lost at sea

(the lurkymurker legacy, part 4/5)

a/n: 😌😌😌 part 5/5 of the repost is just gonna be part 10 of the OG!!! insanity, we’re so close

wc: 10.3k

You felt suspended against the wooden table, goosebumps raising the skin of your knuckles where Rafe’s fingers had been. Swallowing several times, you peeled your eyes away from Rafe’s figure, unable to watch him stumble through the crowd.

“Y/n…” Topper started, surveying your carefully. “We, uh, we shouldn’t let him go home alone, right?”

Turning, you nodded slowly, gripping at the table edge in an attempt to regain your composure. “Right. Of course.”

“Look.” He added, taking your hand in his gently. “Don’t worry, you’ll have time to talk about it tomorrow.”

You felt your entire body tense, Rafe’s words twisting around your chest and leaving it painfully tight. A part of you envied his flagrance; how easy it he made it seem, laying all of his cards on the table. Because when you thought about your feelings for Rafe Cameron, all you felt was a binding sense of fear. Everything was happening entirely too quickly; the Earth was gaining speed as it spun on its axis, and you no longer wanted to spin with it.

“Talk about what?” You coughed, gulping down the last of your drink with a wince. “There’s nothing to talk about.

Topper frowned, his gaze fixed on the space above your head as he contemplated your words. Slowly, laboriously, his lips parted, realisation dawning on his features as he met your eye.

“No way.” He warned, his voice dangerously low. “You aren’t going to lie your way out of this one like you did with me.”

You felt your eyes widen, your words coming out in a broken splutter. “You fucking knew?”

“Y/n.” Topper laughed, though the sound was caustic to your ears. “Of course I fucking knew.”

“But you let me have it?” You argued, jutting out your bottom lip, voice quavered. “You didn’t even apologise, you –”

Topper blanched, drawing his hand away from yours instinctively. “Look. I’m sorry about that. I just thought, since we were both determined to put it behind us, that I’d leave it.”

“That was wrong of you.” You muttered, jaw clenched. “You should’ve been honest with me. We could’ve talked it out sooner.”

“Could say the same to you.” Topper challenged, quirking an eyebrow at your indignance. “Anyway, listen, this isn’t about us. Besides, what I said that night was clearly true, and I see that now –”

“It wasn’t.” You interrupted, heartbeat quickening as his words replayed in your mind, mocking you. “It can’t be.”

Topper sighed, threading his fingers through his hair. “Okay, whatever, let’s just go find Rafe, alright?”

You nodded, slowing your shaky breath as he guided you through the club. Thankfully, Rafe hadn’t managed to get too far, his broad figure walking sideways as he attempted to traverse the cobbled sidewalk.

“Rafael!” You called, a discreet, almost yearning desperation laced into your tone. “Cameron. Rafe. Stop.”

Rafe stumbled to a halt, his gait heavy as he turned on his heel. “Y/n?”

He cocked his head to one side, squinting slightly as you and Topper drew nearer. “You were in there. Why’re you here?”

“You’re not walking home alone, idiot.” You muttered, folding your arms across your chest before sidling in beside him. “C’mon.”

Rafe smiled dopily, bowing his head until you could smell rum on his breath. “D’ya hear what I said before?”

You ignored him, groaning slightly as he leaned into your side. “How are you somehow more drunk than before?”

“S’hitting me properly now.” Rafe responded solemnly, punching a fist against his breastbone, matching his heartbeat. “Right here.”

You shook your head bemusedly, palms splayed across his chest in an attempt to steady him. “Okay, buddy. You’re crushing me, you know that?”

Rafe frowned, wide-eyed and blithe as he leaned backward. “No!”

He caught your wrists against his polo, his free hand snaking around your waist and tossing your over his shoulder in one fell swoop. “M’not meant to crush you!”

Pausing, he let out an ardent sigh, unbothered by the extra weight as he stumbled onward. “Meant to crush on you.”

“Rafael.” You warned, shivering slightly as his fingers danced along your bare thigh. “You mind putting me down?”

“Fine.” Rafe mumbled, loosening his grip on your waist so you could slide back down his torso. “Mm. Stay this close please.”

