checkmate bitch

When Rafe opens the front door to see his teary eyed girlfriend, he’s hit with a torrent of emotions. Worry and anger battle, but the first thing he does is wrap an arm around Isla’s waist and pull her in for a hug. He knew it; he had an awful feeling that shit might hit the fan between Isla and her sister by the end of their shift, and the sight of Isla’s red rimmed eyes and pink nose proves him right. 

Rafe holds her close, her head against his chest and his free hand at the back of her head. “Are you okay?” he asks, the first and only important question to ask. He holds her close, inhaling her familiar and sweet lavender scent as he feels her arms wind around his waist, sliding under his unzipped hoodie. When he hears her sniffle, Rafe’s grip on her tightens, his jaw clenching in time with his chest. Rafe presses his lips to her temple and when he feels her shudder slightly, his pulse quickens. “Baby, please, talk to me.”

“I’m fucking tired,” she mumbles against him. “Can we—” Isla takes a breath and pulls back a bit, her arms still around him as she looks up. There’s a heaviness in Rafe’s chest when he sees the glassiness of her eyes as she sniffles, the hurt in her eyes that twists his stomach to the point of nausea. Alarm bells ring in Rafe’s head, demanding that he takes care of this—of her. To put an end to what and who is hurting her to the point of making her cry more than once. “Can we get in bed first? Please?”

The way her eyes are begging him, Rafe has no choice but to agree. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling her further into the house and locking the door behind her. Sarah’s not home, and neither are his parents, while Wheezie is up in her room. So Rafe takes Isla’s hand in his and leads her up the stairs to his room, shutting the door behind them. “Let me get you some clothes.”

Opening the dresser drawers, he grabs a worn shirt and shorts, and Isla quietly takes them and heads to the bathroom. Rafe sits on the edge of the bed as she uses the bathroom and changes, running his fingers through his hair as nervousness and worry makes his heart pump. He almost prefers the anger to these feelings though, overall, he just wants to make her feel better.

Rafe presses his teeth together, recalling the dirty scowls Kiara had been sending his way when he had gone to The Wreck for lunch. Frankly, Rafe doesn’t care about it; it would be nice if his girlfriend’s sister and friends accepted him, but at the end of the day, he only wants it so things are easier for Isla, so that she isn’t stressed out about worrying over her sister’s and friends’ feelings.

He knows it’s only been a day since they all found out, that it would likely take them time to accept this relationship, but he wishes they would hurry the fuck up. He wishes they would stop making Isla cry before he does something he might end up regretting—solely because it might upset Isla. 

In an ideal world, they all would get along; or, at the very least, Rafe and Isla’s friends would be able to tolerate each other because all that mattered was Isla’s happiness. Why is it so hard for her own friends to see that?

Rafe hears the bathroom door open and shut, looking over his shoulder to see Isla wearing his shirt, which hangs like a dress off of her, hiding the shorts she wears underneath as she places her folded clothes on his desk chair. There’s a dryness in Rafe’s throat as he sees the soft features of her crestfallen expression, full lips downturned and gaze lowered as she crawls onto the bed. Rafe gets up and walks over to the otherside, watching as Isla slides under the covers and he lifts the comforter on his side to get in as well.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna eat something?” he asks, voice gentle as though she’s a fawn he doesn’t want to frighten away.

He watches as Isla turns to her side, facing him, hugging the blanket as she lifts her gaze to look up at him where he sits with his back against the pillows. She looks so small, nibbling on her bottom lip as she shakes her head. “No, I’m not hungry,” she murmurs, the corner of her mouth lifting in a brief half smile.

Rafe nods, not wanting to push her. He turns to sit sideways, facing her, and reaches out to push tendrils of her hair away from her face. He sees the hurt swimming in her eyes and it makes his jaw clench. “You wanna talk about it?”

Isla sniffs, her gaze lifting to meet his. She’s quiet for a moment and Rafe waits patiently—anxiously—and she lets out a breath. “She called me desperate.” The air stills in Rafe’s lungs at the sound of Isla’s slightly hoarse voice, the words she just spoke. “Kiara. They all think I’m making a mistake, that they know you better than I do. They think you’re using me, that I’m just falling for an act you’re putting up. They kept bringing up the past, and I reminded them they’re not all innocent in it, either, and that people can change.” Her gaze remains fixed on his while Rafe feels his chest growing tighter and tighter. “They have no idea what they’re talking about. They’re just. . . Too angry right now to actually hear what I’m saying. It’s all so fucked—” She lets out a dry laugh and he sees a tear leak out of the corner of her eye, falling onto the pillow beneath her. “And talking to them right now is pointless. Not when they’re too stubborn to acknowledge they might be wrong, or that they’re being assholes.”

Rafe’s head spins, processing Isla’s words. Her sister called her desperate? He hates that Isla has faced them by herself, without him by her side to be the pillar of support he wants to be for her. A part of him—a stupid, naíve part of him—had hoped that this wouldn’t be too big of a deal for Isla’s friends, and he knew it before and knows it now how ridiculous that hope was, even if it wasn’t hope for him but for his girl. The pang vibrates pain through chest when he sees the sadness that has settled on her features; he saw it yesterday, and seeing it again today makes him even more desperate to make this right. Even if he’s clueless as to how.

He’s not sure how talking to any of them will go—especially considering how pissed he is with how they have been treating Isla, he may end up saying or doing something he’d regret. The idea of having to prove himself to Isla’s friends irks him, but not more than how much he likes her and wants to be with her. He’ll do anything to prove to her friends that he adores her and wants this relationship to work. But whether they believe him or not is up in the air.

“They’re not being fair to you,” Rafe finds himself saying, his eyebrows furrowing together. “I doubt anything I say will hold any weight with them, but I can try—”

“I know you want to help,” Isla cuts in, sitting up and making the blanket fall around her lap as she faces him, the light of the lamp glinting against her nose ring. “But I told you, they’re too stubborn right now, and angry about it all. It’s all too fresh right now, you know? I doubt talking to them is going to help, whether it’s me or you. And I’m—” She lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping as she looks at him a bit guiltily. “I’m half afraid if you talk to them, it might not end well for anyone. I don’t want them attacking you or you saying something that might, like, trigger them.” 

He scoffs slightly, though he begrudgingly agrees with her. Whether it’s her friends or him, someone out of any of them could say anything that could make things worse for Isla, and Rafe would much rather not contribute to that. She knows her friends, so he trusts her in what to do, but. . .

“I just feel helpless, you know?” he admits, reaching out and absently playing with her name necklace, noting the way her expression softens. “I want to make this better for you. I hate that you’re hurting and I. . . I hate that it’s because of our relationship.”

“I don’t blame our relationship,” Isla says with a shake of her head, frowning as her gaze searches his. “And I hope you don’t, either. It’s because I hurt my friends—”

“By being with me,” Rafe counters with an arch of his eyebrow, even if his brain is yelling at him to shut up. Is he trying to give her a reason to leave him? To make her realize things with her friends and sister will go back to normal if she left him? What the fuck?

“But they’re hurting me too by not listening to me,” Isla returns firmly, unwavering. “Rafe—” She sighs, taking his hand that was playing with her necklace in both of hers, holding their joined hands to her chest. He can faintly feel her heart thumping under his hand, her touch warm and soft. “I told you, this is all still new for them. It’s a reality they didn’t see coming and I really think they just need some time to accept it. I mean—” Isla exhales heavily. “It’d be great if they stopped being jerks, but I still want to just give them time, you know? And I hope during that time, they’ll see how happy you make me and realize they were wrong.” 

A small, hopeful smile appears on her face as she says those words, and even as Rafe admires the sight of it and the dimples that make an appearance, he sees the hurt that still lingers in her gaze; a sadness that has been there since yesterday. “Just gotta wade through all of the shit.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his throat working in worry. “I hate that you’re having to deal with this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Isla assures him in a softened tone that makes his heart ache. Her smile returns, dimples and all, as she raises their joined hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. His skin sears where her lips touch it. “I know I’ve been crying like a baby—” She cracks a smile when he shoots her a disapproving look because he doesn’t fault her at all for crying “But I do think it’ll work out in the end. Just gotta—”

“Wade through all of the shit?” Rafe repeats, mirth dancing in his eyes and a downturned smile on his lips. He doesn’t like it, this struggle she’s having with her friends, but the least he can do is be here for her. “Alright, you got it.”

Isla smiles before nodding towards the pillows. “Bed time?”

He returns the smile, dipping his chin in a nod. Whatever she needs. “Bed time.”

*****

Opening his eyes when he wakes in the morning, Rafe is in no hurry to get out of bed. He’s got a whole morning routine to work out, take a shower, have breakfast before heading off to work, but this morning he’s ready to postpone all of it in preference to remaining in bed next to his sleeping girlfriend.

He lays on his right side, watching Isla, who lays on her left side. Her body rises and falls gently with the steady breaths she takes, tendrils of dark wavy hair resting against the curve of her cheek as she sleeps. Face bare of any makeup, Rafe admires the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, more prominent now that it’s the summer time and she spends a lot of time out in the sun. Those full lips are barely parted, her dark hair splayed against the pillow. Beautiful, as always. To the point where just looking at Isla summons a sweet ache in Rafe’s chest.

Lucky. He’s so damn lucky to have her. . . And he hates that it’s causing her pain because of her friends. His own friends have been giving him shit for dating her, but they’ve shut up quickly after Rafe made it clear he wasn’t going to put up with any of that shit—and he was not going to let it slide if any of them made Isla feel uncomfortable in any sort of way. She’s already getting enough of that from her friends, it won’t be happening from his side, too.

Rafe lets out a sigh before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Isla’s head, reveling in her lavender scent, before he carefully gets out of bed, not wanting to disturb her. Running his fingers through his hair, he quickly uses the bathroom before exiting his bedroom. The house is quiet, which means his family is either still asleep or not at home and has already started the day.

As Rafe walks down the stairs, he looks out the window and notes his dad’s car isn’t in the driveway. Walking to the kitchen, he pulls out his phone and texts his old man.

To: Dad

I don’t have any meetings today, but do you need me for anything important?

Rafe begins pulling out ingredients to make breakfast when his dad responds.

From: Dad

No, nothing I can’t handle. Why? Playing hooky?

To: Dad

I wanted to spend the day with Isla. She’s going through a hard time. 

From: Dad

Of course, kiddo. Take care of your girl.

Rafe smiles briefly at his dad’s message before putting his phone on the counter and getting to work, grateful to be a part of the family business so he doesn’t have to answer to anyone other than his dad. Until Rafe takes over, but that won’t be for another couple of years. He’s perfectly fine in putting off that weight of responsibility.

So now, he works on cooking breakfast, relieved that they have all of the ingredients for him to make some omelets. Pulling out some tomatoes, onions, and green peppers, Rafe begins to chop them up. The coffee is brewing and he’s got slices of bread in the toaster, ready to toast, as he pours the cheesy and vegetable omelet mixture onto the pan. The aroma hits him as it cooks, the sizzle of the eggs distracting him from the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen.

“That smells delicious,” Isla muses from behind him, bringing a smile to Rafe’s face when he feels her arms slide around his waist as she comes to stand at his side. His free arm hooks around her shoulders, his other hand holding the spatula, and Rafe presses a kiss to the top of her head, her dark hair in waves down her shoulders. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” Isla answers softly, her voice still sleepy as she cuddles into him. Rafe smiles, holding her close as he cooks their breakfast. “Your bed is stupidly comfortable.”

