hi! i don’t know if you’ve alr answered this but can i ask what app u use for texts/chats? thank uu!
hiii!! i just use my messages on my phone lol
i make a contact with my number so i’m texting myself, i just change the name and pfp to whoever the texts are for! and then i delete the texts that the person isn’t supposed to say
summary: you and rafe study. you and rafe go on a date. you and rafe go to a football gala.
word count: 4.9k
warnings: mention of rafe loving his sisters. terrible description of 3 dresses. emotional distress?
notes: i burnt my thumb making cookies and it hurt sm to type this. :( also poll at the end i cant decide how to end this, so you guys are.
previous part. next part. series masterlist.
Finals were nearing. The end of football season was nearing. The end of your first semester in college was nearing. So far you could say it's been a great time. You actually lived life and thoroughly enjoyed your college experience.
Yes you were studying a crazy amount, but you were still going out with all your friends. You were still actively participating in the sorority. You were passing your classes, what you tell your mom is the most important part. You tell Leah it's the opposite.
You managed to convince Leah to come down the last week you're in school before winter break, she would be done with finals while you still have one more. You’re excited for her to come meet your friends, you’re even excited for her to meet Rafe.
You didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to be like this with you. If somebody told you right after the interaction the two of you had in August, that he’d be helping you study when in reality your study sessions turn into flirty comments thrown back and forth, you would’ve barfed on them.
After he helped you out the day after Halloween, your relationship to you seemed like it changed course. Rafe seemed easier around you, he no longer looked like he was holding back, instead he would answer any flirty advance you gave ten fold.
It was a welcomed change, you certainly were enjoying it. You were no longer pretending that you weren't attracted to him either.
Now here the two of you were in the library, your usual spot. A deck of flashcards nearly gone between the two of you.
Rafe was spinning some pen between his fingers, lazily leaning back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you with that familiar smirk.
You, although, were plotting ways for his murder. For the last hour and a half he had you going through these flashcards. You even tried to get him to do his own work and leave you alone, but no, he claimed he finished everything before meeting you.
“Last one,” he said, you groaned. “What is the function of the notochord in chordates? And don’t tell me to help them live.”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s a flexible rod-shaped skeletal structure that provides skeletal support and serves as an attachment point for axial muscles. HA!”
“Wow, almost word for word off the flashcard,” he laughs.
“Don’t look so smug,” you shot back. “I only remember because I got it wrong so many times.”
Rafe let out a low chuckle. “I’m not smug, I’m proud. You’re paying attention to me instead of counting down the hours you get to leave.”
Before lowly adding, “only took the entire semester.”
“I always pay attention to you,” you counter.
You held his gaze, refusing to back down as he stared at you daring you to elaborate. Instead of firing back with his usual quick wit, Rafe got quiet. He tapped his knuckles against the desk, his expression shifting to something more determined, something more nervous.
“Your friend gets into town soon right?” He asks.
You can’t lie, the change in subject made you a little embarrassed. Instead you nodded and answered. “Yeah, actually in two weeks. She finished her finals next week, weird super early. I told her we’re all getting dinner, you’re coming right?”
“Obviously,” he responded like it genuinely the most obvious thing in the world. “I want to meet the only person with a brain from your hometown.”
Rafe adjusted his position, his eyes laser focused on you before saying, “but before she gets here, I want to take you out. Just the two of us.”
Your heart did a flip. “We go out all the time, Rafe. Technically we’re out right now just the two of us.”
“Not like this. No studying, no sisters, no frat parties, just us. At dinner at this nice Italian restaurant. An actual official date. Thursday night.”
You study his face for a second, “an actual date?”
He nods. “Yup. You dress up, I pick you up, we eat a nice dinner and get ice cream after. Let me take you out properly.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to hide the smile growing on your face. “Okay, Thursday night. It’s a date.”
He smiles at you like he’s won the lottery.
Thursday came faster than you thought. After spending almost two hours in TJ maxx looking for the right dress you finally decided on a silk white dress with black polka dots. It had thin straps and a nice lacey area in the chest area.
A ding from your phone broke the steady stream of music playing. Your heart started pounding faster.
Rafe: I’m outside
Rafe: Also I would’ve come to your door to come get you if I didn't have to scan my ID to get in
You smiled as you grabbed your coat and purse and headed down the stairs. You stepped out the glass doors to see Rafe waiting outside against the hood of his car. His phone was in his hand, as if he could sense you he looked up.
His eyes looked you up and down, and for a second couldn’t form any coherent thought.
“You look… wow,” he breathed. He cleared his throat, opening the passenger door for you. “Seriously, you look incredible.”
A flush warmth crept up your neck. You smiled at him. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
The restaurant Rafe had chosen was a small italian restaurant tucked away in that same historic district. Far enough from campus that the two of you could have a nice night without anybody bothering you two.
The hostess led you to a secluded corner booth, and the moment you sat down, the easy rhythm took over. No first date award small talk, just simple easy flowing conversation. The two of you talked about any and everything. From how your sorority was doing, how the frat was, how off-season was going to be like him for him.
“Yeah, we’re going to lose a good amount of players this year for the draft,” he told you. “That just means anybody wanting to transfer here or commit here, I have to show them a good time.”
