Hey Sunny!!! I am back hehe.
What about Reader is new to figure eight with her family. She moved across from Tannyhill and is very naïve and shy but sassy. Rafe has seen her around Rose even had her and her family over for dinner. Rafe is trying to change his reputation and to be sober. Ward has made it clear that if he doesn’t then he will be cut off financially.
One hot summer day Rafe is skinny dipping off the secluded dock and Reader having enough with her parents saying she is too shy runs off to the dock and finds Rafe there.
What if after the shock of seeing each other they start talking and scheme a plan that benefits them both, by starting a fake relationship
This way Ward will see Rafe is trying to stay clean and the reader is seen as less shy by her family. Somewhere along the lines though the feelings turn real?
Fake it Til We Make it
Rafe Cameron x Reader
Sunny’s Notes: I’m thinking about making this a series. Let me know what you guys think and if you would like to see more of this.
The summer heat clung to everything like a second skin, thick and heavy and unforgiving. The kind of heat that made time slow down and tempers run short. Tannyhill sat smug on its hill, wrapped in golden sunlight and birdsong, like a painting you’d see on an old postcard.
She watched it from her front porch, half-hidden behind a glass of lemonade that had long since lost its chill. Across the street, the Camerons’ estate looked like something out of a southern magazine —stately, too polished, hiding too much behind the columns and charm. Her family had moved into the pale blue craftsman house just across from it a month ago. New state, new job for her dad, new neighborhood.
A new version of her.
At least, that’s the narrative her mom kept saying.
“You’ve got to stop being so timid, sweetheart,” her mom chirped earlier that morning as she tugged a comb through her hair a little too hard. “You’ll never make friends if you keep acting like a frightened mouse.”
“I’m not a mouse,” she’d mumbled, tugging her head away.
“No, no, of course not,” her dad added, barely looking up from his tablet. “You’re just… soft-spoken. Maybe too soft.”
That was the usual. Too soft. Too shy. Too polite. Her family meant well, sure—but she was getting real tired of hearing how small she came off all the time. She could only take so much nit picking at a time.
So when the air got too stuffy and the words that repeated in her head got too heavy, she left. Slipped out the side door barefoot, down the gravel path that lined her yard, across the quiet, empty street, and into the wooded path that curved around the back end of Tannyhill.
Everyone on the island knew about the Camerons’ dock. Long, weather-worn, a little crooked where the tide pulled at it too often. Private. Secluded. Hidden away from the main house and the road.
She didn’t expect anyone to be there. Especially not him. But in hindsight, she should’ve known better. It was his dock.
She stopped so fast she kicked up gravel.
Rafe Cameron was in the water, slick and golden and—completely and utterly naked.
She made a squeaking sound. Like an actual, high-pitched squeak. Her hands flew up to cover her eyes but only got halfway before she dropped them again. Curiosity had a chokehold on her now apparently.
Rafe turned in the water and noticed her then, smirking in that lazy, smug way he always did when he knew he had the upper hand.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he drawled, swimming toward the dock like he had all the time in the world. “What’s the matter? Never seen a guy naked before?”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. She scoffed as if she was disgusted, but it was only a shield for her flaming cheeks. “Y-You’re—! I—You’re naked! Why are you—what—why—?”
He chuckled, slow and warm like summer molasses. “You always talk in questions, or is this just a special occasion?”
“You’re naked, Rafe! In public!”
“So you’ve said.” He hauled himself out of the water. But before she could even pretend to look away it was too late. His muscles rippled and water ran down his back like a movie scene she wasn’t emotionally prepared for. And it totally didn’t help her flusteredness when her eyes glanced down there. She quickly looked back up after seeing the long and thick body part, her breath now uneven.
A towel that laid draped over a deck chair, which he casually slung around his hips with a wink. “You gonna stare or run away screaming?”
She wanted to scream. Or at least run. Probaly both. But something else anchored her there. Maybe it was spite. Maybe it was the desperate urge to prove her parents wrong for once.
So instead, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I’m not a prude, you know.”
His brows rose in surprise. “No?”