He exhaled, humming lowly as he pulled you flush against him. “Fuck sake, Y/n. You’ve no idea the effect you have o’me.”

“You guys know I’m right here, right?” Topper coughed, averting his gaze as he strode ahead. “Please fucking stop.”

You bit back a laugh, ignoring the flutter in your chest as you gazed up at Rafe. He was readjusting the bill of his backwards cap, his eyes flitting over your features, impossibly bright, as though committing this moment to memory.

Reluctantly, you stepped away, taking his hand in yours before guiding his figure forward.

“C’mon.” You encouraged, feeling your fingers entertwine. “You good, Rafe?”

“No.” Rafe responded, his mouth twitching mischievously. “Really nervous. Holding hands with a cute girl. She doesn’t like me though.”

You faltered, frowning slightly. “Ah.”

“She has this set of rules.” Rafe pressed on, tugging at your hand expectantly. “Think I’ve broken most. She doesn’t like that.”

“You don’t know that.” You muttered, eyes darting toward Topper’s figure nervously. “We can talk about it tomorrow, though.”

Rafe ignored you. He pressed a signet ring clad finger against your lips, his words laboured, teasingly slow. “Shhhhh. Is a secret.”

You swallowed, feeling the pad of Rafe’s finger trace the curve of your bottom lip, brushing against your jaw, moving down toward the nape of your neck. “Rafael.”

“Y/n.” He echoed, his eyes trained on your tinged lips, how impossibly soft they appeared in the dim light. “Shhhhh.”

“We’re here.” Topper announced, his voice raised awkwardly. “Come on.”

He shuffled toward Rafe’s figure, guiding an arm around his shoulder in an attempt to steady him. “C’mon, buddy.”

“Okay.” Rafe nodded, wasting no time pulling you into his other side. “C’mon.”

“Rafe.” You groaned, tugging at the arm he had wrapped around your neck. “Relax, I’m coming.”

“No man left behind.” Rafe responded sagely, dragging his feet along the hardwood floor, ignoring the way it squeaked. “Stay close, please.”

You rolled your eyes, sharing a knowing look with Topper as the three of you headed for the elevators. By the time you were standing in front of Rafe’s room, his head was lolling to one side dangerously, eyes half-closed, breath slowing as he leaned further into Topper’s chest.

“Bed.” He mumbled, stumbling through the doorway and toward his bedroom. “Now.”

“I, uh…”

Topper trailed off, gesticulating awkwardly. “You got this, right? I’m gonna go to my room.”

“Topper.” You hissed, eyes narrowed warningly. “No way.”

Topper lifted an eyebrow at your panicked expression, nodded pointedly at Rafe’s figure before turning. “Go.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exasperated, hearing the door close behind him with a punctuating click. “Fuck sake.”

Heading toward the large bedroom, you found Rafe collapsing onto his comforter with a sigh, frowning slightly as he jerked his head toward your figure. Pausing, he brought his hand out from under him, his eyes trained on your features as he patted the space beside him expectantly. “Here.”

You managed to disguise your laugh as a particularly animated cough, shaking your head slowly as you pushed Rafe backward, toward his pillow. “No way, Rafe. Go to bed.”

Rafe offered you a half shrug, a playful pout decorating his features. “Had to try.”

“Goodnight.”

“Wait.”

Rafe paused, his gaze impossibly intense as he reached for your hand. “Meant all of it, by the way. Y’know that right?”

You hesitated, taking in his earnest expression, the hopeful lilt to his tone. “I know.”

“Good.” Rafe grinned, gently thumbing at your soft skin. “My girl.”

“Wait, what?” Rafe gritted, his pupils flared. “What the fuck did you say?”

“Dude, relax.” James swallowed, tugging at his shirt collar nervously. “It’s not a big deal.”

Rafe let out a mirthless laugh, his clenched knuckle jerking against his side, daring James to continue. “What the fuck did you say, James? Repeat it.”

Noah stepped forward, offering James a tight lipped smile before applying a punishing grip on Rafe’s shoulder. “Dude, c’mon.”

