plot - A stolen moment at a party turns into a ticking time bomb when a photo of Rafe and Belle surfaces in the wrong hands.
warnings - angst, curse words, & alcohol
final notes - hi icon!! this is chapter 6 of the ruin me gently series. it took a little longer bc i wanted to get the angst just right :P enjoy!
The air by the dock was thick with the weight of what just happened. But it didn’t feel wrong — not like she thought it would. Her heart hammered louder than the waves crashing beneath the dock. She could feel Rafe’s breath on her cheek, taste the salt in the air, smell the faded cologne still clinging between them.
Belle Maybank had just kissed Rafe Cameron.
And she didn’t feel bad about it.
She didn’t pull away. Neither did he.
For a moment, everything stopped — the world, the noise, even her own doubts — and it was just Rafe and her, for what felt like the first time.She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Her breath caught as she looked up at him, her throat tightened, eyes wide, pulse racing.
Then he smiled — the kind of barely-there smile that sent a wave of heat straight through her.
"You don’t have to go," he whispered, his voice low and almost gentle, the tension from moments before melting into something else entirely.
All the feelings rushed back — guilt heaviest among them. Belle froze, her skin burning under the weight of his words.
She should have stayed, but everything in her screamed to retreat, to pull away before she gave in to whatever this was. "I... I should," she murmured, her voice shaky, but it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. It was because she did.
Her feet moved before her brain could catch up. She stood, taking a shaky step back, the heat of his kiss still burning on her lips.She glanced at him one last time, and for a second, she swore she saw something flicker behind his eyes — the same thing she felt.
Unspoken. Unacknowledged. But there.
"See you around," she whispered, already hating herself for how small her voice sounded. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but with every step away from him, the ache only grew louder.
Still, she couldn't bring herself to stop. The night was still too young. And something in the way he looked at her — like he was waiting for her to come back — made her want to run straight back into his arms.
But for now, all she could do was walk away — keeping that kiss tucked beneath her ribs, hidden where nobody could see.
And she hated how badly she wanted more.
How delicious Rafe Cameron tasted.
It had been a few days since Belle had since Rafe–not because she was avoiding him. Because she just hadn’t been on that side of the island.
The fire crackled low, painting everything in shades of gold and ash at the Boneyard. Around it, the crowd of the party had thinned — pockets of people laughing too loud, someone wrestling over a bottle of tequila near a truck bed.
Belle lingered near the outskirts, tucked between Kiara and Sarah, pretending to listen as they debated something about paddleboards and the next surf trip.
Her thoughts kept drifting, though, and her gaze kept drifting across the flames.
Standing with the Kooks, beer in hand, laughing at something Topper said. But his eyes were locked on her. The same look he'd given her on the dock.
A familiar heat crawled up Belle’s neck, and before she could stop herself, a small smirk tugged at her mouth.
Rafe’s lips curved, just barely — a private, razor-thin smile no one else would notice — and he took a slow sip of his drink.
Belle ripped her gaze away before anyone could follow the invisible string between them. She tossed her empty cup into the sand, brushing her hands on her shorts.
“I’m gonna walk a bit. Get some air,” she said lightly, nudging Sarah’s arm.
“You good?” Sarah asked, raising a brow.
Belle nodded, her chest tight. "Just need a minute. Cool off by the ocean."
Kiara grinned. "If you get eaten by a shark, I’m not saving you."
Belle rolled her eyes playfully. "Duly noted."
Her heart was pounding harder than it had all night as she slipped into the darkness, not daring to glance back.
She didn’t need to. She knew he would follow.
The air cooled against her flushed skin.
And then — footsteps behind her.
She didn’t turn. Didn't need to.
"You always leave parties early?" Rafe’s voice drawled low, tugging at the base of her spine.
Belle smiled without meaning to, still facing the water. "Only if they’re boring."
He chuckled, rough and wrecked. When she finally turned, she bumped into him — he was right there. His hands slid onto her hips, pulling her close as his eyes raked over her, heat radiating off him.
He smiled, cocking his head. “Maybe you were hoping I’d follow you.”
Belle raised an eyebrow, her pulse quickening. "Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Rafe."
He was close enough now that she could see the sharp cut of his jaw in the moonlight, smell the beer on his breath, the salt in his hair.