Rafe chortles quietly as he flips an omelet. “You can stay here whenever you want, baby,” he murmurs, meaning every word as he feels Isla relax against him. He hates seeing her upset, feels an intense combination of anger and concern whenever he sees the tears in her eyes. It goes against his nature to not confront Isla’s friends and sister for how they’ve made her feel. They made her cry and he’s supposed to just sit back and let it happen?

He knows Isla said he shouldn’t interfere out of fear that it could make things worse and he respects it because those are her friends. It’s already complicated, and he doesn’t want to fuck things up more. Keeping his mouth shut, though, is difficult because all he wants to do is take care of Isla, in every way possible. If he can’t tell her friends to lay the fuck off, the least he can do is just be here for her. And being right next to her is his favorite place to be.

“Want some help?” Isla asks, her gaze looking around, and Rafe can tell she wants to do something to keep herself occupied.

“Yeah. You wanna get our coffee?” he asks, nodding towards the Keurig.

Isla hums in affirmation. He feels her rise up on her toes, though, before her lips press to his cheek, and Rafe smiles at the sweet kiss as she moves to make their coffee. “When are you going to work?” she asks.

“I’m not,” Rafe answers. When she throws him a quizzical—yet hopeful—look, he chuckles. “Took the day off because I wanted to spend it with you.” When Isla’s lips part in surprise, Rafe pauses before sucking a breath through his teeth, realizing he may have gotten ahead of himself. “But I should’ve checked if you had plans today already.”

She lets out a laugh, the sound lightening his chest as she gives a shake of her head. “No other plans,” she says, the Keurig now on as she walks back over to him. “You have something in mind?” 

Rafe plates one of the omelets and pushes down the lever of the toaster. “How ’bout a beach day?” he asks, nodding towards the window that shows clear blue skies. “It’s the perfect beach day, I think.”

Isla’s gaze flicks towards the window before a smile grows on her face. Dimples and all. Rafe’s heart pounds. “Yeah, that sounds fun,” she agrees with a gentle nod. “I’m gonna need to head home to grab my bathing suit and—you mind if I surf?”

Rafe snorts out a laugh as he plates the second omelet. “Why would I mind?” Shooting her a smirk, he adds, “You’re not getting me on a board, though.”

She mirrors his smirk, shrugging a shoulder. “We’ll see.”

When breakfast is ready, Rafe sets the small round table by the glass wall looking into the backyard. Isla laughs when, after she sits, Rafe grips the bottom of her chair and drags her towards him so she’s as close as she can be. The morning sunlight bathes into the room as Isla pulls her hair up in a bun, a few wavy tendrils escaping and framing her heart shaped face. She’s glowing, even if her eyes are a little red rimmed—but she’s smiling, and he doesn’t want that to disappear.

“This is so good,” she mumbles after swallowing the first bite of egg and toast, widening her eyes at Rafe from where she sits on his left. As she reaches for her mug, she adds, “Gonna need you to make me breakfast, like, every day.”

Rafe grins, arching an eyebrow. “You won’t hear any arguments from me,” he answers. 

“Been holding out on me,” she mumbles, shooting him a feigned glare as she eats. “We should have you work at the Wreck. That’d really set Kie off.”

Rafe scoffs, leaning back in the chair as he grabs his own mug. “She might kill us,” he points out.

Isla scoffs after swallowing her bite. “I’d like to see her try.” Sigh, she leans back as well, right leg crossing over her knee as she shakes her head and looks at him. “I don’t wanna think about what happened yesterday, okay? I just—we move forward. Whatever the hell’s gonna happen, is gonna happen. I’m fine.”

When Rafe meets her gaze pointedly, not wanting her to lie to him, she huffs. “I will be fine,” she corrects begrudgingly. Putting her mug down, she reaches towards him and rests her hand at the back of her head. He leans his head back slightly, more into her touch as he feels her fingers in his heart, the sensation one he loves feelings as much as she loves doing it. “Thank you for breakfast.”

His hand rests on her knee. “Literally any time.”

“Is your family home?” she asks as they return to eating.

“Dad and Rose are at work,” he answers, his gaze sliding in the direction of the stairs. “Wheezie’s probably asleep and Sarah. . .” He trails off with a confused stretch of her name. “She’s either also asleep or spent the night at John B’s. I can’t keep track anymore.”

Isla hums in acknowledgement, gaze dropping to her plate as she goes to take another bite. But Rafe catches the melancholy look that darkens her eyes, and Rafe wants to desperately get rid of that look. “So! Shower after breakfast and then the beach?”

Isla nods, looking at him with a gentle smile. “Sounds good.”

They finish up breakfast and Isla helps Rafe clear the table even though he tries to gently bump her hip out of the way, but she only shoots him an easy smile as she helps him load the dishwasher. It doesn’t take long for them to head back to his room without running into either of his sisters, and as Rafe opens his closet door, he glances at Isla over his shoulder.

“You wanna shower first?”

She looks at him, gaze flickering up from her phone. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Or we can shower together,” she suggests, cheeks prettily pink.

She doesn’t have to tell him twice.

Five minutes later, they’re under the hot spray of his shower, massaging shampoo into their hair and Rafe can’t help but smirk at the fact that Isla is going to smell like him afterwards. “Ugh, this feels so good,” Isla moans in satisfaction when she stands under the spray, washing the shampoo out with her head tilted back and eyes closed—and utterly oblivious to Rafe’s hungry gaze.

His breathing shallows out as he watches rivulets of water trail down the swells of her breasts, a delicious handful as his mouth waters with the need to get those pert nipples in his mouth, just a few shades darker than the smooth brown of her flawless skin. Before he can even think about it, Rafe’s hands are reaching forward until they’re resting on the swell of her hips, prompting Isla’s eyes to open to meet his immediately.

The green of her eyes always takes his breath away, reminding him of the deep green of tree leaves when spring and summer meet. His new favorite color, he admires, as he pulls her close until their fronts are pressed together, feeling the perfect mounds of her breasts against his torso as she looks up at him with arched eyebrows as she pushes her dark hair until it’s slicked back.

“Can I help you?” she inquires playfully as he admires the way droplets of water caught on her eyelashes. A smile dances on the edge of her mouth, showing off those dimples he’s obsessed with.

“Just admirin’,” Rafe answers, his thumbs rubbing circles on her hips as the water surrounds them both. 

Isla’s grin widens, effectively deepening her dimples. It makes him weak in the damn knees. “Maybe you should be showering instead.”

Rafe scoffs out a laugh, tilting his head. “Isn’t that why you asked me to shower with you?” he muses with a slow growing grin, looking down at her. He raises his hands, cupping her cheeks, her face heart shaped and perfectly sized to fit in the palms of his hands as he wipes droplets of water away from the apples of her cheeks, though new drops replace them. He is sure his heart does a somersault in his chest when she squints her eyes with that grin she gives him. “Pretty sure it wasn’t for just showering.”

“Oh, so you can read my mind now, huh?” Isla asks, her own arms winding around him and Rafe’s grin widens impossibly when he feels her familiar touch cup his ass as she pushes herself closer into him. When Rafe hums his affirmative, Isla laughs and he watches as she goes on the tips of her toes and tilts her chin up to him. 

“Yeah, baby, I can read your mind,” Rafe murmurs before kissing her, using his grasp on her cheeks, his pinkies under her jaw, to tilt her head back up. Rafe groans appreciatively when her lips open under his almost immediately, always loving how responsive she is as his hands bury in the thick of her wet hair, feeling her fingers run up and down his back as Rafe turns her until her back is against the wall.

Isla’s back arches, her nails digging into his back as she gasps, “Oh, my God, that’s cold.” She laughs, the pretty sound echoing off the tiles of the shower as her arm hooks around his neck and Rafe keeps kissing her smiling lips.

“Want me to turn?” he asks, thinking of her comfort even as he nips at her lower lip.

“Nuh-uh,” she murmurs with a shake of her head, returning the kiss eagerly. “Just want you.”

Well, he’s never one to deny her anything, shooting her a smirk as he lowers down to his knees, trailing kisses down her body as he does. His gaze never leaves Isla’s face, her cheeks flushed and lips kiss swollen as her chest moves quickly with the way her breathing grows shallow with every kiss he places across the planes of her stomach and her hip bones as his fingers brush and down the backs of her thighs. 

The hot shower spray hits his back and shoulders as he kisses up the inside of her thighs before he licks up her center. He earns an instant reaction from her in the way she cries out and her hand finds home at the back of his head, fingers sliding through the short wet strands of his hair as Rafe licks into her. She tugs, he groans, and her body shudders as his tongue flicks her clit and when Rafe flickers up, he sees her tilting her head back and her free hand pressed to her mouth to silence the sounds escaping.

And Rafe won’t have that.

“What’re you doing?” he asks lowly, looking up at her but not fully pulling away, teasingly using his tongue to trace her lips from where he remains kneeling. “Let me hear you.”

Isla shakes her head, skin flushed, and Rafe knows it’s from both the hot shower and from him licking and sucking at her. Through her fingers, she gasps out, “Your sisters—”

“They can’t hear shit from here,” Rafe says, his words coming out as a low growl. When he sucks her clit into his mouth, Isla lets out a sharp cry, the sound just as loud as he wants, and he grunts in satisfaction. “That’s it, baby.”

He feasts on her as if he didn’t just have breakfast, spreading her open with his fingers and diving his tongue in as deeply as he can, drunk on the taste of her as he feels her tremble under his touch. He’s obsessed, honestly, with how her body reacts to him; every ragged breath and desperate moan and quiver of her muscles all the while her fingers tighten in his hair.

“God—oh, God, yes,” she moans, her hips moving with him, grinding her pussy against his mouth “Just—I’m so close—”

Another suck of her clit and she falls apart with a sharp cry and Rafe groans as the sweet, familiar taste of her hits his tongue, taking everything she’s giving him and letting her ride her climax on his tongue. She grows limp but Rafe’s hold on her his tight as he rises to his full height, and although Isla is catching her breath, she doesn’t hesitate in surging up and kissing him. 

Their tongues meet and Isla moans softly as she no doubt tastes him on her tongue and it sends a rush of hot blood straight to his cock, making him realize just how painfully hard he is. “Fuck,” he hisses when Isla’s hand wraps around his cock.

“Need you inside of me,” she says into their kiss—if it can be classified as that, with just their lips sliding against one another, breathing together. “Now, Rafe.”

His lips quirk up in a breathless sort of a smirk, his pulse electric when she gives a slow, teasing pump of his cock. “Love it when you get bossy,” he murmurs as his hands slide to her hips, then lower to her thighs.

“I prefer to call it knowing what I like,” she laughs gently as he grips the back of her thighs. “Now?” she asks knowingly.

Rafe nips at her bottom lip. “Now.”

She jumps up carefully, Rafe’s grip secure on her thighs as she wraps her legs around him, her arms around his neck and lips finding his again under the spray of water. Isla’s hand, wrapped around his cock, guides him towards her entrance, and all Rafe can think is that he wouldn’t mind adding this to his morning routine.