Rafe scoffed, pulling away roughly. “Nah, bro. James was in the middle of telling me a funny little story about someone. Go on, James, where were we?”

James’ raised his arms in surrender, eyes darting around the room nervously. “Forget I said anything. I’m leaving.”

“Good idea.” Rafe snarled, his jaw painfully tight. “If I see you near her –”

Noah’s lips parted slightly, realisation dawning on his features as he turned toward Rafe’s figure. “Oh, fuck sake, this is about Y/n?”

“So?” Rafe scowled, exasperated. “You should’ve heard the way he was talking about her, knowing that she’s my girl –”

“Dude.” Noah interrupted, quirking an eyebrow at the admission. “She’s not your girl.”

“You know what I mean.” Rafe muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. “Come on. I need a drink.”

“Your girl?” You echoed weakly, swallowing your hitched breath. “New rule –”

Rafe furrowed his brow, removing his backwards cap to place it atop your head, instead. “No more rules. Broken enough.”

And with one last, longing sigh, he settled back onto the blue comforter, two strong arms raised in farewell. “G’night. My girl.”

Once you were certain he was asleep, encouraged by the low hum of his chest as it rose and fell, you tip-toed toward his figure and peeled his sneakers from his feet. Struggling against his weight, you managed to drag the comforter out from under him, tender as you placed it over him, tucked it around his shoulders, thread your fingers through his floppy hair.

It felt, in that moment, as though time wasn’t moving; it was unimportant, almost trivial, against the magnetic pull of Rafe Cameron. Slowly, you brushed his hair to one side, leaning down to place an ardent kiss on the small wrinkles that lined his forehead. And it was as though his subconscious had registered the gentle touch, curling toward you, his arms twitching at his side as he took in a long, wistful breath.

You froze, watching his mouth move imperceptibly as he began talking in his sleep. Wincing slightly, you managed to lean backward, pulling away from him as his words, barely audible, danced through the air, teasingly slow. And though you swore you couldn’t make them out, flicking off the bedside lamp and creeping back through the hallway, your breath hitched all the same as they registered, raising goosebumps on your neck, as though some part of you knew; knew that they were connected to you, somehow.

Because when Rafe Cameron called you his girl, you were sure that your heart had stopped. And when he drunkenly mumbled “I love you” (though, of course, you didn’t hear it; you couldn’t have), you didn’t think it would be capable of starting up again.

__

The three of you were set to ferry to Mykonos the next day, having planned an overnight stay at the Island before you left Greece for Spain.

Rafe Cameron, who had spent the better half of the morning regurgitating his stomach lining into a toilet bowl, was not looking forward to three hours on the water. And as he attempted to piece together the previous night’s events, forehead creases deepening with each, painfully intermittent grimace, he was gifted an entirely new reason not to look forward to the impending ferry. You.

Slowly, he forced himself from the edge of the toilet bowl, squinting down at his Cartier watch as he collapsed onto the bathroom floor. Having been rendered unconscious by the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed the night prior, he had managed to sleep through every alarm he had set, leaving him just enough time to shower and dress before it was time to go.

Groaning lowly, he managed to lug his suitcase into the hallway, the steadily developing hangover pounding through his forehead hindering his ability to use his muscles.

“Shut up.” Rafe muttered, wincing at the resonant sound of Topper’s laugh. “Too loud, Top.”

“Ah.” Topper nodded, pressing a calloused hand against Rafe’s forearm. “Of course.”

He cocked his head to one side, surveying Rafe’s scowl with amusement. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Rafe repeated, swallowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on.”

Topper rolled his eyes, gesturing toward your room pointedly. “Your extremely disgusting speech from last night.”

“Fuck.” Rafe groaned, readjusting his sunglasses against the bridge of his nose. “Fuck.”

He wiped a sweaty palm against his faded shorts, his voice low, meek. “Where is she?”

“No idea.” Topper shrugged, cocking his wrist until his watch was in view. “She’s usually the first one here.”

Rafe drew in a laboured breath, hopelessness sinking into his skin. “Fuck. I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

“No way.” Topper inclined, chewing at his bottom lip thoughtfully. “She’s probably just running late, or uh–”

He froze, eyes widening as he registered the turn of your door handle. Nodding Rafe forward, he clasped his hands behind his back, averting his gaze awkwardly as you entered the long hallway.