Neither of them moved for a heartbeat.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, "if I was flattering myself, we'd still be back there."
Then, as if it was inevitable, he reached for her — his hand sliding to her jaw, tilting her face up — and kissed her.
It wasn’t careful. It started sweet, but it didn’t stay that way for long.
It was months of tension snapping all at once. Messy and passionate, desperate and real.
Belle made a soft moan against his mouth, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him in even closer. Rafe groaned low in his chest, backing her gently against the cool stone of the rocks, bracketing her in like he could somehow shield her from everything — from everyone.
When they broke apart, Belle was breathless, grinning despite herself.
"You’re dangerous," she whispered.
Rafe grinned, tilting his forehead to hers. "Only if you kiss me like that again."
Belle laughed under her breath, her smile softening. "No promises."
She pulled him in again — softer this time, less urgency, more wonder — like she still couldn’t believe this was real.
He slid a hand by the hem of her shorts as she swatted his hand away playfully.
“Save it for next time,” she teased, smirking.
Rafe exhaled slowly, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me, Belle Maybank.”
Neither of them noticed the pair of eyes watching from the shadows.
Olivia, half-hidden behind a slab of driftwood, arms folded tight across her chest, mouth twisted into a sharp, cruel smile. She didn’t need to see much.
Enough to go forward with her plan.
The sound of the ocean still rang in Belle’s ears, but she stepped back, brushing sand from her shorts, trying to steady her breathing.
Rafe caught her attention gently before she could fully turn away.
She looked up at him, the moonlight catching the ocean flecks in his eyes.
"You’re trouble, you know that?"
Belle smirked, cocking a brow. "You’re one to talk."
He didn’t say anything else — just tugged her hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist like he couldn’t help himself.
The spot burned even after he let go.
Belle backed away slowly, never quite turning her back on him, her grin not quite fading.
When she finally disappeared around the rocks, she didn’t have to check to know he was still standing there, watching her go.
She found herself wandering back toward the fire, weaving through the thinning crowd with an empty cup in her hand, just for something to do. The buzz of the party was low and lazy now, everyone sunburnt and half-drunk, the night tipping into something that felt private when she returned to Kiara and Sarah.
Noticing their drinks were near empty too, she suggested they grab more drinks.
When she reached the drink table, eyes scanning for anything that didn’t taste like lighter fluid and heavy regret, she barely registered the figure that moved beside her — until a warm hand brushed against hers.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
Pretending to grab a bottle, casual, effortless — but close enough that the heat of him curled around her skin.
“Still taste you on my lips.” He whispered close, by the shell of her ear, softly yet seductively.
Belle’s fingers fumbled the plastic cup in her hand, almost dropping it.
By the time she whipped her head toward him, Rafe was already stepping away, beer dangling from his fingers, sliding back into the pocket of Kooks by the fire like he hadn’t just set her entire body on fire.
Belle pressed the cool rim of her empty cup to her lips, trying to hide her flushed smile.
She only stayed a little longer. Everybody had left anyway.
She left too — mentally. Her mind was still with him.
Under the moonlight. Sharing their first kiss all over again.
“Hey, B!” JJ yelled to wake Belle up.
She groaned in response, wanting to be enveloped by sleep again.
“We’re going to get more surf wax and sunscreen from the surf shop, you coming?”
She sighed. “Yeah, yeah, one sec.”
The sharp ding of the bell over the door sounded as Belle pushed into the Kildare Surf Co., the salty breeze following her inside.
JJ trailed after her, tossing a playful arm around her shoulders. "You’re lucky I even invited you to come," he teased. "I had important shit to do today."
Belle smirked, ducking out from under his arm. "Oh yeah? Like what? Shotgunning beers with John B?"
"Exactly," JJ grinned like he was proud.
“If you’re lonely, just say that,” Belle said with a smirk, laughing under her breath as she headed to the back aisle where the wax and fins were. JJ peeled off toward the front, already distracted by a shiny new set of trucks for his board.
The shop smelled like sunscreen, wax, and ocean air. Comforting. Normal.
Belle let herself relax a little as she browsed — until she caught a flash of black hair out of the corner of her eye.
