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The way I promised myself I would wait to read it all then I ended up reading it all last night like I did well ig but now Iâm on the edge of my seat waiting for the last chapter
YOU DID DO WELL đââïž hehe yay i hope you enjoy the ending đ„°
hellooo! i love your fanfics so much. i read most of them. i just love how you tell your story so detailed, you can actually feel what is happening in the story. i will say my favorite of yours is "The Power Play." it felt like I was actually reading an actual romcom novel.
if you don't mind me asking, after you finish "Like Fuel to Fire," will you still write another fic after that?
hi!! aw thank you so so so much đ„° that means the world to me!! i do have another series in the works that iâll be posting after lftf!! probably will be a while though as i like to have a lot of it written before i post â iâm only about two parts in right now đââïž
her helping Rafe after the fight made me soft đ„ș I think this was my favourite chapter, so much angst and feelings! I really loved the ending with them being honest with each other even though it hurt đ„ș
aw thank you so much đ„č it felt like time for a little bit of fluff and finally some complete honesty đââïžđ i rly appreciate your msg!!
pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x kook!sororitygirl! reader
rating explicit 18+
summary when rafeâs friends bet that he canât charm you into sleeping with him, he canât say no to the challenge. he has no idea that you decide to make a game out of his advances. you have a secret bet to win, too. and youâre determined to break his heart.
< prev
Youâre standing by a sliding glass door, and while the crowded house is warm, the January cold still presses through the glass. Itâs another house party in Figure Eight, and being back here reminds you that the island never really changes.
You lift your cup to your lips. No alcohol, since itâs better that you donât drink right now. The pain that dug into you since the last time you saw Rafe hasnât gone away, and getting drunk will just make it worse.
Itâs been three weeks since you left his bedroom. Since the last words between you twisted everything you thought you understood about the two of you. The holidays came and went, and now itâs mere days before everyone here heads back to their colleges to start the spring semester.
Youâve spent so much time telling yourself Rafe didnât even hurt you, that you were simply angry that he tricked you. But youâve resigned yourself to the truth now.
At some point over the months you spent getting to know him, you did give him the power to hurt you. And he used it.
The worst part is you donât even know how much of what he said was manipulation. Which parts were fake. If any parts were even real.
The party hums around you as your friends talk over the music. You havenât told Ivy and Alayna about any of it. They asked about the bet and you said you gave up, that Rafe was too annoying for you to pretend to like him. They laughed it off.
Through the glass door, thereâs a backyard bonfire in a stone pit, a group gathered around it. Rafeâs there, shoulders hunched slightly against the cold.
Heâs been drinking a lot. Even from here, you immediately noticed the way he keeps tilting his beer back, again and again.
Itâs only been minutes since you and your friends drifted toward this corner of the house, relieved when you didnât spot him inside. But then you glanced out the door.
The glass reflects your face back at you. You canât believe how easy it is for you to look unaffected. Like nothing he did ever got to you. But then again, youâve gotten very good at burying things where no one can see them.
You think about the last time you spoke to him, how he stammered and cried and told you he wanted to be with you. But even if that were true, this started because he saw you as a challenge. You were just a girl to fuck so he could brag about it to his friends.
At least you could tell that you really did hurt him when you told him it was all fake for you. You broke his heart, but what you never saw coming was that heâd break yours, too.
You force yourself to stop looking outside. You turn back toward your friends. You let yourself get pulled into their conversation, and for a few minutes, it works. Then Ivyâs eyes widen, her gaze toward the backyard. You turn.
A fight has broken out near the bonfire. And Rafe is on the ground, surrounded. You wait for someone to step in, but the guys not involved just watch. You stare, hoping someone will do something, but heâs getting pummeled.
And despite everything youâre feeling, the pang of fear is the loudest.
Impulsively, you set your drink down and push through the crowd inside the house. Itâs easy to spot one of Rafeâs friends, Topper, leaning against the kitchen island. Youâve known him by sight for years.
You lean in close so he can hear you over the music.
âYou need to help Rafe,â you say. âHeâs in the backyard.â
Topperâs smile disappears and he shakes his head like heâs irritated, used to the fact that his friend is always stirring up trouble. He grabs two other guys and they head for the backyard. You follow, zipping up your hoodie the second the chill hits you.
His friends manage to get the group to back off, shouting and shoving. The crowd around him loosens.
Rafe is still on the grass, though. Heâs curled on his side. His hairâs fallen into his face, and heâs breathing hard. He doesnât even try to get up when his friends tell him to.
He doesnât look like the man who once made you feel protected. Now it feels like you have to be the one to save him.
Worry digs into you. You step closer, leaning down.
âRafe,â you say sharply. âGet up.â
Hearing your voice does something to him, even though the last time he saw you, youâd proven what people say about you is true.
âGet up,â you repeat.
Rafe lifts his head and his eyes finally land on you. From where heâs lying, youâre framed against the starry sky, the bonfireâs glow catching the edge of your face. You look unbelievably beautiful.
Your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. He hates how nice it sounds. Hates that it still gets to him. Hates you.
But even with all that, this is the first time in a long time that he feels a semblance of steadiness. He forces himself onto his knees, swaying slightly.
Your eyes scan the massive yard, searching for somewhere you can take him that isnât in full view of the crowd. Then you spot the poolhouse tucked behind the inâground pool. You hope itâs unlocked. And you hope your friends donât see you doing this.
You donât want Ivy or Alayna to catch you worrying about him. You donât even know how youâd explain what youâve done so far. Youâre not sure you can.
âLetâs go,â you say firmly.
He tries to stand and nearly tips, so your hand finds his arm, steadying him.
The moment your fingers close around Rafeâs bicep, traitorous warmth buzzes under your skin. You despise him. Youâve told yourself that a hundred times. He hurt you. He made you feel stupid. You should want nothing to do with him.
But your body wonât listen. Itâs unfair that it brings you comfort to touch him again.
The walk across the yard is long. Rafeâs breaths are ragged and he leans some of his weight into you and the voices fade the farther you get, replaced by the distant hum of ocean waves.
When you reach the poolhouse, you try the handle and thankfully, it turns. You push the door open and guide him inside. The space is dark and chilly and smells like chlorine. You flick on the light.
Rafe sinks down onto the closest couch, elbows on his knees, staring ahead with a blank expression. And now, you can see him clearly.
His bottom lip is split. He obviously got punched in the nose, too, because itâs covered in blood. His hands are trembling, and he keeps blinking as he stares ahead.
A drop of blood falls onto his thigh, soaking into his jeans, and you unzip your hoodie, shrugging it off even though the cold immediately sinks into your arms. You canât believe your instinct is to choose his comfort over yours.
Rafe is dazed. Then he sees a bunchedâup cloth in front of his face. Youâre standing over him, offering him something to press to his nose.
Past the blood, he can smell you on the fabric. Your expression is tight and unreadable. But he could never read you all that well. Obviously.
âTake it,â you state.
Youâre helping him. After everything. Itâs what he always wished for, someone to look after him after he loses it and gets hurt, but itâs ruined, because all he can remember is the cruel way you told him you could never feel anything for him.
He lifts a hand, takes your sweater from you, and presses it to his nose with a wince.
You watch him shaking, standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around yourself. You canât make yourself move any closer. And you canât make yourself leave either. What the hell is it about him that makes you act this way?
Youâre curious and worried and angry. You try to piece together what happened, why he got ganged up on like that. Obviously he couldnât fight back for once because of how drunk he is.
You teeter between caring and refusing to care, because as much as you tell yourself youâre done with him, walking out of this room while heâs shaking and bleeding feels impossible.
âWhy are you even here?â Rafe mutters, not looking at you.
Heâs been hanging on by a thread. The guys by the fire were already annoying him, laughing about how wasted he was. Normally heâd just tell them to shut up, but tonight he was drinking because heâs trying to forget you.
Rafe was already close to snapping. He made a comment to one of the guys about his parents just to piss him off, some gossip he heard a while ago. To get Rafe back, the asshole said something about his dad.
Thatâs what broke him. He swung. The other guy swung back, harder and with his friends backing him up.
You donât know how to answer his question, because you have no idea why youâre here. You stay silent, staring, never having felt this before.
âThey said something about my dad,â he says under his breath, trying to justify himself. His words are slurred. Heâs too drunk to filter anything. âBet heâs real proud.â
You still. You remember Rafe saying that heâs not what his family wants him to be. To know he lost it over a stupid comment about his dad makes it clear that thatâs really something that gets to him.
Or maybe not. You donât know anymore. Every memory you have of him feels poisoned, warped by the fact that he was lying to you through so much of it.
Rafe hates the silence, that youâre just standing there, that you shattered his heart.
âWhat? Youâre thinking I deserve this, right?â he rasps, bringing the bunched up hoodie to his lap, looking down at the blood sinking into the fabric. Heâs simply repeating what you told him. That he deserved to be fucked with, that heâs stupid.
Anger floods you so fast itâs dizzying. Heâs actually feeling sorry for himself, after he got himself in this mess, after he admitted to trying to use you. The audacity almost makes you laugh.
âDo you expect me to feel sorry for you?â you say.
Rafe lets out a breath, your cold words slicing into him. And finally, he looks up at you.
âNo,â he mutters, shaking his head slightly, squinting, grimacing. âI donât expect anything from you.â
Thatâs what makes you snap. You scoff and storm out, the door slamming shut behind you. You shouldâve just left him on the cold ground.
Rafe doesnât move. He keeps staring at the floor long after youâre gone, shoulders hunched, breath shaky, his nose and jaw pulsating with pain.
The silence presses in around him. All he can smell is blood now. Tears burn his eyes and he squeezes them shut.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
You never get attached. Every fling youâve had always stayed surfaceâlevel. It wasnât even a conscious effort; it was how you protected yourself from getting hurt.