“Sorry I’m late.” You started, dragging your suitcase toward their figures. “I, uh, slept in.”

Rafe paused, knitting his brow. “Uh, right. Listen–”

“Shall we go?” You interrupted, jamming your hands into your front pockets. “We’re going to be late.”

“Yeah, because of you.” Topper scoffed, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he strode toward the elevator. “Honestly, Y/n, not good enough.”

“Shut up, Top.” You laughed, keenly avoiding eye contact as you sidled past Rafe’s figure. “This is the first time I’ve been running behind. You, on the other hand–”

Rafe was slower to grab his suitcase, tuning out the low chatter of your ongoing banter as he followed your figures to the elevator. He had pre-empted how you might act, having laboured through every possibly scenario, paced between his en suite and bedroom until the woolen carpet was worn thin.

But as he sidled into Topper’s side, punching a forefinger against the ground floor button, he couldn’t help the way his forehead creased, the small frown lines etching his tired features. Because if there was one thing Rafe Cameron knew, it was that the opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. It was the deafening insouciance his father harbored, how starkly it contrasted his later mother’s love. And if you weren’t even willing to scold his indiscretion, resigned instead, to pretending as though nothing had happened, he was certain he would fold in on himself, cringing, his worst suspicions confirmed. Indifference.

Rafe Cameron was feeling extremely ill. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the hangover that was swirling in his gut.

“Rafe?” You repeated, bringing him out of his reverie. “Dude, c’mon, ferry terminal is this way.”

Rafe blanched, nodding slowly as he headed for your figure. The early morning sun was illuminating your faded freckles, dancing against the frizz of your tousled locks as it dipped in and out of white clouds.

“Hangover.” Rafe offered, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m in a bad state.”

You quirked an eyebrow at his tired features, shaking your head bemusedly. “You were even worse last night.”

Rafe swallowed several times, his eyes following Topper’s figure toward the ticket stand. “Yeah, about that–”

“Later.” You interrupted, eyes wide, comforting. “When we’re sitting.”

“Right.” Rafe responded, furrowing his brow momentarily. “Wait, you remember?”

You halted, inclining your head slightly. “What? Of course, I remember.”

“I just mean…”

Rafe trailed off, gesticulating helplessly. “Before, in the hallway, you were being weird. Avoiding me?”

“Oh, that.” You swallowed, reddening under his gaze. “Sorry.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Topper hissed, pulling at your shoulder roughly as you strode ahead. “Dude, why are you acting weird?”

“He’s all spaced out!” You argued, squeezing your eyes shut frustratedly. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk.”

“That’s because he’s hungover.”

“And.” Topper added, narrowing his eyes, his tone deliberate. “Because you didn’t even look at him when you came out of your room. What was that about?”

You bowed your head helplessly, recalling the ten minutes you had spent pacing in front of the room door, seriously contemplating whether jumping out of the window was a viable exit option. “I was nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” Topper scoffed, pausing to survey your expression. “He’s the one that said all the silly shi–”

Topper faltered, his eyes widening. “Wait. No fucking way.”

“What?” You responded, eyes darting behind you nervously. “What is it? Is it my hair? Fuck, I knew I should’ve straightened the back, Rafe is going to think–”

“Dude.” Topper interrupted, pressing his hands against your shoulders. “No way. I mean, I knew you were kind of catching feelings, but no way.”

He paused, leaning backward, forcing you to face him. “You actually really like him, huh? You’re actually serious serious about this?”

“Shut up!” You hissed, swatting at his hands. “Shut the fuck up. He’s going to hear you.”

Topper ignored you, whistling lowly as he shook his head. “Holy shit. You and Cameron for real, huh? And here I thought it was just one embarrassing hook-up.”

He paused, eyes twinkling, enjoying the way you squirmed at his words. “The amount of times I told him it was practically impossible… I mean, I really never thought I’d see the day–”

“Yeah, because you were too far up your own ass.” You retorted, poking your tongue out at him as he laughed. “Shut up, alright? I don’t know how I feel.”