--

eight sunday, february 2nd

you've gotten the question 'how do you do it?' a couple of times in your life. you've always been the kind to never stop running, never stop moving, never stop working, just never stop. never even take a break, really. any 'free' time was an opportunity to do something useful or productive.

you're pretty sure you never really 'cracked the code'. the code was kind of built inside of you, weirdly embedded in your brain. you've always been disciplined, you've always known that small, deliberate actions over time were the only way to stay consistent. it does help that you've always had this purpose or reason to do it.

you knew what you wanted, who you wanted to be.

you knew that commiting, sticking to the plan was the only way to get there.

in order to stick to a plan, there had to be a plan.

it makes sense that you wrote out an entire two page document, detailed and in depth with graphs, sources and pictures explaining your complete approach to getting over rafe and putting some much needed space between you two.

you're picking your nails, a habit you'd abandoned years ago after a rather brutal pull that ended with you in tears while your dad disinfected your bleeding thumb.

now here you were again, staring at the dining room table you'd temporarily transformed into a desk for rafe's tutoring session. step one of your plan was distance, of course. you had to block him away emotionally and him wandering around in your room, letting his smell linger, leaving his clothes or his stuff sitting there for days, lying in your bed. it was too close. too personal.

your room was a sanctuary, it was essentially your place of work and your home all at the same time. it had to feel serene and cleansed from distractions like feelings for boys.

the table was set up the same way your desk was: his notebook, pencil and calculator neatly placed on the table. you even placed a bottle of water right there so he didn't need to go wandering into your kitchen for anything. there was no need for him to walk around your house.

you would sit diagonal to him, working on the valentine's day cards which you were super behind on because you spent multiple days being too upset to even look at a heart-shaped-anything.

your dad was also sitting in the living room working on his laptop which somehow made it feel even more impersonal. it was perfect.

the doorbell rang and you froze for a moment. "are you gonna open that..or should i?" your dad called from the living room and you jumped into action. "uh! no, it's rafe. i'm going, sorry." you're rushing to the door and take a deep breath. "just be casual, be normal." you whisper to yourself before opening the door.

don't even think about how good he looks or smells or just how good it feels to even be in his viscinity. don't. don't. don't. shut up. don't.

"hey." he says as you move to the side to let him in. "hi. was the..drive good? any traffic?" what kind of a stupid question was that? this town had less than 50 000 people. there was never that much traffic.

he seems to be confused by the question as well, "no, no..traffic. it's sunday.."

"that is.. good. really good." you stand there with your hands behind your back as he takes his shoes off and when he walks over to you, in front of the stairs, he gives you a look and raises his brows. "are we gonna go up?" he slowly asks and you press your lips together and shake your head. "so, actually. i had this really fun idea that we could just..stay down here." you gesture to the dining room down the hall.

he looks at where you're gesturing before he looks at you again. "you want to stay down here?" he questioned, eyes boring into yours. "mm, i would like to stay down here..it's..i—it doesn't really matter where we sit, right?"

he blinks at you, lips parted. "right," he says softly and you nod and repeat after him before turning and heading into the dining room. he followed and his eyes immediately went to the table set up before glancing at your dad. "hey, y/d/n." he says and your dad greets him back, this big smile on his face that kind of makes you want to shove him. this boy broke his little girl's heart and he was just smiling at him? okay, sure, he doesn't know that it even happened but he should just sense those things. is that too much to ask?

you don't waste any time. the minute rafe sits down, you're getting into the lesson. "alright, last lesson we covered how to solve systems of equations by graphing, substitution and elimination. do you feel like there's one or multiple methods that you struggled with the most when you were doing the exercises?"

he looks at you, seemingly lost for a moment. "before we start, can we just—"

you tense. "maybe during the break. so, any issues?" it seems like he sees the momentary panic in your face because his eyes soften before he nods and exhales, "i..i guess with the graphing, i struggled with the overlapping lines and the parallel ones and for substitution, isolating variables and variables in general is still a shaky one."

you nod and stand right next to him, reading his notes carefully. "you're not gonna sit?" he looks at you. you don't look at him. "i'm okay, so, for the overlapping lines and parallel, what you need to remember is overlapping lines represent infinitely many solutions and parallel lines is the concept of no solution or an inconsistent system. it's kind of confusing but once you can set those apart and remember what they mean, it gets easier." you flip his page then, "and for the variables, i can see that you forgot to solve for the second variable a couple of times. remember that after finding one variable, you have to plug it back in to find the other."

"wait, but i thought when i did this, i was solving for the second variable…?" rafe points at his page, eyebrows furrowed as his pencil drags under a line of equations. "because i brought this one over."

you lean closer, bending over his notebook to see what he’s pointing at. "no," you say, tilting your head toward him. "i explained this last time, but you were too busy trying to braid my hair instead of listening, remember?"

he cracks a lopsided smile, the kind that always threatens to make your knees weak. "just trying to grow my skillset," he murmurs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at your lips. "anyway," you say, nudging his pencil aside gently, "what you’re actually doing here is moving the term over to isolate one variable first. see? once that’s done, then you substitute it into the second equation to find the other variable."

you wait for his usual reaction, the quiet "ohhh" that always follows whenever he finally pieces something together. but the silence stretches, and when nothing comes, you turn to him. "you get… it?" the words falter on your lips as your gaze meets his, and the rest of the room seems to fall away.

he’s already staring at you, his eyes steady and unrelenting. they’re warm, piercing, and hold a depth you can’t even begin to describe. you don’t even have time to process how close you are, how his breath brushes faintly against your cheek, or how the faint furrow of his brow softens as he takes you in.

you feel caught, anchored by something invisible yet impossibly strong. your heart hammers so loud in your chest you’re sure he can hear it. the air around you thickens, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged tension. it’s as if the world has narrowed to just the two of you, and nothing could pull you out of this moment.

remember the plan. remember the plan. you try to tell yourself but then his eyes flicker down for the briefest second, not enough to seem deliberate, but enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. when they meet yours again, it feels like he’s trying to tell you something without saying a word. it’s overwhelming, consuming, and utterly impossible to look away.

your breath catches, the intensity growing unbearable. you’re drowning in the weight of it—this connection, this magnetism that shouldn’t feel as monumental as it does. and just when you think you might give in, might let yourself fall into whatever this moment is, you tear yourself away.

your eyes drop to the notebook in front of you, your hands fumbling to straighten the page unnecessarily. "so, um… yeah, just try the new exercises i made and i'm here if you need help," you say, your voice a pitch higher than usual, and you can feel your face burning. you bee-line for the kitchen before you actually make the situation worse.

you paced in the kitchen for a couple of minutes before casually walking back into the dining room. you slid into your seat and could feel rafe's eyes on you but you refused to look up. you willed yourself to focus on the notes and hundreds of pink and red enveloppes in front of you.

the entire session went the same way. you worked on your envelopes, and rafe worked on his exercises. you answered his questions when needed, but you never moved from your spot.

near the end of the lesson, your dad's voice carried from the doorway, casual and warm. "rafe, are you eating dinner with us?" it had become a bit of a routine—your sessions almost always wrapped up around dinner time. but tonight, you’d planned for this.

"no, not today," you answered for him.

your dad hesitated, clearly surprised to hear your voice instead of rafe's. his confusion deepened when he glanced at you, taking in your stern expression. after a moment, he nodded sharply, muttering, "got it," before disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen.

"what was that?"

"what was what?"

rafe stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape. for a moment, you thought he might just leave, but instead, he stopped at the doorway, turning back to you. his eyes pinned you in place. "come here," he said firmly, his voice low but unyielding.

you blinked at the demand, your body rooted to the spot. "what—"

his jaw tightened. without repeating himself, he walked straight to you, his movements deliberate, his frustration radiating off him like heat. you thought he’d just grab your wrist and tug you to your feet, but instead, he did something much more dramatic.

"rafe, what are you—"

before you could finish, he bent down, his arms looping around your waist as he hauled you over his shoulder with ease.

"rafe!" you yelped, your voice higher than you’d like as you squirmed against him. "what the hell are you doing?"

he didn’t answer. didn’t even flinch. he just turned and started walking, his steps firm and purposeful as he carried you up the stairs like you weighed nothing. you slapped his back and demanded to be put down, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

he set you down, right on the edge of your bed. you jumped to your feet immediately, but he was already there, standing in front of you, so close you could feel his breath. the proximity was overwhelming, so you sat back down again, instinctively creating space.

"rafe—"

"no. i’ll do the talking now." his tone left no room for argument. he pulled your chair from your desk, dragging it a little too roughly across the floor before sitting down, facing you. you felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his stare, and for a split second, you felt small—like a kid about to get scolded by the principal.

"i don’t know what happened last week. i don’t know why you won’t talk to me. i can’t help but assume that you either aren’t ready to talk or just don’t want to talk to me, but i can figure out that i’ve done something to upset you. i can’t force you to open up, but if you don’t… i won’t know what the hell i’m doing. i’ll apologize, because, honestly, i just want this," he waved a hand toward you, your whole being, "to stop."

he leaned forward, his voice steady, firm. "you’re ignoring me at school, you barely answer my texts, and we won’t even talk about how you yelled at me on wednesday because clearly, you don’t want to talk about that either. i’ll never bring any of it up again, if that’s what you need from me. but now? you’re shutting me out completely. we can’t even sit in your room? i can’t stay for dinner, you won’t sit next to me—what the hell is this all supposed to mean?"

his gaze was unwavering. "i want to fix it. i want to make things right. but if you won’t let me, if you refuse to even try, you can’t act like i’m the enemy. you can’t be pissed at me, not tell me why, and then shut me out and act like i'm somehow misunderstanding the situation. that’s not how this works."

his voice was tight, but there was no shouting. just a clear, deliberate force.

"okay." you nod after a moment. "okay?" he repeats and you nod after him. "you're right. i'm not being fair, it's just..i d-don't really—i w-want to—"

he stops you the moment you start to struggle, "don't. don't force yourself to tell me anything if you don't want to. i just don't want to lose this. " he says and your mind immediately flashes to him with adriana before you can even delusionalise yourself into thinking he meant that in a romantic way.

"i know..and our friendship is important to me too. i just.." you start slowly and he's looking at you with these, big, kind, hopeful eyes. "i am a very type-a person—"

"you don't say."

you glare at him, "—and i work well with planning, order, organization. i don't like mess. i don't like things that don't go my way. now, please, do not take this the bad way because i promise, i don't want you gone, you aren't a burden," you beg quietly and he nods reluctantly, "but..this..situation we've found ourselves in has significantly.." you pause and search for the right word, "upset my balance and i think that the bonfire was a bit much. that is all. i j-just..got my period that day and i've been doing all this stuff that i usually don't do like not following my schedule by the letter so i needed to let it all sink in a bit and i process things in a very specific way which makes me lose sight of other people's feelings sometimes but i'll try to stop. i promise." you say and rafe raises his brows, "yeah?" he asks and you nod, faint smile on your lips when he grins because it's impossible to not smile with a grin as contagious as his.

safe to say you didn't stick to the plan.

Taglist:

“You got this.” He gives her a small nod of gratitude before heading off, the need to find you guiding him.

He passes by the bar, not even noticing Sofia calling his name. She follows behind him, picking up her pace so she can catch him. She grabs his shoulder and he jumps at her touch. He turns around to see her, her face covered in concern, with a bit of sorrow behind her eyes. 

“Sofia, I have to-” He starts. 

“Find her. I know.” She finishes for him. “But can we please talk first?” She pleaded, “I think you owe it to me.” 

He looks towards the door, he’s so close and you could already be gone, but his conscience is telling him to stay with Sofia and give her the decency of a conversation. Sofia was such a sweet girl, but there was something missing. Something so simple, she wasn’t you. 

He looks back to her, “Yes. Of course.”

She reaches for his wrist, avoiding his hand, it didn’t feel right to hold it now and gently tugs his arm, guiding him down the hall to find a more private space.

She jumps right into it without hesitation, “I know you still love her, Rafe.” He’s taken aback by her bluntness. “I could tell just by the way you looked at her in the diner yesterday. It was like you didn’t ever want to look away.” There was a quiet strain in her voice that gave away her hidden pain “You’ve never looked at me like that.”

“Sofia-”

“Just let me finish, please,” her tone is soft. He stayed silent as a cue for her to continue, “that’s not something I feel right keeping you from, Rafe. That smile she brings you, that look in your eyes. That’s special, you can’t lose that.”