But with Rafe, itâs like he broke you apart, like he lit a fire in you and doused it in fuel until you became someone you didnât recognize.
And you had the same effect on him, because while he did lie to you when this started, there was no faking the meltdown he had. His voice cracked in a way that didnât sound like him as he told you he regretted the bet, that you deserve better.
You hurt him, too. It doesnât even feel satisfying, though.
Itâs Sunday afternoon and youâre lying in bed in your sorority house bedroom. Your mind keeps going back to Friday night in Kildare. The way Rafe looked, bloodied and hurt. The way your instinct kicked in to help him.
Youâd caught up with Ivy and Alayna at the party after leaving the poolhouse. And you lied. You told them that even though you donât like Rafe, you just couldnât stand there and watch him get hurt. No matter who it was, youâd help.
The guilt of lying has been eating away at you. But how can you possibly confess to making a fool of yourself for someone who disrespected you the way he did?
You got back to campus yesterday. You desperately want to pick up where you left off before Rafe. Itâs like he knocked something loose in you and you canât get it back into place.
You stare up at the ceiling, wired. You told your sorority sisters you were going to take a nap, exhausted from the trip back. But you havenât slept. Youâve just been lying here, listening to the muffled voices drifting up from downstairs.
The loud rumble of an engine drifts in from outside and you push yourself up on your elbows to peek through the sheer curtain.
A black pickup rolls to a stop in front of the house. Rafe steps out, something bunched in his hand. You stay still, watching him.
Time drags by and then thereâs a knock at your bedroom door. Your breath catches.
He canât see you like this. You want to have the power here. Even after you helped him on Friday night, he still looked at you with so much hatred. Like you donât give a shit about him. And itâs best that he thinks that.
You edge back toward the window to see Rafe walking away from the house, heading for his truck again. Relief finds you. Itâs not him.
âYeah?â you call, forcing your voice to sound normal.
Jada cracks the door open. âSorry, did I wake you?â
You shake your head no.
âRafe came by,â she says, stepping inside. âHe dropped this off.â
She holds out your hoodie. The same one youâd pressed against his face in the poolhouse. The fabric is soft and clean now, scrubbed of every trace of him. You take it, thanking her.
âHe looked rough,â Jada adds, watching you. Youâre still, staring ahead as you hear his truck drive away. âYou okay?â
A while ago, youâd told her you were done with the bet, that youâd keep seeing Rafe just for fun. Then, when things fizzled, you told her you got bored. You never said how you actually let your guard down for the first time.
You clutch the hoodie to your chest. And you donât have it in you anymore to pretend.
âI liked him,â you say, the words thin. Your eyes well up before you can stop it.
Jada sits beside you immediately. You can see it in her face: sheâs never seen you like this. Youâre supposed to be the one who never cries over a boy.
âHe had a bet with his friends that he could have sex with me,â you tell her. âThatâs why he started this whole thing.â
âWhat?â Jada breathes, stunned. âAre you serious?â
âHe cried when he admitted it,â you say, letting out a scoff. âAnd I couldnât even feel bad for him. Like, what, you realized I was a person and now youâre sorry?â
Your breath catches. You look away.
âI told him that I was in it to break his heart. And he said I did.â You swallow hard. âI forgot about that bet with my friends a long time ago, but I said that just to hurt him back.â
âIâm so sorry,â she says softly. âWhat a mess.â
âI know.â You wipe your eyes, your breath shaky. âWhy does it hurt so bad?â
Jadaâs brows pull together, her expression warm and aching with sympathy. She reaches for your hand.
âIt wonât forever,â she tells you. âI promise.â
You nod, even though you donât believe it yet. Youâd give anything to feel like yourself again. To feel like Rafe never touched a single part of you.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
Rafe thought he wanted you to open the door. Once he got to the front step of your sorority house, though, he realized he couldnât face you. He barely said a word when your roommate answered.
He held out the hoodie, muttered that it was yours, and went. He only returned it because he hates having something of yours lying around.
His hands are tight on the wheel. He turns off Greek Row. He doesnât have a destination. He just needs to move to protect himself from drowning in his thoughts.
His stomach pinches in pain and he realizes he hasnât eaten all day. He imagines you in the passenger seat, teasing him as you go to get food together, and he hates that his mind goes there.
Friday night crashes back into him, the way you grabbed his arm and led him to the poolhouse. He thought youâd never speak to him again. He doesnât know why you did it. And he canât read into it, because it wasnât that long ago that you looked at him like he was nothing.
How could you do that to him? He keeps replaying it, over and over, torturing himself. The way you sat in his bed, eyes cold, telling him it was all a bet for you, too.
Admittedly, before all that, it felt good that the girl who seems to hate every guy saw something in him. But now he knows you faked it all.
He tells himself he doesn't need you. But all he can think about is how easily you said you never liked him, that you never could, and how much it hurts to know you meant it.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
Rafe sits in the lobby of the main lodge while his friends talk around him.
He didnât want to come. He got out of the spring day trip for the past two years, but Trey was serious that everyone needed to show up after the whole probation bullshit.
And Rafe doesnât care for orders, but he cares enough not to let the frat president make an example out of him. He refuses to look weak, to be cut out socially, to be even more isolated than he already feels.
Rafeâs been bracing to see you since the moment he stepped out onto the college-owned retreat center. The place is huge, a cluster of buildings that face a lake. Itâs big, but not big enough that he can fully avoid you.
He rubs a hand over his face. He has no idea what heâs supposed to do if you come.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
Youâve been excited for this all year. Itâs one of your favorite parts of Greek life. This day trip is a longâstanding tradition. Every spring semester, every chapter is invited out for a Saturday of teamâbuilding and fun.
But this year, youâve spent the entire 45-minute drive wondering if Rafe will be here. Youâre in the backseat of your sorority sisterâs car, music blasting as you approach the retreat center.
Your phone buzzes in your lap. Itâs the guy you met at a party earlier this week. You hated how, the entire time he talked, you kept comparing him to Rafe. He didnât catch your humor, didnât look at you like youâre the most interesting thing in the world like Rafe used to.
Usually you can distract yourself with someone new. It wonât work this time.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
The chapter leaders, made up of the frat and sorority presidents, welcome everyone in front of the main lodge. There are a lot of people here. With most members of all the chapters on campus, maybe a hundred students total. With so many people gathered, the air feels even hotter, sun beating down hard.
You spot him. Rafe is standing with his frat, that stupid hat sitting backwards on his head again. Heâs too far away for you to see how much heâs healed since that fight he got into.
But you can tell he looks tired. He doesnât want to be here. Youâre not surprised. The last time you saw him was through your bedroom window a week ago. He looked just as tired then, like a light he once had is gone now.
And if you didnât believe it in that moment, you do now. You really did break his heart. Itâs painfully obvious.
He looks up. Your eyes meet through the crowd. For one second, itâs just you and him, standing on opposite sides of a crowd, pretending youâre strangers.
Youâll have to get used to that. You look away.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
Fireflies drift over the grass in the warm night air. Itâs the last stretch of the day, the lull after a big dinner. Itâs tradition to end the day trip with a dip in the lake. You did it last year and youâre eager to do it again, to plunge into the water after a hot, tiring day.
Some cars in the lot are already gone, surely the chapter presidents. They know all about the swim, and they donât forbid it, but they donât encourage it. They just slip away once dinner ends, leaving the night to everyone else.
You walk with your sorority sisters to the trunk of the car to grab the towels youâd packed, then head back to the lake, hopeful youâll be able to keep avoiding Rafe like you have been all day.
Rafeâs frat brothers talk over each other as they exit the dining hall, hyping up the lake jump, saying he skipped the last two years so he doesnât get to bail on anything.
He didnât even know about it until five minutes ago. Heâs exhausted, though, and the idea that the day isnât over yet annoys him.
He just wants to leave. Unfortunately, he got a ride with them, which means heâs stuck until theyâre done splashing around like idiots. He tells them heâs not coming, so Mac tosses him the keys. They jog off toward the lake under the moonlight while Rafe stays behind.
He reaches the car and yanks open the door, thinking he can sit inside, but the moment he leans in, a wave of trapped heat slams into him. He ends up leaning against the side of the car instead and pulls out his phone to kill time.
From the lake, he can already hear the distant splash of someone jumping in, followed by cheers.
Minutes later, he hears footsteps on the gravel. He assumes itâs someone heading back to their car, someone else who decided not to jump. But the footsteps angle closer, weaving between the cars.
Then he glances up. Itâs you. And you donât notice him.
Youâre heading for your sorority sisterâs car, your phone tight in your hand. Youâd forgotten to drop it off earlier, too rushed to think straight. Now youâre back to stash it in the car before heading back to the lake to finally jump in.
You reach the car, find the backseat handle, and pull. Itâs locked. Your friend swore it wasnât. You sigh and try the driverâs side next. Nothing.
Rafe is watching you, because like always, he canât tear his eyes away. Heâs angry. Embarrassed. Confused, because he still feels a pull towards you, and itâs the worst part of this whole thing.
You tug the handle again out of frustration. Thatâs what makes him speak.
âI think itâs locked,â he mocks you, words edged with annoyance.
The sound of Rafeâs voice hits you. You look up to see him slouched against a car parked at a diagonal, barely ten feet separating you.
And immediately, itâs effortless to be mean to him again. Youâd let your guard down with him once, but before that, snapping at him was second nature. And you want to be that old version of yourself again.
âReally?â you scoff sarcastically, turning away. âAsshole.â
Rafeâs jaw firms, the sting of anger and hurt and betrayal rushing through him.
âIâm the asshole?â he replies.
