good will hunting. the edge of seventeen. words on bathroom walls. the avatar franchise. love, simon.
in need of…
that one boy from my school. a stress-free life. LIVING IN SCOTLAND/UK or IRELAND IN GENERAL. a copy of my lip combo but one that stays on for hours. someone who yearns for me. DREW FUCKING STARKEY. clothes that fit me well. a cottage far from others where i can blast music.
K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->
✿ G E N R E ✿
she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama
✿ P A I R I N G ✿
s1!rafe cameron x overthinker!reader (f)
✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿
swearing, suggestive language & themes, HORNY!rafe, FLIRTY!reader, SEXUAL TENSION, kinda angsty, consuming edibles & small side mention of overdose/horror trip (NOT happening here), minor homophobic vibes from rafe in like 2 moments
✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿
over lunch at dolce divino, cara texted people were already talking about the slap, but rafe eased your worries by showing the comments on your soft launch and revealing you were his lockscreen. in econ, you made each other jealous before collins seated you next to gracie, who hinted at trouble at the gloaming. your offer to get rob as a date for the gloaming, she declined.
at home, you told your parents you and rafe had been secretly dating for a month and asked for the yacht. your mom agreed. while texting kelce for gift ideas, he revealed rafe’s condom size and that he didn’t plan on bringing any, which freaked you out A LOT.
you spent the afternoon with the girls prepping the yacht and shopping. sarah voiced worries after catching rafe lying to rose about how long you’d been dating, but you told her it was to ease your parents’ worries.
after flirty texts, you and rafe left w the car. he admitted he’d been feeling off, resisting coke, which you linked to withdrawals, and you learned he’d been having solo sessions to cope. you suggested relaxing later with some nice cookies.
✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿
10.2k+
✿ A / N ✿
alright guys. for our sake, i decided to split the sleepover into two parts bc i'll need a little time with the second half and i don't wanna rush things but i also don't wanna keep you waiting. so, here's a little update. heads-up: it's pretty lowkey but next part will be AJDJDEJK. anyway, enjoyyyy, lmk your thoughts <33
xx ᓚᘏᗢ
✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿
W E E K T W O // T U E S D A Y
6 : 2 0 P M
"Why."
Rafe giggled at your dramatic scowl, turning your pretty face into a funny grimace. "What's wrong, Beautiful?"
"Why did you have to make it public?" you asked, shifting your gaze from your open Instagram to his eyes.
During your little snack-and-date-night utensil shopping spree, you’d both decided to post a story. Rafe’s brilliant idea of course (since you’d never request this yourself but it was fine, Rafe knew his girl was shy), to show everyone what a perfect couple you were. Make the act more believable, this that, y’know.
Yeah, shit, and he couldn’t deny it: he enjoyed posting you way too much. Showing you off, letting everyone see what a perfect catch— girl! (no need for you to scold him in your head) you were, and that he really was capable of keeping a sweet (fucked-up, crazy, insane) girl like you around for real.
Fuck, and what made his blood rush even faster was seeing you post him as well. You showing him off too (sure, only after he begged you, but whatever). Making every dumb fucker who thought they had a shot with you see for real that you were taken. That the little hearts you always used were meant for him.
Rafe was the one who got to call you his. No one fucking else.
Even if you decided to disgrace him by posting him as your make-up tester doll, PLUS letting everyone know with your caption that you actually did his make-up later, AND making him pose his hand like some gay-ass dude ("Rafe, stop saying that shit." — "Sorry, baby"), it still filled his chest with warmth. (No, Molly, you’re not getting the fucking end results.)
And because Rafe hadn’t complained about your story—being the good boyfriend he was—you had no right to complain about his. Especially since there was nothing wrong with it, the fuck.
You just picked up some apples, looking cute and gorgeous while doing so, and—
Geez, you were giving him a look like you were ready to claw his eyes out. Shit was hot as fuck.
Good thing he’d made sure to deal with this new fuckass need for sex by getting off a few times earlier before heading over to you; otherwise, he’d have walked into this stupid store bricked up.
BECAUSE FUCK.
That shit you’d said earlier? Waddling around his Benz with that cheeky ass of yours, grinning at him and telling him you’d help him “forget his needs.”
Dude.
You could’ve flashed him your boobs and he would’ve been less turned on. Not that Rafe would ever complain about seeing them but the way you suddenly shifted into this flirty version of yourself after being so awkward and laid-back last week… Rafe had almost given in, almost pressed his lips to yours, almost pushed you against the hood and told you how badly he wanted you in that moment.
Because why the fuck would you say that shit if you didn’t mean it, huh? Talking about this shit, cozying up, and “sleeping” better?? Uh-huh, yeah sure. At this point, Rafe was convinced you wanted to fuck him just as much as he wanted to sleep with you.
Shit… or maybe it was just the little minions in your head realizing they liked the game of flirting, the fun of the act, but not actually—
"Rafe."
Shit.
He laughed, startled, realizing he hadn’t caught a single thing you’d just ranted about because he’d been too focused on your pretty lips.
“Sorry, baby,” he said, meeting your even prettier eyes with a downward smile. “What’d my girl babble about?”
You frowned (definitely flustered). “I said my mom might revoke yacht privileges if she sees that story. Could’ve at least made it private.”
Ha. Private. So you didn’t actually mind. Also, no way your mom was scrolling Instagram, finding Rafe’s account, watching his story, and then understanding the suggestive subtext, right?
Fuck.
But if your dad saw it… He’d already had some talk with Rafe earlier and even though he hadn’t threatened him—in fact, he’d been surprisingly nice and casual, even checking on Rafe’s bruise—he had that intimidating aura. The kind that made Rafe understand the subtext anyway.
“It’s just a harmless joke,” Rafe said nonetheless, chuckling (he’d risk getting beaten up just to show you off). “Not everyone’s as dirty-minded as you. Could just mean we craved some pineapples for a fruit salad or some shit.” A lopsided grin tugged at his lips. “Plus, no one knows we won’t actually be doing shit tonight, so who cares?”
Meh. Even saying that was kind of disappointing, even though—
Wait.
Why were you smiling so weirdly? WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU SMILING SO FUCKING WEIRDLY AFTER WHAT HE’D JUST SAID?
Awkward as hell, sure, but there was something else in it he couldn’t pin down. WHAT WAS UP WITH YOU TODAY, BEING SO DAMN CHEEKY AND FLIRTY? And what was up with him, being so restless and on edge?
Ohhh, right. He’d nearly killed two bitches (you taught him this word was unisex) at school for talking shit about you, and your panic attack had cost him like 99 HP (he was still lowkey pissed you’d pushed him away when he’d tried to kiss you).
AND NOW THIS MIXED-SIGNAL SMILE.
Rafe raised his brows, grinning. “Or do you—”
“No.” You cut him off quickly with a strained smile.
