v4mpscent

Your Saturday morning starts slow. Sunlight spills through the curtains of your room as you rest under your comforter. You can hear girls laughing in the hallway of the sorority house.

Your roommate is on the other side of the room in her bed, and you’ve been drifting in and out of conversation with her, scrolling on your phones and lazing together.

“So… you gonna tell me what happened with that guy last night?” Jada asks.

You didn’t say much when you reunited with your friends at the party after disappearing with Rafe. Jada recognized him as the jerk who spilled his drink on you, but you brushed it off, saying he apologized.

You take a deep breath.

“You can’t judge me for what I’m about to tell you,” you say, your voice low.

Jada perks up immediately, pushing herself upright. She grins, dropping her phone on her lap.

“I love it when a story starts that way,” she says. You chuckle and roll onto your side, resting your head on your hand as you look at her from across the room.

“His name is Rafe. I know him from back home,” you say. “He’s a total dick. And since he’s started trying to get with me, my friends… bet me that I couldn’t break his heart.”

“You’re kidding,” Jada says in amusement. “Why would I judge you for that? It’s never a bad thing for a guy like that to get put in his place.”

Her words are vindicating. He does deserve it. You think back to the way Rafe talked to you and touched you last night, smug like he can take whatever he wants from you.

“It did seem weird to me that you went off with him after he was so rude the other night,” she says, pointing at you. “I know you’re not one to forgive. Wow, it’s all coming together now.”

You laugh. You’ve been called many things, all by guys who felt slighted by you, and Jada affectionately implying that you’re unforgiving is nothing compared to it. You’ve built a reputation. It’s better to be the girl no one fucks with than the girl who gets hurt.

“How are you going to do it?” she asks.

Your eyes drift to the ceiling.

“I’ll make him think I like him, then act like I can’t stand him, which, honestly, I can’t, so at least that part will be easy,” you say. “I swear, the second a guy realizes you’re not dying for his attention, he tries way too hard to make you care. I’ve never wanted to make a guy fall for me, though, so that’s new territory.”

“He’s done for,” Jada says.

You chuckle again. You’ve strung along guys many times before, but this is the first time you’re doing it on purpose. You’ve never tried to hurt anyone’s feelings; keeping your distance is just how you’ve always kept yourself safe.

You feel bad for those you’ve burned, but it’s not like you promised them love or loyalty. Because you learned as a kid what happens when you give a man trust. Your father walked out like it was nothing. If your own dad didn’t stay for you, why would anyone else?

Rafe will make this easy. He’s simple, like most men. He gets a little attention and thinks a girl is powerless to him. He’s sure that you’ll let your guard down. But you don’t do that. You never have.

・・・・・

“How’s it going with her?” Mac asks.

Rafe drags his gaze away from his beer to glance at his friend. The two of them stand near the back doors of the sorority house, the air smelling like perfume.

He realizes Mac is looking at you. You’re laughing at something one of your friends said, beaming a pretty smile. For a second, it’s like he’s back in Kildare, seeing you from a distance at a party, another stranger he never bothered to know.

“Slow,” Rafe answers honestly. It was just last night that he asked for your number and you passively declined. He’s still annoyed.

“If you can’t do it, man…”

Rafe smirks and nudges his friend. He refuses to lose.

“I can, asshole,” he chuckles.

Tonight, Rafe will make you wait. By the time he finally decides to approach you, he’s sure you’ll be relieved.

・・・・・

You should’ve seen it coming. Jada mentioned she skipped dinner. She’s only had a couple drinks, but her empty stomach clearly made them hit her hard. It’s barely an hour into the party and she’s already wobbling.

Her knees are giving out every few steps, and you’re not confident you’ll be able to catch her if she goes down. In the couple of years you’ve known your roommate, you’ve never seen her so wasted.

“You should sit,” you shout over the music, hands on Jada’s shoulders.

“But I’ll fall asleep,” she slurs.

You breathe a defeated laugh.

“Let’s go home,” you decide. “You can sober up. In your bed.”

“I love my bed,” Jada sighs with a grin.

You should get her out of here and with how much she’s stumbling, you’ll need a second body to make sure she doesn’t fall over. You’ll ask one of your sorority sisters to help.

But that’s when you spot Rafe.

You weren’t planning to even look at him tonight. But you’ve learned that if you give a guy you’ve been stringing along a chance to do you a favor, he’ll always take it.

You leave Jada with your friends and weave through the crowd toward him. He’s leaning against the wall, talking to a couple guys, wearing that backwards hat he always wears. You spot Kildare Island Surfboard Co. stitched on the front.

“Do me a favor?” you ask once you close the distance.

Rafe’s head flicks toward you. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face.

“What’s up?” he says, his voice low, eyes drifting to your lips.