You stop in your tracks, blood boiling. And you canât let any of your heartbreak show. He lied to you, humiliated you, was so mean to you when you helped him at that party, and now heâs acting like heâs blameless.
You turn and glare at him, arms crossed, the words sitting on your tongue. Youâre just close enough that you can see the tight line of his jaw in the moonlight.
âYou think youâre totally innocent here?â you mutter, taking a step forward, heart pounding.
Rafe looks away and scoffs. What he did doesnât compare. It doesnât even come close. He came clean. And he never set out to hurt someone. You did.
âIâm better than you,â he mutters.
âSure,â you huff. âStarting a bet with your friends that you can trick a girl into fucking you is what a really good person does.â
He grimaces. He knows how it mustâve sounded, like he was just another asshole who wanted you for only one thing. Youâd told him how men make you feel that way, and while nothing you shared with him was real, he knows the anger you felt when you told him that was.
âItâs not like that,â he mutters. âI didnât think youâd care.â
You scoff, the sound of splashing and laughter carrying from the lake. You canât help thinking how different things would be if youâd never let him in. You could be out there in the water, light and unbothered, instead of standing here with this weight pressing on your heart.
âIs that what you tell yourself?â you reply.
Rafe adjusts his hat as if itâll steady him. Heâs thrown by how merciless you sound, how easily you can cut him down when heâs trying to explain himself.
âCome on,â he says. In the back of his mind, he hears every rumor he ever absorbed about you, about the girl who treats guys like theyâre disposable. âYou know what people say about you.â
âRight. They say Iâm a bitch, soââ
âThey say that you donât even have feelings,â he cuts in, fast and sharp.
It stings. You thought itâs what you wanted, for people to think that you donât get hurt. That you canât. But hearing him say it, like itâs the truth, makes you realize how much of yourself youâve hidden.
Silence settles between you. Rafeâs expression shifts, pain flickering through it.
He thinks about everything youâve been through together, everything people say about you, and how not that long ago, he thought that none of it matched the girl standing in front of him.
Youâd told him to stop bothering you. But if youâre letting him bother you right now, if youâre still here, still talking, still glaring at him like heâs actually getting to you, then maybe a part of you cares.
âIâve never been a guy who can just mess around,â he admits, realizing how weak it makes him sound, but needing to get it out nonetheless. âBut I thought I could with you because I didnât think itâd mean anything to you. And I was right.â
He says it hoping youâll refute it.
âThat doesnât make it okay,â you tersely say instead.
Then, your eyes flick down. He hates the way you go quiet, the way you slip somewhere he canât follow. You do this. You shut down without warning.
âWhen were you going to tell me?â Rafe asks, voice tight. He needs to know how long you wouldâve kept stringing him along.
You remember how fast everything collapsed when he told you about the bet, when you told him it was a bet for you, too. And as your gaze remains on his chest, simply to avoid eye contact, you hate that you also remember how good it felt to be pressed against him, to feel his heartbeat, to hear his breath.
âWhen I felt like it,â you say simply.
Itâs too much. The whole conversation, the way heâs looking at you. You turn, your phone still in your hand, planning to hide it somewhere in your clothes and hope you can find it again after the cold plunge you desperately need.
Rafeâs heart picks up when you start to walk away.
This canât be where the conversation ends. Thereâs a part of him that always wants clarity, always wants the truth spelled out, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. He canât stand loose ends, and youâve become the biggest one in his life.
He moves before he even thinks about it.
Rafe rounds you in a few quick strides, cutting off your path. He steps into your space, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. Heâs inches from you when he speaks.
âWhyâd you help me the other night?â he asks, because it hurts not knowing anymore.
Now that heâs close enough, you can see the stillâhealing bruise at the bridge of his nose. It reminds you of the jolt of panic that shot through you when you saw him on the ground at that party back home. And itâs a quiet accusation of how much you care about him.
âI wish I didnât,â you mutter. âYou were such a dick.â
You step to the side, but Rafe blocks you and sternly says your name. Just like the night at the beach when this all started, when he tried to apologize for spilling his drink on you, when you told him to fuck off and you wish heâd listened.
âMove,â you say sharply. But he wonât. He canât believe that he actually had an effect on you that night. Or ever.
And the possibility that you bluffed about your bet rattles him now. The way you said it that night was almost too perfect to be made up on the spot, but he so badly wants you to tell him you were lying.
âWas there really a bet?â he says.
You sigh. It hurts, knowing youâd once agreed to something so cruel, knowing heâs asking you if you ever saw him as more than just a game, knowing that he started this whole thing with bad intentions, too.
âWas there?â he presses.
You look down at the gravel. And you donât know what possesses you to be honest, whether itâs the bruise on his nose, or how close he is, or how he said your name. Or maybe itâs simply because youâre tired of pretending.
âAt first,â you relent.
âAt first?â he echoes.
âI decided to forget about it.â
âWhen?â he asks.
âThat day you came to my room after I got off the phone with my mom,â you tell him. You look up at him again, and the eye contact is both hard and relieving, slicing through the distance youâve put between you. âI felt guilty about it because I thought I was wrong about you. I thought I saw good in you.â
You see the impact of your words in the way Rafeâs brows pull tight. Your instinct is to be spiteful, to hurt him the way he hurt you.
Rafe remembers that day in your room so clearly. It was a long time ago. You forgot about the bet, and you still wanted to keep him around, even though youâd been clear it wasnât for a relationship.
You being the person who saw something in him felt better than anything else. It felt like proof that he could be someone good. Someone better. And then he showed you that he canât be trusted.
âGot it,â he says, clipped, his voice low. He didnât think he mattered enough to hurt you, but itâs obvious that youâre already checked out and done with him.
The defeated way Rafe says it makes it clear to you that heâs given up. You swallow hard. You know that if you tried to step away now, heâd let you.
âYou think I donât have feelings?â you scoff, the accusation still pressing on your chest. âYou donât know me at all.â
Nobody knows you. And with him this close again, the fear flares that heâll see you for who you actually are, and heâll realize youâre not someone worth putting time into.
âI tried to,â Rafe murmurs, his voice coming out sharper than he means it to be.
You think about how he apologized to you, cried over you, told you he wanted more than whatever the two of you had. And then you called him stupid, told him you never liked him, to dig the knife in deeper.
Loss, guilt, and betrayal crash together in your chest, a vicious pressure that wonât ease up.
Youâre just two people who never expected to like each other. Something between you ran deeper than either of you meant it to, but you donât have it in you to try with him. Not after he lied. Not after you lied, too.
âI regret it, too, okay? I⊠actually liked you,â you admit. Your lips press together, your body heavy with pain. âBut it doesnât matter anymore. I told you this is over and I meant it.â
Rafe gets it now. Even though you felt something, he sees that this was never going to work. Because you donât want it to.
He purses his lips, offers a curt nod, and steps aside to let you pass. He gets a dose of you, and it sticks with him like it always does, like it always will. But he knows he canât get any more.
You walk past him. Youâre not built for wanting someone, for letting them want you back. And as you pace towards the lake under the night sky, hearing crickets chirping and people splashing, an unexpected relief settles in your heart.
Because for once, you didnât hide or pretend you were above anything. You showed Rafe that this hurt you, too. Itâs an honest kind of victory, and itâs so much lighter than the forced pride youâve been carrying.
Laying everything out feels good. Clean. And now you can focus on trying to put it all behind you.
(to be continued) (next part is the last)
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Ok hear me out, your series âlike fuel to fireâ, Rafe and reader give the song âjust my typeâ by the vamps
Also canât wait for next chapter!!!
aw thank you!! đ„°
OK THESE LYRICS?? i canât pick just one line omg this is 1000% rafe yearning for her. âtimes like this they call for true romance, but sheâs not ready for thatâ and âi love the way she plays with my headâ and âthis girlâs still on repeat, plays in my mind, wonât let me sleepâ?? đ„Č wow yeah youâre absolutely entirely correct đââïž
you're so good at writing emotionally intense scenes without giving me secondhand embarrassment like usually in bet tropes when they find out from someone else i cringe so bad but you didn't do that here which felt so refreshing. still felt like getting shot 20 times tho.
omg aaa thank you so much đ„č i can relate to that!! itâs frustrating for me to read about a character happening to be in the right place to overhear about it at the right time and/or to learn about it through someone else coincidentally or in a confrontation. i feel like everything unravels in a predictable way then. PLUS i personally feel like the only time a bet is redeemable is when they admit to it and donât necessarily have to. that is the only way iâd even come close to forgiving it đââïž
hahaha aw sorry for that ending⊠i cranked the all hurt/no comfort to the max đ€ comfort is coming though!! (after a lot more hurt, oops)
pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x kook!sororitygirl! reader
rating explicit 18+
summary when rafeâs friends bet that he canât charm you into sleeping with him, he canât say no to the challenge. he has no idea that you decide to make a game out of his advances. you have a secret bet to win, too. and youâre determined to break his heart.
< prev
Your chest tightens the moment you spot Rafe across the frat houseâs main floor.
He texted you the day after you abruptly got out of his truck two weeks ago, asking if he could see you. You never replied. You shouldâve just texted him back, but itâs not fair that youâre the one feeling guilty when you clearly needed space.
But youâre over it now. And you want to be around him. Youâve never felt chemistry like you do with him, and itâs a shame that he couldnât have just kept things uncomplicated.
His fratâs probation is done. Thatâs why youâre seeing him at a party for the first time in a while. This frat house is the largest on Greek Row and youâve always joked that itâs made up of the loudest guys on campus.
Rafe is in the corner of the living room, surrounded by his friends. He looks happy. Youâre glad. You never let a guy get close enough to make you think that way, but thereâs more to him than what youâre used to.