“Make sure to wear protection. I heard football players really get around.”
He throws a piece of bread at you. “You know that's not what I meant.”
“Would you declare?” You asked him. You twist your head to the side, watching his face for a reaction. “I mean, I’m sure you have a ton of time between graduation and when you have to take over your dads company. Plus professional football players usually retire when they’re like 30 anyway.”
He stares at you for a second. “You know, I never thought of that.”
“You’re welcome,” you sing, taking a sip from your drink.
When the food arrived, two massive plates of homemade pasta and another basket of bread, Rafe leaned back in his seat.
“What?” you asked, pausing the fork that was so close to getting into your mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I was just thinking about the last time we went out to eat. How different it is this time, not that I’m complaining though, you’re a corpse when hungover.”
You roll your eyes, “that was a one-time lapse in judgement that will never happen again. But to be so honest, thank you. You could’ve left me to sit in my sadness at all, but you didn’t. You really helped me out.”
He smiles at you. That nice, soft smile. The one that makes your stomach do a little flip. The one you told yourself you’d be stupid to fall for, but now here you are.
“It was the highlight of my semester.”
By the time you finished dinner, the night air had grown even colder, but neither of you was ready to call it an evening. Thankfully, Rafe found a little ice cream shop down the street that was still open. Despite the fact that it started to get a little bit more chilly, you agreed it was never too cold for ice cream.
With a waffle cone in hand with two scoops of your favorite flavor, you walked over to a weathered park bench. The one with those attached tables that you always see in a park or around campus.
You slid onto one side of the wooden bench pulling your coat tighter around your shoulders. Rafe sat next to you, dropping his coat on you without another word.
“Won’t you be cold?” You ask.
“Maybe a little. But it’s worth it,” he shrugged like it was nothing.
You would’ve believed it, if you didn’t see him shiver slightly. You took his hand in yours, giving it warmth it obviously needed. He squeezed it softly, letting his thumb brush your knuckles.
“You know, Sarah was convinced I was going to mess this up today. Tried to convince me to just let her take you out instead.”
You laughed. “Why’d she think that?”
“I normally don’t do this,” he said, his tone slipping into something genuine. “I haven’t been on a real date since I started college. I’m usually focused on football or something else. I feel like I’d have to perform to whatever people expect of me. But with you, it’s easy, I don’t feel like I have to perform or prove anything. I feel relieved.”
“You never do,” you say simply.
His face was soft as he looked at you. The dim glow of the overhead light casting a shadow in his eyes.
The conversation drifted into random quiet things. He told you he wasn’t looking forward to winter break, all his friends came here. The only person he was excited to see was his sister. You asked about her, and he seemed to just melt. Rafe loved his sisters, that much to you was evident.
He tells you he’s glad you chose this university. “Even if it was because your old friends are assholes, I’m still glad it led you here.”
The drive back to your dorm was anything but quiet. The nice peaceful evening you had, shifted.
You laughed, loudly. “Do you seriously have Carly Rae Jepsen in your pregame playlist? Rafe, you are thirty.”
His face flushed. “Can you stop going through that?”
“Oh my gosh, Madonna? You’re a diva?”
“I’m deleting the playlist,” he grumbles. You double over in laughter.
When Rafe turned into the parking lot of your dorm, you were near tears. He grabbed his phone from you, pressing shuffle on another playlist, different from the one you were scrolling. When Drake started playing, you laughed harder.
“You can’t defend yourself with Drake of all people!” You insist, wiping your eyes.
“He has great lyrics!” He countered.
“Keychain go jang-a-lang are great lyrics?”
“Anyways,” he began, changing the subject. “Did I pass the first date?”
“The Drake failed you,” you answer.
He groans your name. You shake your head. “I’m kidding! Yes you did pass, I had a great time.”
“Okay good,” he said. “Because, I wanna ask you on the second date.”
“Already?” You ask, jokingly. “Wow, I’m good.”
You smile teasingly when he looks at you with a ‘are you serious’ expression. But he continues nonetheless.
“It’s next weekend. The donors for the team throw this end of season gala. It’s pretty formal, and usually everybody has a date and I end up getting forced to speak to donors all night. Would you wanna be my official date for it?”
Your eyes widened slightly. A gala surrounded by donors for the football team, the football team plus dates, the coaching staff, and any extra staff deemed football responsible was a lot of people to be around. Especially if you’re going to be with the star player. Not to mention his first date ever to the event.
Your ego was singing.
“Rafe, I’d love to go.”
Relief washed over his face almost comically. “Yeah? You’re sure? It might get a little boring, listening to donors talk for hours.”
“Do you want me to change my mind?” You asked. He shakes his head quickly. “Yes I’m positive.”
"Great," he nodded, his eyes bright. "I'll send you the info when I get home.”
You nodded.
You’re stepping out the passenger side the same time he gets out the drivers. He’s walking you to the front of your building.
“Goodnight, Rafe,” you say softly looking at him.
He grins, “dates not over yet.”
Your pulse jumps as he leans down. His lips connect with yours, softly and only for a few seconds.
“I’d be an idiot not to kiss you goodnight.”