Strolling between the aisles like she had all the time in the world.
Belle’s stomach flipped. She turned sharply, pretending to study a rack of rash guards.
"Hey, Belle," Olivia purred, voice dripping with false sweetness as she peeked over the shelf dividing the two. "Fancy seeing you here."
Belle forced a tight, fake smile.
JJ’s laugh carried from the front of the store — talking to the cashier about a fin set.
Belle’s heart slammed against her ribs.
"You're really good at hiding it," Olivia said, voice low enough no one else could hear. She leaned in closer, her perfume cloying. "But not good enough."
“What do you mean?” Belle’s mouth went dry, they both knew what Olivia meant.
“If you want to play dumb, I could show you and your brother right now.” Olivia smiled maliciously.
Belle looked at JJ, checking out. He was almost done, putting his items in his bag.
“I have proof,” Olivia said, voice low.
Belle forced herself to keep her eyes on the rash guards, but her grip tightened.
Olivia walked around the shelf, and shoved her phone into Belle’s face.
There it was — Rafe’s mouth on hers, caught mid-kiss. His hand frozen in time, half-slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts.
All color drained from Belle’s face, and Olivia regained her smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was all teeth.
"You’ve got a choice, Maybank," she whispered. "End it. Or I end it for you."
And with that, Olivia breezed away — all sunshine and sweetness — just as JJ turned down the aisle, oblivious.
"Yo, Belle! You ready?" he called.
Belle plastered on a smile she didn’t feel and shoved the sick, twisting feeling deep down.
"Yeah," she croaked, grabbing the nearest board wax without even looking.
She followed JJ out into the bright sun, the weight of Olivia’s threat suffocating her.
The little bell over the surf shop door jingled as they stepped out into the afternoon sun, JJ tossing his new fins in the air and catching them lazily.
“What’re you thinking about? You’re looking all moody over there.” JJ said playfully, pushing her to the car.
“Oh, nothing,” Belle sighed dramatically. “Just how badly you’re going to wipe out this Saturday.”
“Yeah,” JJ said. “You’d know about wiping out. You looked like a fish out of water last week.” JJ mocked.
“Shut up, asshole!” She giggled, chasing JJ to his truck.
JJ reached for the truck door, shaking his head and smiling. "Keep talking that shit. See what happens."
Belle smiled back at him, her heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted out.
She breathed in. Out. Like nothing was wrong.
The steering wheel creaked under Rafe’s grip as he took another sharp turn down the marsh roads, the BMW’s headlights slicing through the fog.
He needed to think. Usually driving would fix all of his problems. But of course it wouldn’t with her.
He hadn’t heard from Belle in almost twenty-four hours.
It wasn’t like her. Not after that night — not after the way she kissed him, touched him, looked at him like he was something more than the mess everyone said he was.
The memory twisted in his gut like a knife.
The sound of her angelic voice, the way her fingers tugged at the back of his shirt — all of it burned behind his eyes.
Rafe slammed the heel of his hand against the dashboard while sitting at a light.
Something to shut it off. Shut her out.
The Wreck was the nearest place open this late, the parking lot half-filled with the usual Kooks and stragglers looking to kill brain cells on a weeknight.
He needed to feel something that wasn’t this sick, clawing need for her.
He killed the engine, grabbed his lighter, and shoved the door open.
The second he stepped inside, the smell of cheap beer and salt hit him — and then something else.
Because across the deck, under the flickering fairy lights and cheap neon, stood Belle Maybank.
Laughing at something John B said amongst the rest of the pogues.
Her hair messy from the breeze, her mouth — that mouth — curved into a smile Rafe had no part of.
The blood drained from his head and roared in his ears.
And just like that, the spiraling stopped.
It wasn't gone — it was worse.
Without thinking, Rafe shoved through the crowd, cigarette still tucked between his fingers, hoodie pulled low over his face.
His chest burned with something brutal and ugly — a sick mix of need, betrayal, and fury.
She was really gonna pretend like he didn’t exist?
He called her phone immediately in hopes she’d abandon the group so he could talk to her.
When her phone lit up – Rafe Cameron
Belle froze. She looked at the screen, really looked at it. And shoved it back in her pocket, a sad expression falling on her face.