“I need help getting my roommate home. You seem strong enough.”

Rafe sets his drink down on the nearest table without breaking eye contact. Then he tilts his head toward the door, a silent come on.

・・・・・

Warm night air wraps around you as the three of you step out onto Greek Row. The bass from different houses overlaps out of rhythm and the sidewalks are crowded with clusters of students.

You’ve only made a couple of steps together when Jada stumbles. She apologizes through a giggle, then leans on you so hard that you nearly lose your footing.

You grip her forearm, and Rafe’s hand is suddenly on yours, steadying Jada. His other hand settles on the small of your back.

“You can’t walk,” he snips at Jada.

You huff, feeling protective over your friend, and say, “You don’t have to be so rude.”

Rafe scoffs to himself. That’s rich coming from you.

He shifts to slide an arm under Jada’s knees and another behind her back. In one smooth motion, he lifts her off the ground and settles her over his shoulder, earning her drunken laugh.

His biceps bulge under his t-shirt sleeves, and heat rises to your cheeks as you realize how effortless this is for him.

“Which house is it again?” he asks, glancing over at you as he continues to walk forward.

“At the end of the block,” you reply. You point to the red-brick Victorian style home, having to pick up your pace to catch up to his wide strides.

Jada begins to quietly sing, laughing at herself as she stumbles over the lyrics.

“Pretty early in the night to be so wasted,” Rafe murmurs, looking over at you.

“At least she didn’t dunk her drink on anybody,” you respond, still pissed off at how he spoke to Jada. But you’re not surprised. As much as he’s trying to pretend like he’s a nice guy, you know better.

“Are you ever letting that go?” he says with a smile that you don’t return.

“Not until we’re even,” you reply.

You unlock the front door of the empty house and turn to Rafe as he shifts Jada higher on his shoulder.

“I got it from here,” you tell him.

“You kidding? She almost took you down,” Rafe says, his voice raised just enough to cut through the distant music. “Just go.”

You sigh, but as much as you don’t want to admit it, you’re relieved you won’t be the one dragging Jada up the stairs tonight.

Rafe’s eyes are fixed on your legs as he trails you up the stairs, the dim light catching the perfect shape of them with every step.

The place smells like fresh laundry, unlike the staleness settled into the frat house he lives in. And the floor doesn’t creak at all here.

“Your house is way nicer than ours,” he says.

“Probably ‘cause we actually take care of it,” you respond. He rolls his eyes to himself. Is every response of yours some kind of cut?

You reach the second floor and flick on the light in your shared bedroom. You point to Jada’s bed so he knows where to set her down.

Rafe lowers her slowly, and as you lean in to brush her curls from her face, he takes a chance to look around, quietly absorbing the details of your room.

“How do you feel?” you ask Jada.

“Dizzy,” she murmurs, eyelids half-shut.

“I’m getting you water,” you say, “and you have to drink it all.”

“I don’t want water,” she mumbles.

“Does it look like I care what you want?” you reply, but your voice is soft in a way Rafe hasn’t heard from you. He's kind of thrown by how sweet you are when you want to be.

“Do you think you’re gonna be sick?” you ask her.

“No,” she murmurs. “I’m dizzy.”

“I know that,” you say with a gentle chuckle. “Stay on your side. I’ll be back.”

You stand up to face Rafe, and just like that, the warmth disappears and the tone he’s used to returns.

“I’ll walk you out,” you say.

You brush past him on your way into the hallway, and he catches a faint whiff of something sweet; he’s not sure if it’s your perfume or your shampoo or just you, but he doesn’t like when it fades.

He follows you back into the hallway, watching the confident sway of your walk.

“You’re way nicer to her being drunk than me,” Rafe says as you start down the stairs.

“She’s my friend.”

“What am I?”

You don’t answer right away. The light catches the side of your face as you glance back at him.

“You’re… a lot of things,” you finally say.

Rafe huffs a scoff as he trails you down the last few steps. He just hauled your drunk roommate over here for you and you didn’t even thank him. You went right back to being a brat.

Fuck this. He thought he’d enjoy this chase, but you seem to have a talent for making people feel like they’re below you. He hates the thought of failing this stupid bet, but you seem impossible to win over. Why torture himself?

You reach the bottom of the stairs first, hand curling around the banister.

“I’ll stay with Jada,” you confirm in case he’s expecting you to go back to the party with him.

You take a step back toward the kitchen. And then you remind yourself you need to sweeten Rafe up. This is the perfect moment to give him just enough warmth to keep him hooked. You soften your voice, tilt your head slightly.

“Thank you for your help,” you add. “I couldn’t have done that alone.”

You offer a smile. It does something to him. Not that he’d ever be weak for you. But he gets it now, why other guys embarrass themselves for you.