He admitted to you that he knows the pain that comes from a parent walking away. And it tells you even more that he still answers his momâs calls. Heâs forgiving in a way you donât understand. Heâs softer in places youâve hardened.
Youâre on a weird middle ground now. Rafeâs absence doesn't break you, but seeing him again is nice. Youâve recentered yourself, got a grip on the feelings you thought you were developing for him, and with that out of your mind, you can admit you kind of miss him.
You want to get a moment away from the noise. Itâs so loud here that you know itâs a matter of time before this frat is next on the probation list.
You tell your friends youâre going to the bathroom, then navigate through the crowded hallway, knowing thereâs a chance youâll lock eyes with Rafe as you pass him.
You wish heâd glance your way. You want things to get back to how they were with him, physical with no feelings involved. Maybe itâs a silly hope, but itâs one you have regardless.
As you squeeze past people, the music suddenly stops. Without the throb of bass, the smaller sounds of the party rush in, conversations fading into confused silence, your breath loud in your ears.
Then, a guy shouts, âClear out!â
Youâre not surprised. Of course this house is getting busted by security. Youâll need to go through the back door.
Everyone starts to scramble. You let yourself be swept up in the tide, pushed deeper into the house, figuring you can just follow the crowd.
But people are moving too slowly, so you follow a group of girls rushing through an interior door. More people shuffle in behind you into the laundry room, a mix of hushed voices, and the door swings shut.
Most are laughing through their whispers, drunk and loving the adventure, while you lean against the washing machine, not in the mood for this. You cross your arms, realizing thereâs at least ten bodies crammed in here, and in the small, darkened room, you see him.
Rafeâs leaning back against the door. In the dimness, he still looks content, clearly tipsy and chuckling at something a friend just said, until his gaze sweeps the room. When he meets your eyes, his face falls just a fraction.
âCome on,â a guy snips frantically. âWe gotta get out.â
Youâre certain heâs an overeager freshman in this houseâs frat. He scrambles onto a table, straining as he cranks open the narrow window at the top of the wall. He pushes out the screen and pulls himself onto the grass.
People follow, clearly finding a thrill in all of this, but you refuse to shove yourself through the window, especially after hearing a girl tell her friend behind her to watch out for the pointy bush.
As the room empties, Rafe remains at the end of the line. Normally, heâd vault through that window without a second thought, but he lingers, the pull you still have over him keeping him here.
He watches you from the corner of his eye. Youâre just standing there, arms crossed, looking bored. He hesitates, like his sneakers are stuck to the tile, torn between the exit and the girl who rejected him.
You find Rafeâs eyes as the guy in front of him scrambles up onto the table. After a second of silence between you, you lift your shoulders in a shrug.
âIâm not drunk enough to do all that,â you explain to him, and hearing your voice again, especially with that familiar laugh behind it, keeps him from moving.
He doesnât smirk like he usually does. Instead, his gaze is heavy, the corners of his mouth tight. He looks angry at you, and it leaves a sinking feeling in your chest.
âI think thatâs a closet over there,â you say, gesturing toward the door on the other side of the room, saying it casually so he doesnât think youâll be offended if he doesn't take the veiled invitation.
âRafe! Come on, man!â one of his friends calls from the other side.
His eyes stay on you as you pass by him to open the closet door and he shakes his head, looking back up to his friend.
âJust go,â he says.
Cooper hesitates for a second, but then sighs and leaves, the window open, the room quiet.
The sound of heavy footsteps and muffled radio chatter filters in from the hallway. You snag Rafeâs hand, your fingers curling around his. The adrenaline of almost being caught hits you now, and youâre sure itâs because Rafe chose to stay back with you.
âHurry,â you whisper through a breathless laugh, pulling him into the small, dark closet and clicking the door shut.
The space is tiny, barely enough for two people to stand without touching. He stands directly across from you, and the fact that he followed you speaks louder than the silence between you. If heâs mad, heâs clearly not that mad.
You pull out your phone, the screen casting a blue glow as you reach up to tug at the light bulb string. It clicks, but the closet remains covered in darkness.
âGreat,â you mutter sarcastically, letting the string drop. Your phone screen goes black and you pocket it.
Rafe doesnât speak, unsure of what to say. It feels so damn good that you decided to touch him. It was an unexpected jolt to his system when your hand curled around his.
He stands in the darkness, his heart thudding against his ribs, breathing in the scent of your shampoo that fills the cramped space.
The silence stretches and the guilt youâve been harboring rises up. You left him, after heâd opened up to you about his mom, and then never replied to him. It wasnât your best moment.
âSorry I didnât text you back,â you say, your voice soft.
The apology undoes Rafe immediately. Itâs like a weight has been taken off his shoulders, and the anger evaporates.
He spent the last two weeks bitter that you ghosted him, but the truth is, he was expecting you to force a feeling that wasn't there. You donât want him, youâve been clear about that, and wishing that youâd like him is the same thing as wishing that he didnât like you.
Pointless.
At this moment, he remembers that last conversation, the way you spoke about your dad. For a girl who keeps people at arm's length, opening up meant something, and he knows he fucked up by texting you. It was overbearing. Too much.
Heâs always too much.
âNah,â he responds. âI shouldâve left you alone.â
The tired honesty in Rafeâs deep voice makes you want to console him, and that impulse is proof of how heâs managed to become someone you care about.
Heâs accountable, and he listens to you, even when itâs a rejection he doesn't want to hear. It makes it impossible to be cold with him like you are with every other guy.
Youâve never been this drawn to a man before. You canât afford to trust him with your heart, but pretending the spark between you doesnât exist feels unrealistic.
âHey,â you say, deciding to be bold, âif you want to keep this⊠uncomplicated, we can.â
Rafe flexes his fingers at his sides. Youâre suggesting to go back to touching each other like you used to, to do what your bodies so clearly want without feelings attached.
The prospect sparks fire through him. Agreeing to this feels reckless, selfâdestructive, but itâs the only way he can have you. And heâll take that over nothing at all.
âYou miss me, huh?â he rasps, pushing away his thoughts, acting like the man he thinks he ought to be.
You smirk, relieved heâs joking with you again.
âGet over yourself,â you say with a soft chuckle.
Itâs an overwhelming relief when his hands cradle your face, holding you like he used to. He ducks to kiss you, and your hands drag up his arms immediately, fingers interlacing around the back of his neck to bring him closer.
You hear the door to the laundry room open. Low voices follow. Itâs security, most likely. If they decide to check the closet, theyâll find you in seconds.
But you stay where you are, holding Rafe and letting him hold you, your mouths opening together. Nothingâs more important than kissing him right now.
The voices retreat, and youâre in the clear again, and when Rafeâs tongue slips into your mouth, you accept him completely, tilting your head back so he can kiss you deeper. You feel his cock twitch against you, hardening, making your stomach curl with heat.
One of Rafeâs hands trails down your back, squeezing your ass, cupping under your thigh to bring your leg up to his hip. He shifts to press you against the door and his fingers dig into the back of your knee as he presses himself up against you just so you can see what you do to him.
You sigh into his mouth and he knows youâre getting wet for him, he remembers how good you tasted, he wants you more than anything right now.
He shifts to kiss your neck, and when you lean your head back against the door, it loosens out its frame behind you, causing you to nearly stumble back. In a fit of laughter, you catch yourself before falling into the empty laundry room. The doorâs clearly not as sturdy as you both thought.
Rafe laughs with you as he holds you by the hips. You donât need the help to stand, but that doesnât stop him from touching you.
âSo⊠maybe not here,â you half-whisper through your giggles.
He dips his head to kiss you again, simply because he can. His mind shuffles over the possibilities, wondering the best, quickest way he can get you in a bed will be, because if he finally gets to have you, he needs to be able to see you, to take his time.
âWe have a party tomorrow,â he murmurs against your lips, knowing heâll have his bedroom to himself then. âYou should come.â
âI will,â you say with a smile, now aware of the buzzing in your pocket, sure your friends are calling to ask where you are.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
Rafe hasnât told his friends that the betâs off. He realizes it when you walk into his fratâs house party the next night and Mac nudges him.
âHey,â he grins. âWhatever happened with her? You owe me money, donât you?â
âMaybe not,â Cooper adds. âHe stayed back with her last night, remember? Maybe they fucked in that laundry room.â
Mac laughs. Rafe doesnât.
Itâs been over two months since the night on that front porch, when Rafe watched you walk away down Greek Row, irritated with how perfect and unattainable you always were, and placed that bet.
His jaw tightens. He hasnât told his friends it stopped being a joke the second he got to know you. That the idea of reducing you to some stupid dare makes him feel sick now.
He just wants the conversation to die. And it does when you walk up to him, gently squeezing his forearm.
âDo you guys ever learn your lesson?â you tease, looking up at him through widened, pretty eyes. âThis party has to be the rowdiest one youâve ever had.â
The house is packed, as if the frat is making up for the weeks they werenât allowed to throw a party. Before Rafe answers, two of his buddies turn away to laugh. Youâre sure they didnât hear what you said, so clearly something about you simply being here is hilarious to them.
Rafe watches your brows pull together, that small crease forming between them. He hates to see that angry, uncomfortable look on you.
âWhat the fuckâs so funny?â you mutter to him.
âItâs not about you,â he lies. âTheyâre just assholes.â
You brush it off. For a long time, you assumed Rafe cared only about what his friends thought, but his passing insult makes you reconsider that heâs not just a guy who always plays along with their bullshit.
âI like when youâre honest,â you reply. âLetâs get me a drink.â
It hits him hard. Honest. You tug him deeper into the crowd, and he follows.
This whole thing between you has been a mess of halfâtruths from the start. Heâd approached you with the wrong intentions, with something to prove. But then you surprised him. You were nothing like he thought you were.