Rafe felt overwhelmed with guilt, “Sofia I’m so...”

“No, you did nothing wrong. I’m fine.” She says as she puts on a brave face, forcing a small smile. “Really Rafe, I’m okay. You and I both know this wasn’t going to last much longer, we’ve been growing apart for a while.” He gulps, knowing she was right. “I’m not going to stand in the way of two people who belong together.” Though she says she’s okay, her eyes glistened, unshed tears clinging to her lashes.

“I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you Sofia, you’ve always been so good to me.” He kept eye contact with her, wanting her to know he truly meant it.

“It does hurt, I can’t lie about that, but I’m surprised at how well I’m handling this.” She let out a soft laugh.

“Thank you.” He hesitated, but pulled her in for a hug. A single tear slid down her face and she wiped it before he could see. After they separated his gaze lingered on her, filled with a bittersweet tenderness. 

“Go,” she encouraged her voice breaking slightly.

A sorrowful smile tugged at his lips, barely masking the guilt he felt. He gave a slight nod before turning and making his way toward the door, intent on finding you. She watched him go, quietly yearning for him to turn back around and choose her, but acceptance slowly washed over her as she saw him go through the door, you somewhere on the other side.

As he steps outside, he hears a familiar voice behind him, “took you long enough.” His attention is brought to Kiara, who leaning against the building. 

“Where is she? Am I too late?” He asks her frantically.

“She headed down to the beach, I’m not sure which way she went. She’s really overwhelmed, Rafe. She knows she made a mistake, but please just be gentle with her.” Kiara asked, putting the well-being of her best friend first, as always. 

“I will, I promise. I can’t lose her again, Kie.” She could see the desperation in his eyes. He starts towards the beach knowing exactly where you’d be. You had a spot not too far from the club, where you would always meet as kids to escape the noise. It had become a special place for you two. He had a feeling you’d go there. So many of your important moments happened in this one spot. It was where your shared your first kiss, said you loved each other and where you told him you were leaving. He hadn’t been there since. 

He trudged through the sand until he finally made his way to the little alcove surrounded by trees. He found you sitting scrunched up, knees to your chest and your head resting on them. He walked toward you slowly, now wishing he had more time to think of what he was going to say. 

You heard his footstep and looked up to see him cautiously approaching you. “Rafe?” you questioned. Your hands quickly flew up to wipe away your tears, feeling embarrassed with him seeing you like this. “What’re you doing here?”

“I couldn’t let you leave like that.” He continued nervously, “I just- I needed to talk to you.” You didn’t respond. “But, I can go, I understand if you-”

“No,” you cut him off, “Stay.” 

He hesitated for a moment, before stepping closer and crouching down to sit beside you, your knees brushing as he did. You both looked back towards the ocean and sat in silence for a few minutes, wondering who was going to break it first. 

It was him, “You know I haven’t been here since you left.” You both continued to look forward, watching the waves crash. “Actually, I did try once about a week after, I thought it would help and bring me some sort of comfort, but it was the opposite.” You finally looked towards him, “So I never came back.” That made your heart break, this spot was always a safe place for you both to run to when things got to be too much and you took that away from him.

“Rafe.” His gaze met yours, “I never truly apologized to you. I’m so sorry.” You let out a small sob and his hand instantly found its way to your back to soothe you. You let out another sob at his touch, causing Rafe to pull you in tightly to his chest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now.” He squeezed you gently, attempting to pull you as close to him as possible. He ran his hands up and down your back and through your hair until your breathing steadied.

You knew you should pull away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to, you didn’t want to. You missed this, you missed him. His touch, his scent, just being in his presence. It had been years since you’ve been this close to someone, this vulnerable.

You let out and uncomfortable chuckle. “You shouldn’t be comforting me,” you said through sniffles, into his chest.

He created just enough space between you both to bring a finger to your chin and tilt your face to look up to him. He could see the pain hiding behind your eyes and you could see the sorrow that drowned in his. His gaze flickered down to your lips, tempting you to lean in. You so badly wanted to taste him, to melt into him again. You felt yourself almost being pulled toward him, but stopped just before meeting his lips.

“Sofia,” you said shortly. As much as you wanted Rafe, you wouldn’t do that to another woman, this was already too close. You created distance between you too, releasing yourself from his arms.

“Sofia and I broke up,” he says flatly.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, please don’t tell me it was because of me,” you begged.

He reasoned, “it had been dying out for a while.”

“So, I was the final straw.” You stated instead of questioned.

“It was not you, it was me,” he corrected you. “If I didn’t still love you, her and I would still be together and unhappy, just waiting for the day one of us would be brave enough to pull the plug.” It sounded harsh, but it was the truth.

You turned to face him fully, he followed in suit, your feet touching in the sand. “Rafe, how can you still love me after all this?” You asked even though you weren’t sure you were prepared for the answer.

“You really hurt me, Y/n.” Your eyes stayed on the ground, avoiding eye contact out of shame.

“But, I know you know that and I don’t want to keep holding it against you and punishing you for that.” He reached forward and grabbed your hands to stop your fidgeting. You looked up to him, just to instantly look away again, feeling nervous.

“Hey, look at me,” he said so gently, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Your eyes met his, “I forgive you.”

Your face began to crumpled and tears you hadn’t realized were there began to spill down your cheeks. You took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly as more tears fell, “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that.”

Rafe reached forward and softly wiped his thumb under your eye wiping away your tears, but then keeping his hand there. He gently held your cheek and you dip your head into his hand, letting it rest there. You close your eyes taking in the feeling and distant familiarity of his touch. His thumb lightly stroked your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand finds its way to the other side of your face, fully holding you. You open your eyes to find his lined with tears as well. “It will always be you,” He whispered. He pulled you close, stopping just as your noses touched, but before your lips found each other’s as if he was waiting for approval. You gently nodded your head and that’s all he needed. He closed the small gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss at first, as if he was testing the waters. The world seems to fall away as you lost yourself against him. The kiss deepened slowly, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer and yours resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was savored. You were both taking your time, melting into one another. It was everything you both had waited for, everything you needed. This was pure bliss. As you pulled away, breathless, your foreheads pressed together, big smiles find their way to both of your glossy lips.

“Come here, let me hold you,” he says and situates you both so your leaning back against his chest with his arms wrapped around you. You sink into him, enjoying the sensation of being in his arms again.

“You know, I wish I followed you that day,” he says as you run your fingers up and down his arm. His words hang in the air for a moment, heavy with regret.

“Your life and dreams were here, Rafe. I wouldn’t have let you leave that behind,” you responded honestly. “Who was I to take you away from that?”

“I would have found new dreams out there,” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of sadness and yearning.

“It would have haunted me knowing that I stood in the way of what you always wanted,” you admit. “If you came with me you wouldn’t have the company.”

Without hesitation he responds, “But I would have always had you.” His voice cracks and your heart shatters, feeling the depth of his longing.

“Leaving you, especially the way that I did is my biggest regret, Rafe,” you whisper, the weight of your past choices resting heavily on your chest. “I was so in love with you, I almost stayed back and gave everything up because I was so scared to lose you.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to do that.” You can feel him shaking his head from behind you.

“I never stopped loving you, Rafe. Not for one day.” He squeezed you tightly, then placed a loving kiss on your cheek.

“Maybe it was meant to happen his way,” he says softly, his voice full of contemplation. “They always say if you love something let it go, if it’s meant to be it’ll come back to you.” He pauses briefly, but then continues, “You came back to me.”

Your heart swells. This is too good to be true you think. Now worried, you ask, “how do we know if this would even work? It’s been so long, we’ve grown and changed. So much is different now.”

“So, we take it slow and get to know each other again.” He hands find yours, intertwining your fingers and hold them tightly, a silent promise to move forward together, no matter the fear.

“What if you realize you don’t like this new me?” You can feel the vulnerability in your voice. The fear of being rejected by the person who once knew you better than anyone overwhelming you.

“I highly doubt that, sweetheart,” he says sweetly. He slightly pulls back so he can look you in the eyes, “I have loved every version of you so far, I don’t know why it’d be any different now.” He places a kiss on your forehead. His sincerity relaxing your nerves.

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments before you remember what’s going on back at the club. “Rafe, you need to get back to your party,” you say worried.

RAFE'S PHONE:

YOUR PHONE:

RAFE'S PHONE:

He tried everything to suppress it. He reminded himself that you didn't like him, that you probably thought you were better than him. He reminded himself how stupid it’d be to get attached to someone only a few months before graduation. 

Jesus, really man? He thought. She’s not your type, Rafe. She hates you. Be a fucking man and pull it together.

But it was the way you were perched in the driver’s seat, scooted all the way forward leaving no room between you and the wheel, smiling as you sang along to Mariah Carey. You looked so soft and cute, the sleeves of his hoodie slipping over your hands as they clutched the steering wheel.

Fuck, he definitely had a crush on you, and he hated having a crush. There was way too much room for rejection. This was one area in which he’d never really grown up, so he opted for his usual defense mechanism - pushing your buttons, like he was ten years old on the playground, pulling your pigtail just to get a reaction.

“So was I right about you not having many hookups in college?” He blurted out sometime during the third play of All I Want for Christmas is You.

Your head snapped toward him, complete confusion and not even a smidge of amusement on your face.

“What the fuck?” You grumbled. “That’s kinda personal, actually…”

“I’m just saying, I’ve never seen you at parties, and you don’t seem to have a boyfriend. Four years is a long time…”

“Everything is about sex with you, huh? Some of us are actually in college to learn,” you scolded him. It was his intention to push you away, and yet the repulsion in your voice still stung.

“Alright, I’ll stop asking,” he conceded.

“Good,” you huffed, shoulders slumping a little.

He looked over at you every so often, determined to find a flaw, some blemish or ick that he could use as a dealbreaker. This plan backfired terribly, his eyes only discovering more pretty features and cute little mannerisms that made his stomach leap every time he looked at you. He felt like a moth, brainless and hopelessly drawn to the warm light of a lamp that was sure to zap him dead at the slightest touch.

After twenty minutes of freezing him out for his “no hookups” comment, you gasped and excitedly pointed out the first of many road signs for your hometown, your annoyance with him replaced with excitement as the signs advertised you were getting closer and closer to home. 

Then you finally gave him something to resent you for. After a remark about how excited you were to see your family, you looked over at him with big, kind eyes, nervously broaching the topic with a light touch on his arm, “I’m sorry about your family leaving you behind. That totally sucks.”

There was a softness in your tone that was so warm and inviting it made him want to jump out of the moving car. He knew he was fucked up for being mad that you were being nice, but he couldn’t help it, the tenderness in your gaze made him feel like a wounded puppy, and he hated your pity.

He pulled his arm away from your gentle fingers like they’d hurt him.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “They didn’t leave me, it was just a miscommunication.”

You withdrew in more ways than one, pulling your hand back and falling awkwardly silent. Rafe kicked himself mentally, of course just when you’d started to come around to him, he pushed you away. Little did those girls in your dorm know, that was the true Rafe Cameron special.

“So, uh, you were saying something about presents for your brothers? How old are they?” He asked, praying he hadn’t made you shut down for good, trying to re-stoke the fires of the friendship you had been building since you offered for him to come home with you.

You were chewing on your nails, picking at the dead skin nervously. At his prompting you started to speak again, though a bit less enthusiastically than before he’d shut you down.

“Uhm, well,” you sat up a little. “There’s Luke, he’s sixteen. And then Reese is thirteen and Bennett is ten.”

“Fun ages,” he nodded, wincing at his cliché words.