Wow. Alright. Guess Rafe was wrong assuming your flirtations meant anything. Might as well jump off a cliff for even thinking—
“I mean, no,” you added, chuckling awkwardly (FUCK, WHAT). “As in, you’re right. Leave the story up. I kinda like the pic.”
…
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
Had you just casually taken back your “No” toward sex?
Fuck.
Had Rafe left his condoms at home WRONGFULLY? HAD HE—
Well, shit. Didn’t matter anyway. His cock was drained. No way in hell he could get bricked up again tonight. Only thing he was capable of was letting his hands do the work.
You know what? No!
No sex. Fuck that.
All this time he’d been teasing you, flirting with you, throwing the clearest hints—shit, even ADMITTING TO YOUR FACE he wanted to get you laid—and now, the one fucking time he decided to be a gentleman and just enjoy a harmless friendly sleepover to prove he could spend the night with a girl without going freaky (even experiencing a few post-nut clarities for you so his boner wouldn’t ruin cuddles), YOU were the one steering things toward sex?
Like, seriously, why had you even been so fixated on his cock earlier during your chat when he’d sent that thirst trap, huh?
Nahhhhhhh.
Unless you made it very fucking clear and flat-out asked him to fuck, he wouldn’t make any move beyond the safe shit. And even then, actually sleeping with you just because you asked felt wrong.
Rafe had debated hard about packing condoms just in case of some impossible what-if scenario, but in the end, he’d decided against it. Because if he was being real with himself, he didn’t want your first time wasted on someone like him. You’d probably have expectations, and he wasn’t sure he could live up to them.
Also, it was just safer that way, right? He didn’t want your minions going crazy the day after, making you regret it, feel disappointed in the sex, pull back, or worse, cut him off completely. Especially because Rafe knew it’d be your first time with pretty much everything.
Sure, he craved you badly—so badly he couldn’t imagine any other girl while getting off—but more than anything, he wanted to keep you around. Not lose you over giving in to some fuckass desire.
SHIT, WHY WAS HE EVEN THINKING ABOUT THIS ANYMORE. He didn’t have condoms anyway, so topic closed.
“You okay?” you asked, pulling Rafe out of… whatever the fuck that mental walk had been. A sweet smile curved your lips. “You’re zoning out more than me today.”
Yeah, sure, baby, call it zoning out, like he was the one with the overthinking problem.
“Yes, Angel. Just thinking of all the ways we could have fun tonight,” Rafe grinned (no sex didn’t mean no flirting). His hand slid to your lower back, nudging you forward. “Now, move your cute ass. Can’t wait to snack those cookies and have my girl cozied up to me.”
But you stayed put, holding onto the apple in your hand with that same awkward expression.
Shit. He quickly removed his hand from your back. “Too much?”
“No, no, it’s— That’s fine,” you replied, chuckling sheepishly. “Just… ‘Angel’ is a no-go. My dad calls me that sometimes.”
Rafe couldn’t stop the baffled laugh escaping his lips (mostly relief, since he’d expected one of your minion spirals). “Not into Daddy-shit?”
“If you don’t want me calling you ‘Rafey’ from now on, you’d better stick to other pet names,” you countered with a raised brow, making Rafe’s smile drop.
Eugh. Fuck that. He didn’t need reminders of Amelia.
So he nodded, his hand finding its place at your waist again. “Aight, my beautiful goddess. That okay? Good. Now, seriously, move your ass.”
And the sweet laugh spilling from your lips as you leaned into him filled Rafe’s chest with such warmth that it washed away the deep low and disgust he’d felt earlier that afternoon.
Letting you collect a few more snacks, face masks, and girl shit like that, he tossed in a few Red Bull Zeros, BBQ chips, and some trail mix of his own, then quickly dragged you toward checkout.
The more time you spent in here, the less time for bonding with you.
And of course, Rafe paid for the whole haul because “It’s what a good boyfriend would do, so stop complaining.”
"I'm not complaining," you countered (very much in a complaining tone). "I just don't want you to—"
"It's officially our first date, right?" Rafe cut you off as he pulled out his credit card. That’s what you’d told your friends, so of course, he’d cling to it. "And as the guy, I’m gonna pay. I have manners, okay?"
And even if it was your 100th real or fake date, or just grocery shopping for your family, he’d still pay. A small gesture like that was nothing compared to how good you always made him feel. And since he couldn’t show his gratitude in the one way he knew best, he tried to do it this way.
Plus, spoiling you just felt fucking amazing. And the way you scolded him for it, only to follow up with your sweet little polite “Thank you” every single time? That was like delicious ice cream melting on his tongue.
And just like he’d predicted, a second after you two stepped out of the store:
“Thank you,” you said, smiling sheepishly at him as your fingers reached for his free hand, sparking a funny feeling in his stomach. “But seriously, you didn’t have to.”
Without missing a beat, Rafe grabbed your hand properly, lacing his fingers with yours as the other adjusted his grip on the grocery bags. (Yeah, he’d caught your eyes lingering on his biceps when he lifted them off the counter. And yeah, he flexed a little harder just for you.)
“Yeah, well, I wanted to,” he replied, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as you two walked across the parking lot. “So, case closed.”
You chuckled. “What if I wanted to as well?” you teased, leaning into him, lashes fluttering mock-innocently. “Spoil my gorgeous, handsome, pretty boyfriend the way he spoils me.”
Fuckkkk.
If Rafe didn’t know better, he’d swear you were purposely trying to make him hard. Unlucky for you, he was currently physically incapable of that. But mentally? Full-on boner. Hearing you call him those sweet names, watching you smile like that... It made his nerves tingle like the excitement of drawing a line.
Fuck, he needed to stop thinking about coke.
“I’d rather you spoil me in other ways,” he said, shooting you a look that was equal parts amused and filthy.
“I will.” A cheeky smile curved your lips, your eyes gleaming in a way that almost drove Rafe insane. But then you ruined it by adding, “I’ll spoil you with a new makeover. Every girl will be jealous of my boy’s makeup and nails.”
Too bad for you, Rafe had been waiting since last night for you to finally sit down and initiate some actual physical contact.
“All I heard was ‘my boy’ and other chicks being jealous,” he said, moving his foot under the trunk's sensor so it popped open. “The rest I don’t give a shit about.”
You let out an amused breath, rolling your eyes. “We’ll see about that when your lips are painted red.”
Flirting with you was way too easy.
He snorted, setting the bags into the trunk before turning back to you with a smug grin. “I’d prefer if you just showered my whole face with kisses.”
Aww, look, all awkward and flustered again.
“We’ll see,” you chuckled breathily, letting your fingers slip from his before heading to your side of the car. You threw him a look over your shoulder that was almost demanding. (Careful. One more like that and he’d have you bent over the backseat for real.) “Not sure a boyfriend who can’t even open his girl’s door deserves a single kiss.”
