This is my first ever blog (yayy) so please be nice but I’ll mostly be posting just random stuff that I wouldn’t usually post on my main social yk, my art, pics, thoughts, rants, js everything!!
Abt me ✶⋆.˚
I am in high school, i am brunette, I love art, music, movies, crafts, science, jewelry, photography, learning, comedy, fan fiction (specifically rafe Cameron) hot guys, white boys of the month lol, and like yeah!
Fav Movies/ shows ✶⋆.˚
• Euphroria • Outer Banks • heated rivalry• Fight Club • Little women • Spiderman • Dune • Marty Supreme • Super Bad • Call me by your name • SaltBurn • (+ I’m RLLY exited abt wuthering hights!!)
Fave music/ podcasts ✶⋆.˚
• Broski Report • Royal court • 2 idiot girls • So true • play date pod • trixie and katya • fleetwood mack • dean blunt • Malcolm Todd • Sabrina carpenter • pixies • blood orange • khraungbin • Faye Webster • jazzy star • bob dylan • Magdalena bay • Lana del rey • nirvana • solange • Steve lacy •
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood BestFriend!Reader
Word Count: 6500
Having grown up with a best friend like Y/N was something Rafe Cameron knew never to take for granted. She was one of a kind, the most visible star in a sky full of billions of others, his oxygen, his lifeline, his most prized person. She radiated the most beautiful smiles, her laughs sounded like they came straight from heaven and her soul was ethereal, truly angelic.
And God, he wished she could see herself through his eyes every day while she woke up, full of the heavy feeling raking behind her ribcage.
It was unfair really, how perfect she was and how little attention she received from irrelevant guys. How she would be stood up for a date or have to suffer in silence while some dude talked only about his finance career the whole dinner without asking about her favourite Taylor Swift lyrics and the meaning behind it or ask about the diamond shaped scar on her left knee. It was unfair that she was treated like an option when she should have been someone’s entire world. Rafe knew this in his bones as he was sure if she was ripped away from him one day, he would never be able to breathe again.
But he was also thankful. Thankful for all the years he had been by her side as her best friend, someone she trusted with her deepest and darkest secrets and if that’s all he ever got to be, he would still be thanking his lucky star every night.
“I just don’t understand. I don’t smell, my personality is incredible, and my face is at least worth a reply.” She sighed frustrated as she flopped down on the sofa beside her best friend, who watched her with an amused expression as she was unloading her latest failed talking stage onto him.
It was a usual evening for the pair, spent in Rafe’s home once their working days were over. Rafe now running his dad’s company and Y/N who worked in the surf coffee shop by the beach – and undoubtedly her second favourite place to be on the island – always made sure to spend several evenings together. This has been a routine ever since they were children, only their hang out spots went from Tanneyhill and Y/N’s parents’ house to their own homes.
“Maybe your conversation needs some work.” Rafe shrugged, a glint of mischief playing behind his orbs which she normally would find funny, but today she needed reassurance more than humour.
“My conversations are brilliant, thank you very much. Surely, you would know. You had the pleasure to have many conversations with me throughout the 18 years we had known each other.” She snapped, making Rafe snort as he turned towards her, a hand on her shin as he pinched the skin, making her yelp and smack his hand away.
“How would I know? I bet you act different in front of all your dates. Otherwise, you would scare them away.” He laughed as he watched her roll her eyes and banged her head against the arm of the sofa.
“You’re ridiculous. I’m an amazing date. Men should be head over heels in love with me.” Y/N groaned frustrated as she sat up and raised her arms in frustration, letting them fall beside her following her outburst.
“Well, you can’t blame me for being sceptical.” Rafe muttered, biting back another grin seeing the way her cheeks heated in anger, but who could blame him, when he loved being the reason for the rosiness of her cheeks?
“I bet I could make you fall in love with me.” She mumbled under her breath, the words falling from her lips before she could breathe them back in, silently hoping the sentence never reached Rafe’s ears.
“What did you just say?” He exclaimed, the previous hopefulness evaporating into thin air as she shut her eyes for a second, trying to ignore the way her heart started racing and turned to him with false confidence instead.
“I said I bet I could make you fall in love with me. Easily. In three dates.” She bluffed, the sentences she believed to be lies but now unable to take back flooding the room with waves of hope and desperation.
“No way. You definitely couldn’t.” Rafe scoffed as he shook his head aggressively, hoping that the motion would deter her from seeing the way his pulse was racing behind that vein on his neck or how his voice suddenly grew husky and low from the way his throat ran dry from hearing her confident tone about the feelings he has possessed since the moment he laid eyes on her at the age of 5.
“Yes way. Why, are you scared you would be out of pocket?” She crossed her arms and raised her head with a devilish determined smile that made his head spiral, feeling hot and dizzy, having to grip onto the back of the sofa for support.
“Yeah, right.” He laughed at her, deeming her idea ridiculous in her eyes, while he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his card holder and slapped down his very fancy, very exclusive and most definitely very expensive credit card on the coffee table.
“Bet.” He croaked out, watching her eyes grow huge as she flickered her gaze between the card and his calm, collected expression.
“You can’t bet that much.” She protested, voice unsure and uncertain as she scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, already regretting her bold move but too late to back out.
“Why? You’re not confident in your dating abilities?”
“Screw you, Cameron. Prepare to get your heart stolen by me.” Y/N giggled as she repeated his actions by walking to her purse, taking out her wallet and pulling out her own credit card and although she knew it had nowhere near the value of his, she swallowed nervously at the prospect of losing this bet. All in the meantime, Rafe Cameron was on his phone, logging into his mobile banking as he moved his funds around, paying his credit card off in full to make sure that he can hand her a card with a complete balance alongside his heart.
Date 1
Y/N rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror for the millionth time as she mentally cursed herself every time she looked back to the moment that led her to tonight, the reason she was applying her makeup and getting herself all dolled up for her best friend, Rafe Cameron.
“I bet I could make you fall in love with me? Ugh why am I so dumb?” She groaned as she tilted her head back aggressively, looking at the ceiling as if it would answer her question.
It was just a couple of days since the bet has been made and the night of their first date which would take place shortly, once Y/N could get herself together and get dressed, while waiting for Rafe to arrive and pick her up. Because even though it was technically her date, he insisted that he would never not pick up a girl for a date, especially if he knows them.
Which is why she was waiting by the front door, in her best dress and knee-high boots, braving herself against the chilly winter air of the outer banks, convincing herself she didn’t feel nervous to be going on a date with her best friend. It was only Rafe after all. And just a stupid bet.
Soon enough, she recognised the sound of the car pulling up her driveway, the same car that has been there countless times for various different reasons throughout the last few years Rafe has had it. Y/N couldn’t help but smile to herself the moment she was outside locking her front door, as she walked to the car and peaked to find a grinning boy glancing at her, watching her intently until she finally opened the passenger door and slid into her seat.
“You’re looking very pretty.” Rafe greeted her as he did a glance over a few times before turning his attention to backing out of the drive, ready to hit the road to whatever she had planned for him tonight. His hand twitched against the steering wheel as his heart pounced slightly more aggressively than ever before, from her sheer presence knowing he was lucky enough to get a date out of her.
“You know, I should be the one to be flattering you, right?” She bit back her smile with raised eyebrows as she measured him up. He was dressed in a fresh sweater, one she hasn’t seen before but it fit him just well, his hair was a little more done than she had witnessed in the last couple of months and he seemed happy, which made her happy.
“I thought this dress was part of your masterplan.” Rafe gestured with his finger towards her attire, one that she clearly put tremendous effort into and the knowledge that it was for him was sure to make his head spin for at least a few days.
“Real smooth, Cameron.” She rolled her eyes as she playfully pushed his arm away, earning a chuckle from him as he turned his attention to the road. And as her cheeks unwillingly and unexpectedly heated from his comments, Y/N was grateful she no longer held his full attention.
“So, where are we going?” He queried as he started driving down the road while awaiting her instructions as she typed them into the map in his car. His brows furrowed in confusion as the destination showed up, a place he hasn’t been to since their school days.
“The observatory?” Rafe asked, glancing over to where Y/N sat with a wide grin and crossed legs, making herself comfortable as she queued her favourite songs.
“Yes. Apparently, there’s meteor showers tonight so they are holding a special evening for them. How amazing is that?” She squealed excitedly as she almost jumped out of her seat, her face expectantly on Rafe who couldn’t help but force his eyes back on the road in the name of keeping her safe, but the smile on his face was evident as daylight. Y/N had always been fond of the stars, reciting constellations to him on summer nights spent on rooftops, some of his most cherished memories amongst the many others when it came to her.
“Gotta give it to you Y/L/N. That’s a pretty cool date idea.” He hummed in agreement as he allowed her singing to overtake his mind alongside her, always always her.
The observatory was surprisingly quiet, considering the magical event that would take place this evening. Y/N picked up the entry tickets and with a childlike grin looked back to Rafe, who was allowing his eyes to dart all over the many pictures of stars that were painting the walls, until he spotted Y/N’s waving hands, signalling that they were ready to enter the place.
“We have a couple of hours and it’s meant to be prime time for shooting stars.” She clapped her hands excitedly as she weaved through the small crowd, beelining for an empty telescope on the top deck in the name of getting the best view, as if she was an expert. Rafe had no words to say apart from a small smile as he willingly followed her like a puppy dog, careful to not let her out of his sight. Not that would have been possible, after all she was the most dazzling thing, even in a place where the sole reason was to search for shiny objects in the sky.
Rafe nodded in understanding as he settled in beside her, two telescopes side by side with a couple of stools in front for comfortable observing. Y/N wasted no time as she climbed on, struggling a little making Rafe shake his head in amusement as he easily plopped on the other, adjusting the telescope to his height as he started looking through the lens.
“Oh my god Rafe. How pretty is the sky?” She blurted out, mouth agape as she moved the telescope around, not able to get enough of the night sky and all it’s beautiful stars. Rafe smiled against the glass as he glanced over at her small frame, curled up against the chair, eager hands around the telescope and he smiled to himself.
“Yeah. It really is.” He hummed as Y/N looked at him for a split second, his words hanging in the air before turning his attention back to the sky. Unbeknownst to him however, this was the first time his words erupted a bunch of butterflies in Y/N’s belly as her breath hitched from the way he spoke and how he was looking at her. She furrowed her eyebrows at the alien feeling before redirecting her gaze, confused at the implications of her actions.
“A shooting star! Rafe, did you see it?” Y/N called out moments later, as she witnessed her first one of the night, tearing her eyes away from the sky to Rafe who just chuckled beside her from her obvious excitement.
“I did. It was cool.” He shrugged, basking in her joy.
“We have to make a wish.” She exclaimed and closed her eyes momentarily while inaudibly mumbling something and opening her eyes with purpose, waiting for Rafe to do the same. He rolled his eyes but followed her lead nevertheless, wishing for the only thing he ever really wanted since he could remember. The same wish he made when he blew out every birthday candle or with every penny he threw into magic fountains. Always, always her.
The rest of the evening was spent with reciting constellations and Y/N directing Rafe’s telescope giggling until he was looking at the ones she was talking about, while sipping on hot chocolates from the observatory’s café until the time was up. It was well after midnight when the pair had to wrap up and leave the warm atmosphere, walking towards Rafe’s truck, shoulder occasionally bumping and hands grazing, the evening’s chill making them both shiver.
“So how was that?” Y/N wondered, teeth clattering as she waited for Rafe to turn the heating up, him directing the fan towards her when the warm air kicked in.
“How was what?” Rafe asked as he turned on the ignition and began driving home with a content, happy smile on his face that he didn’t seem to be able to get rid of. Not that he wanted to.
“The first date? Can you find any issues with me yet?” She joked as she pulled her legs up and crossed them, getting herself comfortable for the half hour drive. Her best friend scoffed as he glanced over momentarily to find her awaiting expression, eager for his answer.
“I’m not giving you a performance review after our first date Y/L/N. You have to wait until date three for that.” Laughing he continued focusing on the road.
“Does that mean I can expect you to not ghost me at least?” She asked, half joking, half hopeful.
“Come on sweetheart. You know you got me for life.”
Date 2
The air was filled with the aromas of cinnamon and sugar, the crowd was bustling with their bags of shopping, filled with gifts for loved ones and Y/N and Rafe found themselves at their local Christmas market as their second date. Her idea of course, in dire need of some too sweet hot chocolate filled with marshmallows to the brim and fidgeting to get a pair of ice skates on her feet to engage in her favourite winter activity.
“I swear to God Y/N, if I embarrass myself because of you, we are done.” Rafe huffed as she pulled him into the queue awaiting the ice rink, her hands covered in gloves and ear muffs protecting her ears from the harsh wind of the winter, and Rafe just about passed out from her cuteness when he first laid eyes on her as he picked her up.
“Oh Rafe.” She started, eyes gleaming with trouble and a smirk she tried and failed to contain painting her face. “If you embarrass yourself, it won’t be because of me.” She giggled and Rafe rolled her eyes, unable to contain his smile regardless.
It didn’t take long – who are we kidding, it took a while – for the skates to make it on their feet and soon enough they were ready to attend the ice, gloved hands tangled together and excited expressions on their faces. Until the very moment that Rafe’s feet met the ice, he fell backwards, scrambling to hold onto the wall with a whimper of fear.
Y/N of course couldn’t hold back her laughter as she bent over, eyes filling with tears as she giggled, Rafe’s unamused expression only egging her on.
“Are.. are you okay?” She finally choked out, wiping her lash line and taking in a deep breath to gather herself as she took a couple of steps towards the blonde boy who was now standing in front of her, still holding on for dear life.
“I’m glad my suffering made you happy.” He shot her a glare and Y/N almost missed the way the side of his lips curled upwards.
“Come on you big baby. Let me show you how it’s done.” She shook her head as she held out a hand towards Rafe who took it with reluctance. The feeling of her looking out for him, taking care of him warmed up his soul even as he stood on clear ice on one of the coldest days of the entire year. He had to remind himself to focus his eyes in front of him, on his feet, anywhere but on her. She proved to be his biggest distraction after all.
“I always forget you used to ice skate.” He mumbled as he sent her a smile, as they did a few laps. Y/N flowed effortlessly, not even paying attention to her movements as she guided Rafe around. All her childhood, she visited family in Canada and would spend hours ice skating on frozen lakes with her cousins, who are now dispersed all over the World.
“I miss it sometimes.” She shrugged as she returned Rafe’s look with a melancholy sparkle in her eyes. They were fond memories, although that’s all they ever were now.
“Well maybe we can plan a trip to Canada sometime?” Rafe suggested as he bumped her shoulder slightly in an attempt to relit her eyes with that happiness he always adored and craved to see. Y/N looked at Rafe in shock as his words sunk in.
“Really? You would do that for me?” She eyed him expectantly, as if to wait for him to tell her he was joking or he didn’t really mean it. But Rafe was never like that.
“I would do anything for you.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he squeezed her hand that he was still holding with meaning.
Y/N couldn’t explain the butterflies that erupted in her stomach or the way her cheeks grew warm from the way Rafe spoke. He was always so attentive and caring towards her, and she truly did know that he would always be there for her. So why did this feel so much like a promise? Why did this fill her with fire and made her legs shake and caused her to struggle to swallow?
It wasn’t long until they were off the ice, handing back the skates in exchange for their shoes they struggled to put on, surrounded by other people and getting tangled in their scarves.
“This stupid thing.” Y/N huffed as she yanked hers off and undid her coat, feeling like she couldn’t tie her laces from the thick materials surrounding her. Rafe watched with amusement at just how sassy she could get over bits of material, and she shot him glares when she found him staring.
“Okay, I’m ready now.” She stood, attitude dispersing into thin air at the thought of rewarding herself with a hot tea and pancakes smothered in chocolate.
“Come here.” Rafe shook his head, not allowing her to proceed any further, seeing the way her coat was still flung open, easily allowing the chill through to her.
Y/N rolled her eyes but stopped in her tracks nevertheless, watching as Rafe dropped his eyes and hand to the bottom of her jacket, fiddling with the zipper until he tugged on it and zipped it as far as he could tucking her scarf in, in the process.
“But Rafe, I feel so hot.”
“I don’t want you catching a cold, alright?” He shut her fussing down, reaching for her hand and pulling her out of the ice skate rink, thanking the people on their way out. And by the time he brought her a cup of her favourite winter tea and some dessert, her smile and excited eyes returned.
“Would you like some?” She pointed at her pancakes, covered in bits of strawberries and chocolate sauce, her favourite and one that looked awfully sickly sweet to Rafe. She knew that of course, but she would never want him to feel left out.
“No sweet girl, you carry on.” He smiled as he planted a small kiss to her temple, while she hummed in appreciation and placed another bit in her mouth, enjoying the sweetness.
“Oh Rafey look! A fortune teller.” She wiggled her eyebrows while pointing at the booth, decorated with crystals and tarot cards.
“I want to get my palm read.” She threw her hand opening, examining it with an interested look until she met Rafe’s gaze, who was giving her a sceptical look back.
“Come on, it will be fun.” She insisted and reached for his hand, while she disposed of her now finished dessert, attention completely occupied by the woman behind the stand.
“Welcome dear. What can I do for you today?” The lady greeted, and Y/N eagerly sat down in front of her, while Rafe decided to stand behind her, not as keen to take part, but intrigued enough to listen.
“I would like to know about my love life please.” She smiled big while laying her palm down flat. The woman nodded knowingly as she got to work, analysing and humming along as she swiped her fingers over the curving lines of her hand.
“My dear, you will have a love so big your heart might burst. You just need to be careful to not miss what’s in front of you.” She smiled at Y/N while raising his eyes to the boy behind you, who couldn’t help but gulp loudly. Sure, he thought this was all a game, entertainment only, but what if she was actually right? What is what he thought all along; that the two of you belonged together were in fact true?
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open.” Y/N giggled as she settled her bill and waved goodbye. Rafe was by her side, as they made their way slowly back to the car, lost in his thoughts from the experience they just went through.
“I wonder who it is.” Y/N mumbled, almost like she didn’t mean for the words to be heard, but he always did.
“Who?”
“The person the fortune teller was talking about. I wonder who he is and where he is. I wonder if I met them before.” She explained, hands thrown all around as she tried her best to put her thoughts into words, while Rafe could feel his chest get tighter and heart aching just a little bit more than he thought was possible. Here she was, in front of him, fantasising about some imaginary person, when he knew that she was it for him. He did not need a fortune teller confirming as much. His heart and soul did that for him even before he knew what love was.
“Well, whoever he is, he will be the luckiest person in the world to have you.” He smiled down at her as he pulled her in for a side hug, hoping the feeling of her body against him would erase the pain he felt deep in his bones, but it was only the longing that grew. The same longing that now filled her veins and foggy brain.
Date 3
Tonight’s date felt real close to an actual date and not in a way Y/N wished it did.
It has been two weeks since their last date and two weeks since Y/N has not stopped thinking about the way she felt that night alongside Rafe. Two weeks since she saw him in person, the both of them getting caught up in life and work and for once she was grateful to not have to face her best friend. Until tonight, no longer able to make excuses and put off seeing him.
Everything felt strange since their last going out. She somehow couldn’t shake the way he looked so perfect, his eyes lit up under the many fairy lights of the Christmas market or how he spoke so softly about her; and although he always did, this time felt different and the reasons were terrifying to admit.
Y/N was falling for her best friend. And fast.
“This can’t be happening.” She mumbled to herself as she paced around the room, aware of how time was running out until Rafe would be there to pick her up. And this time, he planned the date, which Y/N was reluctant to accept but he gave her no choice.
“This isn’t how this stupid bet was supposed to go.” She shook her head and groaned as she pulled her coat on and walked downstairs, tangling her thick scarf around her and picking up a pair of black heels, under Rafe’s instructions to dress up nice.
She glanced at the clock, showing exactly 7, at which point a couple of soft knocks were heard on her front door, in the exact rhythm they always played and yet this time, they filled her with unease instead of excitement.
As she opened the door, she could feel her eyes growing wide and breath hitching at the sight of the man she knew all so well, and yet it felt like she was seeing him clearly for the first time in her life. Her face heated against the cold winter air as he shamelessly inspected her, an approving smile playing on his lips that filled her belly with millions of butterflies.
“You certainly did dress up nice.” He hummed as he stepped closer and planted a small kiss to her cheek, which did nothing to make her feel less awkward and less like she was about to throw up from her nerves.
“These are for you.” He held out a bunch of pink flowers, all her favourites covered in baby’s breath and greens, easily the prettiest bouquet she ever received and it took her a moment too long to get her brain working.
“Oh God, I haven’t said anything yet, have I?” She frowned at herself as they stood in front of each other, her gaze lost in his. She grabbed a hold of the flowers and placed them down to a nearby table.
“They are beautiful. Thank you, Rafe. And hi.” Words just fell from her lips in no particular order and Rafe did nothing to hold in his amused smirk as he watched her fall apart in front of him. She was nervous, in front of him and although he was too scared to read into it, to assume the meaning of her behaviour, he felt hope blossoming in his chest for the first time in his life. And damn if he wouldn’t see how far he could push her limits.
“You’re beautiful. Ready to go?” He held an arm out towards her and planted his palm flat against the small of her back while she nodded and locked up and he led her to his car where he ensured that she would get in safe and sound.
Y/N was sure he could hear the loud beating of her heart through the whole car journey, even above the soft music playing in the background and Rafe’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel.
“Where are we going?” She rasped out, voice small and uncertain which was unfamiliar to them both.
“I booked us a table at this new restaurant just out of town. They had some of your favourites, so I thought you would like it.” Rafe looked over at her, smiling and Y/N had to avert her gaze while mentally cursing herself for being so awkward. But the way he looked at the menu in advance and chose this specific place because he thought she would like it tugged on her heart strings.
She hummed in agreement and while waiting for the journey to end, she tried everything in her power to calm her mind; rather unsuccessfully.
The restaurant they arrived at was beautiful. Stunning lights and candles everywhere that created an incredibly romantic atmosphere with their décor perfectly resembling the feelings Y/N got whenever she looked at Rafe.
The pair of them were escorted to a quite corner, and Rafe took it on himself to take off her coat and tuck her chair in and the gentleman act suited him so well, she craved to be on the receiving end of his chivalry forever.
“You’re quiet tonight.” Rafe spoke once they were sat with menus in their hands. His observation was like a knife cutting into her chest and she suddenly felt bad for her overthinking. No matter what feelings she had swirling in her brain, it was just Rafe after all.
“Sorry. I think I’m a little tired.” She shrugged while sending him a calming smile, one that did nothing to convince him.
“We can just go if you want. Have an evening in. Your call.” Rafe reached out and held onto her hand while giving it a reassuring squeeze, honesty swimming behind his irises.
“No, this is perfect Rafe. I’m happy to be here. With you.” She confessed and she didn’t miss the way his eyes softened at her words.
“Good evening. I’m Mia and I will be your server tonight. Can I get you started with some drinks?” A stunning blonde girl walked over with a blooming smile and pretty blue eyes that immediately found Rafe’s and didn’t falter away from his face for a second, not even to acknowledge his date.
“Hi. We’ll take a bottle of wine please.” Rafe nodded, his attention averting to Y/N as he confirmed the wine that she would be happy with while Mia made recommendations to the chef’s specials. Y/N could feel a sickly feeling growing in her stomach with every second Mia stared at Rafe, her eyes burning into him as her insecurity and jealousy set in, her already nervous self shutting down even further. Her eyes dropped the moment the server walked away and although she could feel Rafe’s eyes on her, she kept her gaze glued to the menu, hoping to look very lost in her thoughts while she examined the variety of dishes.
It didn’t take long for Mia to come back with the selected drinks and to take the food orders and it would be no shock to mention that Y/N remained invisible to her, even during this exchange of words.
“If you need anything else in the meantime, let me know Mr Cameron.” She smiled brightly as she walked away, her hips swaying in a way that made Y/N even more angry.
“Didn’t realise I put my invisible cloak on tonight.” She grumbled as she reached for her wine, eyes accidently meeting Rafe’s who watched her in shock and a little amusement.
“What?” She snapped, words spilling out more upset than she would have liked, but it proved to be so difficult to keep her distaste in.
“Are you jealous?” He asked, eyes wide and a large grin growing bigger on his face that made Y/N choke on ger glass.
“Why on Earth would you come to that conclusion? I just don’t appreciate being ignored while I’m the one sat across the table from you.” A splattering mess, she reached for her napkin and tried her best to regain her composure while doing her best to hide just exactly how jealous she truly was.
“I never thought I would see the day. My Y/N, jealous of another woman.” Rafe shook his head, a snicker falling from his lips and he could feel his head growing bigger from the validation he has been sneaking for longer than he could ever recall.
Y/N rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she shot daggers towards Rafe, who did not stop boasting for a moment until the food came out. The plates were filled with nothing but deliciousness, and yet she struggled to swallow each bite through the tightness of her throat. She tried her best to enjoy herself, knowing Rafe has gone to all this trouble and yet she couldn’t get any words out, her quietness obvious to them both.
“Wanna tell me why you have been avoiding me?” Rafe suddenly spoke, breaking the awkward silence. Y/N looked up and could feel the heat in her cheeks was betraying her even without words.
“Thought so.” Rafe hummed as he scrunched up his nose and looked away, a bit of hurt and a bit of hope missing behind his eyes.
“You don’t need to be jealous of her by the way.” He continued, seemingly happy to fill the silence by himself if that’s how it needed to be.
“This place is beautiful Rafe. Really. Thank you for bringing me here.” Y/N averted the subject as she finished up and she tried hard to ignore Rafe’s words, that caused nothing but the speeding of her heart.
As if on cue, their server arrived at the table, clearing it up.
“Can I get you the dessert menu?” Mia smiled with a small wink towards Rafe, making Y/N groan and roll her eyes, forgetting just where she is, until she found him smirking at her.
“I think I’ll be taking my date home, thank you.” He confirmed, pulling his card out and settling up the bill before taking her in his arms and leading her out into the evening.
The car journey home was just as uneventful as on the way there, except Y/N was overthinking and analysing everything that happened over at the table. She hoped Rafe meant every word and she hoped he meant it in the way she hoped he did. Maybe he did fall for her or maybe it’s just how Rafe is on dates that caused her to fall head over heals in love with him. There were too many maybes and so little certainties, all of them only pointing in her direction. She was certain she loved him. She was certain she was a fool to have never seen him before. She was also certain that her heart would break if he didn’t feel the same way. And the fact that tonight would be the night she would finally find out filled her with dread and unease and yet a little excitement too. Because it was Rafe after all.
“I can’t believe our third date is over.” She mumbled as Rafe rolled to a stop in front of her house, switching off the ignition and rounding the front of his car to get to her and help her out. Rafe didn’t say anything as he led her to her front door, just smiling at her with those sparkly eyes that made her knees wobble and her chest close up, the proximity alone keeping her warm and flush even in the winter night’s chill.
“So?” Y/N rasped out, standing in front of her door, heart pounding and hands clammy, looking up at her best friend who was now so much more than that title to her.
“So what?” Rafe asked as he took a step closer to her, hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her earn, not missing the way his touch left shivers on her smooth skin.
“Did you win the bet?” Y/N asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes uncertain but filled with hope and she knew the next words could be either the best or the worse ones she ever heard.
“I lost your bet the first time I met you when we were five.” Rafe admitted with a small smile, filled with sincerity and a little hesitancy. After all, he was sure of his feelings but although he could feel the shift in her demeanour, he couldn’t be sure if it was enough.
“That can’t be true.” She gasped, shaking her head and furrowing her brows as she tried to look back to any moment when she hadn’t felt loved by Rafe. The truth was, now she could see it. All the times he had her back, held her when she was upset, remembered the little details, looked at her longingly or with jealousy. It had been so obvious and yet she was so oblivious.
“It had always been you.” Rafe shrugged as he stepped a little closer, chest against hers, needing to feel her in any way possible.
“I feel so stupid. Rafe I’m so sorry, I..” She spiralled, burying her face in her hands, the guilt eating her alive for all that she put him through, even if she didn’t know.
“Hey. None of that. I never told you, okay? It’s not your fault.” He pulled her hands away and pinched her chin, just enough to force her eyes on him, needing her to know the truth.
“Does it make it better if I tell you I’m in love with you?” Y/N breathed out, eyes flickering between Rafe’s eyes and lips, close enough to see the way his pupils widened at her words and how his lips quirked ever so slightly with joy and disbelief.
“You are?” He gasped, his heart beating so hard it made his chest ache and he was sure he will collapse right there and then. That was until she placed her hands on his shoulder, pulling him down just enough to connect her lips to his and that’s when they both knew. This was it. The feeling that had always been missing from anything and anyone else. Because there should not have ever been anyone else.
“I can’t wait to take you shopping spoil you tomorrow.” Rafe murmured against her lips as he slipped a hand into his back pocket and fished out the credit card he made the bet with. The bet that led her to him, finally, the way he wished for day and night, with every birthday candle and every shooting star in the night sky.
Summary: Rafe had met his match when he met you. Both completely opposite and all too similar - the Kook and the Pogue who worked for his father; the hot headed boy and the girl who never backed down. And as summer rolls around on the island, tensions run high amongst the hottest enemies that OBX has ever seen.
Word Count: 2.6K
Warnings: Smuttt, 18++++, sexual content, choking, some dom/sub themes, semi-public sex, alcohol, cursing
Author’s Note: I am loving writing this series so I hope you enjoy it too - please give me any feedback / thoughts you have !!
———
You don’t see Rafe the following day, even though you and John B had been around all day. Ward had come onto the boat to explain that him and Rose would be going away for a few days but that you could ask Rafe or Sarah if you needed anything.
“What do you think of Sarah?” John B asks as you’re both just packing away for the day, you handing over the last of the rope to tie up.
“Sarah?” You frown, “Why?”
“Stop answering questions with another question.”
You smirk, “I don’t know, she’s probably the most tolerable of all of them, she seems the most self aware, at least.”
John B nods relatively dismissively, like his eyes are thinking of something else, before he says, “Who are we kidding? They just see us as the work.”
“Why does it matter how they see us?” You question, “We know what the Kooks are like, and their kids are worse than the parents half of the time, at least Ward had to work for all of this. The kids just get it all handed to them and still think of themselves as better than everyone else.”
“But Sarah is okay?”
You look at him for a second, “She’s better than her brother, but that’s not exactly a hard task.”
John B scoffs and leads the way for both of you off the deck, along the wooden dock and across the garden.
“She’s hot too,” John B mentions and you hit at the back of his head, making him fake a stumble forward.
He’s laughing and you catch up to walk beside him, glancing up and catching a glimpse of the figure on the balcony in the Cameron’s home. It stretched out from one set of double doors from one of the bedrooms, a stone fence circling around it where a pair of tanned hands rested atop. Rafe is stood looking down on the two of you, a shirt open over his bare torso. You’re squinting against the sun and his eyes are completely shadowed. It feels like there’s something weirdly foreboding about him looking down on you like that.
“(Y/N)?” John B hits the roof of the Twinkie a couple times to catch your attention, “Are you coming?”
He’s already sat in the driver’s seat, and when you glance back up at the balcony Rafe has already turned his back. You collect yourself and hurry over to the car.
“Quick beer run before tonight and then we’ll head back,” John B comments, “Do you have money?”
You roll your eyes, “Of course you don’t.”
~~~
You’re not sure how long you’ve been sat at the chalet, the beers you’d bought already disappearing as JJ had been convinced he could finish an entire can in less than five seconds. Pope had called him on his bluff and the two of them had fought like brothers until an entire can had been spilled over the boards of the porch.
“Can we just stay here?” You comment from the other side, where you were sitting with Kiara, her rolling a joint between the two of you.
“No no no,” JJ shakes his head, waving his can in your direction, “There’s some hot holidayers going today, we’re going.”
You and Kiara roll your eyes but find yourself following the boys as they stuff the remaining beer cans into their pockets where they can, JJ pushing his cap onto his head and making a comment about finding Pope a wife. They’re still arguing as the group of you tumble down to the beach, already filling with people all your age.
There’s everyone at these kinds of things - the Pogues, the Kooks, and the ones on holiday - all coming to some sort of silent agreement to share the same land for just the night. The space was shared but the conversations and drinks remained relatively separate - the Kooks were still the Kooks and you were still the Pogues.
You have a text on your phone from your sister telling you to be home before one, saying that the house needs a clean and that you needed to give your half for the bills. It’s forgotten when you lock your phone and push it back into your pocket.
JJ is already talking to a girl here on holiday, definitely a few years older than him, and Pope is hovering awkwardly beside him trying to avoid conversation with who you can only assume is the girl’s younger sister. John B and Kiara are sat with you near one of the kegs, pouring out another couple of drinks that they hand to another few of the people here on holiday. Your eyes drift over the crowd and towards the three people strolling down onto the beach. Topper, Kelce, and the king in the middle of the two - Rafe.
He seems to hold his chin higher, his chest a little more puffed out, a tension in his jaw, when he is around a crowd like this. It’s like a desire to prove himself just a little more than normal - make sure that his face matches the Cameron name, as it should.
His eyes catch yours when you realise you’ve been looking for too long and you’re sure, for just a second, he seems to shrink a little back into his normal form. But Topper hands a drink over to him and his attention is back to his own people before they can stay on you for too long. You go back to yours and he is with his. The two didn’t interact.
The party is dwindling when you see him again. All of the vacationers have been summoned home by their parents, the majority of the Kooks have dispersed onto boats or to the prospect of better parties in their mansions. Kie and JJ are sharing a joint and John B and Pope are talking about something you have no interest in, and you’re not sure if it’s the beer in your system or something else, that forces you to split off from them.
There’s only one person you’d been looking for anyway. You likely weren’t going to do much until you saw him. It’s not fault you get stopped on your way.
“Hey!” It’s a weirdly familiar voice, and you turn around to see Shane walking over to you.
He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, under his t-shirt there’s a tattoo spilling over his right shoulder and it pokes up towards the neckline but you can’t quite make out what it is.
“I never got the chance to properly thank you for the win last night,” He comments, standing too close to you when he eventually comes to a stop.
He smells of too strong aftershave and it mixes with whatever concoction was in his solo cup.
“I think the money was enough of a thanks,” You take a sip of your drink and hold it in two hands tightly.
“I don’t know, you won me a hell of a lot,” He comments, and you’re sure he’s moved impossibly closer.
Your eyes dart around the beach like you’re hoping one of the Pogues will catch your gaze and raise the red flags instantly. No luck.
“How can I repay you, princess?” Shane puts a hand to your shoulder, his fingers dragging back the hair to expose your neck.
You pull away from him instantly, like a switch has flicked on all the lights and they’re all red. Your drink spills over him a little as you move and it distracts his attention for the two seconds that you need to get away from him.
“I’ll get back to you on that one,” You shoot over your shoulder as you hurry down the length of the bay, catching a gaze behind you to make sure he hadn’t decided to follow.
It’s as you’re looking back that you manage to miss the looming shadow right in front of you. Your head collides with the solid wall of someone’s chest and your forearms are under the grasp of two large hands as the sets of fingers wrap around your skin tightly.