“I’ve just never had a naked man thrown at me without warning.” She said shyly looking down at her feet.
Rafe laughed, genuinely this time. The sound was deep and rich, and it startled her almost as much as his smugness. It felt real. Not like the performative bad boy she’d seen at all those family dinners.
“Okay, okay. Fair enough,” he said, grabbing a shirt off the railing but not bothering to put it on. “Didn’t know I had company today. Thought I had the dock to myself.”
“I thought I had the dock to myself. You’re never here.” She mumbled embarrassed.
“Guess we’re both outta luck.”
She rolled her eyes but moved to sit on the edge of the dock anyway, letting her legs dangle off the side. Her heart was still thudding embarrassingly loud, but Rafe didn’t press. He just sat beside her, towel still around his waist, hair wet and dripping onto the wood. She felt his arm brush against hers and as much as she didn’t want to admit it— her heart raced.
They sat like that in silence for a minute, cicadas screaming around them like the soundtrack to a southern fever dream.
Then he said, “Your parents on your ass too?”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“You stormed off like someone called you boring.”
“…They did,” she muttered.
He huffed and shook his head, “Yeah. Shit, that’ll do it.”
“You too?”
Rafe leaned back on his elbows, damp hair still dripping from the water, his chest glistening under the mid-afternoon sun. He squinted up at the sky, then over at her, making eye contact. “Yeah. Ward’s on my ass again. Says if I don’t ‘shape up,’ I’m cut off.”
Her brows lifted. “Cut off?” she echoed, frowning. “Like… financially?”
He nodded, tongue pressing into his cheek. “Yup. No more allowance, definitely no inheritance, no family business. Nothing. He said if I don’t stay clean and look presentable to all the Kook families, I’m done.” He forced a smirk, but it lacked his usual cockiness. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So I’m on my little redemption arc, I guess.”
She let out a soft, amused breath. “Not doing a great job of it, considering you’re literally skinny dipping in broad daylight. I wonder what he would say.”
He snorted, turning his head toward her, eyes glinting. “Probably have a stroke if he found out. So please spare me and don’t tell him.”
Her smile turned mischievous. “Hmm. That does sound entertaining. Why wouldn’t I tell him?”
Rafe grinned—slow, sly, teasing. “Because…” He rolled onto his side slightly, angling closer, propping his weight on one forearm. “Maybe we can help each other.”
She narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious—and immediately flustered by how close his face had gotten. She tried not to get pulled into the swirl of his blue eyes, but her stomach did a little flip anyway. “Help each other how?”
“Well,” he said, voice dropping just a bit, like they were trading secrets. “You clearly wanna get your parents off your back. And I need Ward to think I’m turning over a new leaf. Doing the whole shitty good-boy act.”
“…Okay?”
“So,” Rafe continued, edging even closer, the towel slung low on his hips, “what if we fake date?”
Her eyes flickered down before quickly going back up. She blinked. “What?”
“Think about it,” he said, now sitting upright, voice suddenly steadier—calmer, more persuasive. “You get to look like you’re finally breaking out of your shell. Going out with the guy no one would expect. And I—” he gestured toward himself with a lazy wave of his hand “—look like I’m settling down with someone sweet. Innocent. Someone Ward would approve of.”
“I am not sweet,” she shot back instantly, bristling.
Rafe’s grin widened. “See? That’s the sass I’m talking about.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t look away. Her brain was trying to catch up with her body—the butterflies in her chest, the racing thoughts, the absurdity of it all. Fake dating Rafe Cameron? The island’s golden boy who has a reputation of only doing hookups.
She’d barely said five words to him at all the Cameron family dinners, and now here he was, shirtless, slightly sweaty, and scheming like this was a scene out of a rom-com.
But… the idea wasn’t completely crazy.
Her parents would finally stop babying her, calling her “shy” like it was a disease. Rafe could pretend to be on the straight and narrow. They’d both get what they wanted.
And it would be fake. Strictly pretend.
No real feelings. No messy consequences. No getting attached.
Just one extremely long summer plan.