Either you’d bribed your little minions to shut the fuck up long enough for you to run this game on him, or you’d been hiding this level of flirt all along.
By god, not even his earlier gooning session or his sworn promise to himself could hold him back if you kept teasing like this.
“Spoiled brat,” Rafe muttered with a grin, shutting the trunk and circling around to open the stupid-ass door for you.
And fuck, the way you turned toward him, just close enough for him to smell your perfume, your lips a few inches from his, his hand braced on the top of the doorframe—
You clearly wanted to scold him for calling you a brat, but he wouldn’t have it. His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, voice dropping low. “You better get your ass in the car before I make sure the furry show scene succeeds this time.”
Your pretty face pulled into a frown, then broke into laughter, awkwardness and amusement mixing together as you gave him a light push to the chest and climbed inside.
Rafe shut the door behind you and started counting the minutes until he had you all to himself on the yacht.
In the car, he let you pick the music, though he turned it down just to hear you babble about your day. Apparently, you’d spent the whole afternoon with your fuckass girl squad (including Saint Sarah, of fucking course), wandering around the city and just doing girl shit.
Rafe had to bite his tongue not to complain about you wasting your time on something so boring instead of finishing that project with him, so the night would be free for just the two of you. But he figured you wouldn’t appreciate hearing that.
And well, he wouldn’t have had time to prep the “bro” (as you’d christened his cock). That guy needed to stay locked the fuck down if Rafe didn’t want you scooting away mid-couch cuddle.
“—and I almost thought Sarah caught onto our act,” you mumbled, ripping Rafe out of another fuckass mind walk.
He grimaced, glancing at you before fixing his eyes back on the road. “Shit, what? How?”
Surely you hadn’t told her anything about the blackmail, the deal, the act… right???
“Well…” you started, fidgeting with your bracelet, “she said she overheard you rambling about me in front of Rose and got suspicious about the way you praised me and mentioned us dating for a month.”
Of. Fucking. Course. Sarah and her nosy ass. Exactly the type to eavesdrop just to find something she could use against him and ruin everything with you.
That pissed him off on a whole other level, he couldn’t even put into words. The fact you’d even spent the afternoon with her instead of him was already gnawing at his nerves, but the way Sarah seemed to push herself into your life only after Rafe became your friend?
It drove him fucking insane.
His jaw clenched, and at the red light he shot you a look, scowl deepening. “I’m just gonna assume you kept your mouth shut.”
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.
His anger wasn’t directed at you—not at all—but it came through in his voice anyway. And you caught it instantly, of course, brows furrowing in defense.
“Shit, wait, I didn’t—” he stammered, face draining as he scrambled to fix it, but you cut him off with a sharp frown.
“No, I did not keep my mouth shut, actually,” you snapped, flipping his fight-or-flight switch. “I told her I lied to my parents about us secretly dating so they’d let you sleep over. And I asked you to tell yours the same, just in case. So your bullshit about me being ‘the one’ or whatever was just you getting carried away with the lie.”
Rafe didn’t have the guts to tell you it wasn’t a lie. So he just nodded, ashamed, gripping the wheel until his knuckles went white.
“That’s a very clever response,” he mumbled, searching your eyes for forgiveness. “Did she buy it?”
What a dumbass question. Of course she had, otherwise her nosy ass would’ve already confronted him or run straight to their dad.
Your brows twitched and your harsh expression softened as you nodded. “It was the best I could come up with in that moment. But yeah, she apologized and seemed to believe it.”
Fucking hell. He was so stupid for doubting you even for a second. And you managing Sarah’s snooping that well…
“Shit, I need to apologize too,” he muttered quietly, eyes back on the road as the light turned green. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice or word it that way. I just…” He grimaced. “Day’s been shitty. Those fuckass jerks Peter and Caleb pissed me off, your panic attack’s still got me on edge, and after gym I spent the whole afternoon alone at home counting the fucking seconds for you to text me and ask to come over earlier.”
A heavy exhale left him, shame thick in his throat as he forced out the next part. “Then I tried to kill time in other ways, but that only made it worse to the point I almost snorted a fucking line.” He risked a glance at you, catching the softness in your eyes that made him want to bury his face in your arms. “And then I circled back to the other shit, and now you mention Sarah being nosy and— Fuck.”
He dragged a hand down his face, hating himself for dumping his frustration on you. A broken chuckle slipped out as he gestured at his chest, pressure tightening his throat. “I’m fucking trying, but… sometimes I can’t control my temper. None of it was aimed at you, okay?” He forced a faint smile, turning the Benz onto your street, tapping his temple with a finger. “Fuckass minion in my head forgot it was talking to my precious girl. And I’m sorry for that.”
Rafe didn’t even need to specify girlfriend or friend because in both cases, you were the girl he valued most.
You chuckled softly, and relief washed over him in a wave. Though behind it, the question lingered: how many more times would you let his outbursts slide before you finally wrote him off for good?
“You’re forgiven,” you said at last, sounding way too amused for someone who’d just sat through a whole Rafe apology speech where he bared his soul to you, but okay.
He smiled, half-irritated, his focus locked on you as he parked in your driveway. The tension started creeping back up his spine. “What’s so funny?”
Jokes were one thing but being turned into one? That scratched a nerve in him so badly, it made his fingers itch, even with you.
“Nothing,” you said, your smile softening along with your voice. The only sound in the car the faint rustle of your bracelet fidgeting. “I’m just pleasantly surprised at how well-executed that apology was.”
The fuck?
“Are you saying I’m fucking stupid or some shit?” Rafe blurted, confused as hell by the gentle tone in your voice but hearing the words as ‘Good job, toddler boy, finally learned how to talk.’
“What, no. You’re one of the smartest, fastest-learning people I know,” you said, chuckling as you shifted in your seat to face him. “The problem is, you’re just bad with words, and on top of that, you let your emotions guide you. That’s why the stuff you mean to say usually comes out sounding like an attack.”
You tilted your head, raising your brows. “I assume what you actually meant earlier was, ‘Oh no, hopefully you didn’t say anything that gave us away in front of Sarah’ but your anger at her turned it into an impulsive attack against me. Right?”
Rafe nodded before he even fully registered your words, too stuck on your little bit of praise. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Right. And now,” you continued, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you gestured toward him, “after realizing on your own that you fucked up, you made a proper apology by acknowledging your mistake, giving context for why you reacted that way, even showing some self-disclosure.” A soft chuckle escaped you. (Yeah, real funny to grin over Rafe admitting—for the second time—that he had a pathetic goon session.)
“And you gave reassurance that you can separate your emotional outburst from me. Which, just to clarify,” you tapped your chest, “I’m not making fun of you. I’m proud of your effort to learn, and I appreciate how hard you try with me.”
Bro.
At this point, it would’ve been enough to call him a good boy (shit, what?) and move on with your day instead of rambling around the point.