“You fancy watching where you’re going next time?”
You know the voice. You know the smell, though today mixed with the salty smell of the beach. You know the grasp, feeling rough but oddly comfortable.
When you turn, it’s Rafe’s eyes looming above you, his face oddly shadowed in the moonlight and the reflection casting an unexpected brightness into the orbs of his eyes.
“I-“
He notices your eyes look back again and follows them, landing on where Shane stood in his place, looking down at his damp shirt and then back up in the direction you’d disappeared to.
“What did he do?” Rafe clenches his jaw, his grip on your arms tightening for just a second.
“Nothing,” You stumble for a second as you look back up at him, coming back to yourself in enough time to pull away from his touch, “Nothing.”
He looks down on you, his arms still outstretched and bent at the elbow as if he is waiting for you to be back in his grip, “And you were running away from him because?”
You brush a hand over your clothes and pull the bottom of your croptop down so it sits lower on your torso, “It was nothing. I just didn’t want to talk to him, he’s entitled, he smells of overpriced aftershave and top shelf alcohol.”
“And what does that make me?” Rafe cocks a brow, folding his arms over his chest and watching you with a slight amusement.
You look at him and drag your eyes over him fully, “Just as bad. But you don’t smell as bad.”
He laughs and you’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard it directed towards you without it holding that chord of judgement or sarcasm.
Silence falls back between the pair of you again but it is disrupted by the oscillations of waves crashing against the sand. A chill swipes through the air now it’s dark and it injects goosepimples over your arms.
“You’re cold.”
“Calm down, Sherlock.”
He pulls his overshirt from his arms in one motion and holds it out to you in one hand, his eyes burning into you. You look between him and the shirt like it’s the most foreign object you’ve ever seen.
“Take it,” It’s demanding, and you’re sure it forces more bumps onto your skin, a tingle up your spine, “I’m an asshole but I’m not that bad. Take it.”
You pull the shirt from his hand and slip it over your shoulders, the sleeves, rolled up, but still hanging to your wrists, and the bottom of the shirt dropping lower than your shorts, “At least you’re self aware.”
He laughs again and you watch the way it crinkles his eyes, a smile on his lips that felt oddly unseen to you. It makes him look younger, no longer aged in stress beyond his years. It makes him look warmer, no longer the cold, harsh features that everyone knew to be fearful of. Wait. This is still Rafe. Don’t fall into the trap (Y/N).
“Come to the boat with me.”
It’s a simple comment. You’re not sure why your heart seems to skip in the way that it does.
“Um,” You clear your throat, “Why would I-“
“This party is dead now, and you know how much alcohol my Dad leaves on that boat,” He says it like it’s all so obvious, “Come on.”
It’s like instinct has no way of being beaten when you follow behind him. Wrapped in his shirt, following behind his footprints in the sand, eyes burning into the muscles that tighten the material of his t-shirt on his back. You’d fallen into the trap, (Y/N).
~~~
It was eerie being on this boat when it was so quiet. Rafe and you hadn’t spoken a word since you’d left the sand. You’d just been silently wishing the entire way home that none of your friends had seen you leave - though you were almost certain they’d have been chasing behind you if they had seen.
“Drink?” He speaks when the two of you are inside, and he unlocks the cabinet of drinks they’d been picking from last night.
“Tequila, if you have it,” You comment, leaning back against the table they’d used for poker, now fully pristine and clean after you and John B had been working earlier.
“Tequila?” Rafe raises his eyebrows when he looks back at you, “Alright, okay.”
“What?” You scoff as he turns around with a bottle and four shot glasses.
“Nothing, nothing, just didn’t expect that is all,” He shrugs his shoulders, setting out the four glasses, “I thought I knew you.”
“You don’t know me.”
You don’t mean for it to sound the way it does, but it’s a reflex to be defensive when it comes to him - when it came to anyone, really. Wasn’t that part of being a Pogue, though? Defending yourself before they had a chance to attack.
“I think I know you more than you realise,” Rafe comments, handing one of the shot glasses to you, “Just maybe didn’t know your drink of choice.”
He taps his glass against yours before tipping the shot back into his throat, hissing at the burn it brings. You’re used to it by now - too many shots on too many nights at the Chalet. When you drink it down, you don’t break your eye contact with Rafe.
When he goes to set his glass down on the table next to the two other shots behind you, he leans over you and you’re acutely aware of just how close all of him is. But when he moves to pull away, his free hand instead finds itself on your waist - as if the contact is so obvious.
“It’s a nice night, we should be outside.”
He’s so blatant when he talks, like he is constantly stating what you should already know. And you find yourself following behind him again, something that felt like it was becoming more of a regular occurrence.
The lights in the house and over the garden are all out, so you’re only lit out here by the reflection of the moon over the water, and the dots of stars that littered themselves over you. Rafe’s features seem darker but there’s no denying how handsome he looks. You were capable of admitting it more and more these days. He wasn’t the sort of handsome like you knew you could take home to your grandmother, but more the sort of handsome where your friends would be admitting that you’d found yourself a good one. He was sharply cut, perfectly angled but so obviously capable of slicing through you. And you find yourself incapable of pulling your eyes away.
You walk yourself over to the edge of the deck, stretching your hands out onto the cool metal railing. It’s peaceful out here, and you find yourself surprised that the peace doesn’t seem to be disturbed by Rafe’s presence.
It isn’t long before you feel him behind you, after a slow but certain few steps to close the gap. Rafe is stood against your back, the most brief contact just brushing between the back of your shorts and his waist. He drags up a finger to slowly, cautiously, pull the hair from over your neck. He teasingly drags it across the back of your shoulders, exposing the skin underneath as he dips his head down. You inhale sharply at the first contact, his hot tongue dipping onto the cool skin of your neck before his lips latch on just a second behind. Rafe sucks into the skin and you clench your thighs together as if this contact alone is enough to drive you towards your high. He practically burrows himself into the crook of your neck, pinching and biting at the sensitive skin like you were his to claim. You bring one of your hands up and drag the length of your fingertips into his hair, tugging sharply at the tufts as you lean your head back into his shoulder to expose more of your skin to him.
Rafe moves one hand down to your waist and pushes with enough force to spin you around, your back now pressed against the metal railing. When you look at his face then, you’re sure for a moment that you question it all. Why was your heart beating so fast? Why did you want nothing more than for Rafe to be kissing you? Why was there such a hunger in his eyes?
All of your questions disappear as his lips latch onto yours, a second delayed as if he’d been asking himself the same questions too. It isn’t slow or delicate, it’s hard and passionate. And his tongue is quick to delve between your lips as the two of you fight for dominance over the other. You’re sure that you’ll let him win, but he’d be stupid to think you wouldn’t put up a good fight. His fingers grip the skin of your waist, driving his hips into yours to push you harder against the rail behind you. You can feel the growing tension in his trousers, the way he’s desperate for you already. But when he drives the contact to the place you needed it the most, you’re sure you’re just as desperate for him.
Rafe draws his other hand up to your neck and clasps a hand around it as he kisses you, not with too much pressure but enough for you to be reminded of his presence, pressing just enough for a gasp to escape your lips.
He smirks against you as he moves his other hand down to your shorts, making quick work to tug open the button and pull them down. Your hands fumble around the clasp of his belt, pushing his trousers down his thighs as the muscles tense under your touch. Rafe breaks away from you momentarily as he pulls his trousers down to his ankles, pausing for just long enough to take another look at you. You’re sure in that moment that both of you will snap back to reality and realise what the fuck you were doing. But he closes the gap once more and moves his lips down to your neck, kissing and biting at the skin harshly.
Rafe moves his hand down to your thong, tugging the thin material to the side so that he can run his finger over you, already dripping with your heightened desire for him. You think he’ll make a snarky comment about it, but you can see the way his boxers are tightening as his erection grows and you’re certain that the feeling is mutual.
“Just fuck me already,” You mutter as he bites at your neck hard enough to leave a mark, his finger dragging over the slickness of your slit.
Rafe lets out a brief laugh and pulls away from you, “Anyone would think you’re desperate.”
You roll your eyes and go to respond but you’re cut off by the shock as he turns you around quickly to face away from him, your hands moving instantly to grip the bar of the railing in front of you. He puts his hands quickly to tug his boxers down, discarding them around his ankles along with his trousers.
“I need to fuck that attitude out of you,” He states, his voice thick and deep in his arousal.
One of his hands presses against your back, just under the material of your crop top, so that you’re bent over in front of him, his other hand moving to his dick to line up against you. There’s no warning, as he pushes into you and bottoms out instantly, forcing you to tighten your grip on the railing as he does.
“Fuck,” You mutter, trying to fight back the burning desire to moan at the sensation.
It is desperate straight away, he picks up his pace and pounds into you relentlessly, his dick angled perfectly to hit the spot where you wanted him the most. His hands are either side of your waist, practically pulling you into him at the same rhythm that he thrust his hips forward. You angle your head down just enough that you can see the way he moves into you, the way your pussy seems to beg for his every move, your thong shoved to the side to give him all the access you desired.
Rafe fights back from moaning at the sight, you bent over just for him, your body seeming to wrap around his like it was meant to. He moves a hand down and shoves it underneath the material of your top, the elastic stretching around his hand as he grips your tit - massaging the nipple between his thumb and forefinger roughly. You can’t help it when you whimper at the touch, releasing your own hand to grip over his, getting the angle right for him to draw every sensation out of the sensitive bud. His other hand is gripping the skin of your waist tightly, certain to leave a mark littered around the others he had already left you with.
You adjust your grip with one hand on the rails and use the other to pull at his wrist from under your top, guiding his hand up to your throat once again. There was just something about it. The coolness of his rings against the sticky heat, the way his thumb pressed into the exact right spot, how he gripped you like you were his.
“Fucking slut,” He says between relentless thrusts, though you can practically taste the smirk that would be on his lips at the idea, and you can feel it in the certainty of his grip around your neck.
You can feel his pounding start to falter just slightly, your legs feeling like they could buckle from underneath you if you held on for any longer. But you don’t have much time to consider it as he moves his hand from around your neck and into your hair, his fingers splaying to grip at the locks tightly as he pulls you up towards him. Your head falls back onto his shoulder and Rafe dips his head down to suck at one of the marks he had already made on your neck, though it’s lazier and messier this time as his hot breath spills over the skin, erratic and out of rhythm. You reach a hand down and it finds his, and in the moment, your fingers interlace together - an odd gesture of romance amongst the hot, sweaty, desperate movements.
“Rafe,” You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips with the word, feeling your walls tighten impossibly around him and your legs feel numb beneath you as you come undone around his dick.
Your head presses further back into his shoulder and Rafe tightens his grip on your waist to keep you from falling under the pleasure, a moan escaping your lips that he is sure is the most heavenly sound he’s ever heard.
It’s enough to force him towards his edge too, his thrusts still pounding you through your high as they start to fall out of rhythm.
“Shit,” He hisses hot against your ear, squeezing tighter at your hair as he pulls out of you, his seed spilling over your ass and dripping just enough down onto your thighs.
Rafe releases your hair and your head falls back against his shoulder, both of your chests rising and falling as you regain yourselves back to reality. You open your eyes and look over the water, still completely flat and silent.
He lets his hand fall down from your waist, stepping back from you as he bends down to pull his boxers up his legs, kicking off his trousers from around his ankles and leaving them on the deck.
It feels like a strange, cold reality sinks in when he walks away. A feeling of dread that you’d been hoping to never have, a realisation of what had just happened. You watch him as he disappears back inside the boat, certain that you wouldn’t see him emerge again. In the moment, you’re aware of everything - how your head hurts, the way your legs still feel a little numb, the way your clothes are still barely hanging onto your body. And you’re cold, and oddly alone.
But within seconds, you hear the sound of his feet against the deck, and he’s coming back over to you, a towel in one hand and the remaining two shot glasses in the other, balanced in his palm as his fingers fold up the sides to keep them steady.
“Here,” He says to you, handing the towel over.
You take it and smile at him, surprised Rafe had it in him to consider you after what had just happened, “And the shot glasses?”
He laughs and it’s deep and seems warm in the space between you, “We forgot to do them earlier, I don’t know why, must’ve just got distracted after the first one or something.”
You laugh too and take one of them from him, tapping it against his.
Summary: Rafe had met his match when he met you. Both completely opposite and all too similar - the Kook and the Pogue who worked for his father; the hot headed boy and the girl who never backed down. And as summer rolls around on the island, tensions run high amongst the hottest enemies that OBX has ever seen.
Word Count: 2.6K
Warnings: Cursing, some (ish) sexual references, mentions of losing a parent
Author's Note: Omgggg I’m so excited to start this series !! I already have sooo many ideas for it. Please let me know what you think of the first chapter I want to hear alll of your opinions !! Much much much love to all of you, angels x
Rafe had grown up getting everything he wanted. As much as he was reluctant to admit it at times, he knew he had always been fed from the silver spoon. He could have half of the island wrapped around his little finger if he really wanted to. Everybody knew it. From his friends that were more like followers, to his girls that were more like groupies, to his family that were more like business partners. All of it was more and more a part of the personality that made the infamous Rafe Cameron.
You, having grown up in The Cut, were one of the many people that worked for him and his family. You'd taken the job working on the boat, you and John B both working together. It was mundane but it covered your share of the bills and kept your older sister off of your back. Since your father had passed away a few years ago, it was really just you and her left. That's how you'd become such good friends with John B - you'd been through the same shitty few years on the shitty side of the island you called home. And there was something comforting about going through it with someone that knew how it all felt. Working together was just another part of that - a way to make a crap life a little less bad.
Though, it was safe to say dealing with Rafe's input was one of the worst parts of your job - he was always on your case about every part of the work. He would pick you up on the slightest things, tell his father if you were even a few minutes late, made sure to give you enough jobs to last the day. It hadn't taken you long to start arguing back with him, defending yourself when he expected you to stay silent. And, though people might think he was the most hot headed a person could get, it seemed he had met his match in you.
"Oi!" John B shouts from the other side of the deck, "Are you going to help or what?"
You roll your eyes at him and stand up from where you'd been enjoying the sun from the deck. It was a scorching day on the island, the sun beating down relentlessly - even worse on the dock of the yacht that seemed to be allergic to any type of shade;
"Ward's not meant to be home for another hour, which means we have at least half an hour before we even need to start."
"Right, but if you grow up and do it now, we can slack off later," He points out, wiping the sweat from his brow.
The two of you were like siblings to each other - him the mature and logical one that liked to keep the peace, and you the unhinged argumentative one that seemed set on disturbing the peace.
"Touché," You walk over to where he's stood over the pile of used scuba gear, a hose in one hand to start cleaning it all with freshwater.
You pick up the other hose and spray it a couple of times to test it out. Watching it splash down the deck and trail towards the drainage, not paying attention to it bounce off in the other direction to spray over John B.
"Do you mind?" He raises his eyebrows at you, shaking off the water from his arm.
"I'm sorry I almost drowned you," You roll your eyes at him, spraying the hose another time in his direction.
"Really? You want to start that?" John B laughs, dropping the buoyancy jacket from his hands to turn his attention to you.
He sprays in your direction and it splashes down the front of your crop top, forcing a squeal from your lips.
"Oh you are dead!" You return, splashing him back so that it soaks his hair down to his head.
He goes at you again and soaks your outfit completely, water dripping down your shoulders and down your arms.
John B laughs and shakes his hair out, raising his hands in defeat, "Okay okay stop, I'm done."
He pulls a hand over his face and your hands down either side of your hair to slick it away from your face, welcoming the cool it brings you against the blazing heat.
"Good to see we pay you for some quality work here!" An all too infamous voice calls out from the other end of the boat.
You look up to see Rafe coming towards you, his skin sun-kissed in the heat. He crosses over the ramp from the wooden dock and onto the deck, long strides drawing him closer to you. There's a white linen shirt hanging on either side of his torso, exposing the dips of his abs and the way they seem more prominent with his tan. No. Ignore it. This is Rafe, it didn't matter what body came with that.
"We?" You scoff, "I'm not so sure you're responsible in the slightest for paying us. But go ahead, run along and tell Daddy if you need to."
He clenches his jaw but doesn't say anything for just a second, "I could get you fired with a click of my fingers, so watch your tone."
John B looks at you with warning in his eyes when he can tell you're on the verge of snapping back at Rafe. You struggled to hide your feelings at the best of times, but it seemed all the more impossible when it came to this boy.
You'd known of him when you were little, the two of you meeting when your father used to work the restaurant at the club. As a little boy, Rafe was a lot more tolerable than he was now - though you were sure that he didn't remember you. Your first memory of him was when you were sat waiting for your Dad's shift to end, you no older than six. You'd fallen and cut your knee and Rafe had found you, much taller than you even when he was a kid, and he'd stolen an ice cream from the buffet bar to give to you. He'd told you to stop crying because his Dad had told him that big kids didn't cry, but he knew from his sister Sarah that ice cream could cure a lot of things. He looked at your knee, the blood spilling down your leg, and he held a napkin over it whilst you ate the ice-cream he'd given you. When your Dad came to find you, he'd pulled you away and told you to not hang around with those 'Kook Kids' again. You'd looked over your shoulder as you left and watched as Rafe was getting told off by his own father, likely for disappearing, or perhaps for thieving from the buffet. He'd looked at you with a sadness in his eyes that didn't seem to dispel.
That same sadness, though mixed with a few other things, still seemed to remain all these years later.
"You can both leave, I've got some business to take care of," Rafe states simply, "Finish this up tomorrow."
John B grabs his hat and his bag from the side and nods, "You got it," He disappears around the side of the deck, glancing back at you with that sort of look in his eyes that tells you get the fuck out of there while you've got the chance.
"You know you shouldn't leave this stuff without cleaning it," You point out, "The salt can damage your gear. That's why we have to clean it."
"Then we can buy new stuff," His words are a cold contrast against the blistering summer heat.
You roll your eyes, certain in that moment that you and Rafe could not be any more different if you tried, "Easy life isn't it, Rafe Cameron?"
"Easier if you weren't here."
You're silent, a strange tension between the two of you that never seemed to disperse.
"Your top is dripping over the deck," He comments matter-of-factly.
He seems to look at you with a darkness in his eyes, though different from the way he seemed when he was angry. It wasn't an anger when he was with you - it was more like fury, a burning inside of him that seemed to echo in the tension in his muscles.
You cock a brow at him and lift one of your arms to pull your crop top over your head, quickly and in one motion, exposing the thin cover of the bikini top you wore underneath, "Yeah, you're right, wouldn't want water on the boat would we?"
"Was that necessary?" He cocks a brow at you, his eyes drifting south towards your chest, the way the droplets of water curled around the curves of your breasts.
"Keep your dick in your pants, Cameron."
~~~
"You know your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you didn't argue with him all the time," John B points out, sat on the dock next to the Chalet, his legs dangling over the edge, a beer can in his hands
"And what's the fun in that?" You tilt your head up from where you lay sprawled out over the wooden surface, one hand coming up to your face to block your eyes from the sun.
"The woman raises a good point," JJ comments, matching your pose as he was sprawled out over the small space of their boat.
"Plus," You lean up onto your elbows, "He thinks he can walk all over us just because his father's got money, I'm sick of it."
"His father having money is the reason that we can get a bit too," John B points out, standing up and going over to the cooler of beers that was already dwindling in supplies, "So please keep your mouth shut so that I can keep my job."
You push yourself up to stand and step through the barrier of the dock to stand on the side of the water, your hands reaching behind your back to hold the fence and steady yourself, "I can't make any promises."
You stretch your arms above your head and dive into the water, kicking below the surface to submerge yourself in the relief of the cold water. When you break the surface, you turn around to see the boys watching you from the deck.
JJ smirks at you, nudging John B knowingly before he says, "Damn, that was hot."
~~~
You're back at the Cameron's house the following day, pulling up in front of the mansion in your beat up car that seemed a stark contrast to the world around you. The car had belonged to your father, and had been passed down to you when your sister refused to drive it. It was littered with scratches and had a dent on one side, and the passenger side window didn't ever close, and it only took cassette tapes despite this being the 21st Century.
As you pull up today, Rafe is parked in front of your spot. The hood of his car is open and he's bent over, studying the inner workings like it were a foreign language. When he hears your door slam, a little too abruptly, he is quick to comment.
"You're late."
"Did you miss me that much?" You cock a brow, walking around the side of his car so you can see under the hood too, "What's wrong with this?"
He looks up at you for a second, his eyes squinting a little against the smoke that was just starting to bellow up from the vehicle, "I don't-" He stops himself, "It's fine, just go to the boat."
You look over, walking around to the front of the car so that you stood next to him, your shoulder bumping his arm as you tap at the source of his problem, "Your fuel cap is busted, radiator cap should solve it."
Rafe pulls away from the car to stand up straight, like a reminder of just how much he towered over you, "Are you kidding?"
"I probably have a spare in my trunk," You comment, standing up too so that you can face him, the tips of your shoes almost brushing with his.
"I don't need your help, (Y/N)."
You smirk and make sure your eyes are in direct contact with his as you state, "Oh, don't worry, I wasn't offering."
With that, you turn on your heel and make your way towards the house, diverting towards the gate that would lead you down towards the dock. You couldn't quite make out the feeling in your chest - a little bit of pride at your tiny victory, and a little bit of the typical quickening of your heart beat that only Rafe seemed to be able to cause.
~~~
Rafe gives up on his car not long after, storming back into the house as if the anger was practically radiating off of him.
“I need Dad’s keys, have you seen them?” He calls over to Sarah, who’s laying across one of the couches with a book in one hand, the other arm tucked under her head.
“Why would I know where they are?” She retorts, setting her book down and stretching her arms back above her head.
“Can you help me look for them?” Rafe snaps, “I’ve got somewhere to be and my car’s busted.”
“Find them yourself,” She scoffs, “Or get John B or (Y/N) to help you with your car.”
Rafe stops his search for the keys and looks at her flatly, “Are you kidding?”
“Why do you hate them so much?” His sister shakes her head, “They’re not that bad and you act like (Y/N) is the worst person on the planet.”
“She’s not-“
As if on cue, you walk through from the garden, sliding open one of the large glass panel doors. There were beads of sweat around your neck from being in the sun, the material of your halter neck top rising a little over your torso. Rafe finds himself trailing his eyes over you before he has a chance to stop himself.
“Perfect!” Sarah smiles at you, “(Y/N), if you’re not too busy can you help my pain-in-the-ass brother to fix his car so he can stop stressing out?”
You look from her and onto her brother, the way his chest is rising and falling like even the sight of you irritated him beyond normal, “I don’t think he wants my help. I’m just here to get the key to the locker, we’ve got stuff to put away.”
Rafe looks at you directly, as if he hopes his gaze will eventually pierce through your confidence and give him the upper hand, “I’ll get you the key, if you get me that cap.”
It’s impossible to hide the smirk over your lips, “Hard bargain, Rafe Cameron.”
“Just do it,” He rolls his eyes, storming out of the room just as quickly as he’s entered.
Sarah glances up at you and shakes her head, “I’m sure you make him worse than normal.”
You laugh and nod your head a little, “Yeah, probably, but someone’s got to do it.”
You leave then and go out to your car, where Rafe is already waiting. He’s leant back against the side of it, his elbows leaning back on either side of the roof and his ankles crossed as if you had kept him waiting for a short version of forever.
”Do you mind? You’ll ruin the paint,” You bat his arm away and it evokes a deep laugh from him, one of mocking more so than amusement.
“On this thing? I think the paint is the least of your concerns,” He comments, glancing down at the scratches that wound around the side of the doors.
“Do you want to fix your car or not?”
He’s quiet then.
“This was my Dad’s car,” You mention, grabbing what you needed from the trunk before closing it, “And until it stops driving, I see no reason to get rid of it.”
“Your Dad,” Rafe studies your face, “Yeah, I remember him, he used to work at the club, right?”
As you walk past him, you find yourself having to swallow the lump in your throat before you can think of responding properly, “Yeah.”
“How did he-“
“Can you stop?” You snap at him, twisting off the old cap and fixing the new one in place over the fuel pump.
“Can I stop what?”
You stand up from the hood of his car and slam it shut, “Pretending like you give a shit. I don’t need your pity.”
It’s like something switches off in Rafe then, a light going out before your eyes had even adjusted to it being there, he straightens up his shoulders, lets out a cold blooded laugh through his lips, “Oh I don’t pity you, you Pogues are all just as bad as each other. Criminals, nothing more.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, this criminal has to get back to working on your boat,” You step forward and swipe the locker key from his hand, “I’ll try my best to not steal anything whilst I’m there.”
He watches you walk away, tastes the sarcastic air left in the wake of your words, breathes in the lingering scent of your unwavering confidence. And he can’t bring himself to look away from you. But, for just a brief moment, Rafe realises that he doesn’t want to.
Summary: Rafe had met his match when he met you. Both completely opposite and all too similar - the Kook and the Pogue who worked for his father; the hot headed boy and the girl who never backed down. And as summer rolls around on the island, tensions run high amongst the hottest enemies that OBX has ever seen.
Word Count: 1.6K
Warnings: Sexual references, cursing, alcohol, and ngl just a hell of a lot of tension
Author’s Note: This series is so fun to write so I hope you’re still enjoying it - I have so many ideas … including some smut to come in the next chapter …
~~~
The heat still isn’t letting up over the islands, and living on the Cut meant no air conditioning, and likely one fan to share between your entire house. Your sister, Lea, was currently sat out under the shade of your porch, her legs stretched out over the old couch so far that her ankles hung just over the edge - she had a textbook in her hand, reading over the notes she’d already highlighted. She’d always been naturally pretty, always looking softer and more approachable than you ever had. She was just over a year older than you, but had the sort of head on her shoulders that meant she felt it was certain she had to take care of you. It seemed apparent sometimes that she still refused to believe you had ever grown up. Lea had gotten older but she wouldn’t admit that you had too.
“Are you working today?” She asks you when she hears the door creak to signify your presence.
“No, I just need to go over there and drop something off,” You comment, leaning against the doorframe and picking off some of the peeling white paint from over the wood.
Lea sits up a little and looks at you, “And afterwards?”
You shrug, “Probably just hang out with the guys.”
“You know you don’t need to spend every day with those guys?” She frowns at you, “All they do is sit around, drink and smoke, right?”
“What else do you want them to do?” You scoff, “There’s fuck all to do on this island.”
Lea pushes herself up to stand, fanning her face with her hands, “Maybe you could all afford to be a bit more productive, it might give you more of a chance to get out of this place.”
You roll your eyes at her, “I have to go.”
It would never fail to irritate you when she said things like that, the kind of mindset that you were ruining your life just by the people you stuck with around here. The two of you were Pogues, and your Dad had been too. But Lea was reluctant to admit that, convincing herself that you could get away from all of it if you just pretended to not be one of them.
You turn the key in the ignition to your car and start your drive towards the Camerons’ house, passing the other battered houses in the cut that looked almost completely identical to your own - all on their last legs.
~~~
You’re stood in front of the Camerons’ house waiting for the door to open with a silent prayer in your mind that their air con will give you a moment of relief from the sun beating down on your back.
“For fuck’s sake I-“ You start to mutter to yourself just as the door swings open.
Rafe is stood on the other side, a smirk on his face. He’s wearing a green t-shirt and a pair of slack trousers, “Can I help you?”
“I was just coming over to drop the keys off,” You comment, glancing down at his outfit once more, “How the fuck are you wearing that today?”
You were stood opposite him in a blue halter neck top that you’d stolen from your sister, with a pair of gym shorts that had ridden high up on your thighs. And, even then, it felt like you were going to boil if you stood in the sun for much longer.
“Air conditioning is a wonderful invention, (Y/N),” He offers you a sarcastic smile, “Or have you guys still not heard of that invention?”
“I hope it breaks, I really do,” You roll your eyes at him and he laughs.
He’s got one hand on the door like he’s prepared to shut it at the first opportunity, but he is yet to make the move to do so. Instead, he’s letting his eyes trail over you, lazily like he doesn’t care if you notice - dipping over every curve of your body and the way your clothes leave little to his imagination.
“My Dad needs you to work tomorrow. We’ve got some business partners coming over and we’ll need you on the boat to keep everything in check. Be here before five.” Rafe comments, his eyes dragging themselves back up to yours.
“Some manners would go a long way Rafe,” You roll your eyes, “But yeah, I’ll be here.”
“See you tomorrow, Princess.”
___________
Like the loyal worker you were, you’re at the Cameron’s house just before five the following day. You still weren’t exactly sure what today would consist of, but Ward had mentioned that he’d pay you extra - who were you to say no. Oh, and he’d told you to dress ‘smart’, which in Kiara’s words meant he expected you to wear a dress. You’d stolen one from your sister that she’d had from a few years ago, a royal blue fitted dress with thin spaghetti straps - it was a little shorter on you than it had been on her, and it was tighter around your chest, so you’d thrown a white baggy linen shirt over the top.
“(Y/N)!” It’s Ward that opens the door to you, “Thanks for coming.”
As much as you weren’t his biggest fan, he’d never been the worst boss to have. He paid you half-decently, he didn’t really expect too much from you, and he wasn’t as much of a dick as his son was - that had to count for something.
“Hey, I hope I’m not late,” You smile.
“No, no, right on time,” He encourages, “Come through.”
Their house never failed to amaze you, the winding staircase and the maze of doors, the antiques littered around every corner of the room, the slight hints of history that still remained over their repainted walls. There was no real sense of family in the place, no photos over the walls, no memories amongst their belongings - it was a house, not a home. But, damn, it was a big house at that.
“So we’ve got some business deals going on at the minute and so a few of the guys have come over today. Just some drinks, and some poker on the boat, nothing much,” He explains, “And hopefully them drinking enough that they agree to do business with us.”
You force yourself to laugh at his half-hearted attempt at a joke, certain you would never relate to when he spoke about his life like that.
“We just need you pottering around really, drinks, food, sorting out some stuff on deck - sound good?”
Realistically, you weren’t sure at what point you’d agreed to become a waitress. But business men likely meant they’d give you tips too, and bills were due next week. So you swallow your pride for just a second and accept his offer.
You follow Ward onto the boat and notice that Rafe is already there, leaning back on one of the couches with his arm up on the back of the cushions. One ankle is up and resting over the knee of his other leg, his chinos tightening around his crotch. He looks up at you and cocks a brow, waiting for his Dad to leave before he says;
“If you’re going to wear a dress like that at least wear it properly,” His eyes haven’t left you, tracing the way it hugs your figure.
“Why? So your pervert friends can stare at my tits all night?”
He swallows the lump in his throat and clenches his jaw, “Wear what you want, I don’t care,” But he looks away from you then, and you’re sure his cheeks are a little redder, his tan failing to hide it.
It’s later in the evening by the time the guests arrive, the small group of them spilling onto the boat just as the sun was beginning to set. They all ask for whiskeys when you walk over to them and shoot Ward comments like ‘where’ve you been hiding her’. You ignore it, pouring out five glasses of whiskey. Rafe eyes you as you bring them over, setting them down on the table they had all set out for poker. You don’t look at him, sure that your cheeks will redden more than they already have done.
They’re chatting between themselves and you hear one of them make a comment about not being sure which yacht he should buy. Fucking rich people. They drink their whiskey’s too quickly and you’re filling them up again before any of them even ask, hoping to go as long as you can without speaking too much to these guys.
“So, Rafe, is this lovely lady your girlfriend?” One of them asks.
You look up over the table and stare directly at Rafe. He has his jaw clenched and he doesn’t look at you. There’s a difference in his demeanour when he’s around these kind of people, like he’s trying to convince himself he’s capable of being more like his father.
“You know me, I don’t date,” He returns, making sure that his eyes never once find yours, looking down instead at the liquid that he is swirling around in his glass.
“(Y/N) works for us, on the boat,” Ward explains, “Keeps this thing afloat.”
You force yourself to smile at them, feeling the need to pull the material of your shirt around your dress, like the thought of this group looking might make you sick right on the spot.
“Alright, what do you say we start a game?” Ward clasps his hands together, “(Y/N), Rose should’ve made some food in the house, do you mind bringing it over?”
You take a deep breath, all of you relieved to be able to leave the situation even if for just a minute, “Sure.”
When you get back, they’re onto their second round, and it is just Rafe and one other guy left. He must be one of the mens’ sons - only a six or seven years older than you. You’d learnt his name was Shane but didn’t know much else. You set down the food onto the table and step back.
“(Y/N), you know a thing or two about poker?” Shane asks you, a smirk dancing over his lips, “What would you do with this?”
You glance down at his cards, and look over at the four already laid out on the table, “I’d say it couldn’t hurt to take a shot.”
He raises a brow at you and you see his eyes slip a little lower than they should, looking back up at your face, “Alright, I raise.”
He throws a stack of 1000 chips onto the table.
“Oh I don’t-“ You go to retract your suggestion but Rafe throws in the same amount, keeping his eyes away from you like before.
Ward leans forward to burn a card, putting it onto the second pile before turning over the next one to line it up next to the others.
It leaves Shane with a three of a kind.
Rafe tosses his cards onto the table, only two pairs in his hand, “Well played,” His eyes are cold when they stare at Shane, like he could reach over the table and punch him at just the sight of the guy.
“Well, thanks for the tip, Princess,” Shane cocks a brow at you, “I should keep you around.”
Rafe grips a hand around his glass to tight you’re sure it would break in his grasp, his knuckles turning white under the tension. He’s staring at the cards on the table, fixating on them as if it is the one thing that will stop him from cracking. In that moment, you know it’s not the game making him lose all cool.
~~~
It’s late when the guys finally decide to leave, you tell Ward you’ll clean up and let yourself out and he thanks you, tucking a few hundreds into your hand like it’s just pocket change. You pick up a few of the stray bottles from around the deck and go back inside, letting out a sigh of relief you felt like you’d been holding for hours.
At the table, Rafe is still sat, swirling his finger around the rim of his glass.
“Shit, sorry,” You say quickly, “I didn’t realise anyone was here.”
“Sit down,” He commands, “Play a round with me.”
You set down the bottles onto the counter and frown at him, “What?”
“You heard me.”
You clear your throat and sit down in the chair directly opposite him, feeling strangely out of your depth when you were so close under his focused gaze. Rafe gulps down the last of his drink and leans forward, dealing out two cards to you and another two to him.
“What are we playing for?” You ask him, lifting up one side of the two cards on the table to see what you had.
3 of clubs and 6 of hearts.
He doesn’t answer your question, instead burning a card and then turning over three to face up. There’s a four and a seven amongst them and you fight back the urge to smile at the possibility of actually beating him.
He throws in a couple of 100 chips and you follow suit, though not exactly sure what it meant when you wouldn’t be giving him any money, and you wouldn’t be caught dead taking money from Rafe.
The air between you feels warmer now, you can feel it tingling against your skin just slightly uncomfortably. You move your hands up to pull the material of your shirt away from your shoulders, fully exposing the dress underneath.
Rafe looks up at you and cocks a brow, “Are you trying to distract me (Y/L/N)?”