She looked over at him again. His smirk had softened slightly, the sunlight catching in his lashes. There was something vulnerable under all that cocky bravado—something he was trying not to show. And something about it made her chest tighten unexpectedly.
“…Fine,” she said finally, arching a brow. “But if you try to kiss me in front of my dad, I’m kicking you in the shin.”
Rafe let out a smug laugh, full of arrogance and flirtiness. “Deal, sweetheart.”
Then his gaze flicked sideways, and he added in a quieter voice, “I’ll do it in private.”
Her head whipped toward him. “Rafe—!” she gasped, giving him a shove to the arm.
He just laughed again, tipping his head back, the sound echoing over the still water. But even as she shook her head and tried to brush it off, her heart thudded traitorously against her ribs.
The butterflies weren’t going anywhere. And somewhere, deep down, she already knew:
This fake thing was going to feel very real.
⸻
That evening, Tanneyhill buzzed with its usual quiet luxury. The porch fans spun lazily overhead, pushing warm air around as the sky shifted into soft dusk. Glasses clinked gently against polished wood. Somewhere deeper in the yard, jazz trickled out from the outdoor speakers, low and smooth, barely louder than the cicadas.
The long table had been set with pale linen napkins and mismatched glassware that was probably meant to look charmingly effortless—old money. Rose had gone all-out, as usual. Mason jars filled with wildflowers lined the center of the table, and a flickering vanilla candle sat between every few guests.
She stepped onto the patio just as Rose was ushering everyone outside. Her sundress caught the breeze as she moved, light fabric brushing her calves, the soft blue a striking contrast to the warm tones of the evening. She heard her mom whisper to her dad behind her, something about how “grown up” she looked.
Then Rafe stood.
He didn’t say anything at first—just rose from his chair and motioned subtly to the empty seat beside him. It was quiet, effortless. Intentional.
He didn’t look like he belonged at a dinner party. Shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar slightly rumpled, sun still lingering on his skin. He looked like trouble trying very hard to behave. But he still looked good.
And everyone noticed.
Her father paused mid-conversation with Ward, watching her take the seat next to Rafe with just a bit too much interest. Rose smiled a little too knowingly. Wheezie clocked it from across the table, narrowing her eyes like she was mentally filing it away.
Rafe leaned in just slightly once she sat, one hand resting on the back of her chair like it had always belonged there.
“You clean up nice,” he murmured without looking at her, reaching for the serving bowl of grilled vegetables.
She didn’t turn her head. “You’re not even wearing a tie.”
“That’s me,” he said under his breath. “Effortlessly charming.”
She pressed her lips together, hiding a laugh. Her hand brushed the edge of the tablecloth, fingers lightly tapping, pretending she wasn’t suddenly hyper-aware of how close his knee was to hers.
Small talk bloomed around them. Rose complimented her mother’s earrings. Ward made a dry comment about the stock market that made all the adults chuckle. Plates were passed, seconds offered. But every few minutes, someone’s gaze drifted back to them. To Rafe leaning in a little too close. To her smiling just a little too easily.
It was working.
Almost too well.
At one point, Rafe reached for the butter dish and let his hand rest on her arm for half a second longer than necessary. She didn’t pull away, and he didn’t move like it was accidental.
Later, as dessert was being served, her dad leaned over and asked, casually, “How long have you two been spending time together?”
She blinked, feigning surprise like they hadn’t rehearsed exactly this possibility.
Rafe answered before she could. “A little while now,” he said smoothly, like it was no big deal. “Didn’t want to make it a thing.”
It rolled off his tongue too naturally. Like he’d done this before.
She glanced at him sideways, unsure if she should be impressed or suspicious.
But he didn’t look at her—he was too busy charming her father, sliding into the role like it was second nature.
Her stomach fluttered again. Not from nerves this time. From something else.
Something more dangerous.
She shook her head turning her attention back down to her plate. She only hoped her heart understood that this was fake. None of it was actually real. Not the way his hand causally rested on her knee for a spilt second as if he didn’t realize. Not the way he looked over at her and smiled widely. No, she told herself.
This is all just fake. Don’t fall for it.
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