“Uh, yeah just,” she paused. “Lacy, my friend, we got in a fight so” her voice trailed off.
“Aw, I’m sorry that sucks.”
“Yeah,” She smiled downward. “Hey, I’ll be back, yeah?”
“Bring us drinks when you come back Belle!” Sarah yelled happily unaware.
“Yes!” John B quickly–and drunkely agreed, landing his eyes on Belle.
Belle slipped into the bathroom and stared at her reflection.
When did she become this liar? This traitor? Kissing a kook who's way out of her league? Did she seriously think Rafe and her were ever going to work?
Tears started to form in her waterline and one trailed down her cheek before she wiped it. She took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom.
A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her against the wall, hidden from the rest of the restaurant.
Rafe’s breath came out in quick bursts as he pressed her against the wall. He didn’t wait for her to say anything. He couldn’t — he was drowning in the sudden rush of emotions, and there was no way out except through her. His fingers tightened around her wrist, not hurting, but enough to keep her close.
“Why’re you ignoring me?” he said, his voice low, rough — almost like a growl. “Why’re you shutting me out?”
Belle’s eyes flickered between his, her chest heaving as she tried to stay calm. But all she felt was the heat of his touch, the weight of the words that had been hanging between them, too heavy to say aloud. “I’m not—”
Rafe’s jaw tightened, his face inches from hers. “You didn’t answer, Belle. I called you. I needed to know where you were–if you were okay. What the hell is going on with you?”
His eyes narrowed, trying desperately to understand what she was trying to say.
The tension between them was so thick, it was suffocating. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. “Rafe, I’m... I was with the Pogues. I—”
His eyes softened, the anger calming beneath the surface, mixing with something darker. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
The question hit her like a slap to the face. “Because I didn’t know what to say to you!” Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying the vulnerability she’d been hiding so carefully.
For a moment, Rafe’s anger faltered, his grip on her wrist loosening just a fraction as his eyes softened — but only for a second. “I can’t do this–not like this. I can’t just pretend like nothing happened.”
A silence fell between them but was swiftly broken by Rafe’s “I let you in.” His voice cracked with emotion when he claimed it.
“I know,” Belle bit her lip, teary eyed. She exhaled a deep breath. “But I-”
“Well you can’t pretend like nothing happened!”
“I’m not!” Belle yelled in a whisper tone.
The words hung in the air between them, and for a brief moment, the fight drained out of Belle. She looked up at him, seeing the pain behind his eyes, the same pain she’d been trying to ignore.
He leaned in to kiss her, like it would take both of their pain away. Prove something to her and himself, that despite their differences they could be together. Be something.
But Belle pulled away before he could get any closer, putting a hand on his chest. “We can’t keep doing this,” she said, breathless. “It’s too much. We’re... not supposed to be this close.”
She could feel his heart break as her hand was still resting on his chest.
“Face it,” she started. “I’m a pogue. You’re a kook. We don’t mix. Oil and water.” She chokes on her own words as she says them. Her heart was breaking by each syllable she spit out.
“Is that how you feel? Really?” She could tell it hurt him somewhere deep—although he maintained a cool armor.
“After our kiss. After the party. After the first time you spent at my house and the morning after.” He stated. “I’m not stupid, Belle. I know you feel something for me.Because I feel the same way-” He said, almost pleading.
He almost finished before being interrupted by Belle’s: “I can’t anymore.” She shrugged, on the verge of tears. She wiped them away before she went to the bar to grab drinks for the Pogues. She put on a fake smile that her friends know all too well at this point.
Leaving him stranded, alone by the bathroom. Wondering where the hell Belle Maybank went. And how could he get her back?
Rafe stood there for a long moment, back pressed against the cool wall, trying to breathe through the hollow ache spreading through his chest.
The roar of the Wreck blurred around him — the clatter of pool cues, drunken laughter, Sarah's shriek as John B spilled a drink — but all he could see was her.
Laughing, smiling, weaving through the crowd like nothing happened. Like he was nothing.
Like he hadn’t kissed her like his life depended on it.
Like she hadn’t kissed him back.
Rafe’s fist were balled so tight it hurt.
He watched as she leaned over the bar, calling the bartender’s name with a tilt of her head and that easy, careless smile — the same one that used to be just for him.