“I do, though.” Topper responded easily, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t believe Kelce was right. That motherfucker knew what was going on and he wasn’t even here to witness it.”

“Okay look.” He continued, registering the way you paled. “Rafe is head-over-heels in –”

“Yeah, yeah.” You dismissed, feeling the colour return to your cheeks. “Go fucking get the tickets you idiot.”

Topper laughed, offering you a mock salute as he strode toward the ticket stall. Giving the leggy blonde manning the stall a fleeting once-over, he jerked his head back toward you, fanning at his face dramatically as you flipped him off.

“No, no.” Rafe proffered, waving his hand in the air. “Don’t be sorry. I should be the one saying sorry, getting so drunk last night.”

“We’re even now.” You grinned, nodding him toward the terminal. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rafe offered you a sheepish, half-smile, feeling his insides warm at the way your features softened. “Yeah. Even.”

“Oi, it’s going to leave without you!” Topper called, waggling his eyebrows as the blonde beside him giggled. “Hurry the fuck up.”

“He’s early to something one time.” You scorned, rolling your eyes as you glanced up at Rafe. “Honestly.”

Once adequately seated (with coffees in hand, courtesy of the ticketer Topper had so generously woo-ed), you reached down to grab a tattered book from the front pocket of your bag, acutely aware of Topper’s beady eyes boring in the back of your neck.

“Remember how you told me you would let me borrow your book, Y/n?” Topper questioned sharply, his teeth gritted as he stood. “I’d love to have it now, actually.”

You frowned, turning toward him, bewildered. “What? You don’t read–”

“I think I’ll go sit outside with it.” Topper continued, snatching it from your grasp. “Beautiful day out. See you guys.”

Fixing you with one last, pointed glare, Topper straightened, the book tucked under his armpit as he disappeared into the outdoor area.

Letting out a laboured sigh, you folded your hands in your lap, eyes remained trained on them as you spoke. “Right.”

Rafe furrowed his brow, pressing his fingers against his temple in an attempt to relieve his headache. “Listen, if you don’t wanna talk about it…”

He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. “…I mean, I get it. We can just act like it didn’t happen, we’re only here for one more week, and then we’ll–”

“I don’t want that to be the end, though.” You interrupted, your voice impossibly weak. “Of, uh, us hanging out.”

“So.” You continued, tone raised slightly, a languid attempt to appear nonchalant. “Maybe we should talk it out. Uh, besides, we’ll probably see each other at parties and stuff, and you’re at the same college as Topper and Kelce and I’ll probably come to visit, and we might bump into each other –”

You were rambling now, mouth moving at its own accord as a million thoughts raced through your mind. It was only as Rafe placed his hand atop yours, his signet ring eliciting a sharp exhale, that you forced yourself to stop, swallowing slightly before gazing up at him. “Sorry. Nervous.”

“Nervous?” Rafe repeated, grinning. “I make you nervous?”

“Shut up, Rafael.” You muttered, cheeks reddened as you recalled the kiss you had shared in his hotel room. “I think we’ve already established that you do.”

“Of course.” Rafe nodded sagely, thumbing at your knuckles, tantalisingly slow. “The kiss.”

You grimaced, burying your head in your hands. “Can we get back on topic?”

Rafe frowned, reaching down to raise your chin. “Okay. From the start.”

He drew in a deep breath, ignoring the way his hangover rung through his ears. “Listen. What I said, at dinner, there was no excuse for that, okay? I was riled up – wouldn’t be the first time, when it comes to you – and I was being shitty. It wasn’t okay, at all.”

“But you have to know.” Rafe pressed on, bowing his head to eye level, his expression earnest. “That… fuck. I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/n. Long enough that it makes me do stupid things, say stupid things, and, I mean, the way you make me feel…”

He trailed off, paling. “…I don’t deserve that feeling. At all.”

You frowned, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s not true, Rafe.”

“Look.” You continued, feeling small. “I’m not going to pretend like it didn’t hurt. You have no idea how intimidating the idea of you is, Rafe.”