You didn’t stop smiling like an idiot until you were inside your dorm. You hadn’t felt this unbothered happiness after a first date in a long time.
Sarah picks you up on Thursday for the two of you to go dress shopping. The second you’re in her car, she lets her questions bombard you.
“Was he a gentleman? Did he open the doors? Did he pay, he better have paid. What did he do? What did he wear? What did you wear? Do you have pictures? Show me!”
You blink in utter shock taking in all that she just said. “Okay, so one question at a time.”
She nods, takes a deep breath. “How was it?”
You melt into the seat. “Oh it was so great. He was genuinely the perfect gentleman all night. When we were sitting outside, he gave me his jacket, even though I already had mine, even though he was cold.”
Sarah gushes. “Oh he’s so gone.”
As the two of you drove toward the shopping district downtown, you gave her the full rundown. The cozy Italian restaurant, the ice cream outside, you mentioned his taste of music being insane, and finally the invitation to Saturday nights gala.
Sarah practically squealed. “The gala! That’s huge for him! The boosters are always breathing down his neck, and usually our dad tries to manage who he associates with at those things because of the business and whatever. Asking you means he wants everybody to know who he’s with! I’m so happy I could literally burst.”
The boutique Sarah leds you unit smelled faintly of vanilla and expensive linens. Racks of different material gowns lined the walls in a gradient of light to dark colors.
“So the theme is, as always, the nutcracker. I don’t know if the donors love the play or what, but for the past three years it’s been the nutcracker. So we need something that I guess makes us look like we’re in the nutcracker.”
You spent the next hour in the changing rooms, parading out in front of the massive three-way mirrors while Sarah sat on the plush velvet ottoman, acting like the two of you were in a movie montage. Every time you stepped out, she gave you critique that she said she channeled her inner Miranda Presley.
Eventually you chose the strapless dark green gown with a sparkling design across the chest area and subtly down the dress. It had 2 different layers that laid up nicely to give the look that the dress was bigger than it actually was. Which is what Sarah said worked perfectly.
Now it was your turn to sit in the chair and let Sarah parade in front of you in different dresses. She found her dress faster than you did. A nice blue velvet dress with a square neck and little mesh sleeves.
With the bags safely stored in the trunk, Sarah began dragging you toward the nail salon down the street. The two of you sank into the faint leather massage chairs, sighing in relief as your feet hit the warm bubbling water.
As the technicians began shaping your nails, the conversation drifted away from the gala and toward your busy schedules for the next few weeks.
“So,” you began. “Formals coming up, I heard they finally settled on a venue.”
Sarah perked up, eyes widening with excitement. “Oh, yes! Aw, your first formal. Have you decided who you’re taking, you have to bring somebody for the ticket sales and extra funds or whatever Melanie said.” She paused for a second, a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Are you gonna ask Rafe?”
You bit your lip, a sudden wave of nerves fluttering in your stomach. "I don't know. Should I? Is it too soon? We just had our first official date yesterday."
"Are you kidding me?" Sarah laughed, leaning across the armrest of her chair toward you. "Yes, ask him! He literally just asked you to a massive gala as his official date. Do it!”
“You don’t think it’s too forward?” You asked, eyes focused on your nails.
“Not at all,” Sarah insisted. “Trust me, he asked you to this, he’s going to be more than happy to go to formal with you. If you want him there, ask him. He'll probably clear his entire schedule before you even finish your sentence.”
The last sentence made your face warm. “Okay, I’ll ask him when he’s dropping me off after the gala.”
By the time Sarah dropped you back off at your dorm, the sun had gone down. Your arms were full with heavy shopping bags, holding your dress, and a few more things you treated yourself too. You were careful to open the door, your nails had come out perfectly and you didn’t want to chip them before Saturday.
You walked through the heavy glass doors of your building, your shoes clicking happily against the polished tile floor. As you waited for the elevator, you caught your reflection in the shiny metal doors. You looked bright. You looked alive.
Stepping into your dorm, once again opening the door so carefully. You tossed everything into your bed and yourself next to it. You were exhausted, but not in the same way you were last year.
This time last year you had been treated like public enemy number one. Your only friend was Leah, and even if you loved her, it was lonely at graduation watching everybody with their friend groups.
A wave of gratitude washed over you. Moving across the country had been the best thing you could’ve done for yourself. The close second would be joining the sorority and meeting Sarah.
You were genuinely and undeniably happy.
Saturday came quickly and you were a bundle of excitement. You didn’t go to anybody’s home to get ready, choosing to stay in the comfort of your own dorm.
Your hair was swept up into a bun, letting a few pieces fall from the sides. You wore simple silver jewelry, the dress was practically the accessory in itself. You sprayed perfume, applied lotion, did whatever it took. You were so excited you couldn’t remember what steps you’d done before.
Your music was cut off once again with a ding that had you practically leaping towards it.
Rafe: I’m here
Rafe: once again you live inside a fortress or I’d knock on your door
Your heart fluttered, you grabbed a small clutch, took your phone off the charger and practically raced downstairs.
You stepped outside to see Rafe leaning against his car. A sleek black tuxedo with a tie that matched the color of your dress perfectly. You’d sent him a zoomed in picture so you could match, only so he could see the color, not the entire dress.