Hated how she could pretend.
Hated how she could walk away.
His fingers twitched at his side, still itching with the memory of her skin against his. He needed to do something — anything — before he lost his mind.
Rafe pulled the hoodie tighter over his head, sinking deeper into the shadows.
If Belle thought she could just cut him out, pretend it never happened — she was wrong.
Because he wasn’t done with her.
He lit a cigarette with shaking hands, eyes never leaving her figure across the room.
She’s mine, he thought viciously.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not.
“Okay, I’m pretty much tapped out," John B confessed, slumping against the sticky top of their table.
The rest of the Pogues nodded along, their laughter lazy and loose from too many rounds.
"Yeah, it’s getting late," Sarah agreed, stretching her arms overhead. "Let’s get outta here."
“Wait, guys — I could do one more round!” JJ said eagerly, already waving at the bartender.
The Pogues groaned in unison.
“You’re relentless," Kiara said, shaking her head with a grin.
Belle pushed off her stool, slinging an arm around JJ’s shoulders. "I’ll do one more with you, Jayj."
"Leave it to the Maybanks," Pope joked, earning a soft elbow from Cleo as she bumped into his side.
The others filed out with promises to meet back at the Chateau, while Belle and JJ stayed behind to toss back another couple shots.
The tequila burned in Belle’s throat, but the warmth that spread through her chest was almost comforting — almost enough to drown out the buzzing anxiety she hadn’t been able to shake all night.
By the time they stumbled out the door, laughing about something stupid JJ had said, Belle froze.
The others weren’t alone.
John B, Sarah, Kiara, Cleo, and Pope were already halfway across the parking lot — but they weren’t just walking to the Twinkie.
They were talking–to him.
Rafe stood there, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, revealing bruised knuckles.
He was calm — too calm — and he wasn’t looking at any of them.
His gaze snapped straight to Belle the second she stepped outside.
The laughter died on her lips, it was replaced with shock, and fear.
JJ stiffened beside her, his hand automatically dropping to rest on her lower back like he was bracing for a fight.
"Stay behind me," JJ muttered without missing a beat.
As they approached, Belle could see everybody–including JJ were tense.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” JJ yelled.
“No Belle! What the fuck is this Kook doing on our side of the island?” JJ said, quickly escalating his anger along with Rafe’s.
“You gonna act like you don’t know me, Belle?” Rafe said, leaning his head to meet her eyes.
She looked at him but no words escaped her lips. He raised his eyebrows awaiting a response.
“Go to the car, Belle.” JJ commanded.
“Rafe’s eyes still locked on Belle — ignoring everyone else.
"You didn’t answer me," Rafe said, voice cutting through the cool night. "You think you can just... pretend like it didn’t happen?"
"Back the fuck off," JJ growled. He was practically vibrating with anger now. "She doesn't owe you shit."
"And you do?" Rafe shot back, his own voice rising. "You think you’re the fucking hero here, Maybank? King of the Pogues? That’s sad.”
Chest to chest, practically daring each other.
Belle’s pulse was racing.
“Do you got a problem, Rafe?” JJ said, sizing him up.
“Yeah, a few.” Rafe replied with a cruel look in his eyes. The soft, vulnerable Rafe she was with a few nights ago had been covered up by a hard, icy exterior.
"Stop." she snapped, stepping in between both of them. SHe pushed her hands on both of their chest not only to ground them but separate more space between the two boys.
JJ’s jaw was clenched so hard she thought he might break a tooth.
Rafe was breathing hard, shoulders stiff, hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t trust himself.
"You really think you can protect her?" Rafe said, squinting his eyes as his voice became low and bitter. "You don't even know what you're protecting her from."
"Shut the fuck up." JJ hissed, drawing out every word.
Rafe’s eyes flicked down to Belle’s hand on his chest.
For a moment — just a moment — something cracked across his face.
The anger slipped, and all that was left was hurt.
"See you around, Belle," His voice was low. Almost gentle.
And it hurt worse than if he’d screamed at her.
Then he turned, disappearing into the night without another word.
And then he was gone, disappearing into the dark parking lot, leaving Belle standing between the people she loved — and the one she wasn’t sure she could survive loving at all.