He watches the back of your head as you weave through the party, your hand brushing his. Does he need to tell you? Would it change anything? Would it ruin everything?
The truth feels too big to say, but too wrong to keep. He tries to stifle it, but he canât â he has a conscience and it eats him alive.
You both stop at the keg, the noise of the party swelling around you. Youâre reaching for a cup when you glance up at Rafe, at the clear blue eyes always trained on you, at the adorable way his hair falls.
âSo,â you say lightly, âyou survived probation.â
âBarely,â he says with a small laugh. âYou girls never get in trouble, huh?â
âWeâre just great at not getting caught,â you reply.
He smirks, and as your eyes flicker down to his smile, you realize now just how much your mood has lifted since you started talking to him a minute ago. With Rafe, you donât feel like you have to perform.
âItâs good to hang out with you again,â you add, and you donât hide the sincerity in your voice. You mean it.
Rafeâs eyes dart away. The guilt sits in his chest, another reminder of the bet. Hearing you say that would normally make him feel amazing, but it only makes it worse.
Youâre confused by his tension, following his gaze behind your shoulder. You spot a couple kissing by the stairs.
âWhat, does he have a girlfriend, too?â you murmur. Rafe realizes youâre referring to his frat brother blatantly cheating at the beach. You think heâs irritated by the same thing now. Heâll let you believe it.
Then, you recognize him. Itâs the guy from the gym, the one Rafe snapped at for staring at you, wearing the same frat insignia on his shirt. He threatened his own frat brother for you.
Rafeâs really not desperate for his friendsâ approval like you thought he was.
You turn around and look up at him again. His face is tight in contemplation. He canât hide anything in his expression.
You fill your cup at the keg, the sound of the tap rushing loud. He still looks upset.
âItâs messed up,â you say with a sigh. âThatâs why I wonât give anyone the chance to do it to me.â
The words come out easily. Youâre not usually this open, but Rafe makes you feel like you donât have to keep a front up. Itâs because youâve already agreed to keep things casual, to be friends with benefits.
You feel more relaxed around him than you have with any guy in a long time. For once, youâre not trying to win anything or protect yourself.
Itâs sitting on Rafeâs tongue. But he canât say I wouldnât do it to you. This arrangement between you has no strings, so itâs just another thing he swallows down.
âHey,â you say, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. âYou okay?â
He could tell you right now. He could get it over with. He could ruin everything. Or he could keep it buried and pretend this is simple, the way you both agreed it would be.
âYeah,â he lies. âJust thinking.â
âYou can do that?â you tease.
Rafe chuckles and nudges your shoulder, but itâs barely a touch, so light it doesnât even move you. Itâs strange, knowing how strong he is, how easily he could shove someone twice your size, yet with you, heâs gentle.
Youâre relieved things are back to normal between you. Rafe wanted something real with you at some point and he seems to have pulled that back, and thatâs for the best. Because whatever he thought he liked doesnât exist. He doesnât know you. Not the real you.
Even though youâre being more direct with him than usual, itâs still a version of you. No one gets the full thing. It makes you feel like youâre always lying, at least a little bit.
Rafe notices you drift, your thoughts pulling you somewhere he canât follow. Youâd shared an ugly truth, admitted your dad cheated on your mom and left you both, so no wonder you hate this topic. He still feels like a dick for trying to make you talk about it the other night.
He clears his throat.
âYou goinâ home for the break?â he asks. Itâs nearing the middle of December, which means campus is thinning out, everyone scattering for winter break.
You nod, grateful for the shift in topic. Itâs like he sensed youâre about to shut down. He definitely learned that he has to steer things around for you the hard way.
âYeah,â you say. âI donât really like being at home all the time, but I love seeing my friends.â
He gets it. When a family loses someone, the gap never closes. Life keeps moving, but the empty space stays. Heâs sure your home feels as cold as his.
âI donât like either,â he says.
You offer a sardonic chuckle.
âI guess that explains all the fights?â you ask.
Rafe shrugs. Here, he still has surface-level friendships with guys who occasionally piss him off, but itâs just less intense. Either way, he has to put on a persona no matter what. Heâs always had to act tough and overcompensate for how soft he really is.
âIâve heard you even scrap with the guys from the Cut,â you add, trying to avoid sounding accusatory. Admittedly, youâve grown curious about that part of his life, the part youâve always witnessed but know barely anything about.
Rafe looks down at his beer. Those fights werenât about territory or reputation or any of the excuses he used to throw around. It was about the way anger controls him. About feeling bigger, when his whole life, heâs felt small. Pogues were always easy targets.
âIâm not proud of it,â he admits. âIâm trying to be better.â
His words make you realize youâre not exactly proud of yourself, either. Youâve spent years dragging guys along, dropping them the second they wanted something real. Playing with their feelings. Putting yourself first.
Rafe wants to be better. Youâve never really done that. It makes you wonder if youâd ever want to be any different, if thereâs a guy out there worth that.
You love your friends, but a deeper kind of connection, something romantic, demands an open heart. Itâs not safe. But maybe you could give it a try.
You shake the thought away, nearly cringing, refusing to think about it any longer. Youâre with Rafe for fun. Thatâs it.
âWell, you didnât start a fight at the gym the other day, so thatâs progress,â you respond, shifting the mood again. âI can admit you were a good personal trainer, by the way. A little handsy, though.â
He laughs, thinking back to how heâd stood behind you, palms cupping your elbows as he led you through a free weight set, touching you as much as he possibly could.
âIâm handsy?â he replies. âYouâre always touchinâ me.â
âOh, you want me to stop?â you challenge.
He tilts his head, eyes dragging down your face, his bottom lip trapped behind white teeth. The charge between you is still burning hot, and with the way heâs looking at you, you can tell heâs just as hungry for you as you are for him.
You like this part. Lust. Itâs easy.
You nod, a quiet way to tell him you want to go upstairs. He puts his drink down, you do the same, and you slip away together.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
As soon as his bedroom door shuts behind you, Rafe pushes you up against it, lips locked on yours like he couldnât wait another second to kiss you.
Every inch of your body loosens as he holds you, breathing him in, the mix of cologne and detergent and musk that makes him him, the taste of beer and heat on his tongue. Your fingers lace into his soft hair, tugging gently as your core heats.
His hands cradle your jaw as he pulls you closer to him, guiding you to his bed, settling onto his back so you can hover over him. He shifts to grip your hips, tugging down so youâll put on your weight on him as you continue to taste each other, kissing in a perfect, unique rhythm that only the two of you have.
Rafe is completely here physically, but mentally, heâs halfway out. I like when youâre honest. Your words from just minutes ago wonât leave his mind, rattling around, stabbing at his conscience.
âYou have something?â you breathe against his lips, figuring if he doesnât have a condom, you can surely find one somewhere in this house.
Rafe nods, but, fuck, the heat in his muscles is fading, shame flooding into every crevice of his being. Itâs embarrassing that he canât even stay hard.
The guilt from lying to you, that heâs been lying to you since the beginning, claws into his heart so sharply that he knows he canât do this.
Even though itâs purely physical for you, itâs not for him, and because he wants so much more with you, because this all started with a lie, he canât go through with it. He canât live with himself, tricking you.
Your brows furrow in confusion when you realize Rafe is slowly pushing you away. Your lips part in a quiet smack as you sit up, studying his face for an answer.
âI need to - I need to say something,â he says, his voice low.
You stiffen, shifting up off of him to sit on the corner of his bed, watching him shuffle to sit, too. You swallow hard. Maybe heâs lost his attraction for you. Maybe he doesnât like you anymore.
Damn it. Why did your mind go there, and why did the thought hurt so bad? Your heart starts to race, the reality sinking in. You like him. More than you should. Way more than you should.
Itâs good he stopped this. You should leave.
âWe donât have to do anything," you tell him, looking away.
âI want to,â he murmurs. âItâsâŠâ
Rafe turns, his long legs swinging off the side of his bed, his broad back to you as he rakes his hand through his hair.
âWhat?â you ask, studying his wide shoulders, the freckles scattered across the back of his neck.
Rafe is sure this is it. He knows enough about you to be sure you wonât forgive him for this. Itâs so easy for you to detach, and he barely even has you at all right now.
Heâll say this, and heâll lose you, and itâs all because of the man he was when this started. The man heâll always be. Weak and soft and doomed to feel too much.
âYou know I like you, right?â he begins. âI want more than just⊠this.â
Your pulse hammers in your ears. So, he does still have feelings. Itâs a relief. And itâs scary that itâs a relief. Last time he told you he had feelings for you, you felt yourself retreat. This time, you want to reach out and touch him.
But youâve never done that before. Youâve never been given a chance to be vulnerable with a man and actually taken it.
Rafe rubs his hand over his jaw, hating that thereâs a flicker of hope in his chest that that wasnât the last time you kissed him. But once he tells you this, heâs sure it will be. Unless, maybe, you see something in him worth keeping.
âThat night that I, uh⊠spilled my drink on youâŠâ he says.
âWhy arenât you looking at me?â you ask in a thin voice he hasnât heard before. He turns to meet your gaze, realizing heâd do anything you asked of him.
Youâre right. He should look you in the eye when he tells you this.
âIt was so fucking stupid,â he tells you. âAfter you left, my friends⊠those guys downstairs, we started a bet that I could hook up with you.â
The burning in his eyes fills him with humiliation. Heâs about to cry in front of you. He didnât think this would happen, but itâs overwhelming. The guilt. The love.
âI swear, I⊠I know what a dick I was to do it,â he stammers, voice starting to weaken. âI regret it. Iâm sorry. I donât - I donât want to lie to you. I donât care about the bet. But you deserve to know. You deserve better.â
You stare at Rafe, his eyes glossing over, his nostrils flaring as he tries to swallow down his tears.