“So, we’re even now,” Rafe flirts back, even though a second ago, he was planning on storming out.

You’re both standing closer to each other than either of you probably meant to be. His features are all hard, strong edges, and it’s kind of irritating because you know he knows how handsome he is.

“Until the next time you spill a drink on me,” you tease.

Rafe’s eyes flick down to your lips again, curved with that soft smile. Instantaneously, he’s been thrown back into his attraction to you, letting it consume him.

“I want to say something, but I think it’ll piss you off,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“I’m sure it will,” you say.

“Then I won’t say it.”

“Just do it, Rafe,” you sigh, resigned. He realizes he really likes hearing you say his name.

“You should smile more,” he says.

“God,” you groan, throwing your head back. “Yeah, you should’ve kept it to yourself.”

He winces a little.

“I know girls hate hearing that shit, but I’m just sayin’ you’re cute.”

“Don’t try to defend yourself,” you respond, realizing he’s even flirtier than you expected. “Just give me your phone, okay?”

His brows lift. You hold out your hand. Your number is a reward and the trick is making him feel like he earned it.

Rafe wants to make a joke about you saying please, but he keeps it in. He hands you his phone without a word. His thoughts of giving up are a distant memory now. He’s going to get you where he wants you. He’s sure of it.

You type in your number, save it, and pass it back.

“If you text me too much, I’ll block you,” you tease.

“What’s too much?” he asks, his gaze heavier than before.

You give a tiny, pitying shake of your head. It’d be adorable to him if he didn’t know your reputation.

“If you have to ask…” you breathe with a giggle.

His smile deepens. You mirror it and turn away, heading down the hallway to leave him hanging.

A moment later, you hear the front door open behind you, followed by the quiet thud of it closing. The sound echoes faintly through the hallway as you enter the kitchen.

You were right. This will be easy.

・・・・・

Rafe texts you the next afternoon asking if you’re free later.

You’re halfway through getting ready to go to the main campus library when you see his name light up your phone. Strategically, you change into something a little more revealing just to tempt him if he shows up.

You text him back that you’re about to go do schoolwork at the library and that he can join if he wants. You don’t wait for his reply.

A while later, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: You still there?

You see it. And you don’t respond.

・・・・・

The library is pretty full for a Sunday afternoon. Rafe circles the first floor twice before he finds you. Each step makes him feel more and more like an idiot, wandering around looking for a girl who didn’t even bother to text him back.

He wants to leave, but then he sees you tucked at a four‑seater table by yourself, typing on your laptop. And the work to find you stupidly feels worth it.

You don’t notice him when he comes up behind the chair opposite you. Or maybe you do and pretend not to.

But he gets a full look at you before you glance up. And fuck, you look good. Your lips are pouted in concentration in a way that makes it impossible for him not to stare, and your top dips just enough that he has to drag his eyes back up before you catch him.

Your phone is right next to your laptop. You obviously saw his text. Still, he plays it cool. The worst thing he can do right now is make you think he cares. He needs to look like he put effort in, but not too much.

He slides into the chair across from you. You look up at the movement, pulled out of your focus.

“You’re actually here,” Rafe says quietly, a hint of surprise in his tone.

“Did you think I was lying?” you ask, cocking your head. You knew he’d come. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself.

You lean back in your chair and it gives you a second to take him in. He’s not wearing a hat for once, his hair falling over his forehead. He looks good.

“Maybe,” he jokes, dropping his backpack on the chair beside him. “I barely know you.”

“But you’ve known of me for a long time,” you reply.

It’s a reminder of how he agreed with Mac’s insult the other night. How he later told you he’d always wanted to talk to you. You both know how small the island is and how fast gossip travels.

The word he’s heard people use to describe you rings through his head. Bitch.

But Rafe’s instinct tells him that the word feels wrong after he saw you in your bedroom last night. He can’t get it out of his head, how caring you were with your roommate.

It fucked with him. He hates how badly he wants someone to be gentle with him. And how seeing that made him realize it.

He’s been blackout drunk more times than he can count, and no one’s ever looked out for him. His friends tell him to chill when he starts swinging at parties, but nobody’s there when he’s actually losing it.

All he’s ever been told is to man up. He’s never had someone care enough to try to steady him. And seeing you do it for someone only made the constant ache in his chest deepen.

Rafe looks at you now and leans back, pretending he’s unfazed, laying on his charm.

“It’s true what they say,” he answers. “That you don’t take shit from anyone.”

You wish it didn’t flatter you. You’re not naïve enough to fall for his obviously sugarcoated words. But still, it feels good to be seen as someone who stands her ground.

“What are you working on?” he asks, leaning over to pull out his laptop.

“Discussion boards,” you sigh. Forcing thoughts about readings and replying to classmates has eaten up your last half hour. “You?”