You lean your elbows onto the table in front of you and clasp your fingers together, resting your chin atop them, “You tell me.”
He keeps his eyes completely locked on yours as he pulls out another card, lining it up against the others. Not what you wanted.
You wince, looking down at your cards as if you weren’t absolutely certain of what was there. Rafe narrows his eyes at you like he’s trying to see past your face, before taking the rest of his chips and pushing them into the centre of the table.
“All in,”
“All in?” You smirk, “I guess I have no choice.”
He turns over the last card and leans forward, like all that matters is watching you move. It’s a five. Rafe reaches a hand to turn his cards over, no hand amongst them. You turn yours over and line them up underneath the five in the middle.
“Straight.”
He smirks at you and sits back in his chair, “Well done Princess.”
You roll your eyes, “It’s not as if we’re playing for anything anyway.”
He pushes himself up from his chair and walks around the width of the table until he gets to your side, in the few agonisingly slow seconds that it takes him to reach you. Rafe towers over you, his frame blocking the moonlight from outside and leaving you both in an oddly tense shadow. You crane your neck to look up at him, gulping down the thickness in your throat like it’s going to help you find any words to say to him.
“You see, if I’d have won, I’d have told you to never speak to that asshole Shane again,” He speaks slowly his voice deep and quiet.
You can’t bring yourself to move, too focused on the way his eyes seem to have darkened.
“I’d have told you that he shouldn’t be allowed to look at you, or touch you, or call you his princess,” He emphasises the last word so much so that it seems to hang between you as if there is something so unsaid about the word.
You stand up then, somehow gathering the force to do so, even under his gaze that seemed to freeze you in your spot. When you stand, your height only draws you to his shoulders at a push, your head still craning up towards him, the way his hair wraps around his temples. His eyes are still dark but their colour is just starting to pierce through now you can see them so closely.
“Why do you care so much about Shane?” You ask him, quieter than you had planned to speak, a smaller voice than you ever used around Rafe.
He looks between each of your eyes, like he’s analysing the features, looks down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, “I don’t.”
Before you can speak, Rafe brings a hand up to brush your hair back from your face. His fingertips graze your skin, drawing the hair back slowly and gently - a softer touch than you ever expected from him. His hand doesn’t make any move to disappear though, instead turning to rest against your jaw, his thumb at your chin. Rafe brushes the rough pad of his thumb over your lips, pressing a little stronger until your lips part around his finger. He instinctively clenches his jaw when you do so, his thumb dipping into your mouth as it grazes over your teeth.
“I don’t want him looking at you princess,” He says thickly, low and certain, before dragging his thumb away from you, leaving his hand lingering over your jaw.
It’s like a part of yourself comes back to you then, a self-assurance you were annoyed that he would ever let you lose, a stubbornness that was normally unwavering;
“I don’t think you get a say in that.”
You pull away from him, enough that it seems to break the tension in between. Like it drops five degrees in the room just from that. Your heart realises it needs to beat again. Rafe watches you, his eyes tracing your movements, this time with a hunger in them that you couldn’t quite place. You pick up your shirt from the back of the chair and pull it over your shoulders.
“I’m working tomorrow,” You state, like it’s normality amongst whatever the hell had just happened, “I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Rafe drags a hand through his hair, oddly flustered beyond how you were so used to seeing him.
He watched as you leave, trying to convince himself that there wasn’t a desire to follow after you, convincing himself that his mind wasn’t running over a million possibilities of what he wanted to do to you - these possibilities now stretching beyond a hatred, and perhaps closer to a lust he hadn’t given into.
You hurry down the dock and across the garden like you’re running away, your hands gripping at the material of your shirt to pull it around you. Why was your heart racing? Why were you clenching your core? Why did your skin so feel strange without his touch? Why did you want more of him? You push the thoughts out, forcing the million questions away from you. He wasn’t thinking of you. Right? He just wanted a power that he thought he could have over everyone. Right?
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
After weeks of all-nighters and cramming for finals, sleeping in on your first morning at the beach house felt incredible. It was only 9:30 when you finally stirred in the comfy bed, but it felt late in the day.
Coming down the stairs in your pjs and slippers, you smiled at the sound of your sister’s voice, joking around with her old friends. Your goal this trip was for her to have a good time, and despite the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Rafe yesterday, at this moment, you were glad you decided to stay. You entered the room to see half the house was awake, though neither Rafe or Tom had made an appearance yet.
“Ladies and gentleman, it’s Kerri Walsh Jennings!” Topper deepened his voice like a sports announcer when you entered the kitchen. The few people who were up all turned to you, playfully bowing and applauding like you were a true Olympian. You grinned and rolled your eyes, surprised at how comfortable you felt with the unprecedented attention.
Topper was at the stove flipping pancakes for everyone’s breakfast, wearing an apron that said “kiss the cook.” As you approached the kitchen island to grab a stool next to your sister, he leaned over, holding the spatula like a microphone.
“So tell us, Kerri, now that you’ve won the gold what will you do next?”
“Well, Top,” you played along. “First, I’m going to get some coffee…then I’m going straight to Disneyland!”
Everyone in the kitchen laughed, making the tips of your ears turn red. No one ever laughed at your jokes in high school, not that you were confident enough to make many. Rafe would tell you sometimes that you were funny, so long as no one was around to hear him admit it.
“Well I can help you with the first part,” Topper said, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot.
“Wow, so domestic of you, Topper,” you teased as he poured your steaming coffee in front of you.
“He’s our house mother,” Carter said, smiling wide at Topper who did a jokey little curtsy motion. Clearly this was a running joke between them.
Topper handed you a plate of pancakes, which Kelce promptly reached over your shoulder to steal.
“Since when are you such an athlete?” Kelce asked, his mouth already full with your breakfast.
You told them all about your team at school, surprised out of your mind that everyone was actually listening intently.
Rafe woke up groggy and sore, ducking his head as he walked through the basement and made his way up the rickety steps. As he reached for the handle of the door which opened into the kitchen, he smiled at the sound of your voice on the other side. His smile quickly faded when he heard Kelce interrupt you with, “Yeah and you kicked Rafe’s ass, too, made him your bitch.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
Every head in the kitchen whipped towards the sound of Rafe’s voice as he emerged, except for yours. You shuffled slightly on your stool and sipped your coffee. Rafe didn’t miss the way you were ignoring him, his eyes grazing quickly over the smoothe skin of your shoulders before redirecting to anything he could find.
“Cute apron, Top,” he landed on.
“Thanks man,” Topper said, ignoring his mocking tone. “Want some flapjacks?”
“Ew, who calls them flapjacks?” Carter burst out laughing.
“Well now you don’t get any,” Topper scolded, pulling her plate away from her and handing it to Rafe.
“I don’t want ‘em if Carter’s put her mouth near them,” Rafe mocked. “We don’t know where she’s been.”
“Says the guy who licked the gym floor in seventh grade,” you said quietly.
The entire room came to a halt, everyone surprised at the sound of you joining in on the teasing. No one had actually heard you address Rafe yet. The awkwardness hung in the air, all eyes going wide as they waited to see if the notorious hothead was going to be able to take what he was dishing out. You just picked at your pancakes with your fork and hoped everyone would move on, but Rafe smirked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye.
“That was on a dare,” he defended himself.
When you finally looked up at him, your stomach twisted into a knot as you noticed how cute he looked in his white undershirt and grey sweats, messy bedhead and sleepy eyes. You immediately regretted acknowledging that you remembered something he did so long ago. Now, he was looking at you with something like excitement, smug that you were talking to him, like your big triumph the day before had never happened.
“Oh, I didn’t remember that part.” It was a lie, you remembered everything he ever said or did.
Rafe’s face dropped at your impassive tone, his brief window of hope that all was forgiven slammed shut.
To your great relief, Tom chose that moment to enter the room, drawing the attention away from you and Rafe. He had apparently been out on a run, and his under armor shirt, wet with sweat, clinged to his form to reveal a sculpted chest below.
“How we doin’ everyone?” His cheery voice boomed. He slapped Topper on the back before giving Kelce a frat bro handshake across the counter. “What do we have here?” He whistled appreciatively at the spread Topper had put out.
As Topper rattled on about the many flavors and shapes of pancakes he could offer, Tom looked over at you with a cheeky smile and mouthed “good morning!” You smiled back with a little wave, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he was singling you out.
After the volleyball game last night, you’d all gone to a seafood restaurant on the water. Tom had chosen the seat next to you, and made extremely pleasant dinner company. He asked you all about yourself, about school and what you were planning for the future. He was a great listener, and you were so glad to have someone to chat normally with without the baggage of your childhood hanging over your head. You hoped the week would hold many more cozy conversations with him.
Unbeknownst to you, Carter was watching as you smiled at him in the kitchen, and so was Rafe. They had very different looks on their face as they realized at the same moment that something was happening between you and Tom.
After Topper and Kelce reclaimed Tom’s attention, talking over each other about their plans to go fishing later, Carter squeezed your elbow and motioned with a nod for you to follow her out onto the patio.
“Ummm, okay, what was that?” Carter asked with arched eyebrows once you were settled on the patio couch next to her.
“Oh my god I know. I shouldn’t have said anything, do you think everyone will think it’s weird I remember something he did in seventh grade?” You asked worriedly.
Carter scrunched her brows in confusion for a minute before waving you off with her hand. “Oh, no not Rafe, he’s old news. I’m talking about your little moment with Tom!”
“Oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, embarrassed that you were still lingering on Rafe when she clearly wasn’t. “I don’t know, he’s nice.”
“He’s fucking gorgeous is what he is,” she fanned herself theatrically.
“Are you into him?” Your stomach dropped at the thought that she might be interested. In your eyes, Carter always had first pick, and surely if Tom thought she was interested he’d choose her over you in a heartbeat.
“No,” she shook her head. “I’m having too much fun messing with Topper.”
You laughed hard at that, “yeah, I noticed. Are you two back on again?”
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “You think if I play my cards right I could get him to propose?”
“I think you could probably get him to do just about anything,” you chuckled.
“Okay, then it’s settled, I’ve got Topper and you,” she poked at your side and you swatted her hand away, “will make a move on Tom.”
“I don’t know about ‘make a move,” you took a long sip of your coffee, suddenly anxious.
Carter eyed you curiously, recognizing the insecurity she hoped you had left behind now that things were going so well. She didn’t understand how you still couldn’t see how amazing you are, but she was determined to prove it to you by the end of this trip.
Rafe did his best not to stare at you through the sliding door, but when he heard your melodic laugh float in through the screen, he couldn’t help the way his head snapped toward the sound, wishing desperately that it was him making you laugh like that. You used to laugh at all his jokes, and he’d taken it for granted. The sad thing was, he actually loved hanging out with you. You had a great sense of humor, and he always felt so comfortable when it was just you and him. He knows now he should’ve just called it what it was, been with you in public too. But he had so many eyes on him back then, and he was worried what people would think. Plus, he knew you’d stick by him even if he treated you like shit, and he took advantage of that. He kicked himself mentally, feeling like a Grade A chump while you sat there, looking beautiful in the ocean breeze, smiling through the window at some guy you’d met yesterday.
As he lost himself in his thoughts, Topper noticed him staring at you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
“She looks good, huh?” He asked Rafe.
“What?” Rafe shook his head as if he could erase the thoughts that were plaguing him. “Who?”
“Oh, come on,” Topper nodded towards you and Carter on the deck.
“I dunno,” Rafe tried to play it off. “She looks the same I guess, a little different.”
“Bro,” Topper gave him an incredulous look. “She’s a fucking smokeshow. You’re into her, don’t even try and fool me.”
“If you're so into her, why don’t you go for her?” Rafe snapped at him.
Topper shook his head, “maybe because I’m not the one she was obsessed with for a decade.”
“She wasn’t obsessed with me,” Rafe protested. “We were friends.”
“Right,” Topper said sarcastically. “And I was a number one draft pick. Dude, she was in love with you, everyone knew it.”
Rafe leaned forward on the counter, propped on his elbows, looking down at his uneaten pancakes with a frown. His stomach twisted with guilt. Of course everyone knew, he knew it too. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use your adoration of him to his advantage from time to time. Okay, all the time. He couldn’t really blame you for still being mad at him, he was a dick. But he liked to think he’d grown some since then, not that you had any reason to give him a chance to prove it.
“I think she’s into your buddy, Dom, or whatever his name is,” Rafe grumbled.
“First of all,” Topper pointed the spatula at him, “you know his name is Tom. And second of all, I love the guy, but he’s got nothing on you. Give me one day, she’ll be back.”
“Don’t do anything weird, man,” Rafe warned, cringing at the thought of what kind of damage an unsupervised Topper could inflict.
“Don’t worry dude, I got it handled,” Topper assured him.
Rafe just chuckled and sipped his coffee, knowing this was a losing battle, “whatever you say, Top.”
The door slid open and you and Carter reentered the kitchen. Tom stood from his place at the little breakfast nook when you walked in, and you were relieved that he ended his conversation with Maddie and Sabrina so abruptly at the sight of you. He smiled down at you before heading into the kitchen to help Topper clean up. Rafe was noticeably not helping, sitting at the counter scrolling on his phone.
“No phones,” Carter said, swiping it from him.
“Give it,” he held his large hand out to her, jaw ticking with annoyance.
“C’mon Rafe, don’t you want to live in the present?” She badgered.
He tried to grab it quickly, but she lifted it above her head, tossing it to Kelce on the other side of the counter, who tossed it to Topper, and the game of hot potato continued, much to Rafe’s chagrin.
“Y’all are children,” he scowled, sitting back on the stool in defeat.
“Who are you even texting? All your friends are here,” Carter jeered.
“I was looking up directions to the grocery store, seeing as there’s no fucking food in this house besides beer, and apparently pancake mix,” Rafe explained.
“No need,” Topper said. “Tom, Kelce and I are spending the day on the water and we’ll grab some stuff on the way back.”
Carter frowned at the thought of both of your boys being gone the whole day, leaving little to distract you from Rafe. This wouldn’t do.
“No, you can’t go out today, we're having a cookout!” She announced to the room.
“We are?” Kelce scratched his head.
“Yes, we are,” Carter nodded confidently, wrapping her arm around Topper’s waist, which you knew was all it would take to get him to agree. “And mom here is going to grill for us.”
“Oh am I?” Topper asked, eyebrows raised in amusement, not exactly protesting.
“Yes, so someone else will need to go get the food,” Carter continued. You knew her well enough to see that a whole plan was unfolding in her head. “Sissy, why don’t you go?”
“That’s…fine,” you agreed reluctantly, narrowing your eyes at her, trying to figure out her play. “I need someone to go with me though, we’ll need a lot of stuff.”
Carter and Topper smiled in sync, both thinking they’d just come up with the best idea anyone has ever had.
At the same moment that Carter blurted out, “Tom can go with you!” Topper loudly suggested, “Rafe can take you!”
Your lips forming a tight line, you gave them both an exasperated look. Their heads snapped toward each other, eyeing each other suspiciously. Rafe scratched the back of his neck, annoyed at Topper for butting in and hating himself for hoping you’d choose to go with him and not Tom.
Tom, meanwhile, was watching all four of you from the corner of the room, never more confused in his life.
“It’s cool,” he said hesitantly, the awkwardness palpable. “All three of us can go.”
“Fine, but I’m driving,” Rafe stood from his seat. “Can I have my phone back now please?”
He reached his hand to Kelce, who was the last to have it. Kelce panicked, wanting to keep the game going, and tossed it to you. You very nearly dropped it, letting it bounce between your hands but eventually securing it before it fell.
You just looked at it in your hands, then up to Rafe and Tom, searching for any way out of what was sure to be an uncomfortable outing without being rude. You came up with nothing.
“I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you handed Rafe his phone, making Kelce shake his head at you in disappointment.
The hum of the truck’s engine was the only sound in the car for a solid five minutes. You sat in the front seat, Tom having opened your door for you, while Rafe drove. You suddenly couldn’t remember what people do with their hands when they’re not driving. Where the hell do you put your hands? Tom’s voice cut through your internal panic.
“So, uh Rafe, Top says you went to Chapel Hill?” He inquired, sitting forward in the backseat so his head appeared between you and Rafe,
“Still do,” Rafe said curtly.
You looked at Rafe for the first time since pulling out of the beach house driveway. You wanted to ask him why he hadn’t graduated on time, always more invested in his academics than he was, but you were trying to pretend you didn’t care.
“Nice, man,” Tom tried to keep the conversation going. “I applied there, it’s hard to get in.”
“I guess I just hit the books a little harder than you then,” Rafe shrugged.
A scoff escaped you before you had the chance to stifle it. Rafe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“What was that?” Rafe looked sideways at you for a moment.
“Nothing,” you crossed your arms over your chest.
“No, please share,” he prodded. You couldn’t believe he was copping an attitude with you.
“It’s just, I’m sure your last name had nothing to do with your acceptance,” you quipped.
Rafe’s jaw clenched and you smirked in satisfaction, pleased that you had gotten under his skin. Tom’s eyes flicked between the two of you, trying to decipher the vibe.
You were glad he didn’t try to attempt any further small talk. Once you got to the grocery store, you divided the shopping list three ways and split up to your designated aisles. You filled your cart as fast as you could, eager to get this shopping trip over with.
After checking everything off your list, you rounded the corner of the produce section toward the registers, your cart nearly crashing into Rafe’s. His entire shopping cart was filled with alcohol. You laughed at the sight.
“What?” Rafe asked defensively.
“What are the rest of us gonna drink?” You smirked.
“Shut up,” he grinned. “It’s not all for me.”
“Okay but where is the stuff you were supposed to get?”
“It’s under there somewhere,” he mused.
“Sure,” you just shook your head with a smile and kept walking towards the register.
“Shit, wait,” Rafe rolled his cart to you and ran back down one of the aisles.
“No don’t worry about me, I got it,” you muttered to yourself bitterly.
You started pushing both carts but Rafe appeared quickly at your side again.
“Got it,” he breathed, adding one more thing to his cart.
It was a case of Redbull. You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, looking down into his cart. Redbull was his drink of choice in high school, you used to buy him one every day and bring it to him after practice, like a puppy fetching the morning paper. Rafe eyed you nervously, your soured expression leading him to believe you remembered just as well as he did.
“Old habits die hard, huh?” You joked, trying to break the tense moment.
“Yeah, can’t seem to kick that one,” he replied, relieved that you were the first to acknowledge it.
Tom caught up with you at check-out, his cart actually full of the things he was supposed to get. The three of you unloaded your goods to be rung up by a 16-year-old cashier who could not have been more annoyed that you had chosen his register.
Tom jumped in to help bag the groceries, chatting happily with the bag boy as he assisted. Rafe, however, stood there staring at his phone.
After you finished emptying your cart, you watched Tom with a smile while he charmed the grocery store staff. Rafe looked up from his screen with a frown, stomach dropping when he saw that you were watching Tom with an affectionate smile.
“Is that everything?” The cashier asked hopefully.
You were about to say "yes" and also maybe "sorry" when Rafe cut you off.
“No wait, these too,” he reached toward the shelf and grabbed your favorite candy, looking at you expectantly as he handed it to the cashier.
“Your favorite,” he explained bashfully at the sight of your furrowed brows.
“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. “Just surprised you remember. Thanks.”
You looked at him for a moment longer than you should, your eyes lingering on each other’s as you shared another silent memory. You felt a twinge of nostalgia that you knew you shouldn’t.
While you and Rafe looked at each other, Tom pulled out his black card and entered it into the machine. Rafe noticed a moment too late and scrambled to pull his wallet from his pocket, fumbling for his credit card.
“Oh no, hey man, I was gonna get it,” Rafe finally pulled out the credit card he was looking for but Tom was already signing the screen with his finger.
“No worries dude,” Tom brushed him off politely. “You can get me back later this week.”
Rafe was the most competitive person you knew, and the richest, surely he wasn’t going to let another guy pay for everything and walk away. He opened his mouth like he was going to argue with Tom, but with a glance back at you he closed it again. Then he carried as many bags to the car as one person could possibly hold, mumbling something like "multiple trips are for pussies."
Another fifteen minutes of painful silence might just make your head explode, you thought. The second you were back in the truck, the bed overflowing with groceries, you asked Rafe for the aux.
“What are you gonna play?” He sideyed you as he held it just out of reach. You leaned across the console to snatch it from his hands, and he felt pins and needles where your hand had brushed him. He wondered if you realized it was the first time you'd touched each other in four years.
The two of you had always fought over the aux, you’d eventually give in to his pouting and listened to his shitty house mixes and soundcloud rappers.
“Don’t worry about it,” you waved him off with a grin.
Four years ago, you would have been way too nervous to play what you truly wanted to listen to, afraid Rafe wouldn’t think it was cool enough. But now, you pressed play on your go-to playlist with gusto and beamed when your absolute favorite song started booming through his subwoofers.
Rafe tried to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t stop them from dancing back over to you as you sang along happily to your music. You rolled the window down, letting the humid Florida air raise your hair in a wave around you. You giggled and tried to tame it, eventually giving up and letting it whip around your face.
There was something so light about you. Something joyful and at peace. He placed both hands on the steering wheel, trying to ground himself, jealous of your carefree spirit. Whatever intangible thing you had managed to capture in your years apart, he wanted it. And it hit him like a lightning bolt, a bittersweet truth he had fought for so many years - he wanted you.
One song rolled into the next, and Rafe searched for something to say to keep up the almost-friendly banter you had begun in the store, but before he could come up with anything, Tom sat forward suddenly.
“Oh hey I love this song!” Tom informed you.
“Me too!” You turned to smile at him, and Rafe listened enviously as you and Tom chatted about the many favorite artists you have in common the rest of the way home.
The house was quiet when you returned, everyone either taking their daily hangover nap or down lounging by the beach. Rafe’s hands turned white from once again carrying as many plastic bags as he could. You tried not to laugh, and tried not to notice the way his biceps bulged under his tight t-shirt, but you failed at both.
“Are you laughing at me again?” He raised his eyebrows in amusement, placing the bags on the counter. “What is it this time?”
“Sorry, you’re just so helpful all of a sudden,” you pointed out with a smirk.
“Well bag boy over there wasn’t helping,” he nodded towards the patio, where Tom was taking a phone call.
“He said it’s a work call,” you defended him. “He just got a job in New York apparently, a Wall Street thing.
“Whatever,” Rafe mumbled. What he wanted to say was “since when are you two best friends?” but he had already been fairly gruff with you today and he was trying to refocus on his goal of getting you to like him again.
You and Rafe put the groceries away in silence for a while. You tried to find the right way to approach the question you were dying to ask, failing to convince yourself you didn't care about the answer.
“So,” you started nervously. “You didn’t graduate this year?”
Rafe’s shoulders tensed as he tried to make more room in the pantry.
“Nope,” he said shortly.
“Did you take some time off?”
He was torn between being glad that you were talking to him and mad that this was the topic you’d chosen to break the ice with.
“No, I-uh,” he cleared his throat. “I failed a couple classes my first year so I’m still a few credits behind.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, leaning down to put the ribs for the cookout in the large freezer.
“It’s my own fault,” he shrugged. “I was an idiot back then.”
When you stood from the freezer to grab another rack of ribs, you were surprised to see Rafe standing close, his body looming as he looked down at you.
“I was an idiot before then, too,” he continued, voice low and uncertain.
Everything in your mind went fuzzy as the blood rushed to your face. This was the first time you could smell him, and it familiarity of his scent made you feel like you were being transported back in time. You fought the urge to inhale deeply, greedy for the rush of him filling your senses.
“Before then?” You blinked up at him.
Rafe struggled to find his next words. It took everything in you not to fill in the blanks for him, like you were back in high school slipping him the answers to a test he hadn’t studied for. But this time, you needed him to find the answers all on his own. You swallowed hard, leaving silence for the words he was searching for.
Before he could find them, Topper and Carter came barreling into the kitchen, mid-argument as always. They stopped short when they saw the scene in front of them. Rafe stepped away from you so quickly you could feel a woosh of wind in his wake. It was eerily reminiscent of your teenage years, Rafe separating himself from you as soon as there was anyone around to see you together.
“Everything okay?” Carter asked tensely, noticing the way your shoulders had fallen.
“Fine,” Rafe said, tossing the rest of the plastic bags in the trash and heading down the stairs to his basement bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.
“Damn, you two did good,” Topper said, admiring the cornucopia of food you’d brought back.
“You three,” Carter corrected. “Tom went too.”
She walked up next to you and lowered her voice, a sly smile on her face, “and how did it go with Tom?”
You didn’t match her playful mood, completely preoccupied thinking about the moment you and Rafe had just shared. Was he about to apologize to you? What would you have let him do if your sister and psuedo-brother-in-law had entered the room just a minute later?
“It was fine,” you said distractedly, closing the fridge and heading upstairs to your room.
Carter turned on her heel and looked at Topper with a frown, shocked to find him beaming back at her.
“What are you smiling for?” She snarled.
“Oh nothing, seems like my plan is working is all,” he grinned. “They were standing awfully close when we walked in.”
“Your plan?” She stepped closer to him, arms crossed. “What are you up to Thornton?”
“Just playing a little Cupid,” he smiled proudly.
“Okay well you can go ahead and put down the bow and arrow, because I’ve already got that covered,” she informed him.
“Really?” He asked in surprise. “I thought you hated Rafe.”
“Rafe? Ew, no, I’m talking about Tom, obviously,” she snapped.
“Your sister and Tom? Nahhh, do you not see how she and Rafe have been looking at each other? It’s so obvious,” he scoffed.
“You know what else is obvious? That Rafe’s still a dick and he doesn’t deserve her,” Carter argued.
“He’s actually grown up a lot,” Topper said, surprising Carter with the serious shift in his tone. “He’s been through some stuff, college hasn’t been easy for him. He could use a win.”
Carter considered this, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the years of bitterness she held for Rafe.
“Well, he had his chance. He had millions of chances with her and he fumbled every one,” she said.
“I know he did, but under it all he’s a good person. And I think good people deserve second chances,” Topper explained.
“Not when they hurt my sister,” she concluded. “I won’t allow it.”
Topper's eyes creased with his smile as he looked down at her, loving her steely look and pursed lips as she put her hands on her hips.
“You’re still so bossy,” he smiled, sliding closer to her until their chests were nearly touching. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting, but it’s kinda hot.”
He leaned forward to plant a little kiss on her lips, like he’d done a million times before. Carter leaned back, leaving his puckered lips hanging.
“Oh no,” she pushed him back, making him frown. “You don’t get to touch me until you join Team Tom.”
“Nuh-uh! Team Rafe for life baby,” he crossed his arms to match her stance, recovering quickly, more than used to being rejected by her.
She studied him suspiciously, wondering how quickly he’d crack if she actually withheld their inevitable beach trip hook-up. But he didn’t budge, he was as serious about this as she was.
“Fine,” she said. “The game is so on.”
(Chapter 3)
a/n: so tell me... are we Team Tom or Team Rafe?
please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
additional chapter cw: suggestive language/themes, heavy drinking, mature readers only please
⇢ series masterlist
The game was on, and Carter wasn’t one to go down without a fight.
You however, were much less invested in her scheme to set you up with Tom, already feeling tired and confused after 24-hours of this little reunion trip. You laid in bed for quite a while replaying the almost-moment you’d had with Rafe in the kitchen in your head before taking a long, dreamless nap. It was the smell of the barbeque wafting through your bedroom window that woke you up. You threw your hair up in a bun, too groggy to care about putting any more effort into your appearance.
As you reached for the handle, you heard two hushed voices arguing behind your bedroom door. You opened it slowly to reveal Carter and Topper facing each other, both with their arms crossed as they carried on a heated whisper-argument.
“What are you even doing up here Topper?” Carter demanded.
“I don’t know, what are you doing up here Carter? Trying to get a leg up?” Topper snapped back, towering over her in height yet still somehow looking small under her glare.
They were so locked in on each other that neither of them had even noticed your appearance.
“Um, hi,” you waved your hand between their faces to get their attention. “Can I help you?”
They looked at you, startled as their arms fell and stances softened. Carter eyed your outfit up and down, trying to hide her distaste at your choice of leggings and a t-shirt.
“Well, I don’t know what he’s doing up here but I came to see if you needed help getting ready,” Carter replied.
“I am ready,” you said, eyeing her suspiciously.
“You’re, uh,” Topper scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
You squinted at him, you could understand Carter critiquing your outfit, knowing she was trying to set you up with Tom, but what stake did Topper have in your outfit choice?
“We’re literally just going downstairs,” you countered.
“Maybe throw on something a little nicer,” Carter urged gently.
“Okay, fine,” you gave in. “You two are being so weird today.”
Topper gave you a thumbs up as you closed the door in their faces.
A few minutes later you reemerged in a new outfit, a crocheted halter top and some cut-offs. You had let your hair down and ran a brush through it, dabbed on some mascara and lipgloss. It was the maximum amount of effort you were willing to put into a big night out in the backyard.
Despite everyone’s relentless teasing, Topper actually was a pretty good cook. The food was great and everyone thanked you, Rafe, and Tom for going out to get it.
“Tom paid!” you announced. “So everyone make sure to be really nice to him or he won’t bankroll us anymore.”
You smiled at Tom, who grinned back and waved you off in joking modesty. You let your eyes linger as he leaned over the firepit on the other side of the sprawling patio, skillfully stacking the wood before lighting a match and holding it under. He crouched low to blow gently on the kindling, causing the fire to roar to life. You could see a sliver of his toned lower back peeking out from his shirt as he reached for another log, dropping it straight into his newly sparked flame with a bare hand. The whole thing was unbelievably attractive.
The only thing better was the stoney look on Rafe’s face when you caught his eye, realizing he’d noticed the way you were looking at Tom like you wanted to have him for dessert. Good.
Playing and replaying the scene from the kitchen in your head all afternoon, you came downstairs determined to freeze Rafe out. Sure, he remembered your favorite candy and maybe almost even apologized, but it wasn’t enough to erase the sting you felt when he pulled away from you like you had the plague as soon as anyone else entered the room.
After dinner, you were perched on the railing of the porch, sipping something strong and chatting with Carter and her childhood best friend, Maddie.
Maddie was nice enough, the Kook academy prom queen two years in a row, but she had never shown much interest in you. Until you showed up here looking much more instagram-worthy than you had in high school.
“So, omg,” Maddie started, playing with a strand of your hair like you were the closest of friends. “When are you gonna drop the workout routine? You look gorg.”
Never once had one of Carter’s friends complimented your looks.
“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I play a lot of volleyball and jog a little.”
“Well it’s working!” Kelce hollered from across the porch, already wobbling slightly from his inebriation.
There it was again, your blush, always showing up at the least opportune times. All eyes were on you, such open talk about your body making your skin crawl with self-consciousness. You looked over the railing to the sand a few feet down, wondering how badly the jump would hurt.
As always, knowing you better than anyone, Carter felt like she could read your mind. Protectiveness roared in her chest, she set her hand over yours to silently tell you she understood before turning to the party and announcing, “okay, we’re playing a game! Everyone around the fire pit!”
No one argued with her wishes, they never did. The group gathered around the bonfire, each with a full drink in hand as Carter unnecessarily explained the rules to never have I ever as if this same group hadn’t played it a hundred times in high school.
You appreciated Carter moving the attention off of you, but clearly she didn’t know this was your least favorite game in the world. The second the name of the game came out of her mouth, your heart dropped to your stomach, hit with memories of sitting off to the side while her friends played, all of your fingers embarrassingly still up, revealing you had done nothing interesting or scandalous in your life.
Sure, you’d definitely added a few notches to your belt since then, but you knew these people and had no doubt you were still way behind. The sad thing is you didn’t even care, but you knew they would and you couldn’t help that nagging desire to prove that you were just as cool as them. You sighed as you settled in your chair next to Carter, frustrated that just as you were starting to feel somewhat normal, you were transported right back to your loneliest days.
Carter went first, “never have I everrr…shoplifted.”
Sabrina took a giggly sip from her solo cup.
“Isn’t your dad’s networth like a billion dollars?” Kelce asked.
“Yes, but he never would’ve bought me those red panties, so I took ‘em,” she winked at him, and he scooted his chair closer to her.
Everyone else still had all ten fingers up, making you think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
But your relief didn’t last long. One by one they went around the circle, revealing each other’s secrets and leaving you with ten fingers up.
“Never have I ever done a body shot.” Your fingers stayed up.
“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.” Your fingers stayed up.
“Never have I ever hooked up in a public place.” Your fingers stayed up.
As the group got tipsier, the revelations got dirtier. You were sure some of them were lying and there was some temptation for you to put a finger down as a lie too just to level the playing field, but that was such teenage bullshit. You might not have as a high of a body count as some of them, but you still had your pride.
The blood rushed from you face when Maddie said, “never have I ever been with two people at once” and Rafe put his last finger down, smirking as he finished off his beer.
A few more rounds passed and everyone else had put at least a couple fingers down while you still hadn’t done a single one of the things listed. You chewed on your lip, wondering how early was too early to excuse yourself to go to bed.
You were about to make a break for it, when a now sloppily drunk Sabrina pointed at you and slurred, “aww bambi’s still got ten!”
Bambi was another one of the many teasing nicknames they’d called you in high school, and it might just be your least favorite.
“You’re still such a good girl,” Sabrina jibed.
She must’ve been beyond wasted. She wasn’t necessarily nice, but she wasn’t usually this much of a bitch.
Your breaths got short, the anxiety erupting like fireworks in your chest. You could feel Carter’s mind spinning next to you, trying to come up with some way to defend you, but another voice beat her to it.
“Well,” Rafe said, drawing all eyes off of you and across the firepit towards him. “Never have I ever gotten so crossfaded at a boneyard party that I pissed my pants in someone else’s truck.”
He shot Sabrina a vindictive smile.
“Rafe!” She protested. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”
At her admission, everyone broke out into laughter, aimed at her.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Rafe chuckled, “you just did.”
“Bruhh,” Kelce hollered. “That’s nasty!”
Sabrina went red, completely humiliated. You tried to be a girl’s girl, but after years of her teasing and making you feel like a loser, you couldn’t help but join in the laughter at her expense.
As she emptied her cup spitefully, you caught Rafe’s gaze across the fire, the air between you wavy with the flame’s heat. He smiled a crooked, satisfied smile at you, and you mouthed “thank you.” He gave you a reassuring wink and your stomach did cartwheels.
Carter straightened in her lawn chair next to you, kicking herself for giving Rafe the chance to save you before she could.
“I’ve got one!” she announced, and the crowd hushed to hear their queen. “Never have I ever skinny dipped in the campus fountain and got caught by campus security but successfully flirted my way out of a citation and ended up getting the cop’s number.”
Everyone looked around the circle quizzically, wondering who that incredibly specific anecdote was aimed at.
“No fucking way!” Topper shouted when he saw you put down your pinky finger with a bashful smile.
Topper and Kelce whooped, and the girls all gave you impressed looks.
“Okay baddie!” Maddie gasped. “Was he cute? Did you call him?”
“I mean he wasn’t not cute,” you mused, taking the obligatory sip of your drink. “We hung out a few times.”