Like, sure, your words sank into Rafe’s brain, but all he could think about right now was how badly he wanted to kiss you. To grab the back of your neck, drag your lips to his, feel you kiss him back, tug him closer by the collar, smile into the kiss because you’d been waiting for this moment as much as he had.
Too bad he’d already tried, but you’d pushed him away. And because that failed attempt had been only a few hours ago, he definitely didn’t need another defeat. Then he’d have hit rock bottom for today and would actually end up snorting a line.
And to get rid of these stupidly insane thoughts, he just let out a shaky breath and said, “Aight, I’d appreciate it if we finally moved our asses onto the yacht, and had some bonding time.”
Huh. Why were you frowning now?
“Did you even hear what I just said?” you asked.
Rafe chuckled. “Baby—”
“No ‘Baby’ or fake dating crap right now,” you cut in, almost pissed. “I’m serious, Rafe, I—”
“I was also serious when I said I waited the whole fucking day to spend time with you,” he shot back, tapping his chest. “Suffered the whole afternoon while you giggled with your girl squad. Gonna snort a line if I don’t have you pressed against me in the next five minutes.”
Fucking hell. What the fuck had he just blurted out?
Eugh. You were right. These withdrawals really had him to the point of saying pathetic shit like this out loud (though, considering he’d already confessed to jerking off multiple times today, he couldn’t really sink much lower).
And you had the nerve to giggle, your whole face marked with awkwardness and amusement. “Are you seriously threatening me with substance abuse because you’re too clingy?”
Clingy.
Ha.
Rafe wasn’t clingy. He just liked being near you. Liked knowing you were with him. That wasn’t clingy, that was just… liking someone.
“No,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and snatching his stuff from the center console. “I’m threatening to throw our project off the yacht if we don’t leave this fucking car right now and get cozy.”
You unbuckled as well, chuckling. “Yeah, gonna get real cozy working on this project tonight.”
Maybe Rafe would just throw himself off the yacht instead.
“Y’know what,” he said, turning back to you before getting out, brows furrowed. “I refuse to work on this shit today. This is a date. So let’s treat it like one.”
He didn’t fucking care if it was fake or not. No way in hell was he doing schoolwork at 6:30 PM on a fucking Tuesday.
Another chuckle slipped from your lips, but Rafe didn’t wait for whatever nerdy-ass response you were about to throw back. He got out, rounded the hood, and opened the damn door for you.
He braced one hand on the doorframe, the other on the roof of his Benz, blocking your way. “I don’t wanna hear a single complaint or back talk. You said it yourself: it was a shitty day for you, too. So fuck that project. We can easily finish it tomorrow before the dinner.”
Shit. Rafe knew this night was gonna be brutal for him and his cock, because the way you sat there below him, big eyes gazing up at him, triggered a whole reel of scenarios in his head, and he could almost feel his boxers getting tighter.
So him doing it multiple times earlier? Completely wasted. Fucking great.
“Bossy,” you said with a chuckle, your eyes flicking to his biceps for a second.
Ohhh, you thought you were slick, huh?
Rafe was about to throw out something filthy like I’ll show you bossy in bed later but then you stood, squeezing between his body and the car, and it lit a fuse in him. Only your hands on his chest stopped him from doing something stupid.
“If you refuse to finish the project today, I refuse bonding time for the night.” A cheeky smile on your lips as you voiced your blackmail.
Please. You enjoyed curling up next to him just as much as he enjoyed keeping you close. Total bluff.
He shrugged, not moving an inch, eyes locked on yours. “Then I’ll have bonding time with myself while you go be a nerd.”
“You’re so horny it’s unreal,” you laughed.
Rafe raised his brows in genuine confusion, letting out a disbelieving breath and feeling his stomach flutter at the way you played with his polo buttons. “Shit, it’s not my fault you’ve got one big dirty-minded minion running around that pretty head of yours.”
“Says the dude who admitted to gooning the whole afternoon because he was too bored.”
Rafe frowned. “I wasn’t bored, I missed you.”
...
Might as well get back inside the car and drive it straight into a tree.
FUCK.
He wasn’t someone who got embarrassed but this? Admitting he’d jerked off because he missed your closeness? Pathetic. Humiliating. Painfully desperate.
Now you definitely thought he was some kind of creep or perv.
He could see it in your face: the way your smile froze, your eyes went wide, and those little mental minions of yours were probably running around like lunatics.
All he could do was let out a shaky laugh, heat burning across his cheeks and chest, completely overwhelmed and scrambling for a way to salvage himself.
“I just meant—” he started, but didn’t even know how to finish the sentence without digging himself deeper.
Yeah. He’d blown it. No more bonding time. No more handholding. No more hanging out with you and—
“I’m just gonna take that as a compliment,” you said slowly, voice strained as you patted his chest lightly, your grimace so distorted it was obvious you were one second away from bursting into laughter from secondhand embarrassment. “And pretend the ‘missing’ part was brought up in a different context.”
There was no other option:
“I think I need to marry you.”
And then you did indeed burst out laughing, gripping his polo while you pressed your head against his chest, your sweet laughter rumbling through him, filling him with such euphoria and warmth it wasn’t like he’d just made the nastiest confession ever.
Rafe found himself smiling along, and as you finally got a grip and looked at him again, he grinned widely. “I’m serious. No fucking way I find another girl that wouldn’t have slapped me for that.”
Or any other girl he wanted to kiss so badly in this moment for being so damn cool with his shit. Yeah, flushed and overwhelmed, sure, yet still full of gentle understanding and amusement.
“Yeah well,” you said, voice pitched higher than usual. “I’m currently trying my hardest to pretend this conversation never happened.” Your mouth twitched like you were holding back another laugh, your thumbs fidgeting against each other over his polo in little restless circles. “So best not dwell on this subject if you don’t want me canceling tonight, because I’m so close to freaking out.”
Rafe nodded, feeling a heavy anchor drop off his chest at your deflection. “Okay, okay. Let’s head to the yacht then, and do some artsy shit.”
Right now, the stupid project was the perfect distraction to cover this trainwreck of a conversation. He couldn’t risk you lying next to him later feeling weird, so yeah... arts and crafts it was.
And FINALLY, after endless suffering, you two made your way down to your family’s private dock.
Rafe grabbed the grocery bags and his backpack from the trunk, tried to fight the suffocating thoughts about his verbal slip-up, but immediately got ripped out of his mental walk when you reached for his hand after he locked the car.
“I’m sorry I laughed,” you said after a moment of silence as you walked through your backyard toward the dock.
Rafe’s brows twitched in confusion. “I’d rather have you laughing than running away.”
That actually pulled a sweet little laugh from you before you shook your head, still wearing that sheepish smile. “No, yeah, still, I shouldn’t have laughed.” Then your face twisted into something so sweet and awkward, Rafe almost saw last week’s version of you walking beside him, all flustered and laidback. “In a weird way... I feel flattered.”