The moment the door closed behind you, Rafe’s casual stance froze. His hands that were loosely resting in his pockets dropped. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak. His eyes traveled from your hair all the way down to where he could see your shoes peaking out from underneath your dress.
Amused by his reaction as you approached him, you did a small spin to show the dress off. You could hear him exhale, sharply.
“Well?” You asked softly. “Are you just going to stare or..”
Rafe swallowed hard. “I… Jesus,” he breathed out, his voice low. “You look, wow. I… there’s no words. I have none.”
You smile, “do you like the dress?” Knowing the answer.
Rafe closed the distance between you in one long stride, his fingers grasping this soft material. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make your breath catch. “I love the dress,” he answered, fast. “You’re gorgeous.”
The warmth he radiated and the genuine adoration in his eyes made you feel like it was only the two of you in the world right now.
“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss his check. “You’re pretty handsome yourself.”
He grins and winks at you. Gently, he guided you into the passenger seat, ensuring none of your dress was ticking out before closing the door.
The gala was held in some grand ballroom near the university. It had gold lighting, an ice sculpture of a nutcracker, Christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling, and a giant tree in the corner of the room.
You walked in, your hand tucked securely into the crook of Rafe’s arm. You felt a shift in his posture. The sudden ease had slipped into something rigid.
“Cameron!” A booming voice said, approaching the two of you. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with silvering and a sharp tailored suit.
"Coach," Rafe said, his posture straightening further as he shook the man’s hand. "Good to see you tonight."
"Great season, Cameron," the coach said, before his eyes immediately drifted to you, expanding into a warm, welcoming smile. "And who is this lovely young lady you've brought along?"
Rafe squeezed your hand slightly. He introduces you, and maybe it was the look in his eyes or the softness in his voice, but his coach’s eyes sparkled at you.
Rafe smoothly transitioned into speaking to the two donors who were lingering besides the coach. Thanks to the countless amount of time the two of you spent together you didn’t miss a joke. You engaged almost effortlessly, laughing at their bad jokes and old football plays. Reliving some of their glory days with them.
Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The way it was so easy for you to step into this like it was nothing, astounded him.
For the next couple of hours, the night was flawless. You shared a beautiful dinner, whispered a joke to him about the dramatics of a speech that made him choke on his drink, and the stolen quiet glances shared that made you feel like it was just the two of you in the crowded ballroom. Blissfully, perfectly happy.
Around mid-evening, you excused yourself to go to the restroom, meeting up with Sarah and Kiara near the grand corridor. The two of you spent a few minutes in front of the mirrors, fixing your lipstick and gushing over how incredible the night had been.
“I haven’t seen him take his eyes off of you all night,” Kiara said playfully. “Remember when it was ‘Rafes just being nice’?”
“Or, he’s just helping me study?” Sarah added.
You snort. “I still think he was just being nice.”
Kiara groans your name, “I love you, but you are the worst.”
With smiles plastered on your faces, the three of you pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the lounge to return to the ballroom. But as you stepped out into the quieter, dimly lit hallway that led to the athletic balcony, the sound of raised, angry voices cut through the quiet air.
“You’re insane, Rafe! You don’t get to just pay me and forget about it.”
You froze, as did Kiara and Sarah.
"Shut the fuck up, Kelce," Rafe's voice shot back, sharp, dangerous, and laced with venom. "I paid you weeks ago, forget about it. The bet has been off for weeks.”
“But you’re not even gonna tell us if you slept with her? I mean dude, parading her on your arm here like you didn’t just bet us 3 grand you couldn’t sleep with her is kind of crazy,” Kelce scoffed. “And don’t act high and mighty now, if I remember correctly it didn’t take any convincing to get you to agree.”
The hallway suddenly felt smaller with no oxygen. Your hands went numb, your fingers were gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles turned white.
A bet. A fucking bet. Three thousand dollars. Parading her on your arm.
Every memory of the last few months flashed through your mind like a car crash. Only a few weeks ago did you tell him how you were treated and made into a joke only a year ago, and apparently he had turned you into one already.
Topper met your eyes and suddenly cut in, “both of you shut the fuck up.”
A heavy suffocating silence fell over the hallway. It wasn’t until Rafe heard bracelets jingling, Kiara putting her hand over yours, did he turn around.
The color drained from his face the second he locked eyes with you. You were standing there, with the most profoundly hurt, devastated expression imaginable. You were biting the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from letting any tears fall from the humiliation you were feeling in the moment.
Beside you Sarah and Kiara stood horrified. Their eyes darting between the two of you.
“No,” Rafe whispered. He took a step toward you, you took a step back. “Please-,”
You didn’t let him finish. You spun around in your heels, the skirt of your dress twisting around your legs. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, instead you ran. Focused only on fleeing the situation.
"Wait! Please, wait!" Rafe’s frantic shouts echoed down the hallway behind you, followed by the heavy thud of his dress shoes sprinting after you.
Damn him being a football player, you thought.
You bursted through the exit doors into the freezing air. Your hands trembled violently as you managed to order the first Uber available.
Arrival time is four minutes, great. He’d surely get to you now.