“So does that mean you’re into handcuffs now orrr…” Kelce chimed in.
“Oops, I put the wrong fingers down,” you lifted your hand and theatrically put all down except your middle finger, aiming it at Kelce.
The crowd erupted with laughs and amused ohhhh’s. Even Rafe was smiling, and you couldn’t help but wish you knew what he was thinking, noticing his soft eyes on you as you bantered with his friends, all attention on you. This time, you weren’t blushing, you were just enjoying yourself. It felt so nice to have such a naturally fun and easy moment, but it was short lived.
“Never have I ever,” Sabrina interrupted, hiccuping. “Failed an entire semester of college.”
The crowd fell silent once again, no one daring to bring their eyes to Rafe, the clear target of her comeback. He just rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, like it didn’t bother him at all. But you could see the hint of shame in his eyes, a rare glimpse of vulnerability hidden under his tough facade. You used to spend so much of your time digging for those deeper layers that it was easy for you to pick up on them when they rose to the surface, even if it was just for a second.
Maybe you should let him flounder, leave him hanging like he’d done to you so many times before. But tonight, for the first time ever, he had jumped in to defend you, and maybe one act of kindness wouldn’t kill you.
“Fuck this game. Topper, didn’t you say something earlier about a beer pong tournament?” You prompted him, hoping desperately he’d see what you were trying to do and play along.
Topper looked confused at first, so you smiled tightly and flicked your eyes to Rafe and back as quickly as possible, urging him to understand.
Ever the king of subtlety, Topper’s eyes went wide as he mouthed “ohhhh!”
Rafe saw the whole thing.
“Beer pong! Yes!” Topper said, excited to finally be in the loop. “Let’s do it!”
“I wanna play!” Sabrina stood quickly from her chair, immediately tripping over her own feet.
“Woah,” Carter caught her and held her up with some effort, Sabrina so far gone she couldn’t even use her legs. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”
Carter stabilized Sabrina and guided her towards the house. You knew she was pissed at Sabrina for picking on you, but Carter would never leave a drunk girl to stumble around a party by herself. She looked at you apologetically, but you nodded to let her know you were fine.
After they disappeared into the house, Topper and Kelce got to work clearing the long outdoor dining table for beer pong, filling cups and placing them with great attention to detail. You chuckled at the way they were arguing over correct cup spacing and fill levels as you reached down into the cooler for another drink. When you stood, Tom appeared by your side.
“I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with a criminal,” he drawled, mouth quirked with a crooked smile.
“Oh yeah,” you played along, popping the top of your drink. “I’m wanted in four states and Puerto Rico.”
“And Puerto Rico, wow,” he leaned his arm against the porch rail, his body angling towards yours in a way that made your skin prick with goosebumps. “I need to hear that story.”
“I’d tell you,” you lowered your voice and lifted your mouth towards his ear to whisper. “But then I’d have to kill you.”
“You’re in that deep, huh?” He placed his other hand on the railing on the other side of you, effectively caging you in, though he held himself back far enough to give you some space. You didn’t want space, though, the enticing scent of whiskey and the smoke from the fire drawing you to him.
“Mhm,” you leaned in so your chests were almost touching, a smile tugging his full lips when he noticed the way you intentionally closed the space between you. “If you thought the campus fountain story was bad…”
“I didn’t think it was bad,” he shook his head.
“No?” You grinned, eager to see where he was going with this.
“Not bad, kind of hot, but not bad,” he confessed.
“Only kind of?” You furrowed your brow in mock offense.
He broke into a smile and blushed, flustered as he said, “I mean, uh…”
You giggled. His bashful, dimpled smile was so painfully cute you were suddenly seeing the value to Carter’s matchmaking plan.
The alcohol in your system mixed with the warmth radiating off of him made your body go hot, tingles shooting up your spine as his eyes fell to your lips. He was so damn pretty. Warm brown eyes and messy hair you wanted to tangle your fingers in.
Rafe grabbed the fire poker and busied himself by tending to the flames, which didn’t really need it, considering Tom had built such a sturdy fire. The sound of your sweet giggles floating through the air as you flirted with Tom made him want to walk straight off the porch and into the ocean. He’d surely put his lifelong friendship with Sabrina on the line, not to mention his own pride, to keep you from running away in embarrassment, and now Tom was reaping the rewards of his chivalry.
He remembered, though. Maybe you didn’t think he did, but he remembered. The nights you sat in the corner, lonely, pining, and the go-to butt of his friends’ stupid jokes. And he’d just sat by and let it happen, so many times. It’s no wonder you were leaned up against someone else, sharing stories about a whole chapter of your life he’d missed. He only had himself to blame.
Once the table was set up, Topper turned and frowned at the way the group had split, you and Tom cozy in the corner while Rafe stood by the fire alone, shoulders tense. He needed to step up his Cupid game, like, now.
He clapped his hands loudly, voice booming as he announced to the party that it was time to play. The startling sound forced Tom away from you just as you were about to ask him if he wanted to walk down to the water. Topper pointed right at you and pronounced you would be on his team. You were going to protest before you remembered beer pong was your idea in the first place, your ruse to protect Rafe. You couldn’t back out now.
Beer pong was another thing you’d added to your skill set in college. In high school, you were never asked to join when parties inevitably broke into a tournament. Instead you’d sit quietly and watch with hearts in your eyes as Rafe played with the competitiveness of an Olympian in a gold medal race.
He was known for his terrible sportsmanship, everyone expected a full tantrum if he didn’t win. The same went for school sports, you’d spent every night after a rare loss up on the phone with him listening intently while he ranted about all the ways the refs were wrong or the umps were blind. At the time, you took it as an honor that you were the one he wanted to find solace in. Now, grown and mature, you saw it for what it really was; no one else wanted to listen to him bitch and moan, so you were just his only option.
“Let’s go, Little Carter!” Topper raised his hand for a high five as you approached the table.
“If you call me that, I’m not playing,” you left him hanging.
“My bad, my bad,” he conceded.
You gave in and high fived him, stepping up to the table with your game face on. Kelce and Maddie stood across from you. They were both terrible shots, and you sunk every ball, but Topper was keeping them in the game with his many misses.
Topper was great at beer pong in high school and you were sure he’d had plenty of practice at U of F, so there was no reason he should be playing so horribly.
“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” You scolded him after another throw that was way off.
“I dunno,” Topper said with an exaggerated drunken slur in his voice. “I think I’m just too wasted to play. You might need another partner.”
Before you could mock him for his dramatics, he had called over to Rafe, who was sitting back in a lounge chair looking at his phone, anything to keep his eyes off of you.
“What?” He grumbled, eyes lifting from his screen and avoiding yours.
“Need you to sub in for me,” Topper fake hiccupped and you rolled your eyes.
You were sure Rafe would see you were his proposed partner and pass on the opportunity, but then he and Topper had some kind of silent conversation with their eyes that you couldn’t interpret, and Rafe stood from his chair.
“You don’t have to,” you offered as he stepped up and took the ball from Topper.
You hated that your instinct was to apologize for inconveniencing him. He shrugged and lined up his first shot.
“Someone’s gotta show ‘em how it’s done,” he said with an easy grin that made your heart beat a little faster.
If only your younger self could see how your night was progressing. Impressing everyone during never have I ever. Flirting with a gorgeous boy from another school. And now, Rafe smiling at you and acknowledging your presence in front of all these people, willingly agreeing to be your teammate. She’d have died and gone to heaven.
He had every right to be cocky; he was really good. And to his great surprise, so were you. You and Rafe made quick work of Kelce and Maddie, then Kelce and Jack, then Kelce and three more partners that tried to step up to the plate, Kelce’s aim worsening as he teetered on the edge of a blackout.
“When did you get so good at this?” Rafe asked you after a partcualrly skillful shot.
“I was always good at it,” you scoffed. “You just never let me play.”
After that comment, Rafe was suddenly an extra encouraging teammate. Before each shot he’d pull you back, leaning down to whisper in your ear conspiratorially about which cup you should call, like an NFL coach rallying his quarterback.
“I can’t hit the far corner, my aim isn’t that good,” you said when he proposed the risky shot.
Self-doubt filled your face as you bit your lip, Rafe recognizing the nervous tick instantly.
“Nah you got it!” he grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you playfully. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”
Despite yourself, you broke into a smile, making a feeble attempt to brush him away, though he could tell you didn’t mean it.
“Let’s go slugger,” Rafe placed the ball in your hand and guided you into position by your shoulders. He stood behind you and leaned in to bring his mouth close to your ear. “You got this.”
You loved it. You hated it. Your head swirled with conflicting thoughts, but when you sunk the ball with a flick of your wrist, they all faded.
“Let’s fucking gooo!” Rafe yelled.
He lifted his hand for a double high five and you stood on your tiptoes to reach. Your arms came down, but your hands were still in his.
“Told ‘ya,” he said tenderly, smiling down at you as his large hands enveloped yours. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”
Despite the alarms blaring in your head, telling you to run, you let it all linger. The deep sound of his voice in the air, his eyes on your lips, his rough hands folded in yours.
“Okay!” Carter chose that minute to emerge from the house after Sabrina finally fell asleep. “That’s enough wins for y’all, time for some real competition.”
The sound of her voice snapped you out of the moment, and you pulled your hands away from Rafe quickly, nervous about all the eyes on you for the first time since you’d started playing.
“I need a partner,” Carter said, surveying the group on the patio. “How about…”
You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where she was going with this show and wishing she’d just fast forward to the end.
“Tom?” She raised her eyebrows in his direction, as if it was a crazy idea she had just come up with. “Do you play?”
“I may have taken part in a tourney or two,” Tom said humbly.
“Bullshit,” Kelce exclaimed, slumped in a chair as his head spun. “This guy was the Alpha Tau champion all four years. He’s got a plaque and everything.”
“Damn, I didn’t know we had Alpha Tau royalty in our midst!” Carter bantered.
“Jesus, enough with the fanfare, are you playing or not, dude?” Rafe snapped.
Carter eyed you, her lips twisted in a satisfied smirk. No one was surprised at Rafe’ gruffness, more than used to his competitive mean streak. It was not one of his more attractive qualities. The pull you’d just felt to him faltered a little at the reminder of this particular weakness. You were sure that’s exactly what Carter was hoping for.
“Alright I’m in,” Tom said, stepping up to the table and rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.” He winked at you.
“Yeah, yeah, just call your shot, champ,” Rafe said.
The four of you reset the cups, not much work needing to be done on you and Rafe’s side of the table since almost no one had scored on you. As Tom lined up his first shot, he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, adjusting and readjusting his stance to get comfortable.
Rafe crossed his arms over his chest mumbling something along the lines of “this fuckin’ guy” and you couldn’t help but smile, admittedly also kind of getting the ick from how seriously Tom was taking this.
Then he sunk every ball. After a few particularly good rounds, he made his third shot in a row, and Carter called “fire.” She handed him balls one after another like he was taking free throws, wiggling her eyebrows at you to make sure you were paying attention to his triumph.
You drank each cup obediently, ever the rule follower. After your fourth, you were getting so sick of the stale beer, you and Rafe’s cups had been sitting untouched all night and the cheap hops had soured significantly. When Tom sunk another one you grabbed the cup hesitantly, queasy, nearly gagging.
“It’s okay, I got it,” Rafe volunteered, grabbing the cup from you.
“Y’all don’t have to drink those if they’re really that bad,” Tom offered, pausing his next shot when he noticed how disgusted you looked.
“I got it, man,” Rafe waved him off, holding his nose and shooting back the beer as quickly as possible. He dropped the empty cup with a grimace.
“We can just call it a game,” Tom suggested, clearly feeling bad.
“Do you want to forfeit?” You asked Rafe, dropping your voice so Carter and Tom couldn’t hear.
“What and just wave the white flag?” Rafe replied, eyebrows raised. “Do you?
Your lips spread in a slow smile, “not a fucking chance.”
“Atta girl,” he nodded, returning his gaze to Tom. “We’re no quitters, hit us again big guy.”
And he did, over and over, until there was only one cup left on your side of the table. As he prepped for his final shot, Rafe turned to you, a playful, tipsy smile on his face.
“We had a good run,” He said, reaching out shake your hand. You took it with a smile.
When Tom and Carter won, high fiving each other in a loud celebration, all eyes fell to Rafe, waiting to see how he’d react to losing. You tensed, hoping his chipper attitude when you were winning would carry over into a graceful loss. But then he rounded the table, striding towards Tom, and you cringed in anticipation of a classic Rafe Cameron Temper Tantrum.
“Oh boy,” Carter mumbled under her breath. “Here we go.”
But there was no blow up, just Rafe extending his hand to Tom, who took it with a friendly shake.
“Good game, man,” Rafe said.
“Yeah, you too, dude,” Tom smiled, not realizing this show of sportsmanship was a historical first.
Rafe tilted his head in a friendly nod towards your sister, “Carter.”
“Rafael,” she returned his sarcastic tone, purposefully using his least favorite nickname.
With that, Rafe walked away from the table, one last glance towards you as he returned to his seat by the fire. You watched him go, feeling sad not that you had lost, but that your fun night with Rafe had seemingly come to an end.
It was dizzying, your ever-changing emotional state, and you suspected it had very little to do with the beer. Thinking over all the events of the day gave you whiplash. One second you were about ready to ask Tom if he wanted to come back to your room, the next it felt like you and Rafe were finally sharing the moment you’d dreamt of for years. All the while, you weren’t sure you actually wanted either of them, or if you even wanted to be here at all.
“Wanna play again?” Carter asked, noticing the distracted look on your face.
“I’m good,” you smiled at her appreciatively, deciding you’d had enough excitement for one day. “I think I’m probably just going to bed now.”
“Aww, but it’s so early grandma,” Topper called over to you from the firepit.
You walked over to his chair and peched on the armrest.
“Ah yes, another one of my favorite nicknames,” you joked. “No one’s called me that in four years.”
“Another inside joke?” Tom inquired, joining the circle, he and Carter each grabbing a chair.
“In high school, she was always the first to leave parties. She’d rather be at home in bed with a book by 9pm,” Topper explained to him.
You rose from his chair, eager to ditch this little trip down memory lane before it got too embarrassing. You almost made a clean escape, but then a very drunk Kelce decided to chime in.
“Unless Rafe asked her to stay,” he laughed. “Then she’d be there allll night.”
Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’ve been embarrassed a thousand times in your life, but this was something different. You looked down at your feet, not sure what you were supposed to do. No quick, face saving remark was coming to mind.
Carter smacked Kelce on the arm, while Topper shook his head with a disapproving, “dude…”
Your eyes drifted to Rafe, who was looking down at his hands uncomfortably. Whatever protective instinct that had inspired him to stand up for you earlier was clearly gone as he left you to drown in the painfully awkward silence.
“Oh, were you two…?” Tom asked, pointing between you and Rafe quizzically.
“Nope,” you told him with a stiff smile.
He looked like he was about to ask more, but caught on at the last second, reading in between the lines. There it was, the last person here who didn’t know about your pathetic past was now caught up to speed. Yeah, you’d definitely had enough.
“Kelce, you’re such an asshole,” Carter began reprimanding him.
“Just stop,” you urged her. “It’s fine, I’m just going to bed.”
“Wait!” She called after you, but you were already walking toward the house, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. She gave Kelce one last slap and rushed after you.
Kelce, barely conscious, still hadn’t caught up with his own party foul.
“Where’s she going?” He asked Topper.
Rafe stood from his chair suddenly.
“Will you get him out of here please?” He spat at Topper, sidestepping the fire as he stormed off toward the house.
Rafe followed your path into the kitchen, not sure what he was going to say when he caught up to you, but suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make it right. He should’ve said something as soon as Kelce put his foot in his mouth. He’d deal with that dumbass later.
He slid the kitchen door open, headed towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, but he stopped short when he heard your voice. He stayed back, out of sight but close enough to hear your conversation with Carter on the stairs.
“Carter, it’s fine,” you sighed.
“No it’s fucking not, he made you cry,” Carter practically growled.
Rafe’s heart dropped. You were crying? He was gonna kick Kelce’s ass as soon as he was sober enough to feel pain.
“I’m just tired,” you sniffled. “Please, just drop it for now. I just wanna go to sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” Carter said, her voice starting to crack. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to stay.”
“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I knew he was gonna be here.”
Rafe frowned. Was the ‘he’ you were referring to still Kelce, or was it him? Was his presence really so distressing to you that you were in tears?
Carter reluctantly bid you goodnight, and Rafe slipped into the pantry so she wouldn’t see him when she descended the stairs back into the kitchen, storming towards the backyard, surely on her way to give Kelce hell.
He stood in the walk-in pantry for a minute, collecting his thoughts.
Maybe he should be the one to leave. If his presence really was such torment to you, it would be the right thing to do. But you didn’t seem tormented earlier when you were playing beer pong with him, cheering each other on and laughing like friends. Or before, at the fire, when you’d come to each other’s defense. Even his two best friends hadn’t seen that Sabrina’s words actually hurt him, but you did. You always knew him better than anyone.
While he stood in the pantry, illuminated only by the single light bulb above his head, his eyes grazed over the shelf. Between a stack of paper plates and some hamburger buns, sat the candy he had picked out for you at the store. He smiled at the memory of your many car rides as teenagers, fueled by the snacks you had brought when you picked him up. Maybe you regretted those times now, but something about the fact that this was still your favorite candy made him feel better.
His stomach twisted with worry that after what Kelce had said, you would decide to leave. The only worse thought was that he might let you go without finding the courage to say the words he’d been holding onto since he saw you on the beach. Maybe you’d slam the door in his face, but he couldn’t let you leave without trying.
Rafe grabbed your candy off the shelf and climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to knock on your bedroom door before he lost his nerve.
(Chapter 4)
a/n: I LOVED hearing all your Team Tom vs. Team Rafe opinions!! The competition is heating up!!!! (not my outline for this chapter starting with “note: google rules to beer pong” lol)
Ch 4 predictions? 👀
please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
A blood curdling shriek rang through the house, jolting Carter from her restless dreams.
She sat straight up in bed, heart racing as she looked around the dark room, head so heavy she could barely remember where she was or how she got there.
In her hungover mental fog, she pieced it together slowly. She was at the beach house, in her room, it was early, she drank so much last night and Topper said -
“OH MY GOD!”
Another sharp scream came from downstairs, and her heart rate spiked all over again. She pulled the fluffy comforter around her shoulders and hurried out of the room, quiet on the stairs as she nervously approached the source of all the commotion.
When she saw what was inducing Sabrina’s shock, she doubled back, hiding around the corner so they couldn’t see her. Her stomach churned with bitter loathing, and something else even more nauseating…
She dropped the blanket and rushed to the half-bath off the house’s entryway, doubled over the toilet bowl as last night’s poor choices continued to haunt her.
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Rafe drove faster than he had before your interrupted rendezvous, seeming not to want to drag this adventure out anymore. You eyed him nervously from the passenger seat, searching for words that weren’t coming to you.
Tongue tied and exhausted was not how you wanted to begin this…whatever this was between you. Rafe had given you words, so many of them, back on the beach and all he asked in return was a simple yes or no.
Are you my girl?
No four words had ever felt so heavy. The shitty part was, you wanted to say yes. At the sound of his breathless question every cell in your body was screaming yes! I’m your girl! I’ve always been your girl!
But then there was that pesky piece of self preservation that cemented itself in your heart all those years ago and didn’t plan to give up any time soon.
He looked so disappointed when you couldn’t give him a quick and easy answer, his chest now deflated and shoulders sunken as he drove the rest of the route home. Despite your lingering hesitation, you felt like you needed to give him something, needed to lift the frown that was settled on the lips you had tasted so many times this morning.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.
“For what?” He asked.
“I’m…slow,” you began, “it takes me a while, y’know? To find the words. I’m not like you, I don’t know how you came up with that speech in less than a minute.”
Rafe laughed, confusing you.
“What?”
“You think I came up with that speech in a minute?” He chuckled, “I’ve been practicing it every day since senior year of high school.”
Your heart clenched at the endearing thought of him in front of the mirror, driving to class, taking a shower all while rehearsing what he’d say if you ever gave him the chance.
“Oh,” you tucked your hair behind your ear.
It was infuriating, your complete inability to get a grip on your own thoughts and feelings around him. It had always been this way. You were well-spoken and sound-minded, until this one person was in your atmosphere, his presence your own personal kryptonite.
To be fair to yourself, it wasn’t just your own weakness for him that had caused you to build such high walls. When you were kids, he sometimes made you feel this way on purpose. He used to have fun watching you get flustered, just the right amount of flirting to send you into a tizzy, only to leave you spinning like a top with no one to stop you.
You truly tried to leave the past behind, burying it somewhere back in the sand on the beach. You reminded yourself that the Rafe of your memories was not the one sitting next to you right now. But that might just be the problem, because at least you knew that Rafe, you knew exactly what he would do next.
If he grabbed your hand, you knew he was about to drop it. If he said something sweet, you knew he was about to say something passive aggressive. If he acted like he loved you, you knew he was about to act like he’d never met you a day in his life.
But this Rafe, this new one, was completely unpredictable. Wild and dangerous in his apparent affection for you. How were you supposed to know what he did next wasn’t going to hurt? He was right about what he said on the jet ski - you won’t know until you give him the chance. Easier said than done.
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he offered after you’d been quiet for a long time.
“This week has just been…” trying to come up with one word to describe it felt like a futile task.
“Overwhelming?” Rafe tried to help.
“Surprising,” you countered. “I’ve never been good with surprises.”
“You like to know what’s coming next,” he nodded, once again displaying a deep knowledge of you that you never knew he possessed.
Like he could read your mind, his arm stretched across the small divide and his palm, warm and soft, settled on your thigh, a single soothing stroke to let you know he’s still here, he’s still yours. The feeling of his skin touching yours was like aloe vera directly on the burn.
With a grateful smile, you leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath as he steered you home.
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Carter padded down the hall, stopping three separate times, trying to decide if she should just go back to her own room. But the sight of her frantic texts to you still saying “delivered” and not “read” was too concerning to ignore.
She opened Topper’s door without knocking.
He was sitting up against his headboard, typing feverishly on his phone. At the sight of her, he clutched his duvet cover, pulling it up higher over his nearly naked body.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“Please, like I haven’t seen it all before. Like I didn’t see it yesterday,” she rolled her eyes.
“Oh okay, so you do remember. Based on the way you were acting last night I thought maybe you’d forgotten we’d ever been together,” he snipped at her.
“I don’t want to talk about last night,” she waved him off, dismissing his complaints flippantly, “are you aware of what’s happening downstairs right now? Of who is happening downstairs right now?”
“Yes, I saw her pull up,” he returned his attention to his phone and his frenzied typing.
Outside his cracked open door, Carter heard Kelce, Tom, and a few others come barreling up the stairs, chatting about the recent arrival.
“Be so fucking for real, did you invite her?” Carter said, attempting to lower her voice.
“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but you do this thing where you think you’re whispering and you’re actually not,” Topper informed her.
“Topper…”
“No, I didn’t invite her.,” he answered. “Actually I was about to ask if you did.”
“Why the fuck would I do that? I hate her.”
“Wow alright, hate's a strong word, Carter, maybe calm down a little.”
Ever since their knock-down-drag-out at the club last night, the arguing that was usually playful and lighthearted had an edge of actual bitterness to it.
“First of all, if you ever tell me to ‘calm down’ again, I’m going full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass. Second of all, you need to go down there and tell her to leave,” she flicked her hair behind her shoulder and held her chin up as she bossed him around. He hated that despite how mad at her he was, he fucking loved it.
“How does that job possibly fall on me?” He scoffed.
“Aren’t you Mr. Team Rafe-and-my-sister? Don’t you want to get rid of the reason they stopped talking in the first place?” She reasoned.
“I’m not gonna tell her she can’t be here,” he shut her down. “It’s not my house, and it’s really none of my business. Or yours.”
Her eyes narrowed at him, “oh yeah? Then who are you texting so much over there?”
“I’m just giving him a head’s up,” he shrugged. “She should probably know too.”
“And you’re just assuming they’re together?” She snarled.
“Puh-lease,” he rolled his eyes, “did you see them at the club last night? There’s no way they didn’t hook up.”
She wouldn’t accept it, couldn’t, even though she knew somewhere deep in her gut that he was probably right.
When Rafe still didn’t answer any of his texts, Topper sighed heavily, “fuck it, I don’t care if I’m cockblocking, I’m calling him.”
Before he could dial, the house shook with the slam of the front door. Carter and Topper hurried out to the hall and hesitated at the top of the steps. Your lone voice carried up to them, talking to no one in particular as you muttered, “un-fucking-belivable.”
Carter actually did whisper this time, “I think it might be too late for that…”
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The feeling of Rafe’s hand, warm and steady on your thigh, as he drove the rest of the route home was so nice and comforting, you let yourself slip into the possibility that this could actually be it. Maybe you really could just leave the past behind you, maybe you really had finally found each other and it could just be simple like this.
But your fantasy didn’t last long.
Rafe parked in the spot across the street that you had taken Carter’s car from a few hours ago. Even when he turned the key and cut the engine, he didn’t remove his hand from your leg.
“You ready?” He sighed.
“For what?” You questioned, eyeing him curiously, his face serious as he looked down at the site of his hand on your skin.
He shook his head like he didn’t know the answer himself, “reality, I guess.”
You placed your hand over his, smirking at the sight of your fingers encompassing each other’s, wanting so much more from these hands and truly believing you’d have all the time in the world to enjoy them.
“Bring it on,” you gave him a small smile.
“He leaned across the center console and dropped a deep kiss to your lips, causing you to sigh into his mouth. All the times you imagined kissing him, you never thought such a rough-around-the-edges guy would have such soft lips. You felt like you might be able to spend forever with them on your skin.
When he finally pulled away, you reached for the handle of your door, beginning to open it, but Rafe reached across your body and pulled it shut again.
“What are you doing?” You asked in surprise.
He smiled that perfect, dimpled grin of his, “extra credit.”
You giggled as he hurried to climb out of the driver’s side, hurrying around to your door and opening it with a chivalrous flair.
“Wow,” you beamed, accepting his hand as he helped you down from the tall vehicle. “You weren’t kidding about trying to be a gentleman.”
“For you, I’ll be anything,” he flirted.
Despite your best efforts not to, you blushed, the red hue on your cheeks deepening when Rafe kept your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked back to the house. It was the first time he’d held your hand out in the open like this, where anyone could look out from the windows of the beach house and see the two of you together. It was foreign to you, his public display of affection, and yet it felt so right. You couldn’t help but wish it hadn’t taken this long.
“Can I ask you something?” You said quietly.
“Anything,” he squeezed your hand assuringly.
“Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?”
Rafe’s face fell slightly, watching his feet as they made less and less forward progress on the sidewalk, until he came to a full stop. The question was mostly meant to be lighthearted, a tease really, but his solemn reaction made your stomach twist with concern.
“I…” he started, voice unsteady, not meeting your eyeline, “I don’t know if I should tell you this but -”
You never knew what he wasn’t supposed to tell you, because before he could, a sickeningly familiar voice called out from the front porch.
“Hey guys!”
Head snapping toward the sound, you looked up, and there she was, as stunning as ever in that same signature everything-you’re-not-ness.
Cassie Bryant.
Her face was adorned with a glistening smile, yours was noticeably not. Everything in you sunk, including the corners of your lips, completely unable to hide the way your heart dropped six feet under the ground at the sight of her.
She was somehow even more golden and glowing now than she was back then. Glossy blonde hair flowing down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her perfect, blemish free skin glowed in the early morning light. Her big, round Disney Princess eyes quickly found Rafe and flicked over your joined hands, clocking the way they were folded together in unmistakable intimacy.
It happened so quickly, and yet it felt like years worth of hurt and heartache compacted into one small moment.
At the sight of Cassie on the porch, Rafe dropped your hand.
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Surely, any minute now, a camera crew would pop out from the bushes and announce that you were being Punk’d.
Or maybe it’d be the Mythbusters:
The myth? That you can actually heal from your childhood trauma with just four years of painstaking hard work. Well, we’re about to prove that all of that can be unraveled in the span of 72 hours! Also, we will be using your heart as our crash test dummy. Myth busted!
You didn’t look over at Rafe, couldn’t bear to watch the way he pulled his body away from yours, ever-so-slightly, almost imperceptibly. But you could feel it all the same, and you were sure she could too.
Before Cassie could say anything else, the front door opened behind her, Sabrina stepping out of the house and taking in the unfolding scene on the lawn.
“Oh shit,” she laughed, “this is awkward!”
It’s like her main goal in life was to find new and creative ways to make your bad moments worse.
“Is it?” Cassie asked, seemingly unaware of the cause of Sabrina’s laughter. “We were just saying hi.”
She caught your eye as she said it, a polite but knowing smile on her lips. You realized with shock that she absolutely knew what was happening and was trying to make you feel better about it. You should just be grateful for the unexpected kindness, but something in you was suspicious. The Cassie you knew would’ve jumped at the chance to embarrass you, and she would’ve loved the way Rafe was treating you like you had the plague.
Plus, her taking pity on you, acknowledging the way Rafe had just hurt you, was somehow worse than her just being mean to you. You’d rather she go back to that.
“Y’all having a good trip?” She asked you and Rafe when the silence had lasted just a little too long.
You looked to Rafe, waiting for him to answer, begging him silently to say something that indicated that you were in fact having a good trip…together.
But he just said, “it’s been cool. Weather’s shit, though.”
“Yeah that’s what Sab told me, but I got a few days off my internship so I thought I’d come hang with y’all,” she said, eyes on you as she spoke, like she owed you an explanation.
“Well, welcome, then,” you smiled a polite smile that didn’t meet your eyes.
“You ready?” Sabrina asked, linking arms with Cassie, thick as thieves.
“We’re going into town for some brunch if you guys want to join,” Cassie offered.
“That’s okay, I need to check on Carter,” you declined, all eyes turning to Rafe for his response.
“Uh yeah, I’m good here, th-thanks,” he stuttered, so awkward and shaky, a completely different person from the guy who was delivering monologues and sweeping you off your feet just a few hours ago.
Cassie just smiled politely once more as Sabrina pulled her into the car. As they drove off, you stood wordlessly with Rafe on the front walk, your chest completely hollow. You mustered some nerve and finally looked at him, head tilted, a completely unamused smile tugging your lips.
“Weather’s shit?” You repeated his words back to him.
“Look…” he began but didn’t finish the thought.
You just laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at him as you stormed off toward the house. Rafe stood frozen for a moment, kicking himself mentally and begging his brain to catch up with the moment, finally rushing off after you, but not able to before you slammed the door in his face.
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Carter and Topper exchanged nervous glances at the sound of you stomping into the house.
They slowly and quietly settled on the top step, sitting forward to listen in as the front door opened and closed again, Rafe’s voice echoing through the house.
“Wait…” he said, following after you as you marched further into the house toward the kitchen.
You didn’t stop, “No, go ahead, you should go to brunch with her. Don’t let me keep you from a good time.”
“Wait, let’s just talk,” he pleaded.
“I’m too tired, Rafe,” you rejected him. “I can’t do this right now.”
“So you’re not even gonna let me explain?”
At the top of the steps, Carter and Topper simultaneously held their breath as they listened, both jumping as Kelce’s voice startled them, “what are we listening to?”
“Shhh,” Carter waved her hand at him, motioning for him to shut up.
Kelce plopped himself between them on the top step, shuffling a bit so they’d make room for him. He listened in, picking up your and Rafe’s raised voices quickly.
“Oh shit,” he barely whispered, “trouble in paradise already?”
“Dude shut up,” Topper cut him off.
Soon, Maddie, Tom and Jack joined the little huddle on the top step, each cluing in on the source of the entertainment in their own disruptive way before being shushed by the group and eventually sitting. You continued your argument with Rafe, completely unaware you were performing in front of a live studio audience.
“You don’t need to explain,” you told him,l trudging down the front hall toward the kitchen. “I know exactly what just happened because it’s happened a thousand times before. What I don’t know is why I’m even surprised.”
“Come on,” he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as his large frame rounded you. “It is not the same as it used to be.”
“It’s exactly the same,” you side-stepped him, walking into the kitchen and dropping Carter’s keys on the counter. “I mean jesus Rafe, it’s the same fucking person! I can’t believe I’m here again, it’s like I’m having a nightmare where I’m back in high school. Next thing you know I’m gonna walk into homeroom and I realize I’m completely naked.”
“Sounds more like a dream to me,” he smirked, trying to flirt.
You just blinked back at him, your sharp eyes cutting straight through his head.
“Do you think this is funny?”
His smirk dropped, snatched right off his lips by your ice cold tone. Good. You’d been waiting years to wipe that shit eating grin off his face.
Something new was rising in your chest, knocking out the embarrassment and sadness with a closed fist, a fury long buried coming back with a vengeance.
“I thought all that shit was behind us, over and done.” Rafe reached out towards you but you stopped him with your own rough grip, lowering his hand away from you and dropping it like he’d dropped yours.
“Oh, it’s fucking done alright, so fucking done,” you spat.
“You’re really gonna let ten stupid seconds ruin everything that’s happened between us? You’re not even gonna give me the benefit of the doubt. You really think that little of me?”
“It’s literally only been two hours, and you’ve already lied to me once and pushed me away the second someone saw us. And you wonder why I'm having a hard time saying yes to being with you? It’s because I fucking can’t trust you, Rafe!”
“I don’t know what else I can do to show you I’m different,” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is so fucking unfair.”
“Are you being fucking serious right now?” You stepped towards him as you snapped at him. “You’re actually pissed at me?”
“Yeah, I am!”
“Why?”
“Because I lost my best friend!”
Everyone on the top of the stairs winced, air sucked from the room when Rafe raised his voice at you. For all his flaws and mistreatment, he had never raised his voice at you before.
“Oh shit,” Kelce whispered.
“Shhh!” Carter and Maddie hushed him in unison, everyone leaning in a little closer to hear how you’d react. But you said nothing. They couldn’t see the widening of your eyes, jaw locked tight as you gave him space to follow up on his outburst.
“Do you really think it didn’t hurt me when you just up and stopped talking to me back then?” He took the space you gave him and slowly unpacked the hurt feelings he’d buried for years. “I know I was a dick, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of how you felt about me, I shouldn’t have strung you along. But when that shit went down senior year and you just ghosted me, I wanted to talk to you and make it right. I tried, but you blocked me out, you went from talking to me every day to radio silence without giving me a single explanation. That fucking hurt. And you’re doing the exact same thing now, not even giving me a chance to explain things. So yeah, I am a little pissed. I’m pissed that you’re just gonna throw it all away again over nothing.”
He waited for your response with baited breath, prepared for you to yell, or cry, or do something. But you gave him nothing, mouth closed in a tight line as you turned on your heel and walked further into the kitchen, lifting the coffee pot from its home and filling it in the sink.
He watched your back as you scooped the grounds into the filter and turned on the machine. Minutes passed and you remained silent, hands on the counter, looking out the big window towards the ocean while the coffee brewed one drop at a time.