“They are fun,” you nodded, a smile returning to your lips at the thought of your little brothers. The sight of you smiling again soothed the ache in his chest and he leaned back into his seat, full of relief.

“Luke is such a teenage boy, too cool for everything. I got him some Nike cleats because he plays football, he’ll pretend he doesn’t like them but I think he’ll wear them. And Reese is quieter, he’s always been a bit more sensitive. He wants to be a photographer, so I got him a vintage Polaroid camera. Benny was the easiest to shop for,” you smiled at the thought of your baby brother, Rafe could tell you had a special love for him. “I got him one of those giant gummy bears that comes in its own plastic case. It cost a fraction of what I spent on the other two but I guarantee you he’ll be the most excited.”

“I’m sure they’ll all like what you got them,” he assured you.

“They better, they cost me a whole paycheck,” you huffed, thinking of all the hours you’d worked slinging drinks at your college’s go-to student bar to pay for the presents that were currently sitting in your trunk.

“It’s better than what I got my sisters,” he reminded you with a laugh.

“Hey! I spent six whole dollars on those souvenirs!” You scolded him, smiling at the memory of the crappy little knick-knacks in the backseat.

“And I’m sure they’ll love them,” he agreed.

“What about your sisters? How old are they?” You asked.

Surely, you were just being polite, keeping the conversation going after he’d asked about your brothers. But he wanted nothing less than to talk about his family right now, the thought of them all hanging out at the Bahama house, completely forgetting that he existed, still stung fresh. He wondered if Sarah and Wheezie even asked his dad where he was, why he wasn’t on the plane. Maybe they were relieved to celebrate the holiday without him annoying them, he probably deserved it. 

“Hey, isn’t that your exit?” He pointed at the highway sign, advertising that the off ramp to your hometown was only half-a-mile away, trying to distract you from your question.

“Yes!” It worked, you sat up in your seat, excitedly pressing a little harder on the gas as you celebrated the proximity to home.

“Woah, slow down, I’d like to celebrate Christmas alive,” he joked as the needle on the speedometer climbed higher and higher.

“Oh shit sorry,” you giggled, pulling your foot back to slow down a little. “I’m just excited. It’s gonna be so cozy. My dad will have put a bunch of colored lights all over the front of the house, and the tree will be up, probably a fire going and Christmas music playing. I can’t wait to see them!”

His jealousy was almost debilitating. What must it be like to feel this excited to go home? To know what was waiting for you was going to bring you so much joy? He wanted what you had so badly, he was tempted to reach out and touch you just to see if he could absorb your happiness by osmosis.

The little town you called home was just as small as Rafe was picturing, if not more. Though, the tiny houses lining the main street were decked to the nines with Christmas decorations, so much merriment in such a tiny little hamlet. The further into the country you drove, green street signs giving way to rickety, hand-painted ones, the more he felt like he understood you.

You smiled at all the lights, body absolutely buzzing with each turn that brought you towards home. Finally, you turned on a long dirt road, past a field of horses Rafe recognized as the farm you said you grew up next to. Approaching a mailbox with your last name on it, your smile fell from your lips, eyebrows creasing as you turned onto the property.

At the end of the long driveway was a small little split level home Rafe surmised to be yours, only where he expected a display of twinkling christmas decor, there was only one single flickering porch light. If he hadn’t known better, he’d assume the family who lived here didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.

“What the hell?” You mumbled under your breath, concern on your face growing as you pulled the car up and parked behind an old, rusting mini-van. 

Arms full of presents, Rafe helping with your bags, you stumbled anxiously through the front door. The inside of your house was just as disappointing as the outside. It was messy, dishes on the counter and the echo of obnoxious video games ringing through the halls where there should be the familiar chatter of your family having dinner.

“Hello?” You called out, setting the presents down on the kitchen table. You peaked your head over the island, into the open space of the living room. In the far corner, where there should’ve been a Christmas tree, there was a pile of unfolded laundry. 

Two messy headed boys peered over the back of the couch, the third head not moving from its fixation on the TV as his fingers continued to click away on his controller.

“Gigs!!” The smallest one, who Rafe assumed to be Bennett, shouted, he and the second smallest, who he identified as Reese, rose from the couch and made their way towards you.

“Gigs?” Rafe repeated under his breath.

“As in Giggles. It’s my childhood nickname,” you explained, and when you saw his teasing smirk added, “shut up.”

Reese and Bennett nearly tackled you, colliding into you with little bear hugs. Reese was nearing your height, though not quite there yet, and Bennett was small but stocky, his chubby arms squeezing the air from your lungs.

“Rice and beans!” You sang affectionately as you returned their hugs, messing up their hair and pinching their cheeks. You looked to Rafe to answer the question you could see already forming on his lips, “rice and beans, as in Reese and Bennett, their nicknames.”

He smiled at your affectionate embrace with your brothers, nodding with a little, “ah.” Something in him ached, like a haunted limb, a muscle he didn’t even have that was sore from lack of use.

After several moments, Bennett pulled away, eyeing Rafe and pointing a stubby little finger right at him, “who’s he?”

Reese covered his brother’s finger, forcing his hand down correctively.

“Benny, that’s rude,” you said, unable to suppress the little chuckle at your brother’s boyish indifference.

In your concern over the state of the house, you hadn’t planned out how to explain Rafe to your brothers. ‘He’s a friend’ wasn’t totally accurate, but it was the only language they’d understand. Before you could open your mouth to explain anything, though, your youngest brother blurted out, “are you Giggy’s boyfriend?”

“Bennett Alan,” you snipped at him through gritted teeth, giving him a motherly glare as you used his full name in warning. “You’re being rude, and he is not my boyfriend.”

This was true, though Rafe wasn’t sure there was any need for the tinge of disgust in the way you said it. He could sense Bennett formulating another pot-stirring question and jumped in before he had the chance.

“I’m Rafe,” he set his bag down next to the counter and held out a hand. 

Bennett puffed out his chest, putting on his best adult voice as he shook Rafe’s hand, “I’m Bennett, my friends call me Benny.”

You and Reese gave each other knowing smirks, sharing eye rolls over your brother’s precocious antics. 

“And which should I call you?” Rafe played along with his all-business tone.

“Depends, how much money you got?”

Rafe smirked, but you were mortified. “Oh my god, Beans! You can’t ask people that. Here, make yourself useful and put these presents under the tree.”

“We don’t have one,” Reese told you, the first words Rafe had heard him speak, and by his quiet tone and the way he avoided eye contact he understood why you’d called him the sensitive one.

Rafe caught the way you allowed worry to flash across your face for only a second before you smoothed your features back into faux nonchalance, like you were putting on a show for the kids.

“Oh okay, well then I guess we’ll just leave them on the table,” you shrugged, as if you hadn’t been raving about your family’s grand Christmas trees just minutes ago.

Your eyes drifted back to the living room, where your remaining brother still hadn’t risen to greet you.

“Lukey? Help me with my bags?” 

The shaggy haired boy finally turned, eyeing Rafe with a cold distrust that felt like looking in a mirror.

“Looks like he’s already got ‘em,” he grumbled.

You gave him an authoritative glare that had much less playfulness than the one you’d given Bennett.

“Where are mom and dad?” You asked Reese in a hushed tone, shielding the question from Bennett, who was busy dragging a chair over from the kitchen table.

“It’s Thursday,” Reese responded, giving you a knowing look like you should know what that meant. When you clearly didn’t, he added, “chemo day,” in a whisper so quiet Rafe could barely hear it. “Mom’s been asleep since they got back and dad had to work the evening shift.”

Rafe did hear though, and your eyes flicked to him quickly with a vulnerability he hadn’t seen from you yet, like he somehow had something to hold over your head now. He wanted to say the exact right thing to put you at ease, to let you know your family’s business was safe with him. As he was formulating the words, Benny was climbing up on the chair he’d dragged over, standing directly between you and Rafe.

“How tall are you?” Benny asked Rafe once he could meet his eyeline.

“Uhm,” Rafe cleared his throat, pulled from the moment, “I’m 6 '2.”

“I’m 4 foot 1 and three quarters,” Benny explained, as though if this were a competition, he was just a few points behind Rafe, and gaining.

“Nice! 4 '1 is very respectable,” Rafe smiled, deciding it was best to be on Benny’s good side.

“And three quarters,” Benny corrected through gritted teeth.

“Right, sorry, and three quarters,” Rafe put his hands up in defense.

Benny crossed his arms and gave Rafe a once over, as if he was the man of the house deciding if he was allowed to stay. 

Sensing your brother was about to say some other rude thing to embarass you, you stepped in, “Benny why don’t you go show our guest where we keep the air mattress,” you grabbed him off the chair and lowered him to the ground with some difficulty, “and be nice,” you added in his ear.

Benny obeyed but gave Rafe narrow, suspicious eyes the whole way down the hall.

“There’s like a thirty percent chance Benny tries to fight him,” Reese noted as the two of you watched them go.

You chuckled, settling on the couch between your two brothers.

“So who is he really?” Luke asked, still not pausing his video game but at least acknowledging your existence. 

“He’s just a guy from school,” you shrugged. “He’s Brody’s friend.”

“Is Brody here?” Reese asked hopefully. You and Brody had been friends your whole childhoods, and your brother’s were always big fans.

“No, he had an internship or something, but I’d already told Rafe I’d give him a ride, and when we got to his house his family was just, like, gone,” you explained. “They went on a trip and didn’t even tell him.”

“Yikes,” Luke said. “That’s shitty.”

“Language,” you scolded, making him roll his eyes. “But yes, it is shitty,” you added, making him smirk. 

“He’s like Kevin from Home Alone,” Reese quipped. All three of you laughed.

“Honestly? It was kind of exactly like that, only sadder. Like a lost puppy. I mean, who just forgets their kid?” You lowered your voice a bit, hoping it wouldn’t carry down the hall. “I felt so awkward I didn’t know what to do so I said he could come here.”

Your brothers seemed satisfied with your explanation. Even though nothing you said was technically untrue, you still felt like you were somehow being dishonest. You’d never admit it, but it wasn’t all out of pity, there was some small part of you that wanted to bring Rafe home, that was intrigued by him and wanted to see more. But there was no way to explain that to two teenage boys, so you settled for the Home Alone excuse.

Benny came back around the corner, leaping onto the couch and nearly knocking over Luke’s soda.

“Beans, chill,” Luke groaned as he narrowly caught his Mountain Dew before it spilled all over the coffee table.

“Where’s Rafe?” You asked Benny, looking around to see if he’d followed your brother back out.

“He said to tell you he’s going to bed, he seemed kinda grumpy,” Benny shrugged, stealing Luke’s soda when he wasn’t paying attention and taking a swig.

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in your voice. “Okay.”

Down the hall, Rafe snuck quietly into the laundry room as the fading voices of you and your brothers were drowned out by the sound of the water heater, which sat in the cramped space right next to the air mattress Benny had helped him set up.

Your voice echoed in his head, ‘I felt so awkward I didn’t know what to do.’ 

So it was a pity invite. You saw him as some sad character from a 90s movie, not an actual companion you wanted to spend the holiday with. 

He settled on the uncomfortable inflatable mattress. He was in a house full of people, and yet he was beginning to think he might actually feel less lonely all by himself in Tannyhill.

Up before the sun, out the door before breakfast’s done; that’s the way your dad had been your whole life, working a string of manual labor, blue collar jobs that meant he was usually gone before you woke up.

This morning however, you were determined to talk to him before he left, to confront him about the complete lack of Christmas you’d found at your homecoming. You set your alarm at an ungodly hour so you could wait for him to come down the stairs.