Youâre dumbfounded, your lips just barely parted. It stings. It stings so deeply. This is the kind of pain a person can only give you if you let them in. If you trusted them.
He did it. He broke through your wall, reached a hidden part of you, all to prove what you suspected of him from the start. That heâs a liar. A user. A selfish asshole who saw you as someone to have sex with, and nothing more.
Thatâs surely what his friends were cracking up about downstairs. You were right. They were laughing at you.
Youâre furious. Shocked. And slowly losing your composure. But youâre good at smothering your feelings, wearing a mask, and you know whatâll hurt Rafe most now is if youâre completely indifferent. Unfeeling.
You never thought about telling him about the bet, simply because it was a thing of the past. Inconsequential. You started this off wanting to break his heart, and then thought you saw good in him, and you completely forgot about the plan.
But now, itâs back in your mind, and youâre going through with it.
âI knew you were like every other guy,â you reply, flat and cold and spiteful. âI just didnât know it was a bet. I canât even be mad at you, though. This was a bet for me, too.â
Rafe grimaces, confusion swimming in his glazed eyes.
âYou can ask my friends if you donât believe me,â you say. âOnce you started following me around like a lost dog, we had the idea to fuck with you. They challenged me to break your heart. Because obviously, you deserve it.â
Rafeâs eyes frantically search your face, his face pinched.
âYouâre lying,â he says with a brief shake of his head.
âAsk them,â you reply. âOr donât. I really donât care.â
You shift to stand up, desperate to leave, to be in private so your body can react the way it needs to.
âIâm over this,â you mutter. âDonât bother me anymore.â
Your throat is thick, your chest heavy. And you stop at the door with your back to him, youâre determined to dig into him as painfully as you can before you cut him off completely. Youâll deal with the ache in your heart later.
âI donât know if you believe your own bullshit about how you want to be a better person,â you murmur, âbut if you do, youâre even stupider than I thought. I could never like you for real.â
Rafe hears the doorknob twist. You wanted to break his heart. You did it. Itâs in a million fucking pieces right now, his pride torn up in front of him.
He can see where you get your reputation from.
âLet âem know you did it,â he mutters to your back.
You donât even turn around at the confirmation, at his confession that you broke his heart. You only shut the door behind you.
next >
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holy shit, nads! part 5 was a rollercoaster i don't even know where to start... like tf??? are you insane with the whole first part of the chapter? HELLLOOOOO???? i had to stop reading a couple of times because of the excitement jajdj i swear you bring back a really youthful excitement like i feel i get my whimsy backđđđđ
i only have good wishes for you, girl! the way you built up the tension and kept it high through the entire chapterđ€ you are so good at coming up with ideas about his mom's storyline, the fact that the show never acknowledged what actually happened to her gives you so much space to play with... so good! đ€
ugh i relate to them so much because i know firsthand what it's like to have family issues... like, why are you involving ME in your adult problems? you're grown people.. solve your things privately bc then we are left with the responsibility of having to fix what the others did to us :/ but anyway... i can't with these two SEEKING EACH OTHER!!!!! IS IT EVER CASUAL???? SHOW ME SOMEBODY WHO REALLY.. TRULY.. IS CASUAL ABOUT IT?? god, i know tonight's update is going to eatđ§ââïžđ§ââïž mil besitos para vos, nad!xoxo
AWW THANK YOU MY LOVE đ„° itâs amazing to hear that because when iâm writing/editing something for days, i canât even tell if emotion is coming through since iâve been picking the words apart forever. it means so much to me that it has an impact aaa đ„č
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Nadia youre the besttt. I hope youll never stop writing. It has been a couple of years but since i followed you but i still have the same excitement over a new chapter â€ïžâ€ïžâ€ïž
this is so so so sweet đ„č thank you, you angel!! đ
the bet trope stresses me out because it all gets so messy when they start having real feelings, whenever they have a moment and then they remember they have a bet going and have to pull back, but is that also not half the fun of the bet trope too hehe đ€ you write it so well!!!!
aw thank you so much!! hehe yes omg i just love the tension of two characters trying not to yearn for each other (and failing) (and then everything implodes) đââïž
pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x kook!sororitygirl! reader
rating explicit 18+
summary when rafeâs friends bet that he canât charm you into sleeping with him, he canât say no to the challenge. he has no idea that you decide to make a game out of his advances. you have a secret bet to win, too. and youâre determined to break his heart.
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The sorority house is quiet. After your day at the beach, most of the girls, including your roommate, left to go to a party on the other side of campus. You were too tired to tag along.
You slip into bed after a long shower, wearing nothing but underwear and a soft, oversized t-shirt. The quiet room is dim with the glow of your desk lamp. Your body is sleepy, heavy after a day of soaking in the sun, but your mind isnât ready to shut down.
You know Rafe isnât out tonight on account of his fratâs probation. Heâs probably bored in his room, just like you. And you want to have some fun.
Seeing him shirtless all day today, feeling his skin on yours stoked a fire in you. It made you want to slip away with him somewhere and give into the pull you both feel for each other.
You text him to come over. Youâre not surprised when he quickly texts back that he will.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
When you open the front door with a sweet, relaxed smile and an offer to hug, Rafe feels like heâs in heaven. You never text first. Maybe youâre starting to feel something for him, too.
He ducks down to wrap his arms around you, squeezing gently, reveling in the smell of soap on your neck.
He was kidding himself when he thought this would be the way to get a hold of his emotions. Heâs falling off the deep end, and all he can do now is hope you are, too.
The bet is a distant, stupid memory. He doesnât want to just hook up with you and be done with it. He wants to have something with you and he can only hope you want the same.
You land back down on your heels after getting up on your tip-toes to hug him, swinging the door closed behind him.
âYou burned a little,â you say, gently poking the pink tinge at the top of his cheek.
Rafe winces dramatically as if you hurt him, earning a laugh from you. Endeared, he canât stop himself from kissing your forehead before you turn to guide him up the stairs.
Just like the first night he was here, he watches the shape of your legs as he trails you, his gut already coiling with the anticipation of feeling them wrap around him.
Being next to you all day with no opportunity to kiss you was its own class of torture, and now, the baggy t-shirt youâve draped over your body just barely covers your ass, making him hard before heâs even in your bedroom.
The door clicks closed behind him as you sit on your bed, leaving space for him.
âEveryone went out?â Rafe asks, the stillness in the house making him unsure whether anyone else is even here.
âNot everyone,â you reply. âBut most.â
You remember what he said about hating boredom. Itâs the first weekend into his fratâs probation and heâs already restless to party.
âToday was fun,â he says, taking a seat at the foot of your bed.
âYouâre welcome for the invitation," you reply with a squint.
âDid I not say thank you?â
âNo, but Iâm used to you not having manners.â
He grins, dimples cutting deep, and itâs almost starting to irritate you how charming his smile is, your lampâs light casting shadows over the planes of his face.
âThank you,â he says, his voice low. And he means it. Youâre prickly at times, but how could anyone call you a bitch? You invited him today to give him a loophole out of his fratâs probation, to give him fun. You have a heart, no matter how much you try to hide it.
You smirk, eyes on his. The tension sinking between you is getting heavier with every passing second. The attraction that sits deep in your stomach is hotter than you expected.
You realize itâs because he doesnât touch you the way you thought he would. Heâs firm, but never aggressive or selfish. Every taste heâs given you of his touch has left you hungry for more. Itâs like he knows what you want without having to ask.
Rafe leans in, cupping your face like he doesnât want you looking at anything but him. The tension cracks when your lips finally meet, and you can feel it, how badly youâve both wanted each other all day.
You drag your hands up his arms, skimming over his hot skin to the cotton of his t-shirt, pulling him towards you. When you guide him to lie over top of you, you feel how hard he is, how his body is begging for yours.
Rafe doesnât sink onto you completely, but the weight he does put on you is heavy in the best way. The sounds of your slow, wet kisses fill your ears as he gently grinds against your middle, biting your bottom lip just once, enough to make you impatiently writhe against him.
Slowly, you slip your fingers under the hem of his t-shirt, guiding it off his body, tossing it to your floor. His chest is warm and firm against you as his mouth finds yours again.
Moments later, he drags your shirt up, pulling it off over your head, exhaling sharply once he sees youâre braless. He kisses you harder, until eventually, he shifts, and his fingers press between your legs, slowly, torturously.
Your breath hitches at the touch, at how wet you are already.
And he wants it so bad. So bad that it aches. But he knows he barely scraped by with your forgiveness after he snapped at you for walking out of his room the other night, and he canât do it again. He canât risk losing you.
âHey,â he rasps against your lips.
âHmm?â your voice comes out weak.
âIâm not going to do what I did last time,â he says. âWhenever you want to stop, just⊠say it.â
You nod, pulling him in to kiss you again. The softness in Rafeâs voice is teetering toward romance, and you have no interest in letting it go there. Truthfully, even if he is an asshole about whatever you end up doing tonight, youâre not attached enough for it to sting.
You spread your legs wider, finding pure bliss in the pressure of his hand on you, only your thin panties keeping him from having full contact. You lose yourself in the way heâs trailing his fingers up and down, steady and firm as his tongue sinks into your mouth.
He pulls back, forehead on yours, and whispers as he gently taps his fingertips against your heat, âYou want my mouth here, baby?â
Every muscle in you twists, throbbing.
âYes,â you sigh in relief.
He shifts lower to settle between your thighs and places a languid kiss over your panties, coaxing a slow moan from you. He drags the fabric down your hips, your legs, your ankles, letting them bunch at the end of your bed, before he sinks onto his elbows with his head between your legs.