Finally, after eight cups had dripped into the pot, you spoke.
“How was prom, by the way?” You turned to face him, the edge of the marble countertop digging into your waist as you leaned back against it, hands crossed in hostility over your chest. “I never asked.”
Rafe’s gaze fell from you almost instantly. He didn’t have to ask why you were bringing this up, the ‘hell hath no fury’ look on your face dragging the memory forth from its carefully hidden spot in the back of his brain. Nothing made him feel like a jackass quite like that memory, and based on the mocking curve at the corner of your lips, you knew it.
The memory used to keep you up at night.
For a full year after it happened, it was like a fire poker bent into the shape of regret and shame was branding your heart over and over.
Now, the burn was healed over, still calloused and red at the edges, but you’d done your best to cover the scar tissue in the healing balms of self-love and lots and lots of therapy. Still, it was the moment in your life you were the least proud of.
You’d thought it was gonna be you. Really, earnestly, completely delusionally, you believed when he asked for your help with his grand prom-posal that it was all a playful ruse to ask you to be his date. You stayed up all night, decorating three different poster boards with glitter glue so he could pick the one he liked best. You bought out all the battery-powered candles at Michael’s - he said he’d pay you back, he never did. You waited with him in the park until the sun set, giddy with the hope that he’d drop the ruse and pop the question any minute.
“What will you do if ‘she’ says no?” You attempted to flirt.
“I guess I’d just have to take you.”
Every muscle in his body flinched at the memory and the white hot regret he felt every time it replayed in his head.
The kid who said those words was such an asshole. Standing here in the kitchen, looking down at you, the love of his goddamn life, and facing the possibility that he might lose you for good, he wanted to ring the idiot’s neck.
Because he hadn’t asked you. He made you watch while he asked her. And he didn’t even give you a ride home from the park.
Fuck, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was you, either.
Rafe felt about two feet tall, looking back at you with absolutely nothing to say. He was relieved for a second when you opened your mouth to speak first, until he heard the words.
“You don’t understand. The voice in the back of my head, the one I’ve spent years trying to silence, the one that tells me I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough…it’s your voice, Rafe.”
He grasped desperately for a reply, but there were no words in the English language that made that statement any less devastating.
“Maybe that’s not fair,” you continued before he could come up with anything, “but I don’t think I have control over that. I don’t know how to undo it, if it can be undone. So those ten seconds that just happened out there? They’re not nothing to me. When you dropped my hand at the sight of her, I felt like I was that stupid teenage girl again, giving my whole heart to the one person who knows how to break it. Blind and foolish and desperate for you to notice her. I don’t like that girl.”
You made it through the whole speech with a steady voice, up until the last sentence. Your voice cracked on those words, your heart doing the same as you pictured your younger self. The one who would sit on her bed for hours, rereading the texts she sent him and praying he’d reply.
Thinking about that version of yourself, you weren’t sure if you wanted to hug her or slap her. Surely, she’d hit you right back if she saw what you were doing now, potentially pushing away the boy she loved more than anything, finally having him within your grasp and letting him slip right through.
At the top of the stairs, unbeknownst to you, Carter was picturing that girl, too. She would roll her eyes at you back then, using sarcastic comments like “are you sure Rafe even knows how to read?” to mask her truer concern; that he could but he wouldn’t, and the heart you wore on your sleeve would end up crushed again. Even now, she couldn’t protect it, couldn’t save it from reaching out to this boy who did nothing but break it.
Frustration welled inside her, the absolute powerlessness to put an end to this cycle that hurts you feeling like a dark cloud over her head. The anger manifested into hot, watery tears gathering on her lash line. Without permission, one slipped through, rolling down her cheek slowly.
Topper caught the whole thing, and despite their fight and his resolve to freeze her out until she apologized, he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and stroking her cheek softly, wiping the tear away with a gentle swipe of his thumb.
They shared a look so full of unspoken words and tender emotions that they almost forgot about the conversation in the kitchen, until Rafe’s voice cut through the moment and pulled them from their silent reconciliation.
“Are you okay?” He asked you after you’d been silent for nearly a minute, trying desperately to compose yourself.
“Yes, that's all just a lot. I’m processing,” you sniffled.
“Take your time,” he said, pulling out one of the high back stools from the counter and motioning for you to sit in it.
Your body was so exhausted, even your stubborn anger at him couldn’t stop you from accepting the offer. You slumped on the plush stool, folding your arms on the counter and resting your chin on them.
“How do you like your eggs?” Rafe asked.
“Is that a pick-up line?”
“Nope, just a question,” he said as he opened the high cupboard and pulled out a frying pan.
You tried to remind yourself you should reject his offer to feed you, you should storm out, you should tell him where he can put his frying pan…but you were hungry. And so tired.
“Sunny side up,” you answered.
He nodded and got to work cooking you breakfast, eggs and bacon sizzling on the stove, Rafe close by with a spatula in hand, silent as he stirred and flipped. You rested your head on your folded arms, eyes half-closed and brain sleepy, watching him.
If you blocked out the last twenty minutes, you could pretend this morning was your real life, could let yourself imagine it really was all this simple and pleasant and sweet; he’d cook you breakfast, you’d make him coffee, and you’d kiss until the sun rose.
At the top of the stairs, Kelce stood and started descending, before Carter reached up and grabbed his arm.
“What are you doing?” She whispered.
“I’m hungry!” He whined.
“You can’t go down there,” Maddie scolded him, “give them some space.”
“Are we just gonna stay up here all day?” Tom complained as he and Jack stood to join Kelce’s crusade into the kitchen.
“Everybody sit down!” Topper whisper-yelled. “Give them five fucking minutes, you’ll all survive. You can fuck off back to your rooms if you want but no one’s going down there.”
Carter couldn’t help the heart eyes she made at him, surprised and delighted by his show of aggression in your defense.
Kelce groaned as he backed back down, Tom rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up as he trudged down the hall back to his room, Jack following with a huff.
“Kelce, I have a granola bar in my purse, c’mon,” Maddie offered, leading him towards her own door.
Alone again, Topper and Carter looked at each other for a long, quiet moment.
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.
“I know,” he mouthed back.
She scooted towards him, nuzzling into his side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.
Downstairs, Rafe was done with your meal, scooping it onto a plate and sliding it to you across the counter.
“Thank you,” you sat up and began nibbling at a slice of bacon.
Rafe took the stool next to you with his own plate of food. You sat in silence for a while, only the sound of forks scraping against porcelain and the occasional “can you pass the salt?” between you.
Between bites, you rested your head on your arm again, nearly falling asleep.
“I’m so tired,” you mumbled sleepily.
“It’s been a long twenty-four hours,” Rafe agreed, taking a sip of his coffee.
“That’s an understatement,” you snorted, sitting up again and finishing the last bite of your eggs.
“What about…the next twenty-four hours?” He asked quietly.
You took a deep breath, the smile falling from your face as you considered the question underneath his question. You didn’t answer him right away, hopping down from the stool and collecting your plate and his, carrying them to the sink. Rafe was quick behind you, arm reaching around and pulling the dishes from your hands to lay them in the sink. His hand rested on your waist, turning you to face him, pulling you in. Reluctantly, and without returned tenderness, you let him.
“Rafe, I can’t…” you said sadly.
“Please just talk to me,” he pleaded, hands running up your arms and resting on your shoulders. You shook your head, blinking away fresh tears as you pulled away from him.
“It hurts too much, Rafe,” your voice cracked. “As great as the last few days have been, you can’t see that being close to you hurts me. I worked so hard to get over you. So this isn’t me throwing it all away, this is me protecting myself. Protecting what I’ve spent years rebuilding.”
“So what, that's it then? You’re just gonna go back to school and pretend this never happened?” The pain in his voice was palpable, and you cursed the part of you that wanted to reach out and make him feel better.
“I don’t know, Rafe,” a small tear slipped through, gliding slowly down your cheek.
“You’re just gonna stop talking to me, stop thinking about me?” He continued desperately.
You looked up at him finally, searching his face, nodding sadly.
“I’ve done it before.”
Hurt flashed in his crystal blue eyes, flinching like your words had burned him. “You didn’t…you don’t…think about me?”
“No,” you told him honestly, another tear joining the one before it. “Never. Because if I let myself think about you, I would’ve fallen apart. I’m not strong enough, I would’ve run to you, and every time I did that before, you’d let me down.”
“What about yesterday? What about this morning? Just think about the beach, everything was so good, it can be that way now…”
He reached out and cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing over the tears as he pulled you in toward him, kissing you out of sheer desperation. Like maybe if you tasted his lips, it’d transport you both back in time, back to the beach, back when he’d done and said everything right.
You allowed him to take you there for just a second, before the incident on the front walk flashed in your mind again, the pain of rejection like a knife to your gut. You pulled away from him quickly, side stepping him and moving to the other side of the kitchen, creating as much distance between you as possible.
“No, no, you can’t just kiss me and act like what just happened with Cassie didn’t happen,” you shook your head rapidly, wiping your tear stained streaks with the backs of your hands. “I can’t do this right now, I need some time to think.”
It required fighting every impulse he had, but he didn’t push, didn’t close the space between you, didn’t try to regain the control he was so used to having. He just sighed deeply and nodded, eyes low.
“Okay, well let me know when you’re done…thinking.”
With one last longing look at you, he stepped away to the basement steps, stopping at the top and turning halfway toward you.
“Oh and that girl? The one who gave me her heart? For what it’s worth, I like her. Always have.”
With that, he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.
Carter and Topper could hear you approach the bottom of the steps. Carter stood first, fully ready to greet you and grill you on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Topper could see all her questions and comments written on her face. He grabbed her hand and squeezed gently, stopping her before she marched down the stairs towards you. She looked at him in surprise but understood quickly as he gave her a slight shake of his head, whispering, “give her some space.”
Reluctantly, she nodded, allowing him to lead her quietly down the hall and into his room.
Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs, body aching. Your brain was so fried you couldn’t even pick one thing from the morning to focus on, like the part of your brain that processes events was temporarily out of order. So you stopped trying to think and just let your feet carry you to your bed, crawling under the covers in your clothes, falling quickly into a restless slumber.
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In your dreams, you were back in the kitchen with him, shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence as you did the dishes together. Rafe washed and you dried.
Only, it wasn’t the beach house kitchen, it was one you’d never been in before. And in that dream-state way of knowing something you don’t actually know, you were sure it was a kitchen the two of you shared, sometime in the distant, unwritten future.
(to be continued)
a/n: I'm so sorry, I had to do it.......also the prom thing may or may not be based on a true story and I may or may not have cried writing it....
please note: the taglist for this series is closed. For updates when I post, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
additional chapter cw! non-descriptive mentions of vomit
A swing and a miss, again.
Rafe’s game was all over the place, he hadn’t been able to focus in batting practice all week, and now it was the bottom of the ninth in Academy’s rivalry match against Kildare County. He was down in the count when he asked the ump for a timeout.
He had resisted the urge to look in the stands the whole game, afraid he knew what he would find, or rather, what he wouldn’t.
You usually sat behind the dugout, wearing his old jersey that he’d given you after his record-breaking freshman season, and his number in black eyeliner on either cheek. Sometimes, it would take a few days for it to wash off, and you’d show up to school with the hint of his number still faded on your skin.
No one - not his coaches, not his teammates, certainly not his father - could read him like you could. Sometimes he’d pop his head out of the dugout between innings so you could tell him his swing was a few seconds too early for the pitcher’s fastball, or that he needed to stop chasing the backdoor slider. You were never wrong.
They’d tease him in the dugout, tossing sunflower seeds at him and taunting, “what is she, your hitting coach or your wife?” Then he’d ignore you for a few innings, though he almost never got on base without checking in with you first.
Your absence from this game was glaring, one of those same teammates taunting, “can someone please get Cameron’s hitting coach on the phone for fuck’s sake?” after his third strikeout.
He’d brushed it off, but now the game was on the line, and he realized he’d endure any amount of teasing if it meant looking up and seeing you in the stands.
He stepped out of the batter’s box, took a deep breath, and craned his neck to your usual seat, hands gripping the bat tighter when his fear was confirmed - it was empty.
He struck out, and they lost the game.
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It’s actually about to happen, the moment you’d wished for on every star, every eyelash, every birthday candle since you were six years old. The moment you never thought would actually come. You’ve played this scene in your mind a million times, what your first kiss with Rafe would be like. None of the many versions took place in an alley behind a Florida nightclub, but none of them were real either, so now was not the time to be picky.
Rafe’s thumb was still lingering on your bottom lip, the rest of his long fingers caressing your jaw.
“Can I? Please?”
“Yes.”
He smiled, dimples creasing his cheeks so handsomely, and leaned in. You realized you were holding your breath as you awaited the first brush of his lips against yours.
It never came. The door to the club slammed open, making you both jump. Your already thumping heart flew to your throat as Kelce stumbled out the large metal door.
“Woah, sorry,” he jumped back, smirking at the sight of you and Rafe pulling away from each other quickly.
“What could you possibly need from me right now?” Rafe said, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in warning.
“I came out here to find her,” Kelce pointed at you. “So calm your ass down.”
“What is it, Kelce?” You asked gently, hand on Rafe’s arm to hold him back as he started stepping menacingly toward his friend.
“Something’s wrong with Carter,” Kelce said.
“What?!” Your face flooded with concern, you started toward the club, and Rafe didn’t stop you, knowing the sound of your sister’s name dashed any hope he had of keeping you in this alleyway.
“What happened?” You asked Kelce as you brushed past him back into the crowded club, Rafe following behind the two of you.
“I don’t know, she got into an argument with Top and then she stormed off,” Kelce shouted over the thundering music as he struggled to keep up with you.
You scanned the whole club, but couldn’t find her, just Topper ranting emphatically to Tom in the corner, and Sabrina and Maddie on either side of the bathroom door, trying to talk to someone on the other side.
Kelce and Rafe were lost to the crowd as you beelined toward the bathroom, forcefully pushing angry clubbers out of the way to get there. You didn’t care, you were locked-in on finding your sister.
“Is she in there?” You asked as you approached the bathroom.
“Yeah,” Maddie confirmed, looking worried, and a little queasy. “But she won’t let anyone in.”
“She’s so wasted it’s crazy,” Sabrina added with a hiccuping giggle.
You ignored her lack of concern for your sister and banged loudly on the door.
“Car? It’s me,” you shouted, “you gotta let me in, alright? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
After a moment, and the thought that you’d break this fucking door down if that’s what it took, the handle finally turned. She opened the door just a crack to let you slip through, and closed it back firmly behind you.
Sabrina wasn’t wrong, Carter’s intoxication was written all over her face. Flushed, clammy skin and bloodshot eyes. She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight enough to knock the wind out of you.
“What happened? Are you okay?” You asked nervously.
Before you got an answer, she was on her knees in front of the toilet bowl. You rushed to grab her hair and hold it back, getting it all out of the way with just seconds to spare before she got sick.
Thinking through the day's events, you realized no one had eaten much before you left the house, and you knew this group well enough to know it didn’t take much for them to get hammered. What you didn’t know was that while you were distracted with Rafe, the rest of your group was in the club throwing back drinks and racking up tabs like the world was ending.
Rafe was having a similar realization out on the floor, trying to wrangle everyone to the front door where he had a pair of cabs waiting. He physically dragged Topper away from the bar as he demanded another drink, the bartender shouting that he was cutoff. He led Maddie and Sabrina away from some sketchy looking guys who were inviting them back to their house boat, which they proudly advertised held gallons of their homemade moonshine. He stopped Tom from sucker punching a guy who booed when the DJ played a Drake song. He lost Kelce twice.
Once he had finally corralled everyone into the cars, he convinced the drivers to hold up so he could come back and find you. He stood by the bathroom door until you appeared behind it, jumping at the sight of him standing so close.
“I got cabs waiting,” he yelled over the music, eyeing Carter sprawled out on the dirty bathroom floor behind you.
“I can’t get her up,” you told him defeatedly, eyebrows knit together with worry. “She’s not doing good.”
Rafe brushed past you without a word or a second thought, and leaned down to scoop Carter up with ease, fireman carrying her out of the club like your own personal Superman. You followed closely on his heel, feeling guilty that you were thinking about how strong his shoulders looked and not how concerned you were for your sister.
You opened the door so he could lower her into the first cab, which only had enough seats left for you and her. Once you slid in behind her, leaning her head against Maddie, who was already dozing off with her forehead pressed on the window, Rafe made sure you were settled before closing the door.
He motioned for you to roll down the window, ducking down so he could lean on it.
“Yo Rafe let’s go man!” Topper yelled from the cab behind you before Rafe could speak.
“Give me a fucking second!” He yelled back.
Forearms against the window sill, he leaned in close enough so only you could hear.
“Just, um, don’t stop thinking what you were thinking in the alley.”
Your lips twisted into a smirk, “couldn’t if I tried.”
He gave you a wink before hurrying back to the other cab.
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You didn’t stop thinking about it. You didn’t stop when the cab driver took the wrong turn and made the trip twice as long as it should’ve been. You didn’t stop when Carter asked the driver to pull over every five minutes so she could hurl on the side of the interstate. You didn’t stop when you finally got Carter up to her room, ranting incoherently about her argument with Topper. You didn’t stop as she kneeled in front of the toilet bowl again and you held her hair back, attempting to soothe her with gentle shushes.
You should’ve been focused on your sister and the awful night she was having, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the shape of Rafe’s mouth.
The thing that finally pulled you from your thoughts of him was a sight you hadn’t seen in almost a decade; Carter started to cry.
Carter never cried, she was your rock, the shoulder for you and all her friends to cry on. She didn’t cry when she fell off the monkey bars in third grade and broke her arm, or when she was rejected from her dream school, or even when your parents got divorced. But here she was, on the cold tile of the Airbnb bathroom floor, bawling.
“Hey, hey, woah,” you said, alarm ringing in your mind as you rushed to sit beside her on the cold tile floor. “What’s going on?”
“I’m such a mess,” she gasped between sobs.
“Well, for starters we need to get you a makeup wipe,” you countered.
“No I mean, like, emotionally,” she wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, only for a new round of drops to fall and further streak her mascara down her skin.
Your sister spent her life running from difficult emotions. It was something you tried to gently point out to her many times, but she’d typically push it away with a sarcastic joke or just ignore you altogether.
You started therapy about a month after you got to college, taking the university health center up on its free psych eval offerings for freshmen. You’d shown up to your therapist’s office every Wednesday at 2:30 since then, religious about not missing a session.
You recommended Carter do the same, but she’d just brush you off with a teasing, “nah I don’t need all that, I’m supposed to be the normal one, remember?”
Taking the hint, you stopped bringing it up after a few months. But now, with Carter’s tears pooling on the floor of this Airbnb, you wished more than ever that she’d listened to you.
“Well, that’s okay,” you gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. “It’s okay not to be okay.”
Carter laid her head on your criss-crossed lap and let the tears fall harder. You rubbed her back and continued to reassure her all was going to be okay, waiting until the tears began to slow and her breathing steadied to broach the subject again.
“Do you want to…” you swallowed, preparing for her to brush you off again, “do you want to talk about it?”
She was quiet for a long moment, you sighed in acceptance that she would pick the ignoring you route this time.
Then, in a small, feeble voice, she whispered, “it’s too scary.”
“What is?” You whispered back, hand resting on her arm for comfort, praying she wouldn’t get spooked and would keep talking.
“Loving him,” she confessed.
Your heart nearly burst. You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.
“Topper, you mean?” you responded.
She nodded slowly, “it was easier when I didn’t love him. I’m supposed to be leaving in a week. I’m supposed to be on to my next big thing, and all I can think about is what the best time to facetime him is if I’m six hours ahead. I should be thinking about me, but all I want is him, and that’s fucking terrifying.”
The thought sent her into another round of sobs, tears soaking the skirt of your dress.
“I know it feels scary, and new,” you tiptoed to your point, “but…have you ever really not loved him?”
She thought over your words, but the alcohol and drama of the evening was starting to pull her into a restless sleep.
“I’m gonna miss you,” she mumbled, half-asleep already. “So much.”
“Let’s just get you into bed, yeah?” You said, pulling her up off the floor. “We can talk tomorrow.”
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In the darkness of Carter’s room, your phone lit up on the nightstand.
You pulled your arm from under her slowly, praying not to wake her up now that she was finally snoozing peacefully, though her deep snores were occasionally interrupted by shaky breaths, the aftershocks of her sobs. You’d gotten both of you changed and into bed with some difficulty, a strategically placed trash can next to her side of the bed just in case. You reached over to check your phone, turning the brightness down so as not to disturb her.
You had a text from a number that wasn’t saved in your phone, starting with the same 252 area code as yours. You didn’t need to ask “who’s this?” because you’d know that seven digit combination on your deathbed. Deleting his contact from your phone had really been more of a cathartic exercise than anything else.
‘She asleep yet?’
‘I think so but it’s been rough, what about Top?’
‘Same, but he’s out like a light now…and snoring like a jet engine.’
You stifled your laugh so Carter wouldn’t hear, keeping your movements slow as you climbed out of her bed and padded towards the door. Wincing at the squeak of the door hinge, you pulled it slowly closed until the handle clicked.
Down the hall, the same click sounded from Topper’s door. Rafe stood with his hand on the doorknob, listening for any signs that his exit woke the sleeper inside.
His eyes flashed up to meet yours, and you shared a knowing, nervous smile. You each walked a few steps towards the other, Rafe immediately picking up on the water pooling in your eyes. You’d held it together up until now for Carter’s sake, wanting to be strong for her like she’d always been for you, but now the heartbreak of seeing her so upset was finally settling in.
“Hey, hey,” Rafe whispered, lengthening his strides to close the gap between you faster. “What’s wrong?”
He ducked to search your face for a second, your small sniffles breaking his heart. When a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, he pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You let your arms circle his waist, not taking the time to worry if this was strange or if you were okay being this vulnerable with him, just reveling in the comforting smell of him and the rise and fall of his sturdy chest under his t-shirt.
A few more tears slipped out, but with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while you breathed him in, your sadness faded slowly into a calm reassurance.
“You good?” He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arms still wrapped around his torso.
“I just didn’t know she was so sad,” you explained, your lip trembling slightly at the thought of your sister, with all her strength and tenacity, slumped over on the bathroom floor. “I should’ve been paying closer attention. I came on this trip for her and all I’ve been doing is thinking about myself. I’m so selfish.”
That thought caused more tears to roll down your cheeks. Rafe placed a palm on either side of your face, his thumbs reaching out to swipe away the salty drops.
“You,” he said firmly, his voice just above a whisper now, more concerned with making sure you heard what he had to say than making sure not to wake anyone, “are not selfish.”
Once your tears were dried, he lifted your face towards him so he could look in your eyes. You ever-so-slightly nuzzled your head into his palm, wondering if he could even feel the gentle way you were surrendering to him. His soft grin told you he could.
“He’s a mess, too,” he nodded back toward Topper’s door.
“I love them, but those two are exhausting,” you chuckled softly.
Even as the conversation lightened up, his hands didn’t fall from your face, and your arms stayed firmly in place around him, just holding each other as you whisper-laughed about the antics of the whole group this evening.
“Sabrina said you had to chase Kelce half a block,” you giggled, and he’d never felt so relieved to see someone’s tears give way to laughter. “Your dad instincts really kicked in there, huh?”
“I don’t know,” he smiled, his eyes creasing with the upward tick of his lips, “the way you basically parted the crowd to get to Carter? Topper might have competition for house mother. Maybe we’re the real mom and dad.”
You snorted at that.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you blinked back, “just funny that you’re already talking about being parents when you haven’t even kissed me yet.”
Rafe nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips, feigning seriousness, “you’re so right. We should probably do something about that.”
“You should probably do something about that,” you taunted.
His persona cracked and he laughed, eyebrows raised.
“Oh yeah? Should I?”
You nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling at him as he leaned forward, eager to recapture the moment that had been so unceremoniously stolen from you a few hours ago.
Just before your lips touched, a vile retching noise came echoing down the hall from Topper’s room. He was vomiting again, and the romance was zapped from the air.
Your head fell back in frustration, groaning.
“You wanna go for a drive?” Rafe offered, hand sliding down your arm to find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there.
You nodded quickly, a smile replacing your annoyed frown. He led you down the stairs fast and you padded behind excitedly, giggling at his speed and urgency.
“Shit,” he paused before reaching into the bowl on the kitchen counter where everyone was keeping their keys. “I forgot Sabrina blocked me in.”
“We’ll take Carter’s jeep,” you offered, fishing around the bowl until you found her fuzzy pink keychain. “She parked on the road.”
“She won’t mind?” He asked.
“I have a feeling she’s gonna be out for a long time,” you pointed out. “I’m driving though.”
“Just like old times,” he grinned, your heart doing cartwheels at the memory.
Fingers intertwined, you let him pull you away from the house, and the risk of any more interruptions.
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The sky glowed with that pre-sunrise blue fog, turning the world around you into a collection of navy silhouettes. The only shape you cared about seeing was the faded profile of the man in the passenger seat next to you.
Though the air still held the chilly nip of dawn, it was warm enough to roll the windows down, which was always your preference. Your hair whipped around you in a frenzy of wind. You could feel his eyes on you as you drove, but you didn’t look back, suddenly filled with nerves, butterflies crowding your stomach and doubt flooding your mind. You just kept driving, suddenly terrified of what would happen when you stopped.
After a few minutes of unreturned eye contact, Rafe finally tore his gaze away from you, poking around Carter’s car to have something to do with his hands. He opened the glove box, and the middle console, fidgeting with every little button and knick-knack he could find.
You smirked at his restlessness and kept driving straight, not entirely sure where you were going. Rafe opened the sun visor above him, gasping at what he found.
“No fucking way,” he laughed with a disbelieving shake of his head, “Carter has CDs? Still?”
He pulled the sleeve of CDs from the visor’s clip, inspecting them closer.
“Wait,” a slow smile bloomed on his face as he observed knowingly, “these are yours.”
“How’d you know?”
“Because they’re the same ones you had in your car in high school.”
“Didn’t think you’d remember,” you scoffed.
“I remember everything about you,” he said, like it was the most obvious and casual admission anyone had ever made.
Even with the cool morning air blowing in through the window, the car suddenly felt too hot. Too hot and too small. Your chest and neck bloomed with a nervous blush as your breath quickened. How were you supposed to respond to that?
Rafe kept sorting through the CDs, nodding at each one in recognition, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb into the conversation.
You needed to fill the silence before he noticed the tornado of anxious thoughts tearing through your mind.
“You gonna pick one?” You urged him, eager for the sound of familiar music to erase his words that hung in the air between you.
He finally made it to the back of the plastic sleeve, to a familiar silver disc decorated in sharpie in your handwriting; your favorite homemade mix that you’d played every single day from ages fifteen to seventeen.
You’d titled it “car mix,” though a more accurate title would be “Rafe’s mix.”
Sometime during your freshman year, you’d spent a whole day sitting in front of your computer, meticulously sorting through songs that made you think of him, or that you wanted him to listen to, hoping he would hear them and finally understand you somehow. It was a love letter without words, and he’d heard it a thousand times, but you doubted he ever really listened. Par for the course.
“I think that one got scratched,” you tried to discourage him from playing it, the flashback to your desperate, lovestruck younger self a little too much to handle at five a.m.
Rafe turned it over in his hands, inspecting it for those so-called scratches, finding nothing satisfying.
“Looks good to me,” he disagreed, popping it into the CD player and beaming bright as the first song began to play through the speakers.
“Oh my god,” he laughed, “it’s like we’re in a time machine.”
You agreed, the familiar opening notes of the first song you’d picked for him sent you flying back in time, to a girl you thought was long dead, and the boy next to her, whom she’d loved to her grave.
Chills shot up your spine, a warning shot before the tears that were beginning to gather on your lash line. You pulled the car quickly to the side of the road, sand flying up with the screech of the tires. You realized then that you’d somehow found your way to the public beach, the parking lot empty and sandy shore free of any sunbathers or surfers.
Rafe turned the music down, looking at you quizzically as your foot slammed on the break. Before he could ask what was going on, you were pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing off your seatbelt, hopping down from the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind you. He scrambled for his door handle as you started walking quickly toward the water and away from him.
The salty air was so thick you could taste droplets of seawater on your lips before you were even halfway to the shore. The waves crashed violently, remnants of the week’s storms throwing the water back and forth until it was foaming and angry.
Angry. You were as angry as the sea, sand kicking up with each stomp of your foot as you hurried as far away from him as you could possibly get. His long legs were already catching him up to you as he chased you down, calling your name.
Despite your efforts to outpace him, you could feel him gaining on you, nearly at your heel by the time your toes touched the water’s edge. Flight would not be an option, it was time for a fight.
“You remember everything?” You whipped toward him, nearly knocking him over with the force of the glare that met him. You stalked toward him, catching the way he backed up just a step before squaring his shoulders and planting himself until you were nearly chest to chest. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Rafe?”
“What are you talking about?” He asked desperately, scrambling from the whiplash of your sudden outburst. “What the hell just happened?”
He was genuinely so clueless as to the reason for your sudden shift in mood, reeling like he was mentally still back in the car listening to music, eyes scanning your face as he tried desperately to catch up. You almost took pity on him. Almost.
“I can’t,” a lump lodged itself into your throat and you bit your lip for a second to hold it down, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“What? Can’t do what?” He begged for clarity.
You just shook your head, a final plea to your own tears not to fall in front of him, but they betrayed you, one single drop slipping down your face. You turned from him quickly as a final ditch ending to hide them from him, and stepped away further down the beach.
“No, no wait, please wait,” with two easy strides he was close enough to touch you, wrapping his hand around your wrist to turn you toward him. “Don’t do this to me. You said you’d remember the alleyway, we were so close. We are so close.”
“Are we?” You challenged him. “If we’re so close then why can’t I even ride in the car with you without feeling like I can’t breathe? You don’t get it, Rafe. You don’t understand that every memory feels like a fucking sucker punch.”
“Then let’s not focus on the memories,” he suggested, “I just want to be with you right now.”
“Why now?” You burst out, another tear breaking through the barricade and sliding traitorously down your cheek. “Why not then?”
They were the two questions that plagued you since you saw him on the beach. You felt you knew the reason. You looked different, he was attracted to this version of you. Even though it would hurt like a bitch, you really wished he would just admit it, that he only wanted you because of how you look now, so you could finally just hate him and move on.
Instead, he continued his time honored tradition of giving you the exact opposite of what you wanted.
He looked straight at you, no waiver in his voice as he said, “because I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t good enough.”
It was the perfect answer, and your worst case scenario. Heartfelt, honest, a hot knife to the wall of ice you’d worked so hard to build between you and him. As he’d done so many times before, Rafe melted you.
Soft eyes, you tilted your head as you studied him, “and you are now?”
“No,” his laugh surprised you, scoffing as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “But I’m smarter. Smart enough to know that I’ll never be good enough for you. Who could be?”
The last chips of ice melted away entirely at those words, the image of his sweet smile when he said them etched itself on your heart in a way you knew was completely permanent.
As so often happened when you were at a crossroads with your own mind, you heard Carter’s voice ringing through your thoughts. Though this time, it wasn’t a quippy comment about Rafe, or a catchy mantra to encourage you to hold your head high. Instead, you heard her weak, cracked voice as she cried on the bathroom floor just hours ago; “it’s too scary.”
Suddenly, you knew exactly what she meant.
Your every instinct was to pull away from him, hide away the vulnerable thought to avoid any risk of him making it worse. But as he looked down at you, the first traces of sunrise streaking across the horizon, casting a gold-pink glow on his cheekbones, something in the back of your mind was saying you could trust him.
“I’m scared,” you all but whispered.
Rafe lifted his hand slowly, as if you were an elusive, wild thing that would run off at any sudden movement. When you didn’t flee, he took the chance to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, voice dropping low as he said, “I know.”
“How am I supposed to know you won’t hurt me?”
Your deepest fears continued to flow out of you, into his waiting hands, praying he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.
“I don’t think you will until you give me a chance to prove it to you,” he countered.
You knew he was right. Holding him at arm’s length would never get you the answers you needed from him. You’d never know if he had really changed unless you got close enough to relearn him, and you’d never know how he really felt about you unless you gave him a second chance to show you. You aren’t generally opposed to second chances, more likely to give them out then, say, your sister is.
“You know what Carter would say?” You chuckled darkly, unable to detangle your sister’s voice from your own conscience even if you wanted to. “That you don’t deserve any more chances.”
“That might be the first thing I’ve ever agreed with her on,” Rafe was quick to acknowledge. “But you know what else she’d say?”
“What?” You asked with raised brows, skeptical that he had any clue what Carter would actually say, and knowing she would hate that he was claiming to.
“That you deserve a chance.”
Funny thing is, that’s exactly what Carter would say. She didn’t really know how badly you wanted him, that you were starting to suspect you might just be happiest when you’re with him, but she always encouraged you to do what made you happy, even when it was something she didn’t understand.
“And if I’m what you want then I just happen to be the luckiest idiot in the world, because I want you too. You have no idea how badly.”
The tide was coming in, the very edge of each wave nipping at your toes before being pulled back out to sea. Rafe’s confession made you feel so unsteady, you wondered if you’d crumble and get pulled out right with it. Your mind reached for anything to ground you before you drowned in him completely.
“Why?” You asked him, needing his answer like a port in the storm.
“Why?” He repeated, either confused by the question or by the need for it. Somehow, both possibilities annoyed you.
“Yeah, tell me why you want me,” you placed your hands on your hips, shoulders squaring up with him in challenge. “And you’re not allowed to use the word beautiful, or cute, or call me baby.”
“This kinda feels like a test,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head.
“Yeah? Maybe it is,” you huffed. “And this time there’s no cheating, no open book. And no me to slip you the answers.”
“Can I get a few minutes to review my notes?” His cheeky pout was so cute you worried you were about to fold right there on the spot.
“Fine,” you allowed, “you get one minute to think about it.”
He feigned worry, faked stress, biting his thumbnail and looking out over the waves as if he actually had to think it over.
In reality, he was more prepared for this test than any he’d ever taken in his life. He’d spent years thinking about this moment, about what he would say, what he could say that would possibly be enough.
While you waited for him to speak, you mirrored his stance, facing the water with your hands wrapped around you.
Rafe turned his head slightly to take in your profile, the sliver of daylight creeping over the horizon making your features glow so romantically.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you tried to focus on the count in your head, dutifully keeping track of the seconds until his allotted prep time was up.
Evidently, he didn’t need a timer, his voice broke the silence before you had even gotten to forty-five.
“Y’know, I got a walk-on tryout invite for baseball at Chapel Hill,” he started.
You resisted the urge to look at him or respond, despite your mind racing to connect the dots between that statement and the challenge of explaining why he wants you.
“I was…so shitty,” he laughed at the memory, “I mean just awful. Striking out in the cage, my fielding was all over the place, I dropped a fucking pop fly. I’ve made that play a thousand times and the one time it counted, I dropped it. I mean, you wouldn’t have even recognized me out there. And the best part was that my dad came to watch. He bribed an old alum buddy to get him into closed tryouts just to watch me absolutely shit the bed.”