"Please, just stop running! Hear me out, please!"
Rafe crashed through the exit doors, his tie completely loosened, his chest heaving as he sprinted down the steps. He stopped just a couple of feet away from you, his hands raised frantically in a gesture of pure desperation. His eyes wide and frantic with panic.
You whirled around to face him, you wouldn’t cry in front of him, no you wouldn’t give anybody that satisfaction. Your voice was shaking with a mixture of raw agony and betrayal, “how could you do this to me? How could you do this to me, Rafe? You knew! I told you what happened before, how I was humiliated and made into a laughing matter, and you did this to me again?!”
"I know, I know, and I hate myself for it!" Rafe begged, taking a trembling step closer, you took another step back. "I regret it so much. I swear to you, I cancelized it weeks ago. Please, you have to believe me, I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you! I’ve never felt his way towards anybody like I do with you, I’ve never liked somebody like this please!”
You let out a harsh, broken laugh, shaking your head. "You liked me? You had everybody fooled, Rafe! You played the part perfectly. Was it fun? Was it entertaining watching me actually trust you?"
"No! It wasn't a play!" he cried out, his voice cracking. He reached out, completely terrified to touch you but desperately wanting to close the distance. "I did like you. I do like you. Everything we did, that was all real! I swear on my life, it was real. Just please, please listen to me!"
"If you actually liked me," you whispered, your voice dropping into a cold, devastating clarity that seemed to cut him deeper than any scream could, "you would have never even considered saying yes to them. Saying yes to that bet made me an object to win. For money you don't even need, Rafe! You didn't do it because you needed the cash. You did it for fun. Because it was a game to you."
Rafe’s chest hoisted as he let out a ragged, shallow breath. The fight completely drained from him, his broad shoulders slumping as he stared at you, his voice dropping into a quiet, agonized plea.
"Please, don't do this. Don't leave. Just let me explain. Please."
"Leave me alone, Rafe," you said, your voice entirely dead, devoid of the warmth he had spent months coaxing out of you. "Just stay away from me.”
At that exact second, a pair of headlights swept across the pavement stopping right besides you. Without giving him another single glance you yelled open the door and slid into the backseat.
You slammed the door shut, begged your driver to get away from him as fast as they could.
When you finally make it back to your dorm you can’t help but let the tears flow freely. When you unlock the door, you’re met with your roommate sitting on her bed.
You’re shocked for a second, “sorry I didn’t know you’d be here.”
She looks up at you, startled first by the loud intrusion, and concerned second.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t know Rafe. She didn’t grow up with him and have some biased opinion on him.
So you tell her everything.
She listens. She hugs you, tells you he’s an idiot because only an idiot would do something like that, especially to you.
She apologizes for being a shitty roommate, you reassure her it’s okay because at least you never walked in on her in bed with her boyfriend. She laughs.
She helps you out of the dress you’re in that makes you feel like an idiot now.
You two order pizza and sit in her bed watching a movie for the rest of the night.
summary: you wake up after halloween to see rafe cameron spent the night in your dorm. the two of you spend the rest of the day together.
word count: 3.7k
warnings: alcohol misuse mentioned. underage drinking mentioned. cheating (not by reader or rafe). toxic family (WARD!!!).
notes: guys i’ve genuinely tried to post this 5 times im angry. anyways sorry for the late update i failed one of my finals and i was in mourning. but we’re back to our regularly scheduled updates.
previous part. next part. series masterlist.
27 days left.
You wake up to the loudest birds you’ve ever heard in your life. The sun was shining brightly in your face, that you could feel still had your makeup on from the night before. You felt icky, gross, disgusting, every word you could think of to describe a hangover.
You loudly groaned.
“Oh, you’re finally up.”
“What the actual fuck,” you said, turning to the side to see Rafe. Standing there shirtless with nothing on but what looked like colorful swimtrunks. “Oh my gosh, did we-,”
“No!” Rafe cut you off fast. “You were really drunk last night, so I brought you back, and you asked me to stay the night.”
You sighed with relief. How drunk did you get that you don’t even remember seeing him at the party? Must’ve been a hell of a party. You stared at him for a few moments, your brain taking longer than usual to process information.
Rafe looked remarkably put together for someone who slept in a bed not comfortable at all, even if he was still wearing the exact same low effort outfit as the night before.
“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Rafe said, handing you a trash can like it was the most casual thing in the world.
“I feel like I’m about to,” you muttered, holding onto the trash can like it was a life line. “Why is everything so loud, it's too early for the birds to be awake.”
“It’s noon,” he pointed out. “Not early at all…”
You let out a dramatic groan, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling. The memories of last night started to trickle in now. You remember the shots you took while nobody was looking, the bad game of beer pong (slightly), and Rafe taking you away from John B and Sarah.
“You really don’t remember asking me to stay?” Rafe asked, sitting across from you on your roommates bed.
You shook your head, “I remember bits and pieces. All I remember from after I played beer pong was Party in the U.S.A being in your playlist, and the chair moving.
“Of all things to remember,” he grumbled. “I’m glad you had fun, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk like that. Normally when you’re at our parties you drink maybe once or twice, but you damn near blacked out before it was 11:30.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. “I was just celebrating Halloween. Everybody gets wasted on Halloween, I wasn’t going to be an exception to that.”