Rafeâs heart is pounding in his ears when he sees you bare, up close, glistening and so fucking perfect. His thumbs skim over your folds as he gently spreads you apart so he can see every part of you.
Heâs in deep and he knows it, because all he wants to do is please you. Even though his cock is so hard that itâs aching, making you come is all that matters to him right now.
His eyes drag up to your face. You watch him stare up at you like he always does, skin tingling with desire. With anticipation. You shudder as his hot, wet mouth finally meets your core.
The taste of you makes every part of his body ache with hunger, like no matter how much he gets, heâll always be starving for you.
He doesnât waste any time teasing you. He gives you what you want, starts to lick and suck, the sounds of your staggered breathing and moisture filling your bedroom. His tongue trails over every bit of you, wriggling over your clit, and when you feel his tongue nudge inside, he groans and you breathe out his name, drunk off the pleasure.
Rafeâs hands dig into your thighs as you pulse around his tongue and fill him with your scent, your taste, everything that makes him so damn lost for you. And he knows now, entirely, that he was an idiot for thinking he could do anything with you without getting attached.
As he continues to lap at you, his nose brushes against your slick clit, making you thread your fingers through his hair and gently pull. No matter how much you writhe, he keeps his mouth hard on you, refusing to lose contact.
It takes almost no time. You press against him as your orgasm crashes into you, every nerve ending pinching with bliss as you come on his tongue. He sucks your clit until you breathe an overstimulated whine, placing a hand on his cheek so heâll give you a break.
Rafe shifts up to meet your lips again, hovering over you as he lets you see how good you taste. Heâs savoring this, covering your mouth with his, breathing you in and unable to believe that just a few weeks ago, you were always around, yet a complete stranger.
He canât believe what heâs been missing out on. Itâs like the world narrows in on him, on both of you in this moment. It feels right to be here with you, in your bed, his lips on yours. He could only do this, feel this with a girl he genuinely likes.
Your body is still buzzing from the rush heâs given you as you trade slow kisses. Youâre not sure youâve ever felt this type of chemistry with a guy before. You want more. Maybe youâll even become friends with benefits if itâs as good as you think it will be.
You shift to touch him over his shorts, feeling him exhale against your mouth as you cup his thick shaft. He gently jerks against your hand, grinding over you. Heâs so hard, so big, that your heart skips in anticipation of feeling him stretch you, fill you.
You move to the button of his jeans, expecting him to help you take them off, but then he pulls back, ending the kiss.
Rafe stares down at you, at the blissed out expression on your pretty face, and he canât do it. Although every part of him, every muscle, every goddamn vein is hot with his desire for you, he canât separate his feelings. Theyâre a part of his core, too permanent to untangle, and as much as he tells himself to get a grip, he canât.
His emotions control him, not the other way around. Heâs lost in you now. And if heâs going to do this, he needs to tell you the truth.
âI really like you,â he half-whispers.
And then he feels it, the way you stiffen. You lift your hand off of him, shifting up a little.
âAm I not supposed to say that?â Rafe teases, trying to pretend your reaction isnât hurting him, that he doesnât regret telling you. Why canât he just keep his fucking mouth shut?
You sit up, finding your t-shirt to cover your bare chest, the mood in the room completely shifted now. You look over your shoulder at him. You were hoping to do more tonight, but you canât. Not when heâs talking to you like this means something.
You need to tell him you arenât looking for this. For feelings. For a boyfriend. You may have wanted to hurt him at some point, but now, you wonât. You canât.
Rafe traps his bottom lip under his teeth for a second, eyes searching like he can find an answer in your face if he looks hard enough.
âWere you serious today?â he asks before you can reply. âWhen you said every guy does it?â
Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Rafe hangs onto your words. Itâs obvious that the things you say stay with him, circle his mind. He almost seems worried about you thinking every guy cheats.
âIt was a joke,â you reply.
He sits up, leaning against the wall, close enough that you can feel his breath on your shoulder.
âWhy are we talking about this?â you say, tense from the sudden shift in atmosphere.
âI wanna know,â he replies.
It feels crazy that you once thought he was just another careless asshole. Rafe has an intensity to him that youâve never seen in a man before. A passion that nobody can fake. But you canât reciprocate it.
âWe donât need to get all serious," you say with an awkward laugh. While youâve had to tell guys this before, for some reason, doing it feels really hard this time. âThis thing between us is just⊠fun, okay?â
Rafe shakes his head just slightly, unable to understand why. He likes you, more than he ever meant to, and he doesnât know what to do with the fact that you want to keep him at a distance.
Now that heâs actually spent time with you, heâs sure thereâs a deeper reason for why you have the reputation that you cycle through guys and never stick around. It bothers him that he doesnât know what that reason is.
He wants to understand the girl sitting in front of him. He canât help wondering what pushed you into being like this. If some guy stepped out on you, then he was an idiot.
âDid it happen to you?â he asks.
Heâs clearly still stuck on the whole cheating thing. Why canât he just take no for an answer?
âRafeâŠâ you huff in frustration.
âDid it?â
âIâm not talking about this,â you snip, your tone sharp.
Questions circle Rafeâs mind. But he doesnât ask them.
He still has his pride. Itâs obvious that youâre only into him for sex, and that youâve seen enough of him to know that you donât consider him worth more.
Itâs jarring to go from such heated lust to this cold tension within a minute. He hates this about himself. How he speaks before he thinks. How he canât just keep doing this with you and convince himself that how he feels doesnât matter.
âShould I go?â he finally asks, half-hurt, half-frustrated.
You look away.
âYeah,â you say flatly.
He shifts to stand up and finds his shirt on the floor. You watch the fabric fall down his taut back, a strange mix of sympathy and rejection settling in your heart.
He checks his pockets for his things and sets out to leave. But he stops halfway, lingering in the middle of your bedroom for a second, as if heâs trying to figure out if he should say something.
But he doesnât. You stare at him. He doesnât look back.
The door shuts behind him, leaving you sitting up in your bed, your top pressed against your chest, your heart pounding. This time, heâs the one who stopped things from going any further, and itâs clearly because you refused to open up to him.
Rafe is not who you thought he was. Youâve witnessed his temper, his impatience, his spite, but thereâs a tenderness to him that you never saw coming. All things that youâre sure some other girl would want. Not you.
This is probably the end of your fling. And itâs okay. Itâs familiar and comforting and right to say goodbye before things get too messy.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
Rafeâs heart is racing. And it wonât stop. Itâs always like this after his mom calls.
Itâs a rainy Sunday morning, a week since he saw you last. And he canât stop thinking about you. Since that night, every time his phone has buzzed, his body has flooded with anticipation, hopeful that it was you, just to be let down.
He was about to leave for the on-campus gym when his phone started buzzing in his pocket and once again, he wanted it to be you. But it was his mother, and now heâs sitting on the edge of his bed, staring down at his phone.
He never knows when sheâll reach out, and every time, it gives him whiplash. It was a quick conversation, a surface-level check-in, but thatâs always enough to throw him. She talks to him like heâs an old friend, not his son, not one of the kids she left behind.
Maybe itâs self-sabotage. Or an ill-fated belief that he can prove to you that heâs someone worth keeping around. All he knows for sure is that he misses you, so he texts you that heâs going to the gym if you want to come.
You respond that he can pick you up in fifteen.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
You watch Rafeâs truck pull up from your bedroom window.
You figure he made peace with the fact that you want to keep your relationship strictly physical. Some guys canât, acting like theyâre entitled to you because they caught feelings, and you always cut them off when things get to this point.
You decided to accept Rafeâs invitation, though, because you really enjoy being around him. Thereâs something so effortless about it. You couldnât have been clearer that you donât want anything serious, so youâre optimistic heâs back in your life because he got his emotions in check.
Rafeâs eyes meet yours when you open the passenger-side door. Despite every twisted up way youâve made him feel, his lips curl into a smile. You have that effect.
âTaking me to the gym isnât some excuse youâre going to use to improve my form, is it?â you say, climbing into his seat. Light raindrops sink into the thin material of your gym clothes as you toss your duffel bag to the back.
Rafe smirks as you shut the door. Heâs so glad you agreed to meet him. You lift his mood in seconds, clear the murkiness in his head, move past the tension from the last time you spoke like it wasnât ever even there.
âIf youâre doing things wrong, then I gotta help,â he replies.
âBye,â you sigh jokingly, reaching to open the door again, but he drives off before you can. You playfully nudge him, and he glances over at you with another smirk, eyes flickering over your beautiful features.
You grin, then your eyes trail down his big arms, the way his t-shirt clings to his taut body. Itâs ridiculous, the pull he has on you. The memory of last weekend rushes in, the feeling of his mouth between your legs, the desire to do it all again, and more.
âYou go there a lot?â you tease. Itâs obvious that he does.
âYou canât tell?â Rafe says, reaching for your hand to put it on his flexed bicep.
âYouâre so annoying,â you say, pulling away. He laughs. He loves your sharp teasing, the way you show your humor by giving him shit.
Itâs a part of you, one of the layers he doesnât fully know, and thatâs what keeps dragging his mind to the last time he saw you, to how cold and closed off you suddenly became when he tried to actually get to know you.
He told himself to stop trying to break through your wall, but here he is, with you again, silently hoping he can.
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
An hour later, youâre downing water as you pace towards the gymâs entrance, still a little breathless from the workout as music pulses from the ceiling speakers, weights clanking around you.
You and Rafe spent the whole time making jokes, playfully competing through sets, touching each other wherever you could, catching each other looking. Youâre happy you came.
Your legs burn from the squats you finished off with, and as you turn to make a joke about needing him to help you stretch, you realize Rafe isnât walking behind you anymore.