His smile faded.
“It was the worst day of my life. The coaches didn’t even call me themselves, they sent me an automated email to tell me I didn’t make the team. They were nice enough to send me some film from the tryout, though. I must’ve watched it a hundred times. I was spiraling like a bitch, just full on meltdown. I watched that film over and over, like some kind of torture. When I watched it, I just kept wondering how that guy could’ve ever been considered good.”
He turned to you, looking down at you intensely, hesitating for the first time since he started talking.
“I know I fumbled you. I knew it from the second it happened. And,” he swallowed hard, struggling with the next part. “I knew you were in love with me.”
Your head snapped to the side to look at him, face beat red.
“I was an idiot, but I wasn’t blind,” he continued before you could interject a defense. “The problem was never that I didn’t know, it was that I didn’t know why. But the way you looked at me, I don’t know, it made me feel like I must be like, somewhat good. Why else would you care about me if I wasn’t? But then when I was fucking rotting in my dorm watching that film over and over it dawned on me…you didn’t love me because I was good. I was good because you loved me.”
Breath escaped you, eyes glossy as you let those beautiful words sink in, but he wasn’t done.
“I thought it was just a lucky break that I got you for four years. And of course I fucked it up, I fuck everything up. After those tryouts, I had nothing, no one. I failed my classes, dropped out of rushing a frat, I stopped talking to everyone. Shit, even my sisters were calling me to see if I was okay. I got it together eventually, kind of, but it’s never been the same. I have never been the same…since you. But then I saw you on the beach the other day, and it kind of hit me. The biggest loss wasn’t your love for me, or my fielding skills, or the bullshit frat parties. It was my best friend. You were my best friend. You were - you are - my favorite fucking person. When all that shit happened, you were the only one I wanted to talk to, and I couldn’t, I didn’t deserve to. But god, I’d give anything, anything, to have my best friend back. You don’t have to…be with me. I understand if you don’t want to. But please, can we just be friends again?”
You blinked up at him as he finished his monologue, all his words swirling around your head like cartoon birds, dizzying and all consuming. You wished it really was a test, cause then you’d have a printed copy that you could study and analyze and go over and over with different colored highlighters.
But it wasn’t a test. It wasn’t a metaphor. It was just you and the boy you love standing on the beach at sunrise, looking at each other like you were the only two people on earth.
“No.” You said, shaking your head.
His eyes blinked rapidly, trying and failing to hold back his emotion. Before he could spiral any further, you added,
“I don’t wanna be friends.”
His eyes flicked over yours for just a second, double checking, asking you silently if that meant what he thought it did. You gave him the slightest nod, as if to finally say “yes, Rafe.”
Rafe’s hands landed firm but gentle on either side of your face, pulling you towards him. Your lips met in a symphony of passion and affection and need and a mutual sigh of fucking finally.
He tasted better than you’d ever imagined, a sweet rush to your head as his tongue parted your lips slightly. He pulled back just an inch to let his uncontrollable smile break against yours, laughing into each other’s mouths in disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy. Once he was satisfied that you understood how happy he was, he pulled you back in.
If the first kiss was a spark, the second kiss was a goddamn explosion. He kissed you like the tide kisses the shore in a hurricane, his tsunami waves crashing into you over and over again. His tongue took over, claiming you, taking up space in your mouth like he never planned to leave. His hands drifted, one to the back of your head, laced in your hair, the other on the small of your back, holding you against himself. Your hands snaked up his arms, savoring every inch of him until you reached his shoulders. You linked your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as you stood on your tiptoes to meet him, finding middle ground for the first time in your lives.
After a while, your lips parted, both of you desperate for breath, the lack of oxygen dizzying.
“So,” he smiled, hand still cradling your head and his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip, “did I pass?”
“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it, “A minus.”
“What? You must be grading on a curve,” he shook his head.
“Maybe you could do some extra credit,” you flirted.
With a sly smile at that, he returned his lips to yours, and you forgot a time when you didn’t know what it was like to kiss him.
Time passed, the sun rose, night bloomed into morning, and Rafe kissed you for what could’ve been a lifetime. With each minute that passed with his lips on yours, you felt all the bad memories fade to gray, the past washing away with the crash of the waves, leaving only him.
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Carter’s Jeep sat parked on the side of the road, the interior dark in the early morning light, except for the phones buzzing uncontrollably on each seat.
On the passenger's side, Rafe’s phone blew up with texts from Topper. The most recent reading ‘dude, we’ve got trouble at the house…’
On the driver’s seat, yours lit up with twelve missed calls and a single text from Carter,
‘Don’t come back.’
(chapter 8: part one)
a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only please!
You and Carter didn’t fight, it just didn’t happen.
Like any sisters, you got on each other’s nerves, you disagreed on things, you borrowed each other’s clothes without asking - but you didn’t fight.
Growing up, your parents fought all the time. You and Carter would sit in her bedroom and listen to music, talking and laughing and pretending not to hear. Ever since then, you had a silent agreement; you didn’t fight and you never raised your voices at each other.
The problem with this system was that you were never quite sure when she was upset with you. Your stomach churned the whole rest of your shower, as she stood uncharacteristically quiet at the bathroom sink and did her makeup.
Maybe she hadn’t heard you, or maybe she had just hated your words so much that she couldn’t even respond to them. You knew she wouldn’t like it when you admitted that you’d be with Rafe if he asked you, but pretending it had never been said seemed particularly childish.
A little while later, you sat on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror as she did your hair and makeup. You found your eyes continually drifting up to her, searching for any sign of anger. When a full half-an-hour passed and she still hadn’t responded to your comments about Rafe, you broke down and asked, “are you mad at me?”
“For what?” She scrunched her eyebrows.
“For what I said in the shower,” you wrung your hands in your lap, not sure you wanted the answer.
“Bitch, you know I have the short term memory of an ant, you’re gonna have to give me more to work with.”
You laughed at her bluntness, the lightheartedness of her words relaxing you enough to face your fear.
“What I said about Rafe,” you said. “That I’d be with him if he asked me to.”
She paused her work on your hair, setting the brush down and meeting your eyes in the mirror.
“When did you say that?” She twisted her lips.
“When you came back in, while I was in the shower.”
She shook her head, “must’ve been talking to someone else because I’ve definitely never heard you say that. I feel like I would’ve remembered something so insane.”
You looked down at your hands in your lap, playing the whole thing back in your mind. You had definitely heard someone come in, the door squeaking at their arrival. That means someone else in the house was walking around with your deepest secret. And now Carter knew it too.
“Oh,” you said. “Never mind then.”
“Yeah right, you really think I’m just gonna move on from that?” Carter put her hands on her hips.
“We could just pretend I never said anything,” you shrugged.
“Yes you know me,” Carter rolled her eyes, “I’m famous for letting things go and being super chill when I hear someone say something batshit crazy.”
You sighed, “okay fine, but what you didn’t hear was me following the statement up by saying I know I shouldn’t be with him ‘cause I’d probably hate myself the whole time.”
Carter started working on your hair again, her contorted face betraying her attempt to act casual.
“Please just say whatever you’re thinking,” you urged her.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” she replied.
You snorted, “since when?”
“I just, like, ugh,” she dropped her head back in frustration. “Why him? Like I’ve never understood. What is it about him?”
“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’ve never really known. He’s just…”
“Arrogant, selfish, a bully…” she finished your sentence for you.
“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head.
“Just be careful, okay?” She placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting your eye in the mirror. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“I know,” you nodded. “I will be.”
“If Rafe Cameron has zero haters then I am dead,” she concluded.
“I know that too,” you smiled.
Carter leaned past you to collect a couple bobby pins from the bathroom sink, her shirt slipping slightly off her shoulder and revealing a patch of deep purple marks.
“Oh my god,” you squealed. “Are those hickies?!”
She dragged her shirt back over her shoulder defensively.
“No! I fell!”
“Uh-huh, right onto Topper’s mouth apparently!” You poked her side, teasing her.
“Shut up,” she smiled and you cackled.
After that, the Rafe conversation was dropped as you pressed Carter for more details on her hook up with Topper. She tried to play cool, but you could tell there was something more going on under the surface that she didn’t want to say. You decided to be patient, if she was going to finally come to terms with her feelings for him, she was going to do it all on her own.
When she was finally done with your hair and makeup, you inspected yourself in the mirror.
“Baddie,” she winked at you.
You blushed, “alright let’s go, the boys are probably waiting.”
Carter stood back and crossed her arms, giving you an incredulous look.
“What?” You questioned.
“You’re not wearing that.”
You looked down at your outfit, a crop top, black jeans, and boots. You thought it was a perfectly acceptable clubbing outfit, but Carter clearly disagreed.
“Why not?”
“We’re going out to, like, clubs. In downtown Miami. You gotta stunt on ‘em a little bit,” she argued.
“I am! Look how tight these jeans are,” you did a spin to display your point.
“Good thing I brought the perfect dress in your size for just such an occasion,” she ignored you.
“Oh okay so this was a premeditated makeover?” You smiled.
She ran down the hall to her room and returned with a lacy, red minidress. Knowing you’d lose any argument you posed, you changed into it reluctantly. The corset top hugged your waist, pushing your chest up. Your shoulders slumped instinctually, like you could hide away in yourself. You’d come a long way on your self-love journey, but your self-doubt still crept in from time to time.
As per usual, Carter sensed it right away.
“Shoulders back, head up,” Carter reminded you. “Let ‘em know.”
You took a deep breath, nodding in the mirror, choosing to leave your insecurities behind. You’d borrow her faith in you for just one night.
As Carter, Maddie and Sabrina did their final touch ups and compared outfits, you pulled on your heels and headed downstairs. The other girls didn’t seem concerned with punctuality, but you were sure Topper was probably freaking out about how long they were taking.
It wasn’t Topper you found in the kitchen, though.
Rafe stood at the sink with his back to you, his black button up pulled taught over his defined back muscles as he stared off into space and the cup in his hand overflowed.
You smiled, holding your shoulders back as Carter had taught you, bracing for him to see you in this dress.
“Thirsty?”
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He felt his resolve break with the rest of his brain, dizzy and drowning in the sight of you. He had the ridiculous urge to shield his eyes, like he was hiding them from the sun, your beauty too overwhelming to gaze directly at.
He set the glass down on the counter, drying his hands with a nearby towel, never once breaking eye contact with you.
Licking his lips quickly, he shamelessly let his eyes drag over your bare legs and up your body, knowing full well you could see him take in every inch of you. He didn’t care, he needed you to understand what you were doing to him.
When his eyes finally landed on yours, he clenched his jaw tight, nostrils flaring with his rising pulse. He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, telling you silently: you’re killing me.
“You like it?” You whispered, running your hands over the lacy fabric.
Rafe opened his mouth to answer, planning something along the lines of “do I like it? Are you fucking kidding me?” but before he could, the rest of the girls came clamorring down the stairs behind you, stealing the moment.
At the sound of clicking heels and giggles, the rest of the boys came filing into the room.
Rafe gave you one more longing look before handing Kelce the glass of water. Kelce tried to protest, but Rafe shoved it in his hands anyway.
“We’re not leaving ‘til you drink it,” Rafe scolded him.
“Taking over Topper’s mom duties?” Maddie laughed at the exchange.
“No, Rafe’s much more dad vibes,” Carter countered.
“Yes and mom and dad will be pissed if our Ubers leave, so let’s go children,” Topper herded the group toward the front door.
Rafe took the now empty glass from Kelce and left it in the sink, and you lingered back for a second, pretending to fix your shoe so you’d both end up at the back of the pack. He watched as you bent down and fiddled with the slingback, hovering close when you stood.
“Nice dress,” he mumbled down to you.
“You think so?” You twisted your lips to keep from beaming at him, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.
“There’s not much of it,” he teased, scratching the back of his head as he looked down over the lacy fabric. “But yeah, it’s nice.”
“You gonna give me the ‘you’re not leaving the house in that, young lady’ treatment?” You pressed him. “You really are like the dad.”
“Why? Would you change if I told you to?” He asked skeptically.
“Not a fucking chance,” you scoffed, swinging your hips as you spun and made for the front door.
He was really planning on staying away from you? What a fucking joke. He followed you out of the house like you had him on a leash. He was in for a long night.
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It took all of five minutes for Carter to grab Topper’s hand and pull him to the corner of the club, and it took even less time for their close talking to become a full on makeout.
You smirked at them as you ordered another drink, knowing you’d need something to help you get through this evening if Carter wasn’t going to be by your side. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you as he approached from the other side of the bar.
The whole Uber here, Tom had been eyeing you in the rear view mirror from the front seat. The only stare that made you more uncomfortable was Sabrina’s. It couldn’t be more clear that she’d grown attached to him on their jet ski ride, laughing loud at his unfunny jokes and hovering in his vicinity all night. You had unwittingly fallen into a love triangle you wanted nothing to do with.
You could feel his attempt to hit on you before he even spoke.
“Put her drink on my tab,” Tom told the bartender.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” you said, not wanting to give him any openings.
“Not a problem,” he said. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk today, the least I can do is buy you a drink to say sorry.”
The bartender handed you the glass, and you immediately took a sip, fiddling with the straw uncomfortably.
“Sorry for what?” You feigned ignorance.
“Last night, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” he said, stepping closer to you. He clearly couldn’t see the irony that he was apologizing for making you feel weird while actively making you feel weird. “I just think you’re really cool and I wanted to get to know you better.”
He was crowding your space now, the scent of his heavy cologne choking your senses. Just a few days ago, you found the same smell enticing, but now, there was only one person you wanted standing this close.
Your eyes flicked over Tom’s shoulder, scanning the crowd for him. You found him leaning against the wall, Kelce talking to him emphatically about something you couldn’t hear. You didn’t have to get his attention, his eyes were already on you. Tight lipped smile, you flicked your eyes between him and Tom, trying to communicate your need for his assistance.
Rafe didn’t need anything more to understand what you were asking, tuned in to your every move and sensing your need for him before you even caught his eye. He pushed off the wall and left Kelce talking to no one so he could shove his way through the crowd. Taller than almost everyone, you tracked him the whole way through the sea of people. Tom seemed none the wiser, continuing hitting on you.
“Maybe we could get out of here,” Tom suggested, leaning in a little too close so you could hear him over the music.
“Nah, not tonight bro.”
Rafe appeared by your side just in time, forcing Tom to take a step back as he draped his arm over your shoulders possessively. Tom’s eyes flew between the two of you as you reached up to the hand on your shoulder and threaded your fingers with Rafe’s. Relief swelled through your body as Tom stepped back. You leaned into Rafe’s hold more, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a grateful squeeze. You knew he felt it when you saw his mouth perk up at the corners. But he didn’t take his eyes off Tom, his work here unfinished.
“Since when are you two together?” Tom puzzled defensively.
“Look man, why don’t you go find, uh, Sabrina,” Rafe waved him off. “Or literally any other girl here.”
As if Rafe’s suggestion had summoned her, Sabrina appeared at Tom’s side.
“Oh my god,” she slurred, eyes red and glossy with intoxication. “Are y’all a thing now? Girl, I never thought you’d actually do it. Good for you!”
It had the cadence of women supporting women, but the undertone was clear. You didn’t miss the disbelief in her tone, subtly trying to cut you down while appearing to lift you up. If Carter was here, she’d bitch her out. But you didn’t need saving from this one.
You tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand, swinging his arm from around your shoulders but not letting go. You pulled him away from Tom and Sabrina, leading him deep into the crowd on the dancefloor.
Before he had the chance to ask what you were doing, you placed his hands on your waist, spinning in his grasp until your back was flush with his chest and moving to the music. He made no protest, squeezing you between his hands and swaying along with you. Tom and Sabrina watched from across the room, his jaw clenched and her arms crossed.
After a few minutes, both sets of eyes eventually left you, but you didn’t notice, and you didn’t stop. It wasn’t for show anymore. You closed your eyes as you continued to let the music move you. Rafe’s strong arms on either side of you, your brain flashed images of his half naked body in the kitchen and how he kneeled in front of you in the basement. The same fingertips that had so gently caressed your calf were now burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. One of your arms stretched up, your palm finding the back of his neck, kneading his skin as you clung to him.
When you looked up to meet his eyes, they were ablaze with pure lust. Your lips parted to tell him you felt it too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead you showed him, your body moving through the music like water. The bass pumped through your chest, tangling with your thumping heart beat until you couldn’t tell which was which.
Rafe held you tight against him, like if he let you go you might slip under the waves again. His head sank low, until the tip of his nose was grazing just over the curve of your neck. He was hardly moving, not so much dancing as swaying, letting you do the work his eyes drank in every inch of your body.
With a precise roll of your hips, you pushed against him, and you nearly gasped at the feeling of something hard and demanding pressing into your hip. Your lips twisted with the sweetest satisfaction.
“Thought you were trying to be a gentleman,” you said over the music.
“I was,” he brought his lips to your ear so you could hear him. “But you’re making it too fucking hard.”
Smirking, you twisted in his arms until you were facing each other. You both caught the accidental euphemism and met eyes, breaking into matching laughter.
“You know what I mean,” he rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think I do,” you teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”
His smile fell, as did his hands, lowering from your waist to your hips. You reached both arms up, wrapping around his neck and lacing your fingers behind him.
His eyes swept over your face as he whispered, “you look so-”
“Cute?”
You meant it in jest, but he didn’t laugh. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he took you in, serious as hell when he said,
“So fucking beautiful.”
You shuddered in his arms, and he ran his hand down your exposed back, tracing his fingers delicately over your spine.
“Been driving me crazy since I saw you on the beach,” he continued.
His hand kept falling lower, though it slowed as it reached your lower back, asking for permission with his hesitancy. Your body arched into him without even thinking about it. His palm glided over your ass, the soft fabric of your dress and your plush flesh beneath it pulling an involuntary groan from him. He went lower still, slotting his fingers in the crease where your ass meets your thigh, lingering, setting up camp like he’d stay there all night if you let him. He found the spot so deliberately that you knew he’d been thinking about it for days.
You waited with baited breath, your silence inviting him to keep talking.
All he said next was your name. It was low and needy, like a request, or maybe a warning. Flames erupted in your stomach and sent a hot blush sweeping across your body.
“Do you…” your throat tightened with vulnerability, “do you want to go somewhere?”
Yes, Rafe thought, anywhere, for any amount of time.
But there was a small voice in the back of his head giving him pause. Your voice, earlier today in the shower, when you thought you were talking to someone else.
“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he shook his head, sad eyes falling from your face to his shoes.
You tilted your head as you examined him, unsure for a moment what he meant. Then it clicked, realizing those were your words on his lips. He was the one who heard you in the bathroom. You fought the temptation to run away in embarrassment when you remembered what else he must’ve heard.
After all you’d admitted to, the piece he was clearly holding onto was the only part you didn’t actually mean. You had added the detail about hating yourself when you thought you were talking to Carter and that she was upset with you.
It was too much to explain to him there on the crowded dance floor. You slipped your hand into his and pulled him from the crowd, out a side door and into the alleyway.
Once outside, you tucked your hair behind your ears and looked down anxiously at your feet. The loss of the music and the sobering night air weakened the boldness you had mustered inside.
“When you said we should go somewhere I wasn’t picturing so much garbage,” Rafe motioned towards the nearby dumpster.
You laughed, his playful words successfully easing your nerves. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself why you’d brought him out here.
“You heard me, didn’t you? In the shower?”
“I’m sorry,” he blushed, caught red handed. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. But…yeah.”
“I didn’t mean it,” you told him.
Hurt flashed in his eyes for just a second, before he nodded and squared his shoulders to cover it up.
“Got it,” he shrugged.
“No, I mean, the hating myself part,” you clarified.
“So the other stuff…?” He was quick to follow up.
The door for you to finally tell him how you felt was wide open in front of you, but you weren’t sure if you could walk through it. The words you’d been holding back your whole life sat on the tip of your tongue, but refused to pass your lips. You looked at him helplessly.
“I can’t,” you shook your head.
Rafe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“What? You can’t what?”
Your mouth fell open in disbelief, incensed that he was the one with an attitude here.
“You know what?” You said, hands on your hips. “I don’t think you have a lot of room to be snapping at me, Rafe. Not after everything you’ve done.”
“Everything I’ve done?” He huffed. “Please, tell me what I did that’s so terrible?”
“Seriously? High school wasn’t that long ago, Rafe.”
“Look I know I was a dick, okay?” He stepped forward, voice softening a bit with his apology. “And maybe you’ll never forgive me. But all that shit? That guy? That’s in the past, and I don’t want to talk about the past anymore, I just wanna be with you now.”
“I don’t know, Rafe,” you shook your head sadly. “I don’t know if I can just pretend none of that happened.”
“How long then?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Tell me how long I’m gonna be paying for some shit I did when I was seventeen so I at least have an idea, please. Give me a date so I can plan for it.”
“Let’s see, Rafe, I wanted you for twelve years, you’ve wanted me for like two days. Does that seem even to you?”
Your words struck him, the anger in his eyes dissolving, replaced with tenderness. He stepped towards you tentatively, ducking just a bit to better read your face.
“You really think I’ve only wanted you for two days?” He mumbled softly. “Baby…”
It was the second time he’d called you that today. You were in too much pain when he said it after you fell off the jet ski, but your brain had tucked it away subconsciously to revisit when you felt better. He’d called you baby before, when you were in high school. It had always given you butterflies, and you never called attention to it, afraid he’d stop if he realized how much it meant to you.
Since then, you’d reframed the memories to convince yourself that he never actually meant it, that it was some kind of manipulation tactic. But the way it rolled so naturally off his tongue earlier, and the way he’d breathed it so desperately now, made you reconsider.
“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded. “Not if you don’t mean it.”
Rafe just blinked back at you, not an ounce of deception in his voice when he said, “I’ve always meant it.”
His confession pinched your heart, the whole story rewriting itself in your mind. For the first time ever, you let yourself actually believe that he cared for you, that he’d always cared for you. To anyone else who knew the whole story, it might seem unlikely, but seeing the look in his eyes right now, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.
You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your deep longing for him stronger than ever. He felt it too, you could tell by the way he drew closer, his body lining up with yours, eyes locked to your lips.
With the most tenderness you’ve ever encountered, he reached his hand up, the pad of his thumb landing on your bottom lip and pulling it gently from between your teeth, undoing you.
“Rafe…” you whispered, a plea and a question, as his lips ghosted over yours.
“Can I?” He breathed. “Please?”
You nodded, never meaning anything more than when you told him “yes.”
(chapter 7)
a/n: chat what do we think? are we forgiving him? only 3 chapters to goooo. Also I wrote “shoulders back. head up. let ‘em know.” on my bathroom mirror as my new morning mantra 💘
please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only please!
You and Carter didn’t fight, it just didn’t happen.
Like any sisters, you got on each other’s nerves, you disagreed on things, you borrowed each other’s clothes without asking - but you didn’t fight.
Growing up, your parents fought all the time. You and Carter would sit in her bedroom and listen to music, talking and laughing and pretending not to hear. Ever since then, you had a silent agreement; you didn’t fight and you never raised your voices at each other.
The problem with this system was that you were never quite sure when she was upset with you. Your stomach churned the whole rest of your shower, as she stood uncharacteristically quiet at the bathroom sink and did her makeup.
Maybe she hadn’t heard you, or maybe she had just hated your words so much that she couldn’t even respond to them. You knew she wouldn’t like it when you admitted that you’d be with Rafe if he asked you, but pretending it had never been said seemed particularly childish.
A little while later, you sat on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror as she did your hair and makeup. You found your eyes continually drifting up to her, searching for any sign of anger. When a full half-an-hour passed and she still hadn’t responded to your comments about Rafe, you broke down and asked, “are you mad at me?”
“For what?” She scrunched her eyebrows.
“For what I said in the shower,” you wrung your hands in your lap, not sure you wanted the answer.
“Bitch, you know I have the short term memory of an ant, you’re gonna have to give me more to work with.”
You laughed at her bluntness, the lightheartedness of her words relaxing you enough to face your fear.
“What I said about Rafe,” you said. “That I’d be with him if he asked me to.”
She paused her work on your hair, setting the brush down and meeting your eyes in the mirror.
“When did you say that?” She twisted her lips.
“When you came back in, while I was in the shower.”
She shook her head, “must’ve been talking to someone else because I’ve definitely never heard you say that. I feel like I would’ve remembered something so insane.”
You looked down at your hands in your lap, playing the whole thing back in your mind. You had definitely heard someone come in, the door squeaking at their arrival. That means someone else in the house was walking around with your deepest secret. And now Carter knew it too.
“Oh,” you said. “Never mind then.”
“Yeah right, you really think I’m just gonna move on from that?” Carter put her hands on her hips.
“We could just pretend I never said anything,” you shrugged.
“Yes you know me,” Carter rolled her eyes, “I’m famous for letting things go and being super chill when I hear someone say something batshit crazy.”
You sighed, “okay fine, but what you didn’t hear was me following the statement up by saying I know I shouldn’t be with him ‘cause I’d probably hate myself the whole time.”
Carter started working on your hair again, her contorted face betraying her attempt to act casual.
“Please just say whatever you’re thinking,” you urged her.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” she replied.
You snorted, “since when?”
“I just, like, ugh,” she dropped her head back in frustration. “Why him? Like I’ve never understood. What is it about him?”
“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’ve never really known. He’s just…”
“Arrogant, selfish, a bully…” she finished your sentence for you.
“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head.
“Just be careful, okay?” She placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting your eye in the mirror. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“I know,” you nodded. “I will be.”
“If Rafe Cameron has zero haters then I am dead,” she concluded.
“I know that too,” you smiled.
Carter leaned past you to collect a couple bobby pins from the bathroom sink, her shirt slipping slightly off her shoulder and revealing a patch of deep purple marks.
“Oh my god,” you squealed. “Are those hickies?!”
She dragged her shirt back over her shoulder defensively.
“No! I fell!”
“Uh-huh, right onto Topper’s mouth apparently!” You poked her side, teasing her.
“Shut up,” she smiled and you cackled.
After that, the Rafe conversation was dropped as you pressed Carter for more details on her hook up with Topper. She tried to play cool, but you could tell there was something more going on under the surface that she didn’t want to say. You decided to be patient, if she was going to finally come to terms with her feelings for him, she was going to do it all on her own.
When she was finally done with your hair and makeup, you inspected yourself in the mirror.
“Baddie,” she winked at you.
You blushed, “alright let’s go, the boys are probably waiting.”
Carter stood back and crossed her arms, giving you an incredulous look.
“What?” You questioned.
“You’re not wearing that.”
You looked down at your outfit, a crop top, black jeans, and boots. You thought it was a perfectly acceptable clubbing outfit, but Carter clearly disagreed.
“Why not?”
“We’re going out to, like, clubs. In downtown Miami. You gotta stunt on ‘em a little bit,” she argued.
“I am! Look how tight these jeans are,” you did a spin to display your point.
“Good thing I brought the perfect dress in your size for just such an occasion,” she ignored you.
“Oh okay so this was a premeditated makeover?” You smiled.
She ran down the hall to her room and returned with a lacy, red minidress. Knowing you’d lose any argument you posed, you changed into it reluctantly. The corset top hugged your waist, pushing your chest up. Your shoulders slumped instinctually, like you could hide away in yourself. You’d come a long way on your self-love journey, but your self-doubt still crept in from time to time.
As per usual, Carter sensed it right away.
“Shoulders back, head up,” Carter reminded you. “Let ‘em know.”
You took a deep breath, nodding in the mirror, choosing to leave your insecurities behind. You’d borrow her faith in you for just one night.
As Carter, Maddie and Sabrina did their final touch ups and compared outfits, you pulled on your heels and headed downstairs. The other girls didn’t seem concerned with punctuality, but you were sure Topper was probably freaking out about how long they were taking.
It wasn’t Topper you found in the kitchen, though.
Rafe stood at the sink with his back to you, his black button up pulled taught over his defined back muscles as he stared off into space and the cup in his hand overflowed.
You smiled, holding your shoulders back as Carter had taught you, bracing for him to see you in this dress.
“Thirsty?”
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He felt his resolve break with the rest of his brain, dizzy and drowning in the sight of you. He had the ridiculous urge to shield his eyes, like he was hiding them from the sun, your beauty too overwhelming to gaze directly at.
He set the glass down on the counter, drying his hands with a nearby towel, never once breaking eye contact with you.
Licking his lips quickly, he shamelessly let his eyes drag over your bare legs and up your body, knowing full well you could see him take in every inch of you. He didn’t care, he needed you to understand what you were doing to him.
When his eyes finally landed on yours, he clenched his jaw tight, nostrils flaring with his rising pulse. He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, telling you silently: you’re killing me.
“You like it?” You whispered, running your hands over the lacy fabric.
Rafe opened his mouth to answer, planning something along the lines of “do I like it? Are you fucking kidding me?” but before he could, the rest of the girls came clamorring down the stairs behind you, stealing the moment.
At the sound of clicking heels and giggles, the rest of the boys came filing into the room.
Rafe gave you one more longing look before handing Kelce the glass of water. Kelce tried to protest, but Rafe shoved it in his hands anyway.
“We’re not leaving ‘til you drink it,” Rafe scolded him.
“Taking over Topper’s mom duties?” Maddie laughed at the exchange.
“No, Rafe’s much more dad vibes,” Carter countered.
“Yes and mom and dad will be pissed if our Ubers leave, so let’s go children,” Topper herded the group toward the front door.
Rafe took the now empty glass from Kelce and left it in the sink, and you lingered back for a second, pretending to fix your shoe so you’d both end up at the back of the pack. He watched as you bent down and fiddled with the slingback, hovering close when you stood.
“Nice dress,” he mumbled down to you.
“You think so?” You twisted your lips to keep from beaming at him, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.
“There’s not much of it,” he teased, scratching the back of his head as he looked down over the lacy fabric. “But yeah, it’s nice.”
“You gonna give me the ‘you’re not leaving the house in that, young lady’ treatment?” You pressed him. “You really are like the dad.”
“Why? Would you change if I told you to?” He asked skeptically.
“Not a fucking chance,” you scoffed, swinging your hips as you spun and made for the front door.
He was really planning on staying away from you? What a fucking joke. He followed you out of the house like you had him on a leash. He was in for a long night.
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It took all of five minutes for Carter to grab Topper’s hand and pull him to the corner of the club, and it took even less time for their close talking to become a full on makeout.
You smirked at them as you ordered another drink, knowing you’d need something to help you get through this evening if Carter wasn’t going to be by your side. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you as he approached from the other side of the bar.
The whole Uber here, Tom had been eyeing you in the rear view mirror from the front seat. The only stare that made you more uncomfortable was Sabrina’s. It couldn’t be more clear that she’d grown attached to him on their jet ski ride, laughing loud at his unfunny jokes and hovering in his vicinity all night. You had unwittingly fallen into a love triangle you wanted nothing to do with.
You could feel his attempt to hit on you before he even spoke.
“Put her drink on my tab,” Tom told the bartender.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” you said, not wanting to give him any openings.
“Not a problem,” he said. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk today, the least I can do is buy you a drink to say sorry.”
The bartender handed you the glass, and you immediately took a sip, fiddling with the straw uncomfortably.
“Sorry for what?” You feigned ignorance.
“Last night, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” he said, stepping closer to you. He clearly couldn’t see the irony that he was apologizing for making you feel weird while actively making you feel weird. “I just think you’re really cool and I wanted to get to know you better.”
He was crowding your space now, the scent of his heavy cologne choking your senses. Just a few days ago, you found the same smell enticing, but now, there was only one person you wanted standing this close.
Your eyes flicked over Tom’s shoulder, scanning the crowd for him. You found him leaning against the wall, Kelce talking to him emphatically about something you couldn’t hear. You didn’t have to get his attention, his eyes were already on you. Tight lipped smile, you flicked your eyes between him and Tom, trying to communicate your need for his assistance.
Rafe didn’t need anything more to understand what you were asking, tuned in to your every move and sensing your need for him before you even caught his eye. He pushed off the wall and left Kelce talking to no one so he could shove his way through the crowd. Taller than almost everyone, you tracked him the whole way through the sea of people. Tom seemed none the wiser, continuing hitting on you.
“Maybe we could get out of here,” Tom suggested, leaning in a little too close so you could hear him over the music.
“Nah, not tonight bro.”
Rafe appeared by your side just in time, forcing Tom to take a step back as he draped his arm over your shoulders possessively. Tom’s eyes flew between the two of you as you reached up to the hand on your shoulder and threaded your fingers with Rafe’s. Relief swelled through your body as Tom stepped back. You leaned into Rafe’s hold more, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a grateful squeeze. You knew he felt it when you saw his mouth perk up at the corners. But he didn’t take his eyes off Tom, his work here unfinished.
“Since when are you two together?” Tom puzzled defensively.
“Look man, why don’t you go find, uh, Sabrina,” Rafe waved him off. “Or literally any other girl here.”
As if Rafe’s suggestion had summoned her, Sabrina appeared at Tom’s side.
“Oh my god,” she slurred, eyes red and glossy with intoxication. “Are y’all a thing now? Girl, I never thought you’d actually do it. Good for you!”
It had the cadence of women supporting women, but the undertone was clear. You didn’t miss the disbelief in her tone, subtly trying to cut you down while appearing to lift you up. If Carter was here, she’d bitch her out. But you didn’t need saving from this one.
You tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand, swinging his arm from around your shoulders but not letting go. You pulled him away from Tom and Sabrina, leading him deep into the crowd on the dancefloor.
Before he had the chance to ask what you were doing, you placed his hands on your waist, spinning in his grasp until your back was flush with his chest and moving to the music. He made no protest, squeezing you between his hands and swaying along with you. Tom and Sabrina watched from across the room, his jaw clenched and her arms crossed.
After a few minutes, both sets of eyes eventually left you, but you didn’t notice, and you didn’t stop. It wasn’t for show anymore. You closed your eyes as you continued to let the music move you. Rafe’s strong arms on either side of you, your brain flashed images of his half naked body in the kitchen and how he kneeled in front of you in the basement. The same fingertips that had so gently caressed your calf were now burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. One of your arms stretched up, your palm finding the back of his neck, kneading his skin as you clung to him.
When you looked up to meet his eyes, they were ablaze with pure lust. Your lips parted to tell him you felt it too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead you showed him, your body moving through the music like water. The bass pumped through your chest, tangling with your thumping heart beat until you couldn’t tell which was which.
Rafe held you tight against him, like if he let you go you might slip under the waves again. His head sank low, until the tip of his nose was grazing just over the curve of your neck. He was hardly moving, not so much dancing as swaying, letting you do the work his eyes drank in every inch of your body.
With a precise roll of your hips, you pushed against him, and you nearly gasped at the feeling of something hard and demanding pressing into your hip. Your lips twisted with the sweetest satisfaction.
“Thought you were trying to be a gentleman,” you said over the music.
“I was,” he brought his lips to your ear so you could hear him. “But you’re making it too fucking hard.”