“Not before midnight,” Rafe countered. You avoided his eyes, he wasn’t going to let it go. “You don’t just accidentally down half a bottle of liquor before you even get into the car.”
You perked up at that, “I did?”
The heat rising in him, diminished in an instance. “Sarah texted me this morning, said to make sure you’re okay.”
“I just lost track of it,” you shrugged. “I’ll text her, tell her not to worry. Genuinely a one time thing.”
“Don’t shrug it off,” he was insistent now. “I stayed up half the night to make sure if you threw up it wouldn’t be all over yourself. I made sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue, the least you can do right now is give me a real answer. Why’d you get so drunk?”
The Instagram story flashed vividly in your mind. It felt so stupid to admit out loud, you got ridiculously drunk all because your ex and his new girlfriend (your ex-bestfriend) were in matching costumes? To admit that out loud to Rafe Cameron, just felt even more pathetic.
“Its nothing, it was nothing last night, and it's nothing now,” you said, your voice tight. “Just a lapse in judgement. I thought I could handle more, and I was wrong. Besides I wanted to turn my brain off for a little, that's really all it was.”
Rafe didn’t comment on the two different excuses, but he picked up on them. “People turn their brains off with a beer or two. You basically erased your whole consciousness. Did somebody tell you something?”
You blinked, surprised on your face, but it was gone within the second. Couldn’t let him know he was on to you, then you’d have to explain your reasoning. “What makes you think someone did something?”
“You have a tell,” he said casually, leaning back onto the bed. “When you’re stressed you talk fast, when you’re nervous you pick your fingers, but last night you were obsessively fixing your necklace, I only see you do that when you’re embarrassed. Like that day we were in the library and you were on your phone and walked right into that bookshelf.”
You groaned covering your face, “first of all, I didn't need the example. Second of all, you pay too much attention.”
“Yeah I do, so what was it? Or who was it?”
“Rafe, just drop it,” you muttered. “My head hurts too much to keep talking.”
A look of determination crossed Rafe’s face. Instead of dropping it, he stood up. He reached down, grabbing the edge of your blanket, and pulled it completely off of you.
“Hey!” you shrieked, curling into a ball at the rush of cold air. “Give that back!”
Rafe tossed the blanket into your desk chair. “Nope, get up.”
“Are you insane? I’m dying here!”
“You’re hovering death, not dying,” Rafe rolled his eyes at you. He crossed his arms, looking down at you with a rigid expression. “Get up, get in the shower, and wash that ridiculous amount of glitter off your face. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving to go where?” you groaned, making no move to actually get up.”
“Out,” he said firmly. “I’m taking you to get food, and then we’re going to talk about whatever made you try to drown in alcohol. And if you’re not up in the next two minutes, I’m going to carry you outside looking exactly like that.”
You did not need people seeing what you looked like right now. Glitter all over your face and upper body. Costume from last night still on, and hair tangled up in ways you don’t know how you achieved. You looked at Rafe to see if he was bluffing at least a tiny bit, but he was looking at his phone, foot tapping impatiently at you.
“You’re terrible,” you said, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. The movement making the throbbing in your head intensify.
“I’m a treat,” he corrected.
That was probably the best shower you had in your life. The second the water touched you, your joints stopped aching as badly as they did. Your face felt lighter washing the makeup off. You were too lazy to wash your hair at this very moment, so you’d braid it before you left.
Rafe was waiting by the door, holding a duffle bag, and miraculously changed. He looked you up and down, you did look better than you did twenty minutes ago.
“Better?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. You knew it was a rhetorical question, you knew he was just proving his point. “See, now was that so hard?”
You gave him an unimpressed look. “Let's just go get food.”
The drive out of campus was quiet, the low purr of his car was soothing. Rafe didn’t push the issue in the car. He kept the radio off and drove with a steady ease that you appreciated. He pulled into a small, hole in the wall almost, breakfast diner.
Once the waitress dropped off two massive mugs of coffee and a plate of greasy hash browns. Rafe leaned back against the seat. He watched you take your sip of the coffee and then a bite of the hash browns. His eyes locked onto yours over the brim of his own mug.
“Alright,” he said, “You’ve got food and you’re caffeinated. The floor is yours.”
You sighed, wrapping your hands around the warmness of your cup. You couldn’t keep lying to him, he wasn’t going to let you now. He seemed entirely too determined, and he was not letting it go.
“Its a long story,” you finally said.
“I have time.”
“Rafe,” you said weakly. “It’s embarrassing.”
He gives you a little smile before saying, “you tell me this, I tell you the real reason I changed my major. Deal?”
You sighed, “fine.”
Gosh, you can’t believe you were going to tell this story. You couldn’t look at him in the eyes while you talked about this, deciding to focus on the plate of hash browns in front of you.
“Summer before senior year, I had my little friend group. We were basically inseparable, which is what I thought. During winter break, my boyfriend cheated on me with who I considered to be my best friend at the time. Only I didn’t find this out yet because I didn’t have any WiFi, I was on a mission trip.