Rafe had been right all along: you were fucking crazy.
And yet, he chuckled, squeezing your hand lightly. “Yeah?”
You nodded, seeming to hesitate, before you said, “I mean, all afternoon I... kept thinking about you, too.” A shaky chuckle slipped out. “I just… handled it differently.”
Fuck what.
You telling him over text you were excited about this sleepover had already had his nerves buzzing, but you admitting you also thought of HIM?
Shit. The stupid grin on his face came naturally. “So you missed me too?”
Your shy little nod made him almost get on his knees and actually propose, just to secure you forever (just bullshitting, of course).
“Yeah,” you mumbled, eyes flicking away for a second, your thumb pressing into the back of his hand. “Had a hard time enjoying hanging out with the girls because I kept thinking of tonight.”
The way Rafe’s heart rate spiked at that was almost frightening, if the thought of you suffering because you missed him too wasn’t three times more exciting.
“And you still let me suffer till six,” Rafe replied, shaking his head in mock-hurt. “I see our priorities don’t align.”
You chuckled softly, your free hand pushing open the ornate door leading to the pier. “Without them, you would’ve had to suffer even longer.”
Rafe blinked at you, confused, until he saw it.
A few meters away, anchored in water so blue it looked fake, floated a beast of a yacht. A Hargrave model—sleek, blinding white in the sun, with glassy black windows cutting along her sides like a predator’s eyes. The name Aurora’s Grace scripted in glossy black along the hull, looked expensive enough to pay rent for a year.
She was the kind of big that made you feel like you’d need a map just to find the bathroom. Decks stacked high, clean lines running bow to stern, satellite domes perched on top like a crown. Up front, the bow sliced into the sea like it owned the whole damn bay.
This baby almost gave Rafe the same burning itch in his fingers as your dad’s Corvette.
His gaze shifted to you, a huge smile spreading across his face as he adjusted his grip on the grocery bags. “Am I allowed to say I’m turned on now?”
You chuckled softly. “Just wait till you see what’s inside.”
Oh, Rafe knew this beauty had some insane, luxurious interior just from the outside alone.
“C’mon.” You gently tugged his hand, leading him across the wooden dock.
And as soon as the yacht’s full profile came into view, Rafe’s whole body buzzed with such wild anticipation and excitement, his brain almost believed he was about to do a line.
He was so in awe of this majesty, he barely noticed when you stopped at the side of the hull, your fingers slipping from his to fish out the yacht key. With a quick turn and PIN entry, the boarding ladder extended from the side.
Absolutely impressed, Rafe let out a low whistle. “Sheesh, how much does your mom make?”
“Enough to pay for both our funerals if we break anything,” you said, shooting him a warning side-eye.
Rafe chuckled, his hand sliding to your lower back to nudge you forward. “Then I’d like to request sharing a casket with you.”
“Rafe Cameron trying not to be clingy: Challenge Impossible.”
“Real funny,” he muttered, giving you another nudge. “Now move your pretty ass up the stairs before I carry you.”
And you did, thank God. After edging him all day, finally, you’d made it onto the yacht.
Well, and because Rafe was only human—and just a guy—he took in the sight of your ass like it had been personally delivered to him by God. Amen.
But his eyes were ripped away from that short-lived blessing the moment he stepped onto the aft deck, his whole smile dropping into pure confusion.
Warm light spilled across the scene: strings of fairy lights tangled with paper lanterns swaying in the breeze, casting a soft glow over the gleaming outdoor kitchen and cushioned seating. A scatter of red heart balloons bobbed lazily against the railings.
For a small second, he believed this was for him but that wouldn't make sense.
Probably just some leftover setup your mom had thrown together for a date with your dad or some shit. No way in hell you’d actually prepared something like this for him with literal hearts decorating the yacht. And if you had, it was probably just to mock him for enjoying this act so much.
But when would you have even found the time anyway? You’d spent the whole afternoon with your annoying girl squad.
Whatever.
Rafe snorted, let out an amused “Cute” and headed over to the outdoor kitchen, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter with a soft thud.
“Here? Or should I put them inside?” he asked, shifting his gaze to you while dropping his backpack to the floor.
For a solid five seconds, you just eyed him silently, arms crossed, amusement written all over your face. Rafe almost thought he’d already broken some unwritten yacht rule or whatever the fuck but then you asked, “Are you ignoring the setup on purpose, acting all nonchalant, or do you just not like it?”
What.
The.
Fuck.
No way.
Rafe’s smile turned crooked, disbelief tugging at him. “It’s… for me?”
For some reason, something close to confusion—maybe even hurt—flickered across your face before you nodded, brows furrowed as you stepped closer. “What? Yes, of course. Who else would it be for?”
Maybe yourself, how the fuck would he know?
“Some side fucker,” Rafe answered, because he was too overwhelmed to say anything else.
To his surprise, you didn’t scold him. You just looked at him with dry amusement, tossed your purse onto the counter, and grabbed his hand.
“Alright,” you said, smiling in that amused way as you nodded toward the main salon doors. “Then I’ll show you what else I prepared for my side chick, and you can rate it if it’s good enough.” You tilted your head slightly, lashes fluttering at him in mockery. “Sound good?”
Wow. Even parroting him now.
“You pissed?” he asked, uncertain whether to smile or raise his brows, so he did both, probably looking like a complete idiot.
He knew this passive-aggressive act well. Plenty of girls had pulled it. Smiling at him while their eyes said something entirely different. Hell, even his dad had that expression—amusement on his face while he tore Rafe apart for being a fuckup.
You snorted, shaking your head. “More like offended you’d think I’m a cheater.”
“I don’t—”
“Come,” you cut in, chuckling, tugging his hand again. “Wanna show my pretty boy what I did all afternoon.”
Fuck.
You couldn’t say shit like that with that sweet smile, those eyes locked on him, and drag him deeper into the yacht like you were about to pull him straight into the bedroom.
Honestly, where the fuck had you suddenly pulled all this boldness from?
It was like—
Whatever thought had tried to form in Rafe’s head was completely wiped clean the second the salon doors opened, revealing a scene straight out of one of those cheesy teen romance movies Wheezie loved to watch.
Except… there was nothing cheesy about this.
On the fucking contrary, it looked insane(ly beautiful).
The whole room glowed, soft red LEDs bleeding warmth across every sharp line of the ridiculously expensive interior. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the ocean, waves curling in the last gold of the evening, and right in the center sat this massive couch. In front of it, a table held a dark flower bouquet so big it looked like it had been two originally, surrounded by gifts wrapped in shiny paper like they’d been waiting for him all day.
Heart balloons floated in the air, heart-shaped confetti sprinkled everywhere like Cupid had thrown up. Plushies—three fucking Minions, a red Among Us guy, even little buddy R2-D2—were tucked into the cushions, surrounded by Star Wars blankets. And looming above it all, across the wall with the giant flat screen, hung a massive flag of Lightning McQueen, KACHOW plastered across it in bold letters.