Smirking, you twisted in his arms until you were facing each other. You both caught the accidental euphemism and met eyes, breaking into matching laughter.
“You know what I mean,” he rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think I do,” you teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”
His smile fell, as did his hands, lowering from your waist to your hips. You reached both arms up, wrapping around his neck and lacing your fingers behind him.
His eyes swept over your face as he whispered, “you look so-”
“Cute?”
You meant it in jest, but he didn’t laugh. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he took you in, serious as hell when he said,
“So fucking beautiful.”
You shuddered in his arms, and he ran his hand down your exposed back, tracing his fingers delicately over your spine.
“Been driving me crazy since I saw you on the beach,” he continued.
His hand kept falling lower, though it slowed as it reached your lower back, asking for permission with his hesitancy. Your body arched into him without even thinking about it. His palm glided over your ass, the soft fabric of your dress and your plush flesh beneath it pulling an involuntary groan from him. He went lower still, slotting his fingers in the crease where your ass meets your thigh, lingering, setting up camp like he’d stay there all night if you let him. He found the spot so deliberately that you knew he’d been thinking about it for days.
You waited with baited breath, your silence inviting him to keep talking.
All he said next was your name. It was low and needy, like a request, or maybe a warning. Flames erupted in your stomach and sent a hot blush sweeping across your body.
“Do you…” your throat tightened with vulnerability, “do you want to go somewhere?”
Yes, Rafe thought, anywhere, for any amount of time.
But there was a small voice in the back of his head giving him pause. Your voice, earlier today in the shower, when you thought you were talking to someone else.
“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he shook his head, sad eyes falling from your face to his shoes.
You tilted your head as you examined him, unsure for a moment what he meant. Then it clicked, realizing those were your words on his lips. He was the one who heard you in the bathroom. You fought the temptation to run away in embarrassment when you remembered what else he must’ve heard.
After all you’d admitted to, the piece he was clearly holding onto was the only part you didn’t actually mean. You had added the detail about hating yourself when you thought you were talking to Carter and that she was upset with you.
It was too much to explain to him there on the crowded dance floor. You slipped your hand into his and pulled him from the crowd, out a side door and into the alleyway.
Once outside, you tucked your hair behind your ears and looked down anxiously at your feet. The loss of the music and the sobering night air weakened the boldness you had mustered inside.
“When you said we should go somewhere I wasn’t picturing so much garbage,” Rafe motioned towards the nearby dumpster.
You laughed, his playful words successfully easing your nerves. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself why you’d brought him out here.
“You heard me, didn’t you? In the shower?”
“I’m sorry,” he blushed, caught red handed. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. But…yeah.”
“I didn’t mean it,” you told him.
Hurt flashed in his eyes for just a second, before he nodded and squared his shoulders to cover it up.
“Got it,” he shrugged.
“No, I mean, the hating myself part,” you clarified.
“So the other stuff…?” He was quick to follow up.
The door for you to finally tell him how you felt was wide open in front of you, but you weren’t sure if you could walk through it. The words you’d been holding back your whole life sat on the tip of your tongue, but refused to pass your lips. You looked at him helplessly.
“I can’t,” you shook your head.
Rafe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“What? You can’t what?”
Your mouth fell open in disbelief, incensed that he was the one with an attitude here.
“You know what?” You said, hands on your hips. “I don’t think you have a lot of room to be snapping at me, Rafe. Not after everything you’ve done.”
“Everything I’ve done?” He huffed. “Please, tell me what I did that’s so terrible?”
“Seriously? High school wasn’t that long ago, Rafe.”
“Look I know I was a dick, okay?” He stepped forward, voice softening a bit with his apology. “And maybe you’ll never forgive me. But all that shit? That guy? That’s in the past, and I don’t want to talk about the past anymore, I just wanna be with you now.”
“I don’t know, Rafe,” you shook your head sadly. “I don’t know if I can just pretend none of that happened.”
“How long then?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Tell me how long I’m gonna be paying for some shit I did when I was seventeen so I at least have an idea, please. Give me a date so I can plan for it.”
“Let’s see, Rafe, I wanted you for twelve years, you’ve wanted me for like two days. Does that seem even to you?”
Your words struck him, the anger in his eyes dissolving, replaced with tenderness. He stepped towards you tentatively, ducking just a bit to better read your face.
“You really think I’ve only wanted you for two days?” He mumbled softly. “Baby…”
It was the second time he’d called you that today. You were in too much pain when he said it after you fell off the jet ski, but your brain had tucked it away subconsciously to revisit when you felt better. He’d called you baby before, when you were in high school. It had always given you butterflies, and you never called attention to it, afraid he’d stop if he realized how much it meant to you.
Since then, you’d reframed the memories to convince yourself that he never actually meant it, that it was some kind of manipulation tactic. But the way it rolled so naturally off his tongue earlier, and the way he’d breathed it so desperately now, made you reconsider.
“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded. “Not if you don’t mean it.”
Rafe just blinked back at you, not an ounce of deception in his voice when he said, “I’ve always meant it.”
His confession pinched your heart, the whole story rewriting itself in your mind. For the first time ever, you let yourself actually believe that he cared for you, that he’d always cared for you. To anyone else who knew the whole story, it might seem unlikely, but seeing the look in his eyes right now, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.
You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your deep longing for him stronger than ever. He felt it too, you could tell by the way he drew closer, his body lining up with yours, eyes locked to your lips.
With the most tenderness you’ve ever encountered, he reached his hand up, the pad of his thumb landing on your bottom lip and pulling it gently from between your teeth, undoing you.
“Rafe…” you whispered, a plea and a question, as his lips ghosted over yours.
“Can I?” He breathed. “Please?”
You nodded, never meaning anything more than when you told him “yes.”
(chapter 7)
a/n: chat what do we think? are we forgiving him? only 3 chapters to goooo. Also I wrote “shoulders back. head up. let ‘em know.” on my bathroom mirror as my new morning mantra 💘
please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
additional chapter cw! this chapter contains brief mentions of blood and minor injuries
It was like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t stop hurting you.
You were only under for a second, maybe less, your lifejacket doing its job, and yet somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let you drown.
There wasn’t much logic to it. It wasn’t as though he had emptied the jet ski of all its gas, or that he somehow had control over the weather.
Technically, none of this was his fault, yet he felt the guilt burn in his chest like he’d swallowed hot coals.
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The second your head emerged, you let out a scream, the salt water in your fresh cut sending hot sparks of pain up your leg.
“Fuck, ow!” You cried, reaching for the jet ski with shaky hands, in so much pain you couldn’t even find it.
“Ohhh baby, are you okay?” Rafe grabbed your hand, squeezing tight as he pulled you towards him in the water, his other arm tethering you both to the jet ski.
“I think I’m bleeding,” you clung to his shoulder, your fingers digging in probably too tight, but the pain was so overwhelming you needed to put it somewhere. He didn’t mind, desperate to take it away however he could.
“Here climb up,” he said, grabbing your waist and boosting you. “The water can’t be helping.”
“Shit,” you both said in unison when you finally got onto the jet ski and revealed the cut on your calf, wider than you thought and bleeding angrily.
“Just hold on, I got you,” he assured, beginning to kick rapidly to start moving the jet ski toward the shore.
You were scared the whole time, never once taking your eyes off of him. Asking him over and over again if he was okay until you were sure he was sick of it. But not once was there even a hint of agitation in his voice as he promised you he was fine, that you were almost there, that everything was gonna be okay.
His words didn’t do much to convince you, your face flooding with worry when you noticed his breaths getting more strained.
“I’m okay,” he swore to you, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. “We’re almost there.”
It was starting to rain and the thunder was growing louder, there was no argument to be made that you could keep floating safely in the ocean. You resigned to let him keep going, but your eyes never left him, as if it was your appreciation keeping him afloat instead of his lifejacket.
“Thank you,” you said for the fifteenth time.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling with the motion, the expression entirely too joyful for the grim situation you found yourselves in.
“What?” You scoffed, poking his hand with your toe playfully.
“You’re cute when you’re worried,” he explained.
The drizzling rain was chilly, but your body was on fire. You opened your mouth to reply, despite the utter lack of words in your mind, but the sight of your sister appearing in the distance pulled your attention away.
The group that gathered at the dock’s edge was not the happy-go-lucky bunch of friends you’d arrived with a few hours ago.
The dock was only a few yards away now, you were close enough to see Carter slumped on the ground, Topper’s arms around her, pulling her into a comforting hug. As Rafe swam you closer, it became more apparent that she was crying.
“There she is!” Tom shouted, motioning to you.
Carter stood quickly, nearly knocking Topper over, waving her arms in the air frantically like she was trying to land a plane. You waved back, heart aching at the sight of her red, puffy eyes.
“We’re okay!” You yelled through the rain, trying to ease her worry as the jet ski approached.
You looked down at Rafe who could hear the commotion but not see it.
“We’re almost there, they’re all waiting for us,” you filled him in.
As the front of the jet ski neared the group, Topper leaned over the side of the dock to pull you the rest of the way in.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, where have you been, are you crazy?!” Carter paced the dock, a wild look in her eyes as she scolded you.
“I’m fine!” You assured her. “We just ran out of gas.”
“We?” She questioned, hands on her hips.
Once Topper had secured the jet ski to the dock, Rafe swam around to the side, revealing himself to the group.
“What the hell? Where’s Kelce?” Carter questioned.
You knew she must really be upset. When she went into worried-mom-mode, her already limited inclination for politeness went completely out the window.
“Can someone help him up please?” You corrected her. “And get him a blanket or something?”
“I’ve got a couple in my trunk!” Topper said, before running to the marina parking lot.
“I’m fine,” Rafe calmed you with a soft smile as he lifted himself onto the back of the jet ski.
Before he could climb onto the dock, fully planning to help you up next, Tom reached out his hand to you.
“Are you okay?” Tom asked. You could feel Rafe’s posture stiffen next to you.
“I’m fine, thank you.” You accepted his hand, only due to the fact that you actually did need help with the big step off the jet ski.
The moment your feet were steady on the dock, you pulled your hand from his and turned back to make sure Rafe made it onto solid ground. When he did, you made your way to Carter’s side, pulling her into a hug.
“I thought something happened…” she mumbled into your shoulder.
“I’m okay,” you soothed her. “Rafe saved me.”
She pulled back from you, sniffling as she eyed him over your shoulder.
“Thank you,” she told him quietly.
“I didn’t do a great job,” he said shakily, looking down at your leg. “You’re still bleeding.”
“You’re bleeding?!” Carter turned you around, inspecting you for injury.
You laughed as she spun you frantically, “it’s just a little cut on my leg.”
She leaned down to inspect it further, eyebrows knit with concern. “I told Topper we should’ve called 911.”
You placed both hands on her shoulders, “Car, I’m fine. It’s just a scrape, it’ll be gone by tomorrow. I’m sorry we scared you, though.”
“You did,” she pouted.
Topper came running back, huffing from his hurry.
“I could only find one,” he extended the blanket in his hands to Rafe, who obviously needed it more.
Rafe took the blanket from him and opened it up quickly, but instead of dragging it over his own shoulders, he wrapped it around you.
“You should take it,” you tried to stop him.
“Nah,” he waved you off, running his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “We need to get you dry before Carter calls the Coast Guard.”
For a full ten seconds, your group stood in the rain, everyone’s eyes on someone else, the tension in the air telling an entire story to some invisible audience.
Carter looked at you, concern wrinkling her forehead as she wondered what really happened after she went to bed last night.
Topper looked at Carter, wondering if her investment in your love life meant she’d forgotten all about the intimate hug they’d shared on the dock waiting for you to return.
Tom looked at Rafe, wondering if it was this joker’s fault you’d rejected him the night before and feeling the hot flame of competition ignite in his chest.
Sabrina looked at Tom, wondering when boys had started looking at you like that and how to get him to look at her instead.
Rafe looked down at you, and you looked up at him, both wondering if the other was thinking the same thing: there’s so much more to say.
“Ahem,” the jet ski owner cleared his throat, pulling you all from your thoughts. “Need the keys back if you don’t mind.”
Carter handed him the first two keys, and Rafe fumbled in his pocket for yours.
“You should really be checking the gas tank before you just send people out there,” Rafe snapped at him, tossing him the key. “You sent her out with an empty tank, she could’ve been seriously screwed, man. No way to run a business.”
“Maybe you should teach your girl how to drive so she doesn’t drain the tank,” the guy snapped back. “Not my fault she’s a ditz.”
Rafe stepped toward him in one long stride, chest puffed out and tension brewing in his flexed jaw that ran all the way down his neck.
“The fuck did you just say?” Rafe grabbed him by his collar, pulling the guy up towards him as he glared at him.
You looked helplessly to Topper, who hurried to pull Rafe’s hand off the guy’s shirt. Topper was an expert at intervening before Rafe did things he couldn’t undo, and you were grateful he was here. Still, there was a small part of you that selfishly wanted to know what he’d do next, how far he’d go to defend your honor.
“Okay, okay,” Topper said. “Let’s just go, bro. It’s over.”
Rafe fought against Topper’s pull for a moment, staring daggers at the jet ski guy, who was chuckling smugly. When the guy’s eyes darted to you, he pulled his arm from Topper’s grip and made to move towards him again.
“Rafe,” you said softly.
His head turned to you, and the tension in his shoulders loosened. You shook your head ever so slightly, eyes urging him to back down. He nodded once and his hands, which had been balled into fists, flexed open as he let his anger go.
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As soon as you made it back to the house, you peeled your wet bathing suit off and climbed in the shower, eager to get your weary body into the warm water and let the sea wash down the drain. Carter had announced plans on the car ride back from the marina to go out to some clubs this evening, and you were far from dance floor ready.
For just a moment, the hot water felt incredible, until it made its way to your cut. You yelped and stepped out of the hot stream quickly.
Typically, you would’ve thought responsibly enough to cover the cut before getting in the shower, but your mind was too foggy with thoughts of Rafe. You pulled on some clothes and padded down the hall to Carter’s room.
The knock on the door sparked a flurry of commotion behind it. Hushed voices echoed from under the door frame.
“Just a second!” Carter shouted to you, voice muffled.
“Oof!” A deeper voice said, the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.
Your lips twisted in a knowing smile. You didn’t need the door to swing open to know who you were hearing in the room. Carter and Topper were clearly tangled up in something before you interrupted.
Confirming your suspicion, the door swung open and Topper stood in front of you, his shirt on backwards from being pulled on in a hurry.
“Do I have the wrong room?” You smirked.
“I was just, uh, helping Carter with something,” he fumbled to explain.
“Oh? What were you helping her with?”
“Her bed is, uh, broken.”
You laughed, standing on your tiptoes to call over his shoulder and into the room, “just wanted to see if you have any Band-Aids?”
“No,” she responded from somewhere under the mess of blankets on her bed. “But I can come help you find some.”
“Oh no,” you said. “You stay here and work on that…broken bed.”
Topper gave you a thankful smile and you winked at him.
“Make good choices!” You called, turning from the door.
“Too late!” Carter sang back.
You checked a few of the other bathrooms before wandering to the kitchen. One hand on the counter, and the other reaching as high as it could, you tried to boost yourself up. The flex of your calf as you jumped stretched the skin around your cut, making you wince.
“Fuck,” you grumbled to yourself. “Let’s get jet skis they said, it’ll be fun they said…”
You tried to jump again, reaching for the high cabinet, the only one in the kitchen you hadn’t checked yet. You could’ve sworn you’d seen a first aid kit around here somewhere. You jumped again, the effort still fruitless.
“Need some help?”
You turned fast, startled by the revelation that you weren’t actually alone.
Rafe was standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the banister with his arms crossed. His hair was damp, clearly just out of the shower himself. You weren’t looking at his hair, though.
He was covered only by a pair of checkered boxers and the towel flung carelessly over his shoulder. His torso was long and rigid, more defined than you had first noticed on the beach the other day. The hard ridges of his abs cast shadows on the plane of his stomach, your eyes danced over them, down to the deep V that disappeared below his waistband.
“What are you looking for?” His words were casual, as if he didn’t notice you staring, but the crooked grin etched on his face told a different story.
“Band-Aids,” you told him, your voice so feeble it did nothing but further reveal your captivation with the sight of him.
The smirk and all its playfulness fell from his face as his eyes filled with concern.
“Are you still bleeding?”
“No, I just need to cover it so I can shower. I’m thinking I should probably get the seaweed out of my hair if we’re going out.”
“Y’know if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. I’d stay back with you,” he offered.
Your eyes fell from his, shuffling your feet uncomfortably, he stumbled over his words to reassure you, “we don’t have to, like, hang out. Just if you’re tired and you’d rather stay in and read or something that’s cool. I would stay down here.”
“You don’t want to hang out with me?” You raised your eyebrows in mock offense.
You were messing with him now, you probably shouldn’t be, but watching him run circles around himself to say the right thing was too fun.
“That’s not what I- I just,” he stuttered. “Here, can you just let me help you?”
He was across the room quick, your bodies close enough to touch for the first time since the dock. He smelled like soap, and something else undefinable and sweetly nostalgic. He reached up, his long frame barely needing to stretch to reach the cabinet above you.
“Doesn’t look like there’s any in here,” he informed you, tall enough to see what you couldn’t.
“You sure?” You didn’t know why you were questioning him, your flustered state made you defensive.
“You’re welcome to keep jumping to try and see for yourself,” he stepped back to give you space to try again. “You were so close.”
“Don’t be mean,” you smiled.
“I’m serious! It was very cute,” he dropped casually.
Your eyes narrowed as you looked back at him. Despite all his genuine actions today, you couldn’t help but feel suspicious of his intentions.
”What?” He questioned, sensing your hesitancy.
“That’s the second time you’ve called me that today,” you pointed out, “It’s just kinda weird hearing you say it.”
“I mean it’s not like I’ve never called you cute before,” he reasoned.
“You haven’t,” you said definitively.
“I’m sure-“
“You haven’t. I would remember, believe me.”
You crossed your arms, hands cradling your elbows, feeling like a raw nerve. Rafe took a cautious step toward you, ducking his head slightly to draw your eyes to his, making sure you were listening when he said,
“Just because I didn’t say it doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”
You instinctually stepped back, his words a little too close to a confession for your comfort. When you pulled away, the back of your leg hit the kitchen counter, making you flinch at the pain of your cut rubbing against the wood.
“I have some waterproof band aids in my room,” he mumbled, his low voice making you wonder for just a second if he really did have them or if this was just a sly way to get you to his room. Sensing your doubt, he doubled down with, “no, honest, I brought a whole first aid kit.”
Convinced, you followed him down the stairs to his basement bedroom. His bed was still pulled away from the wall, but it had seemingly dried. His belongings were strewn about, his book bag unzipped and overflowing with books and papers. You clocked the curious sight, but stayed silent, preoccupied by your sudden aloneness and his half-naked body.
Rafe dug through his suitcase for a moment until, sure enough, he pulled out a bright orange case with a little red cross on the front. You couldn’t help your smile.
“In your boy scout era?” You teased him.
“I’ve been on enough trips with Topper and Kelce to know you should always be prepared for the worst,” he chuckled.
“Ah, little did you know, I was gonna be the worst you needed to prepare for.”
“You? No, you’re the best part of this trip.”
Your throat tightened.
“Oh, really? It’s not your dungeon bedroom?” You pivoted.
“Yeah, I should probably get used to that mildew smell,” Rafe scoffed. “Gonna be living in my parents basement if I don’t pass this summer class.”
He motioned to his backpack, the mystery finally solved. He’d been doing school work down here. Summer classes, surely the answer to his not-graduating problem.
“What are you taking?” You inquired.
“Statistics. I need one more math credit and I just can’t…” he shook his head with self-loathing. “I mean, you know better than anyone. I’ve never been good at math.”
“I don’t think your problem was so much that you weren’t good,” you reasoned. “I think it was more about not applying yourself.”
“Well I’m applying myself now and I still feel like the textbook’s written in another language, so what does that mean?”
“Maybe that you just need some help,” you shrugged.
You could tell he was struggling with himself, and you were overcome with the desire to ease his worry. There are worse things a man can be than bad at math. But with Rafe, things were always all-or-nothing. One flaw meant the whole batch must be bad.
You felt the urge to jump into tutor-mode and do the hard work for him, but you knew once you crossed that bridge into such familiar territory, there’d be no going back.
Rafe didn’t seem to share your concerns about repeating the past.
“Help from you?”
The way he leaned in when he said it would be almost imperceptible to anyone else, but you’d studied him long enough to notice even the slightest movement. You could feel the air between you tighten, like a rubber band stretching as far as it could go. You broke eye contact before it had the chance to snap.
“Or, like a tutor?” You suggested, reaching for the first aid kit in his hands. “Do they have those at Chapel Hill?”
“They do,” he stepped closer anyway, hand brushing yours as he handed it to you. “But I’d rather have you.”
You cleared your throat, ignoring his attempt to flirt. You decided not to go down this road with him, afraid it would lead to another dead end.
He watched you dig through the kit for an appropriately sized Band-Aid, fighting the urge to ask if he’d said something wrong. Before he could, you leaned down and attempted to line up the adhesive with your cut, struggling to twist and reach the back of your leg.
“Here, let me.”
Fingers brushing yours, he took the Band-Aid and kneeled down in front of you, one leg under him, one propped up. His hand found your ankle and he guided your leg up so your foot rested on his knee.
Clouds of foggy attraction swirled in your eyes as you looked down at him. He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on unwrapping the Band-Aid. You zeroed in on his fingers, long and slender, leading to vein rippled hands that worked diligently to ease your pain. It was enough to knock someone over, but you weren’t going anywhere with his strong thigh holding you up.
“Since when are you such a gentleman?” You quipped, your decision not to flirt with him thrown out the window at the sight of him on his knees in front of you.
He smiled that satisfied, crooked grin as he gently placed the Band-Aid over your healing cut, “I’m trying.”
He brushed over the edge of the Band-Aid, smoothing it into place with a firm swipe of his thumb. You dreaded the moment he would stand again. As if he could read your mind, he delayed it, his hand lingering on your calf.
Completely breathless, you watched him consider his next move. For a moment, you thought he was going to let his hand continue to run up your leg, but he stopped himself, bringing it back to your ankle and returning your foot to the ground.
When he stood and looked down at you, he was surprised by the pout of your lips.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you shrugged. “You just looked so cute down there.”
Rafe rolled his eyes playfully.
“Thought you didn’t like that word.”
“I don’t remember saying that,” you countered.
“You just don’t like it when I call you cute, then?”
There it was again, evidence of his genuine desire to understand you. The rubber band tightened again, but this time, it was in your stomach, his sincerity drawing you to him helplessly.
“There’s just so many better things you could call me,” you flirted.
“Yeah?” Excitement coursed through you at his breathy tone. “Like what?”
“My name would be a good start.”
Voice still low, so deep you could feel it more than hear it, he uttered your name. It rolled off his tongue, smooth like honey dripping from his parted lips. The syllables came out with the faintest breath, brushing over your face as the sound swept over you.
Lip tucked between your teeth, you looked at his mouth, as though you could will more soothing sounds to fall from it. As you stared, his lips got closer to you, close enough to touch yours-
“Yo Rafe!”
The sound of Topper’s voice from the top of the stairs startled you so much, you knocked into his bedside table.
“What?” Rafe barked in the direction of Topper’s voice, his harsh, irritated tone in such stark contrast with the sweet way he’d just spoken to you.
“Just letting you know we’re leaving in like an hour,” Topper said.
“Okay?” Rafe snipped.
Topper grumbled something along the lines of “so fucking testy today” as he closed the door, none the wiser to your presence in the basement.
Rafe turned to you, eyes searching your face for a sign he could recover the moment that was so abruptly interrupted. You didn’t meet his eyes. A nervous, pink blush kissed the tips of your cheeks and washed down your chest. The thought of Topper seeing what you were almost doing brought you crashing back to reality. Twice today you had almost let him kiss you, the steel backbone you’d come into this trip with feeling more like glass with every second you spent with him.
“I should probably go start getting ready then,” you said, making your way toward the stairs.
“Right, yeah,” he agreed, defeated.
“Thanks for the Band-Aid.”
“Anytime,” he said. “Anything.”
He stood at the bottom of the stairs as you climbed them. When you reached the door, you opened it just a crack, peeking out of it with paranoid eyes, making sure no one saw you sneak out of his room.
Regret hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t even be mad that you were so desperate not to be seen in close quarters with him, because it was exactly the look he’d have on his face when he used to climb out of your car in the school parking lot.
This must be how you felt. He wished for a time machine so he could knock out his teenage self the way he almost knocked out the guy on the dock today. Anyone who made you feel as shitty as he did right now deserved it.
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Finally able to take a painless shower, you took your time under the hot stream of water. Carter sat on the bathroom floor, knees drawn to her chest as you recapped the crazy day.
“I literally thought you might be dead,” she explained.
“How long were we even gone? Half an hour?” You laughed lovingly at her dramatics.
“Are you serious?”
“What, was it more?” You thought over the time you’d spent with Rafe on the water, in your mind it had flown by fast. Too fast.
“We got back to the dock a full two hours before you showed up on your Rafe-drawn carriage,” she informed you.
You laughed heartily at the image, your cheeks tinting pink, though you told yourself the flush was just from the hot water.
“What did you guys do out there for two hours anyway?” She asked, not a fan of how silent you’d gone at the mention of Rafe’s name.
“We just talked,” you said.
It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like an incomplete truth.
“About?” She pried.
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “just, like, life and stuff.”
She snorted skeptically.
“What?”
“I just can’t picture Rafe Cameron having any kind of deep thoughts about life is all,” she explained.
“Well, he’s different now, I guess,” you said feebly.
“Is he though?”
That silenced you. She had a fair point, you had only been talking to Rafe again for a few days, and most of that time was spent with him asking questions about you. You didn’t know him at all really, at least not as well as you used to, not enough to make judgment calls on his character.
Yet there was this instinct that had never really gone away. An invisible tether that connected you to him in a way you’d never experienced with anyone else. He was your sixth sense, you just knew him. You always had.
“I’m gonna go grab my makeup bag,” Carter exited the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
A few moments later, she reentered the room. You felt the words deep in your chest, and even though you knew she may not like them, you needed to let them out.
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Rafe meandered upstairs, looking for Topper’s room so he could borrow a shirt. He hadn’t really packed any going out outfits, picturing himself planted on the beach the whole week. The day he packed felt like a lifetime ago, he had no idea the rollercoaster this trip would turn into.
Down the hall, the bathroom door was open a crack, steam pouring from it as someone showered. Surely, whoever was in there didn’t intend to leave it open. He made his way towards the door to close it, but stopped short when he heard your familiar voice coming from the shower. He knew he should close the door and walk away, but your words glued him in place.
“I have to be honest with you,” you said. “I know I should hate him, but I don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever hate him.”
Rafe’s heart raced, an optimistic smile spreading across his face. He prayed that he was the ‘him’ you were referring to.
“The sad thing is, if he asked me to, I’d still give him anything he wanted,” you chuckled, surprised by your own words. “If he wanted me, I think I’d be with him.”
He’d never do it, but he seriously considered barging right into your shower and telling you “I want you, you have no idea how badly I want you.”
But the fantasy was cut short.
“I think I’d hate myself the whole time, though,” you confessed quietly.
At that, he actually did close the door, heart sinking, wishing he could dissolve into the floor.
His whole life, people found it hard to love him. They may not say it to his face, but he picked up on more than people thought. He exhausted his family, his irresponsibility and impulsivity were a pain to them since he was a kid. He disappointed his father, he knew he wasn’t the heir to the Cameron throne Ward had hoped for. And he’d fumbled you completely, the best friend he ever had.
Since then, everything he did was out of self-protection. He ghosted girls at school before they got the chance to reject him, he didn’t reply to texts from friends for fear of being ignored first. He picked fights and pushed people away, running from rejection like a monster in the dark.
But this week, for just a moment, he thought maybe he could finally stop running. He thought maybe he’d finally found something that was worth the risk. He had never felt so safe, so seen, as he did today when you were talking to him.
Then your words shook him from his delusions. He could handle his family’s disappointment and his friends’ exasperation. But your resentment? Knowing that being with him made you hate yourself? He just could not afford it. He wouldn’t survive it.
Closing the bathroom door had a finality to it, the click of the handle a sign of a decision made. He would stop pursuing you. He’d get through this trip, graduate school, and finally move on. If not for his sake, for yours. He was bad for you. You knew it, Carter knew it, he knew it. For your sake and his, he decided to let you go.
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The Ubers arrived around nine. The boys were showered, dressed, and ready by 8:30, chilling on the couch watching baseball and drinking their pregame beers. Topper kept an eye on his phone, watching the little cars get closer to the house.
“Ride’s almost here and they’re really not ready,” Topper sighed.
“Did you really expect anything else?” Kelce threw back another beer.
“Wanna take it easy tonight, man?” Rafe recommended, no one needed a reminder of the damage Hurricane Kelce had caused the last time he was shitfaced.
“No, actually, I don’t,” Kelce laughed.
Rafe reached across the couch, Topper ducking out of the way of his swift arm as he snatched the beer from Kelce’s hand.
“I’m getting you some water,” Rafe said. “I’m not babysitting your drunk ass all night.”
Rafe stood over the kitchen sink, filling a glass for Kelce. The water rose over the cup’s edge and overflowed onto his hands, but he didn’t even notice. He was lost in thought, thinking about your cry after falling off the jet ski, your lip pulled between your teeth when he almost kissed you, your words in the shower…
“Thirsty?” He heard you say behind him.
He turned to look at you, nearly dropping the glass.
Rafe was resolved. He couldn’t risk the sting of your rejection, and he couldn’t afford the price of your resentment. There would be no more chasing you, no moves made, no plays attempted. It was settled, he was done.
Then he saw you in that fucking dress.
(Chapter 6: part two)
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a/n: oops another two part chapter cause the word count got away from me againnnn :) will try my best to post pt 2 this weekend!
and if I wrote a bonus blurb about what happened in Carter’s bedroom what then? A smutty little Carrot Top side quest? How would we feel about that?
please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
⇢ series masterlist
Years later, you’d still wonder if Topper did it all on purpose.
When you asked him, he’d just wink and say “bet you’d like to know.”
As your group walked down the dock towards the rental kiosk, Topper pulled out his phone, grinning down at the screen.
“What’s funny?” Carter tried to read over his shoulder.
“Nothing,” he tucked his phone in his pocket quickly, failing to hide the cheeky look in his eyes, zero poker face. “Kelce is coming.”
The guy Carter had haggled with brought your group over to the three jet skis and gave you a demonstration on how to drive them. You weren’t paying very close attention, more focused on the uneven pairing of the five of you and how to ensure you didn’t end up on the same jet ski as Tom. His rudeness this morning was the final nail in the coffin of your crush.
The guy gave Carter three keys, and you met her eyes, knowing she was thinking the same thing.
Topper looked at Carter hopefully, his big puppy dog eyes watching her with anticipation. You felt for him, the two of you really weren’t all that different. Sure, he’d gotten to hook up with Carter plenty of times, his crush not totally unrequited, but she’d never given him what he really wanted. At the end of the day, you were just two people who were really good at loving people who didn’t love you back. Still, you knew in your heart of hearts that Carter did love him back, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Maybe you would never get your dream, but you could make sure that two people you cared about got theirs, and that might be the only thing that made this all worth it.
You planned it out quick, knowing Carter was seconds from asking you to ride with her so you wouldn’t be with Tom, and also knowing that what she really wanted was an afternoon alone with Topper.
“I told Kelce I’d ride with him,” you blurted out.
“Did you?” Carter asked skeptically, trying to figure you out.
“Yeah, I think he’s still worried I’m mad at him,” you made up off the top of your head. “Thought I’d throw him a bone.”
Carter watched you the whole time she boarded the back of Topper’s jet ski, telling him to wait up so they didn’t leave you alone. Tom and Sabrina didn’t seem to care about leaving you, speeding off the second they climbed on their jet ski, Sabrina’s over-the-top shrieks echoing through the air.
“That bother you?” Topper asked when he caught you scowling in their direction.
“Actually, I’m thinking they might be made for each other,” you concluded.
“So you’re not, like, into him?” Topper asked hopefully.
“Not anymore. That ship sailed so quick,” you snorted.
“Ah,” he tried to play it cool, “good to know.”
“Don’t get any fucking ideas,” Carter warned him.
“I didn’t say anything!” He insisted.
“You don’t have to, you have zero poker face,” Carter said. “No Tom does not equal yes Rafe.”
“I’m just saying it’s good to know. Am I not allowed to know things?”
You rolled your eyes at their bickering, less than surprised they were having this conversation right in front of you.
“Y’know, you guys can just take off, I’ll be fine waiting for Kelce,” you offered, desperate to move this conversation about your love life out to sea and away from you.
“Right, Kelce,” Topper nodded. “Kelce is coming.”
“Why are you being so weird?!” Carter squinted at him.
“I’m not! I just wanna go!” Topper revved the engine of the jet ski.
Carter looked at you one more time, checking that you were okay with this.
“Have fun!” You said to reassure her.
That’s all Topper needed to hear, he hit the throttle and pulled away from the dock as fast as he could. Carter’s laughter filled the air, she grabbed him tight and tucked her chin in the crook of his shoulder as he drove. She was happy, so you were happy. Your whole life, that’s really all it took, and you knew she felt the same way about you.
With that lovely thought, you climbed on the jet ski so you’d be ready to go as soon as Kelce arrived.
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Rafe held the keys a little too tight, Kelce struggling to pry them from his hands.
“You gotta take it easy on the clutch, she’s sensitive.”
“I know how to drive, man,” Kelce wriggled the keys from his grip as he climbed into the driver’s seat of Rafe’s truck.
Rafe stalled by the door for a minute, his feet suddenly feeling very heavy. He looked around the marina, scanning for the group. His heart skipped a beat when he found only you, bobbing in the water on your jet ski all alone.
He’d texted Topper a head’s up that he was coming and asked him to let you know. He didn’t want you to think he was in on Topper’s dumbass scheme to get you two together. If he was gonna do this he was gonna do it right, not try to trick you into it.
Now you were waiting for him, looking so gorgeous with your legs on either side of the seat and your hair blowing gently in the wind.
Usually, he didn’t call girls beautiful, typically opting for hot, or sometimes pretty if he was drunk. But the only word for you right now, and always, was beautiful.
“You gonna let me leave, man?” Kelce asked, gesturing to Rafe’s hands, still clutching the handle of the door.
“Yeah, sorry,” Rafe pulled away, wiping his hand against his board shorts when he realized it was clammy, the sight of you making him nervous in a way he had never been before.
“What’s got you so worried? Are you scared of her or something?” Kelce mocked him.
Rafe was surprised that Kelce had actually caught on to who he was looking at, giving him an annoyed eye roll.
“I’m not scared of her,” he defended himself.
“Don’t even worry about it man, I bet she’s still wrapped around your finger.”
Rafe shot Kelce a steely warning look he’d given him a thousand times.
“I’m just saying, you don’t need to worry,” Kelce explained. “You’re the man.”