Anyways, when I got back, two days before school started again, the narrative spread throughout our friends that I cheated on him during my trip. That I was insanely jealous of my old friend. Nobody was talking to me, I was so confused. The first day back, he broke up with me in a very loud public manner that was all over Instagram within the hour.
I had no idea any of this happened, until Leah told me about everything. She was the one that caught them, she tried to reason with our friends but they had always preferred her to me. I was then basically considered a raging bitch at school, which is also why I decided to leave Texas for college.
Besides the point, somebody I still followed posted the two of them last night in the Halloween costume we wore literally last year. And I don’t know, it brought back all of those old feelings. I know it’s stupid, I graduated so long ago. It’s just the fact that I’m still a joke to so many people.”
You took a deep breath when you finished. You still couldn’t look up.
“It’s not stupid,” he spoke up. “I think that’s pretty valid.”
You looked up at him, “it’s been so long, you’d think I’d get over it.”
“They were your friends, and didn’t even hear your side of the story out. Just assume what those bitches said was true.”
You laughed. “Thanks, Rafe.”
“Just next time, don’t find comfort in drinks,” he murmured. “I honestly thought you were going to get alcohol poisoning.”
“Okay, that’s fine,” you nodded, taking another sip of your coffee. “Your turn, I shared.”
“Damn, was kind of hoping you would’ve forgotten.” Rafe sighed. He took a deep breath before starting.
“My father owns a business back home, pretty big real estate thing. He wanted to pass it down to one of us, but then he started training this guy to take over. I thought I was in the clear, so when college came around, I got to do what I wanted. But then, that guy, he was selling secrets to rival companies.
Dad fired him the second he found out. But that meant Sarah and Wheezie, our little sister, one of them would have to take over. Especially if I got further in my degree. I'm the oldest, so I gave it up.”
“It was never because you weren’t smart enough,” you said. “Knew it, what you did was really great Rafe.”
Rafe met your eyes, shrugging. He let out a dry, short laugh. “Yeah well, dad said I lacked the discipline to be a doctor anyway.”
“That’s insane,” you argue, like what he said personally wronged you. “You prove how insanely disciplined you are with football and your classes, plus tutoring me. Did you tell him why you switched majors?”
Rafe shook his head, “wasn’t worth it. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me then, you know? It was a year ago and I’ve made peace with it. Besides, I see how hard you’re working right now and it’s only your freshman year. No way would I have measured up to that.”
You made a face. “Okay, so you’re insane. Rafe you’re still super well-versed in the topics. I’m not saying go back into premed if it’s not something you wanna do, but obviously you would’ve been cut out for it. I see how your brain works, I see how you work. Besides, giving up what you wanted to do so your sisters could is noble, I wouldn’t have done it.”
He didn’t say anything back for a second. Instead he just stared at you, head tilted like he was processing your words. His shoulders were tense, you could clearly see this wasn’t something he liked to talk about.
Just before you went to apologize, he beat you to it.
“I never really thought about it that way,” he admitted. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve told this to. I better not get a text from Sarah later tonight telling me to switch my major back.”
The joke was light hearted, but you answered like he was serious. “I would never. What happens in the diner stays in the diner.”
He smiled, that boyish one that you didn’t want to admit made him look handsome.
The conversation following was easier and effortless now. You talked for a while longer, you told him about the ridiculous traditions your family had for football days, he told you about the ridiculous traditions he has on game days.
“What are sports people without their superstition,” you had sighed.
When the check came, Rafe was fast to have it paid. He didn’t think twice, instead he slid out the booth. Nodded towards the front door and held his hand out to help you.
"Come on," he said.
"Back to the dorms?" you asked, feeling a slight pang of disappointment.
"Nope," he said, practically beaming with excitement. “I don’t think you’ve experienced enough here, especially if we’re still thinking about Texas.”
You rolled your eyes, following him outside. He led you back to the car. The raging headache you were feeling earlier practically gone with the cool autumn breeze hitting your face.
“Have you ever been to the shops here?” he asked, glancing towards you.
You shook your head, “I’m never free.”
He nodded, as if a plan was falling into place. “Great.”
The two of you ended up near this historic looking district, a little ways from the university. It was a stretch of cobblestone streets lined with storefronts that held names like ‘Nias polka dot boutique’ or something similar in dorky names.
"We’re starting here," Rafe spoke, pulling into a tight parallel spot with practiced ease. He hopped out and rounded the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle.
Had you even touched a door today? You weren't sure.
You shielded your eyes from the sun, getting out of the car. You did a once over at the stores and then your outfit. “This isn’t like some weird high-end stores right? Because I’m not dressed for that at all.”
He looked you up and down, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Not at all. Let’s go.”
For the next few hours it was a blur of bell-chimes and different candle scents that all somehow had a twinge of old paper. Rafe was playing tour-guide, although all the facts he was telling you were definitely made up, you played along.
In an antique shop that you could barely walk through, you saw a dusty velvet-lined top vat and placed it onto his head. Handing him a cane to go along with it. You laughed when he posed and took a picture.
“I look like I own railroads,” he said, leaning onto the cane. If he was complaining you couldn’t tell.
"It makes you look like you’re about to tell me a very long, very boring story about those railroads too," you laughed, leaning against a display of mismatched china.