It all looked so stupid and cringe, like you’d purposely raided his childhood for the most ridiculous shit just to make fun of him. And yet…
It felt suffocating in a way he’d never felt before.
It made his stomach twist, his chest ache, his throat tighten, because this wasn’t random shit strung together. This was his shit. Stuff he hadn’t thought about in years, things he’d rolled his eyes at and shoved into the dusty corners of his brain before anyone else could laugh at them. Things he’d decided were fucking lame before anyone else got the chance.
And yet here they were. And he didn’t even want to guess what was in those wrapped boxes.
Shit.
His jaw locked, heat burning behind his eyes, and he had to blink hard—once, twice—because no way in hell was he tearing up over some dumb plushies or an ugly-ass Cars flag. Or over the fact that someone—you—had actually spent time, effort, thought on him.
But it was real hard to hold back.
His chest felt too tight, like the air itself was heavy, pressing down on him. Bitter and sweet all at once. That same tang he’d spit out years ago when he decided none of it was worth his time anymore.
He dragged in a slow breath, but it caught halfway. And before he could stop himself, his lips trembled like some pathetic kid about to cry.
Man up, man up, man up.
“Do you like it?”
Your voice—gentle, careful—pulled his eyes to yours. Soft, uncertain, as if you were scared of how he’d react.
Everything in him screamed to grab your face and kiss you, to show you just how much he liked loved it but he was frozen, drowning under too much at once.
And the moment your smile faltered, brows twitching, and your little, “What’s wrong?” slipped out, Rafe broke under the weight and moved.
His arms wrapped around your shoulders, your body responding instantly as you hugged him back. His face buried in your neck, and then the sobs came.
Ugly, raw, humiliating sobs tearing out of him while tears soaked his skin like he was some pathetic little boy crying over a scraped knee.
Fuck, and when your arms slid up his back, your hand softly cradling his hair, he couldn’t stop the quiet whimper that escaped, feeling the safest he had in years.
Not even your hug this morning compared, because this? This was different. This was safety in its purest form.
And slowly, the shame and self-disgust chewing at him began to loosen its grip. Because where his dad would’ve barked at him to man up, to wipe away his stupid tears, you just held him. Rubbed slow, soothing circles across his back, and let him be.
It clashed with everything Rafe had known about affection and vulnerability.
And it felt... good.
After what felt like forever in your arms, he finally got a grip and pulled back. Cheeks warm, eyes sore and red, and he didn’t even want to think about how pathetic he must look.
And yet, you just looked at him with warmth and kindness. Like he hadn’t just bared his entire fucking soul.
“You okay?” you asked, genuine worry in your voice, your hands still resting on his arms, thumbs brushing gentle circles.
Rafe nodded, swiping the last of his tears, swallowing down another sob before furrowing his brows. “Fuck, sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you said, smiling awkwardly. “Guess the setup looked better in my head.”
Rafe blinked, shaking his head quick. “Shit, what? No! That’s not—”
“Just messing with you,” you cut in, giggling—sweet, soft—and his whole expression melted.
Fuck. Now more than ever, Rafe wanted to pick you up, carry you to whatever massive bedroom this yacht had, and cover you in kisses. Show you just how much this meant.
Instead, he tugged you closer by the hips, soaking in your startled little gasp as your hands flattened against his chest.
Now, he decided.
Your eyes, your lips—so close, so inviting. He could feel the air shift, the anticipation hanging between you.
Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do—
“C’mon,” you said a little overwhelmed, letting out a startled breath, and patted his chest. Then you nodded toward the couch. “Open your gifts before I hand them to my side chick.”
Pussy, he cursed himself as he let you slip away and followed you over, rubbing his eyes one last time.
Now, for real, man up, dude.
He dropped down next to the three Minion plushies, picking one up with a grimace. “Can we throw these into the sea?”
“No,” you said firmly. “You have their custody now, and I expect you to take care of them.”
Rafe scoffed, twisting the little fucker in his hand, his little weak moment already pushed away into some corner of his mind. “He’s dead anyway by the looks of it.” He waved a hand at the others. “All their eyes are closed.”
“They’re obviously sleeping,” you countered, lifting one up and pointing at its face. “See? They’re all smiling and looking content.”
“I’m gonna burn them alive then,” he said flatly, earning your sweet laugh. “Seriously, what the fuck are they even smiling about? Glad they fucked with your head or some shit?”
You set the Minion down carefully, folding your hands in your lap. “Well, I assume around you they feel safe. No need to set my brain ablaze.”
Rafe froze, eyes meeting yours. And somehow, those words sparked a strange, tender warmth in his chest.
He furrowed his brows and gently set the plush down beside its cousins. “Aight, I’ll leave them with a warning. For now.” Then he grabbed the R2-D2 plush which was basically just a round pillow with the droid’s markings. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“Kelce said you liked Anakin when you were younger,” you said, “so I figured you must like his little buddy too.”
Hell no. You’d talked to Kelce about this? Eugh. Rafe didn’t even wanna know what else that idiot had told you about him, but judging by the franchises represented here, it had to be… a lot.
Shit, whatever. You’d gone out of your way to get these for him, so who cared what Kelce might’ve spilled? No way he was gonna let that thought ruin his mood.
So Rafe just nodded, still staring at the little guy, a strange aching tug pulling at his chest at seeing this familiar character again. Star Wars had been such a huge part of his life years ago.
“Yeah,” he said, setting R2 back next to the minions. “He’s a funny guy.” Then he looked up at you, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “Thank you.”
Fuck, and your own little smile Rafe drank up like ice-cold lemonade.
“He also said you had a crazy Among Us phase,” you added with a chuckle, handing him that fuckass red plush. “And Sarah mentioned this is your favorite color, so…”
Rafe frowned, turning the little bastard over in his hands. He really didn’t like how much time you’d been spending with his sister lately, and he didn’t even wanna imagine how often you texted her.
It pissed him off bad, but he’d learned you didn’t react well when he voiced it, so he bit his tongue and just said, “I don’t even know why I grinded it that much. It’s a boring game.” Then he chuckled, expression softening. “Think I only liked fucking with people in the chat.”
“Kelce said you forced him and Topper to play it for weeks.”
“Okay, yeah, it was addicting,” he admitted with a defiant smile.
Rafe set this one aside too, his chest feeling strangely warm and full at how much effort you’d put into all of this. It was stupid, but he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something this thoughtful for him. For a second, he almost hated how much it mattered.
You chuckled, handing him a square gift about the size of a soccer ball. “Hope you’ve got better things to say about this one.”
Rafe eyed the neatly wrapped box, noting the little hearts printed on the paper. “So many hearts. Didn’t know my girl was that in love with me.”