Kelce was an idiot, and he spent a good ninety percent of their friendship pissing Rafe off, but he always tried to hype Rafe up. Usually he was annoyed by it, but right now, he actually needed it.
You used to talk about him that way, too. Oh, the money he would pay for you to see him in a good light again. He’d swim across this entire bay just to hear one kind word about him coming from your lips.
“Nah, I’m really not,” he shook his head slightly, looking back toward you. “But I think with her I could be.”
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The audacity, the fucking nerve of him to come strolling down the dock looking that good. The sun actually broke through the crowds at his arrival, like he’d bribed the gods. He strolled towards you so casually, his grin easy, like he didn’t know he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in real life. It pissed you off.
“What are you doing here?” You snapped at him when he reached you.
His grin faltered, like he was the one surprised to see you.
“Didn’t Topper tell you I was coming?” He asked.
“No, of course he didn’t,” you said, finally understanding the reason for Topper’s strangeness earlier.
“I asked him to,” Rafe swore. “I didn’t want to make you think I was trying to-”
“I think I’m just gonna go alone,” you cut him off, turning the key in the engine of the jet ski, desperate to put an ocean between you and him before he said another considerate thing that he’d just undo later. “You can rent your own.”
“No can do,” said the owner, arriving to hand Rafe a lifejacket. “This is our last one. You better take your boyfriend with you, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes at the situation and the misogynistic comment.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mumbled.
Rafe felt the correction was unnecessary, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood for constructive feedback at the moment.
“Is it cool if I, uh, can I come with you?” He wasn’t walking back down this dock without trying.
“Fine,” you agreed reluctantly. “But I’m driving.”
“Good with me,” he climbed on quickly before you could change your mind.
With a kick that sent you both lurching forward, the jet ski roared as you tightened your hand on the throttle. Instinctually, Rafe’s hands landed on your side, holding you both in place. You only had a second to feel the pads of his fingers clinging to the soft skin of your waist before he pulled them away.
“Shit, sorry,” he said.
The guy on the dock leaned forward to push the jet ski from the dock, redirecting you out toward the bay.
“No, actually you should hold on,” he instructed. “These babies go fast and it’s a little choppy out there today. Take it real easy out of the marina and then you can kick it up when you’re in open water.”
You could feel Rafe’s hands twitch with hesitancy before they rested on your sides again, so lightly you wondered if he was actually touching you at all.
With a push, you drifted out to sea, slowly picking up speed with the turn of the throttle.
“Do you want me to let go?” He asked, leaning in so you could hear him over the roar of the motor.
Somehow, you thought two completely conflicting thoughts at the exact same time:
Yes, now.
and
No, never.
You settled on, “whatever.”
Rafe started to let go, but the jet ski hit the wake of a nearby boat, and you both nearly flew off the seat. His grip tightened protectively, practically pinning your body down. With his strong hands on you so firmly, it felt like you could hit a tidal wave and he’d still have you in his grasp. You needed more of whatever that was.
Your laughter filled the salty air as you purposefully drove you and Rafe over the choppiest patches of the water, hair whipping behind you into his face, and he didn’t even care. He watched you in the side view mirror on the front of the jet ski, memorizing every inch of your smile like he’d never see it again.
“Jesus, are you trying to kill us?” He teased, yelling over the woosh of the wind.
“It’d be a fun way to go!” You yelled back, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
Rafe’s hands still on your waist, you felt him lean in slightly. Even with two lifejackets between you, the proximity of your bodies was electrifying. You could feel his strong thighs on either side of your hips, closing you in everytime you hit a bump, securing you in place. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just his instinct, you didn’t know which was hotter.
The water rushed behind you, a foamy wake marking your path as you continued driving as fast as you could. The others must’ve gone a different way out of the marina, because they were nowhere in sight. The sky was darkening slightly, the shift in weather causing most boats to drive the opposite way, back to the docks. But you just kept going, and Rafe didn’t tell you to turn around, both drunk on the adrenaline of the speed and the feeling of each other’s skin.
After a particularly jostling bump, the engine sputtered slightly.
“Fuck, what was that?” You puzzled, turning the throttle harder but gaining no speed.
“Here, you gotta twist it like this,” Rafe’s arms wrapped around you, his hands covering yours as he guided you to turn the throttle in the exact way you just were.
“That’s exactly what I was doing,” you bickered. “It’s not working.”
“Maybe I should drive?”
“It’s not my driving, something’s wrong with the jet ski,” you argued, swatting his hands away.
“Can you just let me try?” He argued back.
“No, you’re making it worse!”
The engine continued to sputter until it cut completely, causing both your bodies to lunge forward as it came to an abrupt halt.
“Rafe what did you do?” You accused him.
“What did I do? You wouldn’t even let me touch it!” He snapped.
You turned the key in the ignition over and over. The jet ski growled a few times but never started back up. Eventually, you gave up with a frustrated huff.
“I think we’re out of gas,” you conceded.
“Well, did you ask the guy if it was filled before you left?” Rafe questioned.
“Oh, so now this is my fault?” You craned your neck to see him, anger in your eyes.
“No, that’s not-”
“I’m so tired of this, Rafe.”
“We’ve only been out here for like a minute.”
“No, not this,” you motioned toward the water, “this,” you motioned between you and him.
“Oh. Me?” He tried and failed to hide his hurt feelings.
“Not you, just, all this back and forth. One second we’re having a good time and the next you’re pulling away or snapping at me. I have fucking whiplash.”
“Are you sure it’s not just from the jet ski?” He attempted a joke, it only half worked.
“How are we gonna get back?” You redirected the conversation before he could see you were smirking.
“A boat will come by,” he said confidently. “We’ll be fine.”
No boats came by in the following minute, or the following five. You sat in tense silence, your previous words still hanging between you. Your head hurt from the wind and trying to figure this man out.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost inaudible. “I know I’m…difficult.”
You turned your neck, not quite far enough to see him, but enough to let him know you were listening, that he should go on.
“I don’t know how to act around you,” he admitted. “One second I feel like I’ve fucked it up so bad that there’s not even a point in trying to fix it and the next…”
This time, you do turn, twisting your torso so you could look him intently in the eyes, imploring him to say something right for once, begging him not to let you fall off this cliff alone again.
“…you look at me like that,” he almost whispered. “And then I think fuck it, I’d try forever if you let me.”
For the first time ever, he was with you on the way down, finally jumping together.
“Can I?” He asked, voice low.
“Can you what?” you blinked at him slowly, the moment so surreal you worried it wasn’t happening, that you’d wake up in Carter’s bed, all of this day just one long fever dream.
“Fix things…with you?”
“I don’t know.”
It was the most honest answer you could give him.
“Can I try?” His voice broke slightly when he said it, and you could feel the vulnerability leaking through the cracks.
“Yeah,” you gave in.
“I miss you,” he breathed, and your heart felt heavy with longing and resentment at the same time.
“I don’t think you ever really knew me, Rafe,” you said, turning to face forward again, sad eyes scanning the horizon. “You never paid close enough attention.”
He thought over your words, and you could feel that there was something brewing in his mind, a decision he was making. When he finally spoke again, it wasn’t the words you expected.
“What’s your favorite color?”
You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you said, “huh?”
“Just tell me,” he smiled back, even though you weren’t looking, you could hear it in his voice.
You answered him, and he followed that question up with another, and another, and they kept rolling off his tongue and you kept answering, until the strangeness of it faded and the two of you were just talking.
For over an hour, you drifted, leaning forward on the handlebars with your back to him as Rafe asked you questions and listened intently to your long, detailed answers. You were hesitant, just at first. No one had ever let you talk this long without interrupting you. No one had ever wanted so badly to hear what you had to say. He nodded along to everything, responding with thoughtful mhms and carefully worded follow up questions.
After a while, you forgot about the surrealness of it all, where you were, who you were with. It was just you and your old friend, sharing your lives with each other.
I could do this for a long time, you thought, like maybe forever.
Everytime you thought he must be bored by now, he just kept asking, hanging on every word like he was collecting them for some secret project.
“What do you want to do after you graduate?” and “Who’s your closest friend?” and “Are you still into that one band?” and eventually, when he was running low on ideas, “what’s the last movie you saw?”
You laughed.
“What?” He asked with a timidness that squeezed your heart.
“The last movie I saw was the last movie you saw,” you reminded him.
“Oh, right,” he chuckled, but there was an edge to it.
“It’s a good movie, though,” you leaned back toward him a little, trying to pull him from whatever thoughts were causing his spirit to fall. “My favorite.”
He nodded, “Tom did a nice job putting together that little shindig.”
“I guess so,” you said, not sure how to proceed.
“You know he plays football for U of F?” He said. “Or did I guess, before he graduated.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, he was All American,” he nodded. You’d give all the money you had for one glimpse of what was going on in his head.
“He’s an impressive guy,” he admitted. “I can see why you’d end up in his room.”
“Rafe, oh my god,” you huffed, standing suddenly. Your body rose above him, his eyes tracking every movement. You swung your leg over the seat, flipping around so you were facing him, sitting back down so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I didn’t sleep in Tom’s room.”
“Oh.”
It was all he could muster up, his throat going dry from both the embarrassment he felt for being wrong and the sudden proximity of your bodies. He willed himself not to let his eyes travel down to the way your lifejacket was pushing your chest together, or the soft skin of your bare thighs, now spread open in front of him as you straddled the seat. He kept his eyes on yours, the most respectful option, though it didn’t help his speechlessness. The uninterrupted contact with your beautiful irises nearly put him over the edge. He almost hoped no boats would come by after all so he could look into your eyes for hours.
“Is that why you got up and left last night?” You questioned, not missing the way his eyes were trained intensely on yours.
“The floor was uncomfortable,” he mumbled.
“The floor,” you nodded, “the floor was uncomfortable. Got it.”
“You're mad at me again,” he surmised.
“When was I ever not mad at you?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged sarcastically, “somewhere between the movie and your panties hitting the floor.”
You wanted to slap him. And kiss him. He could tell, teasing you with a sideways smirk. You tried to channel the newfound confidence you’d had last night, addicted to the taste of power.
You leaned forward, hands on the leather seat between you, looking up at him with hooded eyes.
“Did you like that?”
“You know I did.”
He responded so fast and his voice was so low you couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or turned on. Either way, he wasn’t fucking around anymore.
“Then why didn’t you stay?”
It felt like that one question held so many questions, and based on the look on his face, you knew he could hear it too. You weren’t just asking about last night, you weren’t just asking why he went to sleep on the couch. You were asking about years of him coming up short, why he’d failed you so many times, why he never, ever seemed to pick you.
“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”
As he said it, the wind kicked up, and the jet ski began to rock even harder as waves rose and fell beneath you. One particularly choppy wave had you tilting a little too far off the seat, and Rafe’s hands landed on your waist again. This time, there was nothing hesitant about it. When you didn’t push him away, his thumb brushed an experimental circle into your skin.
“Do you want me to let go?”
In lieu of answering, your hands came to rest over his. He assumed you were gonna pull them off of you, and for a moment you thought you might too, but then his words echoed in your mind: he didn’t know you wanted him to.
You could do this. You could lean into it and just let it happen. You were supposed to fight it, make him grovel more, make him pay you back for the years you’d waited. It’s what everyone expected. You were only a few hundred yards off shore, but the rest of the world felt lightyears away, and out here, there was nothing stopping you letting him touch you, kiss you, have you. You could just let it happen, and no one would have to know.
But before you could decide if you wanted to, a deep rumble of thunder broke out across the sky.
“Shit,” you jumped.
“We gotta get out of here,” Rafe looked up at the darkening sky nervously.
“But how?”
“How well can you swim?”
That’s how Rafe ended up in the water, gripping the back of the jet ski as the waves rocked it harshly, water splashing up and landing on your feet. You tightened your lifejacket, feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.
“I can just push us if you want to stay on,” Rafe offered.
“No, it’ll go faster if it’s both of us.”
You stepped to the edge, hesitating, wanting to rip the bandaid and just jump in but not wanting to jump too far off and get separated. Your indecision cost you, your foot slipped and you dropped into the water, your leg scraping against the edge of the jet ski as you fell.
Blinded by pain, you reached for Rafe as your head slipped under the surface, but your hands came up empty.
(Chapter 6: part one)
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a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕
series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.
tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder
series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues
Sometime in the night, you woke up shivering.
You didn’t typically sleep naked, you usually opted for something oversized and flannel, choosing comfy over cute everytime. You had taken off your clothes just to tease Rafe, and fallen asleep with a triumphant smile on your face, now you were shivering so hard your teeth were rattling.
After pulling on a t-shirt and sweats, you settled back in bed, but sleep escaped you. You tossed and turned thinking about the look on Rafe’s face when you took your clothes off in front of him, the way he was squeezing the pillow in his arms so tightly you thought it might pop. He kept his distance, didn’t push to stay or snap at you, even though you were giving him every reason to. It was a stark contrast to the tone in Tom’s voice when you’d turned down his sleepover proposition.
Maybe Rafe had changed. There was something different about him, something softer.
What felt like hours passed as Rafe occupied your mind and you still couldn’t fall back to sleep. You remembered you’d seen some sleepytime tea in the kitchen, so you got up and made your way to the door.
You almost tripped on him, stopping short just inches from stepping right on his hand.
Holding back a yelp, you looked down at the obstruction; Rafe, curled up with the pillow you’d given him, asleep in front of your door. The blanket from your closet was still folded at his feet, apparently he hadn’t intended on settling here for the night.
Something warm and bright flooded your chest at the sight of him. He so badly wanted to stay close to you that he hadn’t even made it down to the couch.
Ever since you’d known him, Rafe was like a storm, overwhelming and unpredictable. From the day you first saw him on the school bus, you made yourself a storm chaser, studying the clouds, looking for signs that the wind was about to pick up, hoping that someday the sky might clear. Looking down at him as his body rose and fell with peaceful breaths, his broad shoulders curled inward as he held the pillow with both hands, it occurred to you that maybe in the years you’d stopped chasing him, the storm had finally passed. These past few days, the faintest rays of sunlight were breaking their way through to your heart. Part of you worried you’d miss the thunder.
Unable to help yourself, you crouched low and ever so gently brushed his hair back from his forehead, adoring the little whistles that escaped his parted lips with each breath. He didn’t stir at your touch, sound asleep. Whatever activity he had busied himself with today must have really tired him out. You decided you’d make him a cup of tea as well, and maybe when he woke, you’d invite him to share it with you in your room.
You pulled the blanket up over him and padded excitedly down to the kitchen.
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A draft of cold air blew through the vent right next to Rafe’s head, stirring him awake. He groaned immediately, his hip bone digging painfully into the hard floor. It took him a full minute after sitting up and rubbing his eyes to realize where he was. Then it all came back at once, in flashes of you. Your eyes met his as you let your hair down, took your clothes off, climbed into bed, bid him goodnight and he - shit. He’d actually fallen asleep on the floor.
Rafe scrambled to his feet, embarrassment washing over him, and pain from the uncomfortable way his body had been twisted shooting up his spine. He turned slowly to see that at some point, your door had been opened just a crack. Excitement rushed through him, maybe he was reaching a bit, maybe he was delusional, but could opening the door have been your silent invitation for him to come back in?
Hesitantly, he reached out and pushed the door open a smidge further. His excitement dwindled when he saw that your bed was empty. He checked his phone, it was 3:22 am. Where could you possibly have gone at 3:22 am?
When five minutes passed, then ten, and you still hadn’t returned, he gave in to his greatest concern; that you were sleeping in someone else’s room. And even worse, that in your quest to find someone else to spend your night with, you’d stepped right over him. It was a knee-jerk reaction, but he didn’t want to wait around to find out if his theory was true.
He left the pillow and blanket behind, dragging his feet as he ambled down to the den.
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In the dim light of the kitchen stove, you boiled a kettle of hot water, quick to turn off the burner when it squealed with steam, afraid to wake up the whole house. While you waited for your tea to steep, you meandered out to the patio, picking up the furniture that had been strewn about and inhaling the crisp sea air. The hours after a big storm were always your favorite in the Outer Banks, Florida’s shore proved to be just as peaceful. Cast in darkness, you pulled your arms around yourself and looked at the stars.
After a few minutes, you returned to the kitchen, but the light above the stove had been mysteriously turned off. You smiled to yourself as you ascended the stairs carefully, carrying two mugs of hot tea, excited to tell Rafe your new theory that there was a ghost in the kitchen.
But when you got to your room, he was nowhere to be found. He’d left the crumpled pillow and bunched up blanket behind, assuring you that he really had been there just a few minutes ago, you hadn’t imagined it. Your heart dropped. Maybe he regretted falling asleep outside your room, maybe he was annoyed that you’d pulled the blanket over him like a child.
You suddenly felt stupid for bringing him tea, for thinking he’d wake with a sleepy smile and thank you for the gesture. You brought the tea to the bathroom sink and poured it down the drain, steam clouding the mirror as you looked back at yourself with shame. Of course he’d left. It was you, why would he stay?
Tears sprang from your eyes with no warning, and you were overwhelmed with the need to hug your sister.
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Carter slept soundly in her room, which was nearly identical to yours, aside from the piles of clothes and clutter she’d managed to accumulate in the three days you’d been here. Her room in your childhood home always looked like a bomb had gone off. You smiled affectionately as you climbed over the mountains of stuff. Her room was even colder than yours, so you reached around in the dark until you felt a large hoodie and pulled it over your head.
She stirred as you got comfy under her covers, opening her eyes just enough to make out the fuzzy shape of you in the darkness.
“Y’okay?” She yawned.
“I’m fine,” you whispered. “Just missed ya.”
“Do you need to talk?” She attempted to sit up and look at you, trying to say something else, but you shushed her and guided her to lay back down.
Without argument, she snuggled into your side. With her calming presence so close, you finally fell back asleep.
You awoke a few hours later with her eyes focused on you.
“Jesus Christ, Car,” you jumped. “That’s so creepy.”
“You just looked so peaceful,” she held up her phone, showing you that she’d snapped a picture of you sleeping with your cheek squished against the pillow and posted it on her Close Friends story.
“Lovely,” you groaned, shuffling to get comfortable again.
“Why’d you come in here?” She asked.
“Sorry I woke you up.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” she assured you. “You can always come find me. You just looked kind of upset when you did.”
With a sigh, you turned to lay on your side, facing her.
Growing up, you’d have sleepovers in each other’s rooms all the time, laying in each other’s beds just like you were now, chatting and laughing until your mom came in and yelled at you to go to sleep.
Right now, recreating your favorite childhood memory, was the happiest you had been all week.
“Some…things happened last night,” you told her reluctantly.
If she wasn’t awake before, she sure was now.
“Omg, some Tom things?”
“Kind of.”
“Uh-oh, what does that mean?”
“Nothing too bad, just kinda…weird,” you looked away from her, and she could tell something was off.
“Okay?” she said curiously. “You’re making me nervous.”
You took a deep breath and dove into the whole story. She had fallen asleep early in the movie and didn’t see how you cuddled up with Tom, so you started there. Her initial excitement at that part of the story quickly turned into outrage when you told her about the moment on the stairs.
“Wait, he was like, pushy?” She gasped. “Eww, I hate that!”
“I mean I guess he technically didn’t do anything, but it was his tone, ya know?” You explained. “Like he could’ve pretended to be fine sleeping on the couch to make it less awkward. Rafe didn’t seem to mind the idea...”
“Hold on, rewind. Rafe? Where does Rafe come into this?” She stopped you.
“Oh,” you swallowed. You hadn’t thought through how to tell her that part of the story. “He was down there when it all happened. And then his room was flooded so I gave him some bedding and…”
Part of you wanted to tell her everything; the way you’d felt like you were on the brink of starting something with him, and how you shut right back down when you saw that he’d left his spot outside your room so abruptly. The problem was, even though you knew you should, if you told Carter that Rafe had hurt your feelings again, she’d go off on him and it would only add gasoline to the fire of their rivalry. You were still hanging on to a tiny thread of hope, not really in the mood for a Classic Carter Rant pointing out all the reasons you shouldn’t be.
“...and then he slept on the couch.”
She nodded, “Oh. Well, did he say anything about Tom?”
“No,” you were grateful to get back to telling the truth. “He just asked if I was okay.”
“That was nice of him, I guess,” she conceded.
“You and Topper seemed pretty cozy last night,” you brought up, eager to change the subject before she asked more questions about Rafe.
“We’re always like that,” she waved you off.
“Does he always carry you to bed though?”
“Sometimes,” she shrugged.
The way you narrowed your eyes at her, she knew you weren’t buying her indifference.
“Ughhh what?” She groaned, pulling a pillow over her face to hide her blush.
“You and him,” you pulled the pillow from her face, “it’s for real this time.”
Carter huffed a dramatic exhale and stared up at the ceiling.
“I mean, you know how it is with him. It’s not, like, real.” You couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince you, or herself.
“Maybe it should be,” you said softly. “You’re not seventeen anymore, Car. Maybe it’s time for something real.”
She considered your words, scrunching her lips to the side, chewing on her inner cheek.
It must be getting serious, you thought, she’s never been quiet this long.
Like she could read your mind, she sat up suddenly, shaking the emotion off her face before reaching her arms above her in a theatrical stretch.
“Doesn’t matter,” she explained. “‘Cause I’m not doing anything with him until he gives up this whole Team Rafe thing anyway.”
“This whole what?” You sat up next to her, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Some dumb plan he’s trying. He thinks you and Rafe belong together or some bullshit,” she rolled her eyes.
Your mind raced. It made sense, thinking through Topper’s actions the past few days - the grocery store trip, the beer pong ruse, the looks between him and Rafe everytime you entered the room. The question was, did Rafe know that Topper was trying to get you two together? And more importantly, was he trying, too?
You snapped back to reality when you noticed Carter studying you, picking up on how you were suddenly flushed and nervous.
“Which is ridiculous, right?” She prompted you.
“Y-yeah,” you mustered up as much certainty as you could manage.
“Right,” she agreed with herself, “so Topper better drop it soon.”
“Why, so I can be with Tom?”
“Ugh no, Team Tom is dead. RIP Team Tom.”
You laughed, “so if you’re not Team Tom, and you’re not Team Rafe, who-”
You didn’t even have to finish the question.
“Team you,” she said. “Always.”
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When you and Carter emerged from her room, you could already hear the chatter of everyone in the kitchen, making you immediately nervous to see Rafe. You tried to think of something clever to say to him, like a shield protecting you in case he approached you first.
“Nice sweatshirt,” Carter laughed.
“Huh?” you asked. Before you thought to look down and see what she meant, the door at the far end of the hall opened, and Tom stumbled out. This was the latest he’d woken up all week, usually beating everyone else to the sunrise and going on a run.
“Sleep well?” Carter asked him in a sing-songy, fake-nice voice.
“Fine,” he grumbled.
“It’s okay, I make a mean cup of coffee,” you said, in an actually-nice voice, trying to soothe the tension.
“Said I slept fine,” he grumbled back, not even meeting your eyes as he turned to descend the stairs.
“Wow,” Carter mouthed to you silently as you both made to follow him down to the kitchen.
As you took the first step, Carter’s phone rang in the distance, you recognized it by the same ringtone she’d had since middle school.
“Be right back,” she told you, turning to get her phone from her room and leaving you to walk down the steps after Tom.
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Rafe poured himself another cup of coffee, stretching to work out the tension in his back from the uncomfortable couch cushions.
He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. All together he must’ve only gotten three or four hours. Most of the night was spent lying awake in the den, wondering if just a few feet above him you were in Tom’s bed. He pictured you laughing with your head on his chest, telling him about how stupid Rafe looked curled up on the floor like a child. He’d tried a few shots of whiskey to push the shame out of his mind and lull him to sleep, but it only proved to be nightmare-fuel.
As he downed the coffee like it was medicine, he turned to see the exact sight he had the nightmares about.
You came down the stairs with Tom, both of you with messy bedhead and groggy eyes, clearly not much sleep had happened. The cherry on top to his torment? You were wearing an oversized, men’s U of F hoodie that he could only assume belonged to your new boyfriend.
It was like his heart was digging its own grave, hopping into the dirt and calling up to him, “you did this to yourself, buddy!”
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You felt Rafe’s eyes on you immediately, but you couldn’t meet them. Maybe you’d just return to your original plan of ignoring him, and hope the last three days would fade to black in time.
Topper got your attention as you sat at the counter with a fresh cup of coffee.
“Nice sweatshirt,” he nodded.
You looked down, finally taking in the clothes you’d pulled on in Carter’s pitch black room. It was a U of F sweatshirt, and if it was on Carter’s floor, it must’ve belonged to Topper.
“Thanks, I knitted it myself,” you joked back.
“Maybe you could knit me one, I seem to have lost mine,” Topper smiled back.
You knew he wouldn’t mind if you held onto it a little longer, probably liking that Carter felt so free to share his clothes and not hide the fact that she had them in the first place.
Topper, Tom, and Kelce sat at the breakfast nook, falling into a heated conversation about U of F’s chances at the NCAA tournament next year. Rafe sat with them, but his mind couldn’t be farther from basketball.
Yesterday when you came downstairs, he barely looked at you. Today, he didn’t stop looking at you. You felt more naked than you did when you’d stripped your clothes in front of him. You took several long sips of your coffee just to have something to do. Your body was overheating, his gaze wrapping around you like a thick, fur coat.
Then the coffee was gone too soon, and you feared without the distraction, you might break down and look back at him. Hyper aware that he was watching, you hopped off the stool and walked to the coffee maker, the conversation at the nook entertaining enough to draw everyone else’s attention, but not his.
As you poured your second cup, the hairs on the back of your next stood up, feeling a warm, brooding presence close by.
“You must be tired, huh?” Rafe drawled, stepping to your side and leaning on the counter.
“At least I got to sleep in a bed,” you still didn’t meet his eyes.
“Yeah, a couple of ‘em it seems.”
You frowned at that. His eyes zeroed in on the downward curve of your lips.
“How’d you know?”
He had no way of knowing you were just looking for him to explain why he left. You had no way of knowing that your vagueness just confirmed his biggest fear.
Rafe’s bottom lip jutted out as he nodded, muscles in his neck flexing with the motion.
“It’s cool,” he shrugged, “just wonder if he knows you took your clothes off for me first.”
Whiplash. It always felt like whiplash with him.
Mind going a million miles a minute, you tried to catch up to his words, stumbling over all the holes in his logic. When you finally got there, a slow, crooked grin bloomed on your face.
“So you were the ghost in the kitchen.”
That was so far from anything he thought you were going to say, he almost thought you were speaking a different language.
“Huh?”
He was so gorgeously dumbfounded, it was delicious.
Puzzle pieces fell perfectly into place, the story of last night becoming clear in your mind. Rafe had woken up and looked for you in your bed, when he didn’t find you he assumed you were with Tom. And now, Rafe Cameron was jealous, for you. Maybe it was wrong, but after fifteen years of patient, unrequited love, you thought you deserved five minutes to mess with him.
“Nothing,” you sipped your coffee with a smirk, looking up at him through your lashes, making him wait. A long sip and a satisfied smack of your lips and finally, “so you saw my bed empty and put it all together, huh? You figured I slept with Tom.”
“Didn’t you?” He wondered, almost too quietly, like he was asking himself.
“What if I did? What would you do then?”
It was a long, dense silence. Your eyes stayed steady on his, willing him wordlessly: Say it. Say you’re jealous. Say that you want me.
His eyes however, couldn’t land in one spot, like your face was an equation he needed desperately to solve. You smiled ever so slightly, admiring how hard he was working for the answer. It was a new look on him. But then, when he seemed to find it, his whole posture changed and your delight faded. He pulled away coldly, one brief action completely snuffing out the spark between you, crushing it under his foot for good measure.
“Nothing.”
And there you were again, falling off that cliff, more mad at yourself for letting him convince you to jump than you were at him for pulling back. Leopards don’t change their spots, gazelles should know better.
Carter finally came padding down the steps, eyeing you and Rafe briefly before finding Topper.
“Top, that guy finally called me back!” She announced excitedly.
“Jet skis?” He guessed.
“Three! Ours for the afternoon!”
“Let’s fucking go!” He stood from the table and gave her a high five. “Knew you could talk him into it.”
“Talk who into what?” Sabrina butted in.
“We were trying to find some place to rent jet skis,” Carter filled her in, tripping over her words in excitement. “But since it’s Memorial Day weekend everybody and their mother is here trying to rent jet skis so everywhere we asked was either completely booked or charging a bajillion dollars. But I talked this guy down to like half his original price.”
“You’re so gonna kick business school’s ass, babe,” Topper lauded her.
She was too happy with herself to scold him for the corny nickname.
“We gotta be ready in like, ten, though,” she informed him.
“Oh shit, okay who’s coming?” Topper rallied, pointing at each person as he said “Jet skis? Jet skis? Little Carter, jet skis?”
“I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna call me that,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.
“More like you demanded, but say yes to jet skis and we’ll have a deal,” he teased.
He put his arm around Carter so casually as she looked to you with hopeful eyes. For a moment, you pictured them married, Topper being the older brother you always wanted, and always kinda had.
“Deal,” you smiled at them affectionately.
“Yay!” Carter clapped. “Okay so that makes three, we need three more people, so it’s two to a ski.”
“I’m down,” Tom raised his hand from the breakfast nook. Carter almost pretended she didn’t hear him, but reluctantly said “Okay, who else?”
“Rafey boy? Jet skis?” Topper urged him, looking at him with the same knowing eyes as when he asked him to be your beer pong partner.
It occurred to you that Carter hadn’t had any time to tell Topper she’d switched to team anti-Tom, in his mind the game was still on. Which is probably why his face dropped so low when Rafe said, “I’ll pass.”
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Nothing.
He’d meant it as a gift, but based on the look on your face when he said it, it seemed you took it like a curse.
If you really wanted to be with someone else, chose someone else over him, what could he do but sit back and watch? He certainly had no grounds to tell you he wanted you, that opportunity had passed years ago. He’d bow out gracefully, for you.
Plus, the feeling of seeing you come down the stairs with Tom, in his sweatshirt, was debilitating. He had never been good at handling difficult feelings, and that moment was the worst he’d felt in a long time.
But then you’d looked up at him like that, and maybe even flirted with him, and sent his mind spinning about whether you had actually slept with Tom at all.
Sensing the storm clouds brewing in Rafe’s head, Topper pulled him aside once everyone had left the kitchen.
“Yo dude, why aren’t you coming with us?” Topper asked him. “This whole thing was a way to get you two together. Alone on a jet ski? Man, that's your play!”
“Nah I don’t think she wants me to make a play, man,” Rafe sighed.
“What are you talking about? You two were just practically making out by the coffee pot,” Topper said.
“Yeah, she was telling me all about how she hooked up with Tom last night.”
Topper laughed at that, his face falling slowly when he realized Rafe was actually serious.
“There’s no way,” he shook his head adamantly. “Tom was in my room all night, he said Kelce snores.”
“She was wearing his fucking sweatshirt,” Rafe motioned mindlessly towards where you and Tom had come down the stairs, not letting himself indulge the twinge of hope he felt at Topper’s words.
“Bro,” Topper looked to the ceiling with an exasperated chuckle. “You’re down so bad.”
“It’s not fucking funny,” Rafe snapped.
“Oh my god, man, it was my sweatshirt.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed, inspecting the statement for any dishonesty. When Topper’s sincerity didn’t waiver, his anger turned into warm, prickly embarrassment. He felt like an idiot, getting so worked up when he didn’t even have a fraction of the facts straight. The smugly amused look on your face at his blatant jealousy suddenly made so much more sense.
“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled, covering his shame with indifference, a classic Rafe Cameron move.
“What are you talking about?” Topper pushed. “You should be stoked. You saw them on the couch, she totally could’ve hooked up with him and didn’t.”
Rafe just shrugged, frustrating Topper further.
“Do you not want to get with her or something? Cause that’s fine but-”
“‘Course I do,” Rafe stopped him.
“Well you coulda fooled me,” Topper slapped his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Dude, this brooding shit isn’t getting you anywhere with her. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he heard himself say for the second time today.
“Y’know Rafe,” Topper shook his head, “I don’t think I’ll ever get you man.”
Join the fucking club, Rafe thought.
“Look, I’m gonna go jet skiing with our girls, you come join us when you come to your senses, okay?”
With that and one final pat on the shoulder, Topper left Rafe alone in the kitchen, feeling like he needed something much stronger than coffee.
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The whole outing was doomed from the start.
For such a flashy car, the interior of Topper’s Range Rover was far too small. Sabrina’s elbow nudged your arm as she dug frantically through her giant beach bag.
“Noooo I forgot sunscreen,” she whined. “I hate my life.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure Tom has some,” you said playfully, trying to meet his eye.
“I don’t, sorry,” he shut you down without so much as a friendly glance.
You caught Carter’s eyes in the rear view mirror, both incredulous. He was gonna act cold towards you? The fucking nerve. Carter clearly shared your thoughts, eyebrows knit with rage as she scanned the back seat in the mirror. Then her eyes went wide and she reached out to grab Topper’s non-driving arm.
“Oh my god!” She exclaimed. “We forgot Kelce.”
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There was this one day, in the Fall of his senior year, that Rafe still thinks about all the time.
You were driving him home from practice, as you so often did, and the sun was starting to set earlier, the last drops of summer fading away into a cool autumn. You had the windows rolled down, which he knew you’d been waiting to do for months, loving the chill in the air. The sunset was casting a glow through the window, and you squinted in its orange glow as you sang along to a song on a CD you’d burned. You were the only one in the world Rafe knew that still listened to CDs.
“Why don’t you just put a playlist on shuffle?”
“I like to know what’s coming next.”
As you drove, for reasons he couldn’t explain then and still didn’t quite understand now, he thought about marrying you.
It was completely hypothetical, and almost not even romantic. It was ridiculous really, you were seventeen and eighteen, and he was busy planning for college and all the sorority girls he was gonna hook up with. But for a moment, the thought of being married to you was the only thing in the world that made sense to him.
His mind was a storm, raging like hell, all the fucking time. But that day, for the length of that one song, it went completely quiet. He saw it clear as day; you, fifteen years older, coming through the door of your shared house and bringing all that glorious quiet home to him.
Now he was pacing the still damp basement floor, wishing like hell he’d said anything other than “nothing.” Wishing he could grab you and make you understand. If you were with Tom he’d have no right to do anything, but he might still burn this whole fucking house down. The feelings he’d pushed down that day in your car finally sprang forward, and suddenly nothing in the world existed except for you.
And Kelce, who came rushing into the basement, interrupting his anxious thoughts.
“Rafe, bro, they fucking left me!” Kelce told him, breathless.
Rafe held back a laugh at the image of Kelce chasing the car down the street like a lost puppy.
“Can you give me a ride to the dock?” Kelce asked.
“No,” Rafe shook his head, making a quick decision. “But you can give me one.”
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a/n: part two of this chapter tomorrow!! I am quite literally running out of the house to go to work, so I may fuck up the taglist sorry I will fix any errors ! gotta go bbys, you can snack on this 'til I get back xoxoxo