Hunched over the counter by the brewing coffee pot, you ran your hands over your face. Your holiday homecoming was nothing like you imagined, the biggest surprise of all being the person you came home with, but you’d figure out how to broach that subject later.

“Hi Gigs.” Your dad’s footsteps were so quiet, you hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen. When you turned to meet him, he flashed you a tired grin.

He’d gotten home after you went to sleep last night, this was the first you’d seen him since your anticlimactic arrival. He looked more exhausted than you ever remembered seeing him. Even more tired than after Bennett was born and he had colic for six months.

“Hi dad,” you approached and gave him a hug before returning to the coffee pot to pour some for him in a travel mug.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked.

“A lot on my mind,” you said, turning to face him. “Made you some coffee. If you stay and talk to me I might just be persuaded to make you breakfast.”

Your dad slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, pulling on and lacing up his heavy work boots.

“No time for breakfast,” he waved you off. “You know that.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” You asked, knowing your window to get answers was closing quickly.

But he didn’t answer, he just sighed heavily and shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

“Just not a breakfast guy that’s all,” he joked. You knew he knew that’s not what you meant.

“You didn’t even hang any lights,” you mumbled softly, feeling a bit childish. “And there’s no tree.”

Your dad sighed again. You wondered if there was a record for how many times someone could sigh in one conversation.

“I’ve been working double shifts, there just hasn’t been time. I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “It’s been a long year, kid.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it’s gotten so bad? I would’ve come back sooner,” you said, pulling a side eye from him that you read as: and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.

“I don’t know, why didn’t you tell me about the frat boy in the laundry room?” He countered.

‘Oh, right,” you blushed, feeling like when you were twelve and he found you hiding a stray cat in the garage. “Was gonna mention him but, you know, you were working.”

“Could’ve told me you were bringing your boyfriend home,” he scolded you.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you rushed to explain. “He’s Brody’s friend. He needed a place to crash.”

“Ah, Brody’s friend. That makes me feel so much better,” he rolled his eyes. 

Your dad was never a fan of Brody, too much of a ‘knucklehead’ as he called him. You knew Rafe wouldn’t fare much better in your dad’s good graces, no guy you liked ever did. Not that you liked Rafe. Fuck, your blush was getting deeper. You quickly looked down at your feet, hoping your dad wouldn’t notice. 

Luckily, he was too tired to read your facial expressions, he huffed as he rose from his chair and approached you, digging in his pocket for some cash. “Here, grab a tree and some gifts for the boys -”

“You haven’t even gotten them gifts yet?” You sighed.

“I know, I know,” he nodded, his baggy, tired eyes begging you for a little slack. You’d never seen him look so tired, sympathy overpowering your disappointment. “I’m trying here, gigs.”

“I got it,” you gave him a small, dutiful smile and pocketed the cash.

“I knew you would,” he gave you a side hug and accepted the travel mug of coffee you handed him. “I’m sorry things aren’t exactly what you expected. but I am glad you’re home.”

As he slipped out the front door into the chilly dusk, your mind spiraled. You knew your mom was having a rough patch with her breast cancer, but you had no idea it’d gotten this bad. No Christmas was simply not an option, maybe things would never go back to normal for you, or your parents, but that was adulthood wasn’t it? Your brothers shouldn’t have to grow up just yet, and you’d make sure they didn’t.

Everything felt wrong, off kilter in a way that made your stomach twist with the familiar anxiety that comes with any situation you can’t control. So you did what you always do when things feel uncertain; you made a list.

Pulling a notebook from the kitchen junk drawer, you uncapped a pen and quickly scribbled everything you could think of that needed to be done:

Decorations 

⇢ box in garage? lights working?

Presents for the boys 

⇢ wishlists? budget??

Buy and decorate tree 

 ⇢ Douglas Fir? tree lots still open?

Under each item you scribbled all the steps you could think of, as well as any conflicts you might hit along the way. Maybe if you could just work the problem, you could fix this, save Christmas and by extension, your family.

You eyed the empty checkboxes next to each item with worry. If you were going to pull all of this off in just two days, you’d need to call in some reinforcements. 

The door to the laundry room squeaks if you open it slowly, which you did deliberately, milking it for all the disruptive sound it’s worth. Rafe was sprawled out on the air mattress, which had deflated just a bit in his sleep, making his legs stick up in the air a little higher than his upper body. 

He was snoring away, just like he had in the car, your noisy opening of the door not doing what you’d hoped it would. 

You sighed loudly, he didn’t stir. You cleared your throat, still nothing. You coughed theatrically, he was still out cold.

Finally, you opened the lid to the washing machine, taking off one sock and dropping it in, letting the heavy metal lid slam closed as you started a rinse cycle. At the crash, Rafe shot up, nearly falling off the air mattress.

“Oh good, you’re up!” You chirped, as if you hadn’t caused the sudden awakening.

“What the hell are you doing?” He grumbled at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck up at all angles and he squinted, barely able to open his eyes in his exhaustion. You gave yourself one second to think about how cute he looked before redirecting your focus to the reason you were in here.

“Just doing some laundry,” you told him as he reached around in the dimly lit room for his phone. “But since you’re awake...”

“What time is it?” He slurred, still half asleep.

“I dunno probably like 9,” you shrugged, knowing full well that wasn’t the case.

“I can’t find my phone,” he sunk back into the mattress, making like he was going to go back to sleep. That wouldn’t do.

“Oh, here!” You flicked on the fluorescent overhead light, making him wince and pull the covers over his head.

“Gah! Turn them off please!” He cried out, voice muffled from under the blankets.

“It’s time to get up, we have a big day ahead of us,” you walked over to the mattress, kicking it to jostle him around on the half-inflated plastic.

“I’m on vacation,” he protested. 

“Yes, exactly, Christmas vacation,” you walked around to the end of the bed, grabbing the covers in two hands and pulling them from his body, making him groan and curl up in the cold air like a rolly polly bug. “We have Christmas things to do.”

You tried not to notice the sculpted arms revealed by his grey tank top, and you really tried not to notice how the thin material of his flannel pajama pants was leaving very little to the imagination. He looked up after a moment, blinking his eyes open to catch you staring, his lips twisting in a cocky grin. He opened his mouth to say something smug and flirtatious, but before he could, his eyes caught the clock on the wall behind you.

“It’s 6am?!” He yelled.

“Oh is it?” You laughed, no longer trying to hide your scheme. “My bad, 6s and 9s look the same to me.”

Swiftly, Rafe stretched out his long leg, hooking his foot behind your knee and pulling you toward him, sweeping you off your feet and onto the mattress. A sharp “oof!” left your lips and as you crashed down onto what little air was left in the mattress to catch you. Landing hard, you immediately slid towards him, your body settling square on top of his.

“You wanna talk some more about 6s and 9s?” He grinned at you, his morning voice low and raspy in a way that sent goosebumps rushing up your spine.

“Ugh, you’re a pig!” You smacked him on the shoulder, pins and needles lingering in your hand where your skin had met his, and tried to push yourself up.

Wobbling on the plastic mattress, your attempts to get off of him only had you wriggling further down until your face was hovering over his. This was the closest you had ever been to him, suddenly noticing just how blue his eyes were. The glow of them under the fluorescents actually knocked the wind out of you, freezing your body in place over him as you took them in, feeling like you might drown in them if you stared too long, but letting the waves pull you under anyway.

“Morning,” he lips curved into a smile that was so handsome it almost made you forget your mission.

Grasping at your reason for coming in here like it was a lifeboat, you decided to use the compromising position you had him in to your advantage, leaning a little closer as you said, “I need you.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in shock, was this really about to happen, right here in your parent’s laundry room?

“Oh yeah?” He flirted, muscles tensing in anticipation beneath you. “What do you need, hmm?”

“Just say yes and I’ll tell you,” you purposefully dropped your voice lower, adding a tinge of suggestion to your words to really bring it home.

“Anything,” he agreed, his mind five miles ahead of you in the wrong direction.

You sat up, straddling him, and pulled the list of tasks from your pocket.

“Great, get dressed, we’re leaving in five,” you smiled down at him, relishing the completely baffled look on his face. “We’re gonna save Christmas.”

“No, we don’t have time to stop, we gotta stick to the list,” you protested as Rafe turned the car off the road and pulled into a drive thru.

After tricking him into agreeing to help you, you’d rushed him through getting ready and out of the house, convinced the stores would be packed as soon as they opened. He dragged his feet the whole way, but somehow you’d managed to wrangle him into the car, insisting he drive so you could look through some catalogs to map out gifts for your brothers.

“If I have to be up at the asscrack of dawn, I’m getting coffee,” he shot you down.

“Okay, fine, but if we get there and all the good deals are gone, I’m blaming you,” you conceded.

You tapped your knee anxiously as the line of cars in the drive thru crawled like a herd of snails. Rafe watched your fingers strum out of the corner of his eye, noticing for the first time the way your nails were bitten down to the beds. He wasn’t paying much attention, but he was fairly sure they weren’t that messed up yesterday.

“What do you want to order?” He asked, unsure why but suddenly only caring about finding a way to distract you.

Without needing to look at the menu, you recited, “venti blonde americano with two extra shots of espresso and a splash, like a really small splash, of oat milk. Actually no oatmilk. And four shots.”

Rafe blinked back at you, your fidgety fingers lifted to your lips as you chewed on your cuticles.

Pulling up to the speaker, he leaned in and said, “yeah grande black coffee for me, and uh, a tall green tea please.”

“That is not what I ordered!” you snipped as he pulled forward to the first window.

“Yeah, I’m cutting you off,” he explained. “If I let you have any more caffeine, you won’t have any fingernails left.”

You dropped your hand quickly, surprised that he had noticed. You were miffed that he was denying you your coffee, but he was probably right. You took a deep breath and sipped your tea as he drove to the first stop on your list.

Somewhere along the highway, the radio jingled the familiar first notes of All I Want For Christmas is You. You sat up, excitedly reaching to turn the volume up.

“If I have to listen to this song one more time, I swear I’m gonna drive the car off this bridge,” he groaned, his hand covering yours to stop you from making his misery louder.

“Oh my god you’re so dramatic,” you raised your eyebrows, giving in and returning your hand to your lap. “She’s the queen of Christmas!”

“Please,” he gave you a pouty lip from the driver’s seat. “It’s killing me.”

“Okay, fine,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “No more Mariah Carey.”

The department store parking lot was swarming with last minute shoppers. You hated that you belonged with them, punished for procrastination. Usually you did things early and thoroughly, now people would think you were one of the careless who pushed things to the last minute. It was a silly thing to worry about, but everything seemed to worry you today. You even made Rafe exchange phone numbers with you in case one of you got lost in the crowd and you couldn’t find each other. Your mind was running wild with worst case scenarios.

Rafe found a spot far from the door, as you walked towards the store’s entrance, you flipped through the catalog you’d snatched from your parent’s junkmail.

“Okay, so I circled everything that’s similar to what’s on the boys’ lists but on clearance,” you explained to him as he grabbed a cart, not fully listening to you. “We’ve got like fifty dollars for each of them, I think we can find a couple good things.”

Once inside the door, Rafe immediately grabbed a bag of chocolates off of the stocking stuffers display.

“That’s not on the list,” you reminded him, jaw dropping when he opened the bag and started eating the candy right there in the middle of the aisle. “And you didn’t pay for that!”

“Relax,” he held the bag out to you, “have some chocolate. Get into the Christmas spirit.”

“Since when are you the expert on the ‘Christmas spirit?’” You eyed him, noticeably not accepting a piece of his stolen candy. “You just threatened to throw Mariah Carey off a bridge.”