An awkward laugh slipped from you as you gestured at the box. “Hurry up. You and your girl still have a project to finish.”
Eugh. Fuck. No need to remind him.
He shot you a dry side-eye and ripped the paper open. His eyes widened immediately.
Behind the plastic window of the red packaging stood an Infernape figure, flames curling around him and his two pre-evolutions, frozen mid-action pose.
Shit looked insane.
“I figured you liked Pokémon after that Psyduck plush,” you said, fiddling with your bracelet. “And I found out Infernape was your favorite.”
Still is, Rafe almost admitted, completely in awe of it, but he clamped his mouth shut. No way was he coming off as some cringe nerd boy.
“He’s cool,” he said instead, trying to mask his excitement. “Always wrecked Topper’s lame-ass Torterra with him.”
Stupid idiot, thinking his grass turtle stood a chance against fire.
“And I assume Kelce beat your ass with Empoleon.”
Rafe frowned. “You wanna make me cry again?”
You both laughed at that.
“I also debated buying some busty Tsunade hentai figure as a joke,” you mumbled, “but figured preaching feminism and then gifting that stuff would kinda kill my point.”
Who cared about anime chicks when he had you sitting right here?
“Nah.” Rafe carefully set the figure on the table. “This is way better. Besides,” he threw you a cheeky side-eye as he leaned back, “I’m sure my pretty girl will show me her tits later.”
His face was immediately met with a Minion.
“Vulgar.”
Rafe let out a cocky laugh and helped himself to the next gift. Another box-shaped one, but this time a little smaller.
“Wait, no.” You snatched it out of his hand and shoved an even smaller one at him instead. “This first.”
The fact you’d even gotten him so many gifts in the first place… that alone was already a gift.
Excited, he tore the wrapping off, revealing a black leather box with his initials engraved in gold.
Fuck. You’d gotten him personalized jewelry?
He met your gaze in disbelief, confusion flickering across his face as he caught the grin you were trying to hold back.
“Open it,” you said, barely keeping in your laughter.
So you were about to troll him. Great.
With furrowed brows, he clicked the black box open, only to stare down at pure fuckery.
On a red satin cushion lay a cheap-looking silver bracelet, decked out with red, white, and black plastic charms, slim silver sparkles, and random stars and hearts.
Dude.
Rafe looked up again, only to be met with your laughter.
“Which fuckass horse does this belong to?” he asked, a downward grin tugging at his lips.
You shook your head. “None.” You gestured between the bouquet and the bracelet, stifling another laugh. “They’re themed after the same character.”
A crease formed between Rafe’s brows as his gaze flicked back and forth between the big-ass bouquet and the bracelet. Sure, the color scheme felt familiar, but he just couldn’t—
“That stupid fucking hedgehog?” A baffled laugh escaped his lips.
You nodded, biting your grin back. “I saw you had a wallpaper of him on your iPad, so I figured you must like him somehow.”
“I just thought the pic looked cool,” he said with a faint smile, rolling the bracelet’s charms between his fingers.
You’d actually gotten him a bracelet.
And somehow that was the best gift of all because now he got to wear you around his wrist, just like you wore him. Only thing was…
“But they aren’t matching,” he said, his smile fading as he nodded toward yours.
And then it hit him: maybe your bracelet didn’t match you anymore either. Because you were way crazier, way more fucked up than that shy-ass Fluttershy horse.
“Yeah, well, I would’ve picked Rainbow Dash for you,” you admitted with a sheepish smile, “but I doubt you’d have worn a girlish rainbow colored bracelet in fear of looking gay or whatever.”
He snorted. “My baby knows me too well.” Then he set the leather box aside and just kept the bracelet.
Shit. You probably expected him to wear this now. But if he did, every dude out there would think he was some lovesick loser, a weirdo obsessed with a kids’ show, or actually gay.
But then again... anyone who even recognized where it belonged to was a weirdo themselves. And why the fuck would it be cringe showing off his girl like that? (Plus, okay, yeah, it actually looked kinda sick).
He held it out to you expectantly. “Will my pretty girl do me the honor?”
A sweet chuckle slipped from your lips as you scooted closer until your thighs brushed.
“Just to clarify, this is a friendship bracelet,” you said, still smiling sheepishly as you opened the clasp.
A jolt of electricity sparked up Rafe's arm when your hands grazed his skin while you fastened it. “Friendzoning your boyfriend. Cold.”
“Well, when this is over, I’ll technically be your ex.” You smiled awkwardly, eyes fixed on the clasp as you fumbled with it. “Would be weird wearing an ex’s jewelry, don’t you think?”
“Then I’ll just do my best to avoid that scenario,” Rafe said, voice low.
Sweet.
He’d flustered you the way your fumbling stilled, your wide eyes meeting his. You quickly looked away, though, laughing awkwardly.
Rafe counted that as a win—no frown, no rejection. He thought about pushing it, asking why it would be so bad to let this continue even after the act wasn’t needed anymore. But he didn’t want to scare you off or freak out your little minions, so he bit his tongue.
Gently, you turned the bracelet so the clasp sat underneath his wrist, then leaned back to eye him. “Looks good on you.”
Rafe smiled, raising his hand and twisting his wrist to see for himself. Then he grinned at you, making a suggestive motion with his hand. “Don’t freak out if you hear a little jingling next to you tonight.”
This time, you smacked him with a pillow full force. “NO!”
He just laughed at your high-pitched shriek, grabbing the pillow and tossing it aside. “Kidding.” A smug brow raised. “Though I’m sure both our bracelets could make some beautiful harmony.”
“Alright, Mozart,” you shot back immediately, hands flying up in mock disgust as you stood (Rafe lost it laughing again). “I’d rather have you composing collages.”
Nerd.
“Where are you going?” Rafe asked, nodding toward the last gift. “There’s still one left.”
You frowned. “You’ll open it once your horny hormones have calmed down.”
Yo, what the fuck was in that gift then?
“Some pocket pussy in there or what?” He broke into a giggle at your expression and raised his hands. “Shit, sorry. Let’s get to hustling.”
But as he stood, you shook your head. “You wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“What, why?”
Finally, your smile returned, crooked this time. “Gonna grab the cookies.” You nodded at the table. “Plus, you haven’t even given the flowers more than one look. I wanna hear how much you like them when I get back.”
Not even waiting for his reply, you wandered off, and Rafe just so happened to be looking right where your ass swayed. Pure coincidence, obviously.
Then he finally turned to the massive bouquet, his fingers brushing over a few petals. He had no fucking clue what 99% of these flowers were—except the emo sunflower—but they looked sick anyway.
The dark reds and blacks looked cool as hell. Not some cringe, oversaturated, sparkly girly bouquet. No, this one actually looked made for a guy.
The fact you’d even given him flowers… At first, when he spotted them, he felt ridiculed. What the fuck was he supposed to do with a gift usually meant for girls? But the more he looked, the more he decided he liked them.