"Rude," he sniffed, though he caught your eye in a nearby gilded mirror and started to chuckle himself. He caught your hand, pulling you toward the back of the shop where a collection of old postcards sat in a wire rack. When you picked one up of a dusty sunset on a beach, he spoke again, "that's the beach back home.”
“Really?” You asked, examining the card closer. “Must be lucky.”
The energy shifted for a second. He held the card out, his fingers covering yours. You were staring at him, the look on his face. Maybe you didn’t like home anymore, and maybe you were assuming that everybody else was also like that, but Rafe clearly wasn’t. He looked like he missed home.
He met your eyes, the soft look on your face. He was about to say something when a cuckoo clock went off. When you jumped like a cat touching water, Rafe was set into a fit of laughter.
The best part of your evening together was when you found a store called The Time Wrap. It was a thrift store that was home to the loudest outfits of each and every decade.
“God no,” Rafe said, when you walked up to a rack of neon windbreakers.
“Oh, absolutely yes,” you countered. “Can I play dress up?”
“As in dress yourself up?” He asked, but the mischief glint in your eyes made him groan. “Fine, BUT, only if I get to dress you up too.”
You two made a deal.
For the next thirty minutes the two of you split up inside the store. You stayed on the men’s side looking for the most hideous pairs of clothes to pair together while Rafe was on the women’s side more than likely doing the same thing you were.
You two met back in front of the fitting rooms handing each other your respective outfits. Glaring at each other for the ridiculous clothes, you stepped into a fitting room.
Rafe stepped out in mustard corduroys hugging his frame in a way that sort of worked for him. The mesh shirt glittered, and to top it all off was a pair of oversized, white-rimmed sunglasses. He was leaning up against the frame of his fitting room, trying to stretch out the pants he was wearing.
“I feel like I should be spinning disco records in 1974," he deadpanned.
You, meanwhile, stepped out wearing a floor-length, puffy-sleeved dress that looked like it belonged to a Renaissance fair reject, layered under a leather vest with 'BORN TO BE WILD' embroidered on the back in pink rhinestones. Rafe had also insisted you wear a neon green beanie he found near the register.
“I looked like a medieval biker lost in a craft store,” you retorted, picking at the sleeves. “I could hide a bowling ball in these sleeves!”
Rafe bursted out laughing.
The two of you stood in front of the full-length mirror while you took pictures. You told him to pose in ridiculous ways and he listened. Followed by 0.5s of each other making silly faces.
You laughed especially hard when a group of older ladies walked back and whistled at Rafe. His face went to a deep shade of red, and you swore tears started coming out of your eyes.
Leaving the shop, with only one bag, the pair of sunglasses Rafe wore because you secretly liked them for yourself and an old sweatshirt from your university. The sun was already starting to set, the sky was painted a nice orange-gold as Rafe pulled the Porsche back toward your dorm.
The car was quiet, but not like this morning. It was more content. You didn’t feel the need to throw up any longer from the hangover or the information you had to share. You felt content.
"Thanks for today, Rafe," you spoke up softly. "I really needed to not think for a while. This was really nice.”
His eyes stayed on the road, but his hands tensed for just a second before relaxing. “Yeah. Can’t have my favorite student getting alcohol poisoning every time she wants to not think.”
“Oh I’m your favorite student?” You teased.
He pulled into your dorm's parking lot. He didn’t unlock the doors immediately, locking them back when he parked. He turned in his seat to look at you.
“Well, I wouldn’t stay up all night in a dorm room for just anyone,” he answered.
You smiled, reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thanks again, I’ll see you Monday?”
“Always,” he nodded.
Rafe watched you hop out the car, wave one last time, before disappearing through the heavy glass doors of your dorm building.
He sat in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel. He felt a strange, tight pressure in his chest. A sensation that was entirely unfamiliar to him.
It wasn’t adrenaline, he knew what that was from after a game.
It wasn’t anger, he knew that from every time J.J. Maybank opened his mouth.
It wasn’t sadness, he knew that.
This was something quieter. Something that made the idea of going back to that frat house without you with him feel terrible. Something that made seeing you walk away after spending all day with you, feel terrible.
He realized today he hadn’t thought about any of that normal nonsense he normally did. He didn’t think about football season pressure, or his fathers expectations of him. He just thought about you.
Making you laugh. Making you smile. Keeping you happy.
He let out a long, shaky breath and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. The screen flickered to life, showing a string of missed texts from Kelce and Topper asking where he’d been all day. A singular text from Sarah asking if you were okay, but that was hours ago.
He clicked on his threat with Kelce.
Rafe stared at the keyboard for a long time. Two months ago, it seemed like a joke. A way to pass the time and prove that no matter what a girl would fall for him.
Now looking at the door you’d just walked through, the beg felt like dead weight in his stomach. It felt like betrayal for the girl who opened up to him, who spent the afternoon laughing with (and even at) him.
His thumbs moved faster after that.
Rafe: I’ll give you your money tomorrow. The bet’s off.
He tossed the phone into the passenger seat and drove off. The pressure in his chest didn’t leave. If anything, it settled in, grounding him in a way he wasn’t sure of.
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