“No, I said I was gonna throw myself off a bridge if I had to listen to her one more time,” he placed his hand over his chest as if he was proving his innocence. “Besides, one of us has to have a little joy,” he noted, tilting his head a little to emphasize his point.

He was right, you were stressing a little too much. If Rafe Cameron was out-Christmasing you, then clearly you needed an attitude adjustment. 

“You’re right,” you sighed, accepting one of his chocolates and popping it in your mouth as you looked around the store to map out your shopping plan. “Alright, aisle ten for Reese’s camera lens and then aisle four for Benny’s lego-”

Your sentence was cut short at the feeling of Rafe’s thumb on the corner of your mouth, his face cool and casual as the pad of his finger ran across your lip. Your eyes shot around, there were at least a dozen people in this section, all close enough to see him circling your mouth with his finger.

Before you could push him off, not that you really wanted to, he pulled back. You stumbled a bit, subconsciously chasing the feeling of his touch. He revealed his thumb to you, he’d collected a little glob of chocolate that had smeared around your mouth.

“You’re gonna get us caught for our little shoplifting scheme,” he joked, licking the chocolate off the pad of his thumb as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and not an incredibly sensual action for a fluorescent lit department store at 7am.

“W-we are not shoplifting,” you stammered, fighting speechlessness and praying he didn’t notice the way your cheeks were burning. “You better pay for those.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. I’ll pay for them, I promise. But if I forget, I’m saying you took them.” He dropped the chocolates into the cart before you could protest and wheeled toward the first aisle on your list, making you scurry a bit to catch up with his long legs.

“Bastard,” you mumbled, still feeling flustered.

Somewhere between the frozen food section and the office supplies aisle, you actually started having fun. 

Your cart filled slowly, the rush you were in when you entered the store slowing with every moment that passed walking around the store with Rafe. You joked about the hideous holiday decor, and the cheesy romance novel shelf. You stood on the back of the cart as he wheeled you around, nearly taking out a display of canned goods, and got a stern warning from a stock boy that sent you both into a fit of mischievous laughter. He tried on a series of truly awful hats for you, and even let you snap a few pictures.

As you laughed and shopped together, you couldn’t help but notice the cheery looks of the older ladies that passed you in the aisles. You returned their friendly glances with a blush, wondering, though it made you feel like a silly schoolgirl, if they thought Rafe was your boyfriend.

You’d remind yourself how foolish the thought was as you checked items off your list, seeing as this was not the real Rafe Cameron. The real Rafe Cameron wouldn’t be caught dead shopping for gardening gloves and barbeque tongs for your parents, he’d rather be pregaming a party or kicking the girl from last night who’s name he’d already forgotten out of bed. 

And yet, here he was, pushing the cart while you rattled on about Christmas when you were seven when it snowed so hard the power went out, the last time you remembered actually having a white Christmas. The way he nodded along intently had you actually wondering if it could be real, if being with him could be more than just a distraction from a stressful morning.

Your thoughts spiraled even further when he stopped to point out a his and hers sweater set, one reading “naughty” and the other “nice.”

“As long as I get to be the nice one,” you smiled as he pulled the itchy wool over his head.

He leaned down to tug its partner over your head, his voice low in your ear,  “Only ‘cause I know you like it when I’m naughty.”

Butterflies did pirouettes in your stomach, you snapped a picture of the two of you in a mirror, Rafe towering over you from behind as he smiled for the camera. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely buying these,” he said, tucking the tag into your collar, his knuckles ghosting over the skin of your neck.

After a few more shenanigans, you realized two hours had passed, and you still had several more items on your list.

“How about this? For your brothers?” Rafe asked, pointing out an Xbox in a display case. 

You snorted, “there’s no planet on which my brother’s would think that actually came from our parents. They’re still using an old PlayStation someone gave us years ago.”

“Well then I’ll get it for them, you can say it came from Santa,” he shrugged, as if the astronomical price tag below it didn’t even exist.

“Our Santa brings, like, socks and candy. He doesn’t have a black card,” you pulled his arm, guiding him to a cheaper aisle.

“And what does your Santa usually bring you?” He questioned, a not so subtle way to find out what you wanted for Christmas. 

“I don’t ask him for much,” you brushed the question off. “I just want my family all together.”

Rafe didn’t push any further, watching you out of the corner of his eye, realization dawning that you were serious, you actually didn’t expect to get any gifts for Christmas.

Not noticing his eyes on you, you scanned over everything in your cart, adding it up on your phone’s calculator for the hundredth time. You couldn’t remember a day in your life you weren’t worried about money. Every penny counts now more than ever with your mom not working and your dad unable to find a job that pays enough to keep everyone afloat without completely running himself into the ground.

Without realizing it, you brought your fingertips back to your mouth, biting your nails anxiously for the first time since Rafe had pointed out the bad habit several hours ago.

“Hey you know what?” Rafe said, and you were so lost in worried thoughts that you flinched at the sound of his voice. “Why don’t we split up to get the rest of the list? We’ll cover more ground that way. Also, I think I saw some fake trees on sale back there, so I can grab one.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling the little bubble of your flirty shopping spree pop. 

He was clearly ready to be done with this little excursion. But you’d had more fun than you thought you would, and there were still several days of break left to enjoy with him. You could feel the walls you’d so carefully built around your heart swaying just a little bit in his wind. The thought terrified and thrilled you all at the same time.

After collecting your half of the gift list, you searched the store for Rafe. You found him in the jewelry section, leaning against the glass display case. You made your way towards him, prepared to tease him for wasting time in a section that wasn’t on the list, before you saw his reason for being there. You stopped short, ducking behind an inflatable Santa to watch with a disappointed glare. 

He was chatting up a pretty sales girl, her store uniform fitted tightly as she smiled down at him, her cheeks rosy pink and pretty smile blindingly white.

Rafe gave her the charming grin you’d begun to hope he only reserved for you, probably drawling some cheeky compliments to cause her to blush in the way you surely did when he talked to you.

The feeling in your chest was unfamiliar, and painfully uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you identified it as jealousy. No, no, you were not jealous over this obnoxious frat boy, you wouldn’t allow yourself to be. That was not how you were gonna start your Christmas break.

Just as you’d resolved not to be jealous, he reached up and brushed his hand against the necklace she was wearing, admiring her jewelry surely just as an excuse to bring his hand close to her chest. She beamed at him, his attempts at flirting clearly working. 

A deep frown settled on your features. He was supposed to be shopping for your little brothers and instead he was feeling up a sales girl? You felt so delusional for thinking you’d misjudged him on the drive down. He was the same guy you thought he was when he showed up at your car yesterday, you should've trusted your gut.

Hoping he wouldn’t catch you watching, you turned quickly on your heel, beelining for check out.

Taking the bag from the sales girl with a wink, Rafe tucked the small item at the bottom of his cart, under the presents he’d collected for your brothers, and began searching for you in the crowded aisles, looking forward to the pleased look on your face when he informed you he’d found everything on his half of the list.

When he found you, you were already half way through checking out, loading items onto the belt and watching with tense shoulders as the total on the screen climbed higher and higher.

“What, were you gonna leave without me?” Rafe joked as he started adding his items to the belt.

“We’re on a schedule, we don’t have time to keep fucking around,” you grumbled. 

Rafe met eyes with the college-aged guy who was working as cashier, both of them flashing knowing smirks as if to say, “chicks, am I right, man?” Their boyish camaraderie made you even angrier. 

Once your cart was empty, you started to help Rafe empty his cart, but he jumped around to the front before you could, blocking your access.

“No, no, I got it,” he said nervously, his body blocking you from reaching into his cart.

Irritation crept up your chest, threatening to take over completely. You suddenly felt so petty and immature, like you were Benny’s age, knowing you were about to say something rude you’d later regret. 

“Fine!” You shoved the cash your dad had given you in Rafe’s hands, “I’ll just go pull the car around then.”

Rafe watched you leave through the store’s sliding glass doors, arms crossed as you exited to the parking lot, which was wet and slippery from the wintery sleet mix that had started falling at some point when you were in the store. You paused and huffed deeply, annoyed by the shift in weather, throwing the hood of your jacket up as you jogged across the lot to your car.

He had no idea what had changed in the thirty minutes you’d been shopping separately. There had been a moment earlier when he thought he’d finally won you over, and now you were back to treating him like he was the bane of your existence.

“This too?” The cashier asked, holding out the decorative mistletoe Rafe had thrown in the bottom of his cart, thinking he could work in some cheeky joke with you and get that perfect eye roll/reluctant smile expression you make that he’d become a little obsessed with.

“Yeah, sure, whatever man,” he agreed with a frown.

As promised, you brought the car around, giving Rafe the cold shoulder as you loaded the gifts into the trunk. When you got to the fake tree Rafe had snagged from the holiday section, you paused.

“What’s that?” You questioned him.

“A tree?” He snapped back. “I told you I was gonna grab one.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we have to get a real tree.”

Rafe looked up at the sky pointedly, the worsening weather causing shoppers around you to duck and run to their car to get out of the misery.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“It just…it has to be real, okay?” You huffed. “I found the last tree lot in the county that still has Douglas Firs, so you can take this one back.”

“Why don’t we keep this one just in case you change your mind,” he suggested.

“Fine, keep it, but I’m not changing my mind,” you threw the box with the fake tree into the trunk and slammed it closed, nearly catching Rafe’s hand in the heavy door as you did.

You stomped around to the driver’s side, leaving Rafe to return the carts to the main entrance, his jaw clenched in frustration the whole way. What had started as disappointment in your change in demeanor had turned into full-on anger. He may not be your favorite person, but you weren’t the only one having a shitty Christmas, and he definitely didn’t think he deserved whatever the fuck this was.

“I’m telling you, it was veer left, not turn left!”

The windshield wipers were working overtime, squeaking against the glass as they tried and failed to keep the freezing rain out of your line of vision. You sat all the way forward in your seat to see through the watery streaks they left behind. You had pulled onto some muddy back road as Rafe read directions from the GPS, trying to find this obscure tree lot several miles outside of town.

“Veer left doesn’t make any sense, I know that road, it’s all factories and empty lots,” you waved him off.

“Okay, well it’s clearly not this road! Is this even a road? It’s like a fucking swamp out here, I don’t know how your tires are even still moving,” He argued back.

“Not everything around here is as nice here as it is in the Outer Banks, Rafe. We’re doing our best, sorry if we don’t meet Cameron standards,” you griped at him.

“Oh my god, that’s not what I meant, just admit you’re fucking lost,” he snipped back.

“I am not lost. It’s probably just taking me on a shortcut. The road will clear up any minute.”

As you said those fateful words, the road got even more unstable, dirt and gravel mixing with the precipitation to make what looked more like a vat of chocolate pudding than a road. 

Stubbornly, you accelerated, determined to get out of this patch of road and prove to him you were right. As you sped up, the steering wheel turned erratically under your hands, your tires skidding on the slippery road, eventually stopping movement at all.

“Hmm interesting,” Rafe quipped sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you try to navigate the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“It’s fine, I just need to…” you accelerated more, your spinning back tire kicking up mud as it fought for forward motion.

“Stop, you’re gonna - “

POP! The car skidded forward violently just an inch before stopping altogether, the weight of it sinking underneath you as a loud whistling noise echoed from the rear tire.

“- blow your tire,” Rafe threw his hands up in exasperation as the low tire pressure light on your dash illuminated with a little ‘ding!’

You avoided his eyes, hands still clutching the steering wheel as you clenched your jaw in anger. 

“Thanks a lot,” you mumbled.

Rafe blinked at you in disbelief, jaw hanging slack. 