Especially the roses. Basic as hell, sure, but something about them just scratched his brain right.
He even leaned in, inhaling the sweet mix of scents, and as good as they smelled, they still didn’t come close to you.
“Giving yourself the full experience?” you asked, startling Rafe. He straightened up fast, smiling awkwardly like he’d just been caught.
In your hands was a pink, rose-colored box, which you set down on the counter.
“So?” you asked, raising a brow. “What do you have to say about the very specifically, very personally chosen flowers?”
Rafe stepped up beside you, leaning back on the counter. A grin spread across his lips as he tilted his head toward you. “So lovely and gorgeous, I’d sleep with them if I could.”
“Jesus Christ,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head in deep disappointment.
Rafe turned back around, leaning on his arms now, lips tugging down into a smirk when he caught you eyeing his biceps. “But of course, you come first.”
“Alright, you and these flowers are getting your own room,” you deadpanned, but he didn’t miss that little twitch at the corners of your mouth. Then you cleared your throat, smiling. “Anyway. Cookies.”
Rafe chuckled. “Made by my girl?”
“More like your girl’s girl,” you said, opening the mysterious cookie box.
The smell hit him immediately. Sweet, herbal, with a hint of chocolate.
Rafe blinked at you, startled laughter spilling out. “Edibles?”
Never in a million years would he have expected you to mean space cookies when you said “nice cookies”, especially since you’d said your mom kept them stocked.
“Well, yeah,” you mumbled, thumb tracing the box’s edge. “When you said your day was stressful too, I figured maybe we could, y’know.” Then you frowned, shaking your head. “Though now I’m not sure it’s a good idea with you going through withdrawals and—”
“Nah, let’s do it.”
Aww, the way your eyes widened, almost worried. “You sure? I don’t want you—”
“Yeah.” He nodded with a smile. “It’s just harmless hash cookies. I do these like three times a month with Kelce.” His grin widened as he leaned across the counter a little closer to you. “Besides, I’m not about to miss the chance to see you all high and clingy.”
You frowned, shoving him back by the shoulder. “On second thought, maybe scratch that idea. Don’t even wanna imagine what level of clinginess YOU’ll hit.”
“Not denying I wanna be close to you,” Rafe murmured, amused. “Also—random fun fact—sex while high is a whole different experience.”
Only it would never happen, because you’d be too shy to even agree, and also… no condoms.
“Another random fun fact,” you said, smiling at him with exaggerated politeness, “you have some serious hypersexuality issues and should probably get that checked.”
As if it was HIS fault you made him horny.
And Rafe was in no fucking mood to talk about whatever issues you thought he had, so he just snatched a cookie from the box and stared at you expectantly.
“Yeah, no, let’s share one,” you said, seriousness returning. “These are strong. Cara made them.”
Rafe scoffed. “Bet I’d need to eat three, then.”
“It’s Barry’s weed, so I doubt it.”
Fuck that. You mentioning Barry clawed at something deep and ugly inside him.
The fact that you knew this fucker—and seemed close with him—pissed Rafe off so badly it threatened to ruin his whole mood. So, without even thinking, he just devoured the cookie in three bites.
You just stared at him, startled.
“What?” He chuckled, swallowing the last bite.
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
Damn. You actually sounded tense, panic edging in underneath.
Rafe chuckled again, voice calm. “Relax. My tolerance is like three or four times yours. I’ll just feel chilled, that’s all.”
Shit. Your minions didn’t look satisfied with that one.
“I’m serious,” he said, trying his best to sound it, as he gestured to his chest. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, alright? I’ve eaten more than this before and I was still fine.”
It was true. He always needed at least two cookies when he did this with Kelce to feel properly stoned, and that was Barry’s shit as well.
Someone like you, though—doing this once probably every six months and already struggling with your head—should definitely not eat more than half unless you wanted to spiral into an overdose panic attack and have some horror trip.
But it seemed you already knew that, so he didn’t bother lecturing.
“Rafe, edibles are not to be messed with,” you said, annoyed, no, anxious. “Cara ate two once because she thought it wasn’t kicking in, and thirty minutes later her panic attack triggered one in me too because she was terrified she was dying. Worst experience of my life.”
Not my fault your friend’s stupid enough to overestimate herself, he thought.
“I promise you, I’ll be fine,” he said instead and meant it. “Besides, no way I’ll panic knowing you’re with me.”
Your frown deepened into a scowl.
After a pause, though, you sighed, nodding. “Still, that was a fucking stupid move considering you didn’t know the exact strength of each.”
“Stop babbling and eat yours,” Rafe chuckled, taking one from the box and breaking it in half. He handed one piece to you and put the other back. “C’mon, gotta finish this shitty-ass project before these babies kick in.”
Which, if he was lucky, would be in like thirty minutes to an hour max. Because there was no way he wanted to waste more time on this fuckass project. Maybe he’d just pretend, so he could FINALLY get you close to him.
You took the half, eyeing him deadpan. “You’re a terrible role model, just saying.” Then you popped it into your mouth anyway.
Rafe scoffed, eyes glued to your lips. “This was your idea.” He chuckled. “First lecturing me about my ‘addiction,’ then trying to drug me after. Double standards.”
With a dull thud, you shut the cookie box and shot him a venomous side-eye (oh, how he loved that little attitude of yours). “You said it yourself. Just some harmless cookies.”
“The cookies, yes,” he said, grinning. “But what we’re gonna do later won’t be so harmless.”
And when you shot him an expression so dry and deadpan before leaving to put the cookies back where they belonged, Rafe started seriously regretting not having brought some condoms tonight.
Because if the way things were going right now was any indication, he was gonna need them.
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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->
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T A G L I S T F O R M
(taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)
Gracie Abrams · Good Riddance (Deluxe) · Song · 2023
And now I, now I bet you resent all of me, all of it
Angry, blocking me over the internet
Promise I don't forget all of my fault in this
'Cause look at me, I'm alone, sitting here, staying home
All of my self-control kinda got difficult
But I deserve it though, I deserve it though
You were there all the time
You're the worst of my crimes
You fell hard, I thought, "Good riddance"
So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember, if you truly want to understand the present or yourself, you must begin in the past. You see, history is not simply the study of the past. It is an explanation of the present.
Cutting through the avenues
I'd always find my way to you
Beside the hook, the hammer lies
Fumbling round in the smoke
Spending time chasing ghosts
Hold me down, hold me down, child
Hold me down, hold me down, child
It's not your fault
I could've done more
Like being upfront
Honest about what I want
But it's not like me
To just say what I feel
Though I feel it, it's real
Melinda Sordino: Here's what I learned in Bio. If the seed is planted too deep, it doesn't warm up in time. Once the plant surfaces, it sprouts leaves so it can absorb more sun. If someone picks the flower, the plant grows another bloom to produce more seeds.