“The idea of me?” Rafe repeated, sidling closer as he surveyed your features. “What do you mean?”

You removed your hand from his grasp, using it to thread your fingers through your curls. “I mean… you’re the Rafe Cameron, you know? I mean, why me? It makes no sense.”

“Why you?”

Rafe wanted to laugh. He couldn’t believe you were asking him this question; he had thought the answer was painfully obvious, written in the way his heart stopped when you stepped close, the magnetic pull of your gentle touch. “Are you kidding me, Y/n?”

“I’m not finished.” You frowned, pausing momentarily to gather your thoughts. “You also had a reputation all through high school. I mean, every girl in our class was falling at your feet, and you enjoyed it –”

“I didn’t.” Rafe interrupted, his voice soft. “I was too busy pining for someone else.”

You faltered, feeling enervated. “And… your little comments, I didn’t know if they were real, I mean, no one took them seriously –”

“Then they weren’t paying enough attention.”

Rafe combed his fingers through his hair, letting out a laboured breath. “They were serious. Always. You’re my girl.”

“I mean.” Rafe corrected, shaking his head awkwardly. “The girl for me.”

“No.” You responded, flushing slightly, feeling giddy. “Your girl.”

Rafe’s lips parted slowly, gazing down at you as you met his eye. “My girl?”

“Look.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re not the only one in the wrong here. I need you to know that I’m not ashamed to have feelings for you, and I’m sorry that you felt like I was. I was just scared. Of getting hurt.”

“And I hurt you.” Rafe finished, wincing. “I know, and I know I don’t deserve you, at all–”

“Stop.” You frowned, teasing your fingers through his floppy hair, comforting him more than you knew. “Why do you keep saying that?”

Rafe swallowed. “You’re just…”

He trailed off, hearing his father’s words racing through his mind, jumbled, looming over every thought. “…I rarely get the good things. In life, I mean.”

“You deserve the good things, Rafe.” You murmured, brow furrowed. “And I forgive you, for everything. It wasn’t just you, it was me too, I said some stupid things. And I think after it went down, I kind of wallowed in it, enjoying how shitty the situation made me feel.”

“I get it.”

“And it meant that I ignored you, and the situation, and us.” You laboured, eyes squeezed shut. “It was like self-sabotage, I just kept thinking, he doesn’t even care, I was right about him, and then I nearly started believing it, and –”

“I cared.” Rafe swallowed, cringing. “I cared so much it hurt. But I didn’t want to ruin the week, and you were enjoying your time with Top –”

“Trying to.” You corrected, frowning. “Failing.”

“Crept up on me, I think.” You continued, flushing slightly under Rafe’s fervent gaze. “My feelings. And when I realised, they scared me. But that’s unfair on you.”

Rafe cocked his head to one side, willing you to keep going. “And what are they? Your feelings?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, feeling cheeky. “Broken a few rules.”

“Not more than me, I’m sure.” Rafe responded without missing a beat, his gaze dizzying, surpassing Rule #1. “Let’s see… broken #1, #3 far too many times, #4, #5 before we even came on this trip –”

“Stop.” You admonished, swatting a hand against his chest. “You don’t mean that.”

Rafe ignored you. He caught your wrist against his chest, pressing it against his lips, leaving you light-headed. “Which ones have you broken?”

“Rafael.” You started, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A few.”

“Might have to change them, too.” You added thoughtfully, looking past him, toward the Aegean Sea. “Don’t mind the look, nor the sweetheart, douchebag comments can stay I guess, and Rule #5 is…”

You trailed off slowly, eyes wide as they met Rafe’s. “…under construction.”

“Thank fuck.” Rafe groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Nevermind.” You responded, crinkling your nose playfully. “Rule #4 reinstated.”

“Too late.”

Rafe bowed his head, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “My fucking girl.”

“Rafael.” You hissed, though you felt your eyes close, leaning into his touch. “Stop.”

“No.” Rafe hummed, pulling you impossibly closer. “You know, I’ve never actually done it on a ferry before –”

“Oh my god.” You laughed, the words rolling off your tongue instinctively. “Rule number #3.”