“Me?” He scoffed, looking around the car as if there was someone he could look to for confirmation that you were being insane. “How is this my fault?”

“You’re rushing me! I know how to drive on back roads but you were distracting me!” You were grasping at straws, you knew it, he knew it, but logic had flown out the window when the tire blew. 

Rafe just chuckled humorlessly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “let’s just call someone and -”

But you were already opening your door, booted foot landing with a squelch in the mud.

“What are you doing?” He called after you.

You leaned down to look at him through your cracked door, “never changed a tire before, rich boy?” With a smirk, you slammed the door in his face.

Scrambling in the mud behind you, Rafe tried to reason with you.

“It’s pouring, you’re gonna get sick! Please just let me call someone and we can get a tow home - ”

“We still have to get the tree,” you shut him down, loosening the spare tire from the back of the hatchback.

Rafe threw his hands out in disbelief, “you’re not serious right? You’re still trying to find this fucking farm that, I gotta tell you, I’m starting to think doesn’t even exist.”

“Yes,” you said simply, lowering the tire to the ground and pulling the lug wrench from the trunk.

“You might actually be the most stubborn, ridiculous person I’ve ever met. What is it about getting this tree?” He yelled over the steadily increasing rainfall. 

“Because, Rafe, I can!” You dropped the wrench in the mud and turned on him, tears stinging your eyes as you yelled, letting all your frustration out on this boy, who just yesterday was a stranger. “I can’t get my dad a better job, and I can’t buy my brothers the presents the really want, and I can’t cure fucking cancer! But I can get a goddamn Douglas Fir, like we have every year since I was born. So I’m getting this tree! You can call your new friend from he jewelry department to come pick you up, but I’m staying here and changing this fucking tire!”

Standing back, Rafe buried his hands in his coat pockets, nodding along as you let it all out, the loose threads all twisting to finally weave together an explanation for your shift in mood. He spotted the tears as you mentioned your powerlessness over your dad’s job and your mom’s cancer, feeling like he was starting to understand your stubborn insistence to make this cursed Christmas joyful.

Though he knew he should be comforting you, he couldn’t help the little upward twitch of his lips at your comment about the jewelry girl. That explained your mood at check out, and if he was being honest, made his heart leap a little at the thought of you actually being jealous for his attention.

After several moments of his eyes on you, sizing you up as he digested your outburst, you suddenly felt exposed, and a little silly, “what?” you asked him with a burning blush.

“Nothing,” he shook his head with a grin, leaning down to pick the wrench up from the mud, “just didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

Your jaw fell slack, out of all you’d just said, of course he was zeroing in on your comment about the girl in the store. You were somewhat relieved though, glad to have an excuse to move on from talking about all the sad, stressful things going on at home.

“You’re such an ass,” you laughed, the air between you growing a little lighter. “I bet people call you that a lot.”

Rafe knelt down in the mud, beginning to loosen the screws of the flat tire.

“Not everyone, some people go with ‘lost puppy’,” he muttered under his breath.

Your smile fell from your lips, your eyes grew as you realized he was quoting you back to you. He had heard you talking about him to your brothers last night. You replayed all your words in your head with a wince - laughing about how he was like the kid from Home Alone, saying you only brought him home because you felt awkward. God, now you felt like an ass.

“Rafe, I’m…I’m so sorry, that was not cool…”

“It’s fine,” he said, a small grunt leaving him as he used the wrench to loosen a particularly rusted bolt.

“No, it’s not. We shouldn’t have been laughing. I didn’t just bring you home because I felt bad-”

“Why did you then?” He stopped what he was doing, his eyes landing on yours so suddenly, you jumped back a bit, taken by the striking blue, and the vulnerability you were seeing in them for the first time.

Deciding it was time to get your own jeans muddy, you knelt down next to him, hands wrapping around the wrench handle next to his to help him pull, both of you struggling due to the rain making the wrench so slippery.

The bolt still didn’t budge, and you paused for a minute, sitting back on your heels and looking at him.

“Because it’s Christmas,” you answered his question. “And I wanted to spend it with a friend.”

The tips of his ears burned red, he hoped you’d think it was just from the cold.

Going in for a second try, you both tugged on the wrench again, gritted teeth and white knuckles as you combined your strength to turn it as hard as you could. Frosted rain slipping between the end of the wrench and the bolt made it slip, the metal flying through the air. You and Rafe both slipped in the mud under your knees, Rafe trying to catch himself on his hands so he didn’t land on top of you, but not quite in time. His large body landed on top of yours and you both went tumbling down the side of the road, landing side by side in the muddy ditch with an unsettling squelch.

Both of you completely covered in mud, panting and shocked, Rafe turned his head to look at you, “fake tree?”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly agreed. “Fake tree.”

You and Rafe snuck in through the garage,  both of you tracking mud with every step. There was no way you’d make it all the way up to the bathroom without destroying the floors in your wake.

You’d laughed together the entire drive back to the house. What a disaster the shopping trip had turned into, and yet, you were more in the Christmas spirit now than you had been in a long, long time.

“Oh shit,” you yelped, slipping on your own muddy boot and knocking down a pile of boxes as you tried to stabilize yourself.

Rafe’s arms shot out to catch you, your nails digging into his forearms to hold yourself up. You eyed him, still wearing the “naughty” sweater you hoped he’d remembered to pay for.

“Well these are ruined,” you sighed, looking down at your own mud-soaked pullover. “And there’s no way we’re making it upstairs without tracking in mud.”

Before your sentence was even finished, Rafe was hooking his hands into the collar, pulling the sweater up and off with one pull, peeling off the soaked t-shirt underneath it, too. 

Failing miserably to hide your shock at his sculpted form, you bit your lip to silence the gasp that was begging to escape. He was just as built as you expected, if not more. His abs creased in a perfect set of six, sturdy pecs and two thick blue veins running through each bicep. He was somehow tan in the middle of December, and his skin was perfectly smooth apart from the little line of rough hair that ran from his belly button down to the waistband of his jeans. 

He caught you staring, of course he did, and smirked as he flustered you further by unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor in a muddy heap, left in only his black boxer-briefs.

Frozen in place, you subconsciously pulled your sleeves down over your hands, as if covering yourself up more could clear the cloud of attraction fogging your brain. Rafe turned and walked towards the door that led into the house.

“Wha-where are you going?” You asked him, snapped out of your trance.

“To take a shower,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’m fucking freezing, but you can stay here and drip.”

He smiled at you expectantly, there was a challenging dip in his voice as he over pronounced the last word. Something competitive rose in your chest, he clearly didn’t think you had it in you to strip down, too. At the end of the day, you were a classic oldest child - you didn’t take kindly to losing.

Keeping your eyes locked to him, you grabbed the hem of your sweater and pulled it off over your head, copying him by pulling the shirt underneath off too until you were standing in front of him in just your bra. Rafe tilted his head as his eyes raked over you, raising his eyebrows when he got to your jeans, just as muddy and destroyed as his had been.

With a hard swallow, you undid the button and zipper with shaky hands, shimmying your hips a little to pull the wet denim over your curves. Rafe went pale and speechless, taking in the little show with a heavy rise and fall of his chest. You piled all of your clothes in the corner, hoping no one in your family stumbled upon them before you had the chance to wash them.

Rafe didn’t even try to hide the way he was drinking you in as you padded towards him in your underwear, brushing past him to get to the door first.

“I mean, damn,” he wolf-whistled at you, quietly so no one inside the house came looking for the sound.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, stepping ahead of him so he couldn’t see your pleased smile.

He followed your tiptoed steps through the hall and up the stairs, stopping at each corner to make sure no one was going to come around it and catch the two of you sneaking around in your underwear. 

Once you made it to the upstairs bathroom, you turned on the shower, excited to step into the steamy water and finally warm up. You were surprised to find Rafe still standing in the open doorway when you turned, sure he’d get the hint that he should wait outside when it came time for you to really strip down.

“What are you doing?” You whisper-scolded him.

“Enjoying the view,” he winked.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pushing him by his chest so he stumbled back into the hall. “I don’t need your help for this pa-”

Your sentence was cut short by the creaking of wood under incoming footsteps. Panicking, you grabbed Rafe’s wrist, pulling him into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. 

“Woah, is this really happening?” He asked breathlessly, licking his lips before you slapped your hand over his mouth to shut him up, his eyes going wide at your boldness.

“Someone’s coming,” you mouthed, urging him to be quiet as you kept your palm firmly sealed over his lips.

The footsteps in the hall grew louder, their owner getting closer and closer to the door, not knowing you had a half-naked man pushed up against the other side as steam swirled around your bare bodies.

As you both waited with baited breath, your eyes drifted over Rafe’s body, so close to yours in the tiny bathroom. You couldn’t help it, sure that desire was painted all over your features. There was no use in denying it, as the warm steam caused a single drop of sweat to roll down his chest and into the ripple of his abs, you finally allowed yourself to accept that you wanted him, bad.

He felt it too, you were sure of it, his eyes half closed with heavy lids as he looked down over you, drinking in all the exposed skin and soft lace of your underwear set. 

Just as his hand slowly started rising toward your hip, a knock on the other side of the door made you both jump, a little yelp of surprise almost leaving your lips before Rafe threw his hand over your mouth, the tables turned. 

“Hey Gigs?” Benny’s little voice called from the other side of the door.

You tried to move Rafe’s hand from your mouth, but he only allowed you to lift it enough to respond before covering your lips again.

“Y-yeah, Beans?” Your voice cracked in response, Rafe flashing you a teasing grin at your flustered state. You shot him a warning look, praying your little brother couldn’t sense what was going on.

“Can we open the presents you bought us now, pleaseee?” Benny asked.

Normally you’d say no, that they had to wait until Christmas day. But as you were about to reject his request, Rafe pulled his hand from your mouth, letting his thumb tug your bottom lip down as he dragged his fingers to your jaw and brushed the soft skin of your neck. You could tell by his wicked grin he was enjoying seeing how far he could push you, drunk off your blushes and gasps.

“Yes, sure, th-that’s fine,” you told Benny, eager to get him away from the door. Rafe chuckled quietly at your compliance, making you clench your jaw even harder in annoyance at him.

“Sweet, thanks!” Benny called, hurrying back downstairs, clearly not having expected you to give him the answer he wanted.

Once you were sure the coast was clear, you glared up at Rafe, “you can’t do that!”

He threw his head back in satisfied laughter, bringing it back down only to drop his lips close to your ear.

“So, how about that shower?” He whispered.

With a little grin of your own, you leaned in too, “Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Get out.”

Rafe managed to find his way back to the laundry room without bumping into any of your brothers. He ran his hair under the utility sink faucet to get the flecks of mud out, throwing on some clean, warm clothes before heading to the kitchen in search of a much needed glass of water, his mouth still full of cotton at the thought of you nearly naked in front of him.

As he rounded into the kitchen, he stopped short, surprise flashing across his face.

A painfully thin woman, who he could only assume to be your mother, stood in the middle of the small space, bony hands on the back of an empty kitchen chair. Her bald head was wrapped in a silky scarf, and she smiled an easy grin that reminded him so stunningly of yours.

“You must be Rafe,” she said. “Have a seat.”

(to be continued)

a/n: okay not the single longest post I've ever made on this website. period. thank u for reading!! two more parts w the last taking place on New Year's Eve. merry everything!!

taglist note: the taglist for this series will be posted in replies asap and has gotten very long so it is closed. I'm soooo thankful that ppl want to know when I post you have no idea! but it takes me a long time to do and makes posting difficult, so I am asking that in order to stay on the list for the rest of the series, you interact with each post in some way (reply with feedback, a rb, an ask - anything you'd like!) it really helps me as a writer! thank you!!