You spot him across the gym, posture rigid as he talks to some guy by the benches. His hands flex at his sides, and for a second, you think heâs about to swing.
The other guy is already backing up a step, looking intimidated. Itâs just like the Rafe you always saw back in Kildare.
But then he looks up, catching your eyes, and shakes his head in frustration, like heâs snapping himself back into reality. You watch as he approaches you with long strides, his jaw slowly losing its tension.
âWhat was that?â you ask.
He exhales, a sheen of sweat over his face, and replies, âNothing.â
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
After a quick body shower, you find Rafe by the front doors, already waiting with his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets.
You walk out of the gym together into the humid air. The rain has stopped now, puddles scattered across the parking lot. Your sneakers squeak across the pavement as you walk to his truck.
You can feel the tension rushing through Rafe, and it surprises you that you care. Youâre not the type to want to dig into whatâs going on in a guyâs head, but this isnât the first time youâve found yourself wanting to know with him.
âI thought you were about to break your streak,â you say once you both settle in the truck.
âWhat?â he asks, looking up at you.
âI donât fight anymore,â you say, mimicking him in an effort to keep things light. His dimples deepen a little, and you like that youâve made him smile.
You wonât ask more, although you want to know if heâs okay the same way you would with a friend, because thatâs sort of what he is now.
The second Rafe saw the guy at the gym staring at you as you walked past, the way his eyes dragged over you, he snapped. The protective instinct he has for you that only burned hotter once he remembered heâs not allowed to feel it. Youâre not his.
He hated seeing you get leered at, but he hated the reminder that he has no right to be mad about it even more. He had to say something, tell him to stop looking at you, threaten him just to feel some power.
âHe was lookinâ at you,â he finally relents, his voice low. He exhales hard, frustrated that his filter always dissolves around you.
Your forehead creases. You shouldnât enjoy his jealousy. But you kind of do.
âThatâs why you got so pissed off?â you say with a dismissive laugh. âYou look at me the same way.â
Rafe shakes his head, brief but resolute. Youâre cheapening what he feels for you. And itâs a stab in the back.
âI donât,â he replies.
Again, things have shifted between you within seconds. He means that he looks at you as more. Thereâs no misunderstanding that. You donât know what to say. If you can even say anything.
You pull your seatbelt over your body, buckling it in place, frustration rising that heâs not doing the same.
You donât want to sit here and talk about anything serious. Honestly, itâs scary. You donât think you should see Rafe anymore because something in you is cracking and you need to keep your distance so you can seal it up again.
He obviously hasnât reigned in his feelings for you, and you donât want to deal with that.
âLetâs go,â you murmur.
Rafe shoves his damp hair back from his forehead. You both started this with your walls up, but along the line, he let his guard crumble while you never did. Because you clearly expect the worst from him.
âYou really think every guy is the same, donât you?â he finally mutters.
You look through the passenger window at the car parked next to you. If he wants an answer this bad, he can have it.
âAbsolutely,â you reply, simply and honestly.
Rafeâs eyes flick over at you, but youâre looking away, profile silhouetted against the glass. For the first time, he feels the real distance between you.
Heâs never had great self-control, and here he is again, a victim to his emotions, drowning in the silence of a girl who finally gave him the truth he asked for, only to realize he has no idea what to do now.
It doesnât make sense. You have such a good time together. This would be so easy. Why are you so committed to keeping him at a distance?
âI donât get it,â he says.
âYou donât have to.â
His blood boils. He hates how effortless it is for you to decide the conversation is over while heâs ready to tear himself open for you.
âYouâre soâŠâ he sighs bitingly.
You finally turn, your gaze snapping to his. Your eyes are narrowed, daring him to finish that sentence.
âSo what?â you snap.
Youâre expecting what youâve heard before. That youâre cold. Impossible. A bitch.
He stares, regretting letting his temper snap, regretting letting himself care.
âWhat?â you repeat. âShould I walk home?â
The words cut Rafe deep.
This is a reminder of what he learned at ten years old when his mom left, that thereâs something unlovable, something too much about him. And right now, with how easily youâre shutting him out, youâre proving it.
He thought seeing you would make things better. It didnât.
âI shouldnât have texted you today,â he says.
âYeah, you shouldnât have,â you reply.
You unbuckle your seatbelt, reach for the handle, and push open the door, the thick air rushing in. Itâs a twenty-minute walk across campus to your sorority house. Youâre tired, but you can make it.
Before you can swing your legs out, his hand is on yours, his grip firm.
âNo, I meanâŠâ Rafe exhales. Heâs desperate. He needs you to stay, even if it means admitting why heâs so scattered. âIâm just on edge, alright? My mom called me this morning and it always fucks with my head.â
The anger sitting in your chest melts a little. Usually, when men share their feelings like this, itâs a manipulative way to get sympathy or a dump of emotional labor that you have to clean up. But the way Rafe said it felt different.
You relent, pulling the door shut with a thud. You turn to look at him again and the urge to protect yourself softens. Because while youâre mad and confused and admittedly kind of afraid of what youâre feeling right now, you want to know.
âWhy?â you ask, still a bit of a bite to your tone.
âI never know when sheâs going to call,â he admits. âAnd I donât - I donât want to answer, but I always do, and then it just pisses me off the rest of the day.â
Your brows furrow as the questions start to stack up. The curiosity is a tug in your chest.
âWhatâs⊠the deal with her?â you ask.
Rafeâs eyes drift down. He turns on the engine. The truck rumbles to life, giving him a distraction to hide behind. Itâs stupid; heâs the one who started this conversation, and now heâs getting nervous.
He stares through the windshield, focuses on anything other than the girl sitting inches away from him.
âShe left when I was a kid,â he admits. âAnd it always makes me act like an asshole after she calls because I never see it coming. My bad, alright?â
The air leaves your lungs for a moment. Itâs odd to hear an apology from a man you once thought didnât know what accountability even is, but the real shock is the familiarity of that hollowness in his voice.
Itâs the hole only abandonment can leave. Itâs the same one your father carved in you.
You keep your eyes fixed on the dashboard.
âThen donât answer her calls,â you respond.
Rafeâs lips flatten together. Itâs such a you thing to say. Donât deal with the problem.
His dad didnât care to hide the truth. Heâd told Rafe that his mother wasn't going to fight for custody. She only said that sheâd keep in touch, as if she was saying goodbye to an old friend instead of the family she decided she didnât want anymore.
That rejection is a permanent part of him. Heâs been angry since. He hates her for quitting, for not sticking to her responsibilities, for being immature, for not loving him and his sisters enough.
She simply didnât want to be a mother anymore. But he answers her sporadic calls because she is. Heâs trapped, hating the woman he canât bring himself to cut out.
âThatâs not me,â he replies.
You meet his eyes again. Usually, the story of your dad is something you only share with friends who have earned your trust. But looking at the hurt etched into Rafe's face, it feels wrong to let him sit there thinking heâs alone with this gut-wrenching feeling.
The words are pushing against your teeth, demanding to be shared, demanding to help him.
âMy dad left, too,â you reply. âAnd if he tried to call me, Iâd block him. People who can do something like that to their own kid never change. And they donât deserve access to the people they hurt.â
It crashes into Rafe, cold and sudden. Heâs not angry anymore. Not at all.
Thereâs a hard sting of sadness for you buried in him now. He finally understands it. Understands you.
And deep below, thereâs also a flicker of relief. You told him. He felt like he was screaming at a wall, and now heâs not anymore.
He looks at you with a softened, searching intensity, his heart pounding.
âReally?â is all he can say, because he thinks saying heâs sorry would only offend you.
âHe was a selfish cheater,â you say with a shrug. âHe did whatever the fuck he wanted to do without thinking about anyone but himself.â
He grimaces. Youâd once told him you like structure and it makes sense because if you felt the same pain he did, of someone whoâs supposed to love you leaving, it means you never had predictability.
You expect the worst from everyone, because then you never have to watch them fuck you over.
âI know Iâm guarded. I hate being treated like itâs a problem.â You sigh, shake your head. âAnd I think you want more from me and I canât give it to you, okay?â
Rafe just sits there, the engine idling, his gaze fixed on you with a newfound clarity.
Regret washes over you. Youâve said too much. Itâs almost laughable how this all started as a stupid bet, and now you feel like youâve ripped open a wound for him. And his silence is making it worse.
âIâm walking home,â you say. You reach for the handle, your movements hurried. You need a clean break.
Usually, you cut contact with a guy because you can feel him falling, and you have no intention of letting things get any deeper. But as you step out into the humidity, you can tell that you aren't just running because of Rafeâs feelings. Youâre running because of yours.
Somewhere between the weeks of getting to know him, of discovering the depth in him between silly jokes and easy conversations and effortless chemistry, itâs obvious now. Heâs almost found a way into your heart.
And you canât let it go any further than that.
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nadsss, hi! i can feel the tension building and i am so SO curious to see how they'll find out about their cross-betđ„Ž that whole thing of both of them trying not to take the bait is driving me crazy!!! they're actually so similar when it comes to protecting their hearts and not letting themselves be vulnerable.
i really loved the detail about rafe having that sense of loyalty toward the person you choose to beđđđđ»
also how many parts are going to be? bc i don't know if i want more of that good angst or for them to just get all mushy and selfish even knowing it's all a lie jafjjj mil besitos para vos, nad!xoxo
HIII đ„° hehe the reveal is going to be intense and after a lot of feelings have already developed oops⊠i fear i love hurt/no comfort between two emotionally repressed characters đ€
this story is going to be eight parts. there will be lots of angst coming like theyâre going to be PISSED at each other but also still want each other. but i promise iâll wrap it up with comfort and fluff đââïž
thank you sm angel, love you and your messages so much đ