“Fuck, I should do those, too,” he says. You blink at him. It’s already midterm season, and as far as you know, discussion boards make up a huge chunk of most course grades.

“Have you done any?” you say in half-amusement.

“One.”

You nod, not surprised he expects to coast through everything.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmurs. “All I can type is true.”

Your laugh spills out before you can stop it. You put your hand over your mouth, looking around the quiet library, hoping you didn’t disturb anyone.

Rafe breathes a quiet chuckle, eyes focused on you. It’s the first time he’s heard you laugh like that. He’s caught off guard by how much he enjoys it because for a moment, it feels like you actually like each other.

You fall into an easy rhythm after that. You work, talk in between, occasionally catch each other looking.

And Rafe enjoys it. You’re fun. You always have a retort, challenging his sarcasm with yours, making him feel like he has the potential to be interesting to you if he tries just a little harder.

The sun dips lower outside the windows as time passes, and eventually, Rafe leans back in his chair before he says what’s on his mind.

He’s supposed to be charming enough to pull you in, but not so much that you start thinking you have any real power over him. That’s how he wins the bet. Make you feel wanted, but not too wanted.

“This isn’t what I was thinking when I asked to see you,” he says.

You look up. Technically, he asked you if you were free, but you don’t want him to think you’re hanging on his words.

“What were you thinking?” you ask.

His blue eyes are steady as he stares at you from across the table.

“I want to take you somewhere.”

“Keep it a surprise,” you respond, and Rafe smirks, because he knows that’s your way of agreeing to a date.

He starts to pack up and asks if you want him to walk you home. You agree for two reasons: because it’s dark and because you don’t want to say goodbye just yet.

・・・・・

You set out together, the campus hushed in the late evening. As you begin to walk side-by-side, your hands brush a few times. Neither of you move away. But eventually, just like last night, his strides start to outmatch yours.

“Do you always walk so fast?” you ask.

Rafe glances over, a slow grin tugging at his mouth.

“You want to take your time with me?” he says, but he still eases his pace.

You roll your eyes, but he catches your smile. His hand brushes yours again.

The two of you drift into conversation again, the quiet campus enveloping you. The lampposts cast pools of light across the pathways, and every time you step through one, you catch a different angle of Rafe. The curve of his grin, the way his eyes flick toward you, the way is hair a little messy from the wind.

But you don’t forget the years of half-knowing each other. The stories you heard long before you ever spoke to him. The things you saw back home. The moments that cemented your opinion of him.

And yet here you are, walking beside him like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You don’t like Rafe. Not a chance. He’s being somewhat tolerable today and you don’t know what his endgame is, but you’re not stupid. He definitely has one.

You refuse to believe that he’s behaving out of sincerity. But this is unexpected. You thought you’d go through this bet hating every minute with him. He’s kind of fun. Nonetheless, it’s effortless to keep your guard exactly where it’s always been.

You stop at the front door of your sorority house. Rafe stands close enough that you feel the warmth of him.

He studies you, drawn in despite himself. Even with your posture loose and your expression calm, there’s still a blankness in your face.

“You know,” he says, “you’re hard to read.”

“I get that a lot,” you reply. You’ve heard it from every guy you’ve ever been with. You’re direct when you want to be, but it’s like your inadvertent aloofness makes you some kind of mystery.

He cracks a smile. The porch light hums above you as he tilts his head, towering over you. He feels that pull in his chest again, that desire to close the space between you.

“Guess I have to ask if you’ll let me kiss you instead of just going for it, then,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him, feigning innocence, while the anticipation of his lips pressing on yours sends a rush of heat through you.

“You’re kind of desperate, huh?” you tease.

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“I mean… look at you,” he responds.

The air thickens. His gaze drops to your lips for what feels like the millionth time, and it’s ridiculous how good it makes you feel. Rafe is looking at you like he’s starving for you. It’s pure lust. You feel it too, deep in your stomach.

You reach out, fingers curling into the front of his shirt just enough to tug him closer, to make it clear that if this is happening, it’s happening on your terms.

His breath stops for just a second when you kiss him. His lips are soft and hot, and his hand comes up instinctively, cupping your face with a warmth that spreads across your skin.

He leans in, trying to draw you closer, to deepen the kiss and taste more of you, but you pull back before he can to leave him wanting more.

Rafe’s eyes open slowly, darker now, fixed on you. His lips are still parted and glossed from the kiss.

You knew it would feel good, but it doesn’t mean anything beyond the physical. It’s a temporary pleasure. No spark of anything deeper.

But while you don’t like him in any real way, the mutual attraction is strong enough that you’re already intrigued by what more you can do with him.

You offer a smile and reach for the doorknob, leaving him just like you did last night, suspended in the heat of the moment, wanting more.

(to be continued)