“Doesn’t exist.” Rafe responded with twinkling eyes, cocking his head to one side. “Can you rewear that dress you wore in Florence? I want to slide those tiny little straps off myself when I–”

“Rafe.” You gawked, swatting at his roaming hands. “You’re enjoying this, huh?”

Rafe nodded, his tongue pressed against his cheek. “I’ve been biting my tongue for far too long, baby.”

“Baby?” You quipped, folding your arms across your chest. “That’s new. And you’ve hardly been biting your tongue, there’s been a comment a day from you –”

“And ten in my head.” Rafe interrupted, smirking cheekily. “Like when I was putting sunscreen on your back that one time, are you fucking kidding me–”

It was Topper who interrupted Rafe, this time, gagging violently as he neared his seat. “Ew, what the fuck have I walked into?”

He waggled his eyebrows at your reddened features, sidling into the seat behind you with a wink. “Sorted it out, huh?”

“Shut up, Top.” You admonished, though your tone appeared rather weak, compared to his. “Don’t start.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Topper dismissed airily, waving his hand in the air. “Totally saw it coming, by the way –”

“No, you fucking didn’t.” You and Rafe exclaimed in unison, grinning at each other as you registered Topper’s wince.

Satisfied by the half shrug he sent your way, you turned in your seat, leaning into Rafe’s bicep as the ferry drew further North.

“So.” You mused, fiddling with the signet ring on his finger. “What now?”

“I don’t know about you.” Rafe responded, his mouth twitching as he closed his eyes. “But I’m fucking hungover.”

“Ah, I forget.” You nodded knowingly, twisting it off his finger and sliding it onto your thumb. “You got white girl wasted and professed your undying love for me.”

“Careful, cheeky.” Rafe warned, though the corners of his mouth quirked, endearing by the statement. “Wasn’t that special. Wasn’t the first time, either.”

You frowned, thumbing at his roughened knuckles. “What?”

“Come on.” He responded, opening one eye exasperatedly. “Senior year?”

Rafe squinted down at his phone screen, barely able to make out the microphone button as he gave it a purposeful punch.

“Y/n.” He slurred, his voice lowered conspiratorially. “Shhhh. I’m drunk.”

“Listen, was thinking.” He continued, bringing his beer can to his lips, missing it by several centimeters. “When Heath Ledger said, I fell for her, at the end of that movie I really felt that.”

“Was a good movie. I even rewatched it for you.” Rafe continued, pausing momentarily, his eyes widening. “We should rewatch it. Foreverrrrrrr.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes wide, solemn. “And when he sang –”

Rafe paused, taking in a deep breath before launching into song, his voice hilariously off-beat. “I looooveeee youuuuu babyyyyy, and if it’s quite allllriighhhttt, I need youuuu, baby –”

“Dude.” Noah laughed, snatching the phone from his grasp. “Holy fuck, how much did you drink?”

He shook his head bemusedly, panic transforming his features as he registered the voice message on Rafe’s phone. “Rafe, you are fucking dumbass.”

“Oh my god.” You bit back a laugh, realisation dawning on your features. “That doesn’t count.”

“You know I know that movie by heart now, right?”

“I didn’t know you liked it that much!”

Rafe paused, brushing his lips against your temple, impossibly gentle. “You like it that much.”

“Yeah.” You frowned, cocking your head to one side. “So?”

“So.” Rafe responded, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I like it that much.”

He paused, the gentle hush of distant waves teasing out the rest of his words. “I’m not me, without you.”

__

“Hold on.” Topper muttered, bowing his head discreetly as Rafe entered the hallway. “Rafe’s here.”

“Rafe’s there?” Kelce repeated, the shrill crackle of his voice eliciting a wince. “Put me on speaker.”

Registering his name within the hushed conversation, Rafe frowned, cocking his head to one side as he drew nearer Topper’s figure. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Rafe!” Topper coughed, offering him a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing, don’t worry about –”

He made a face, holding his phone away from his ear as Kelce’s scoff rung through the air. “Kelce is on the phone.”

“I noticed.” Rafe lilted, quirking an eyebrow at his expression. “What is it?”

Topper paused, pinching the bridge of his nose helplessly before punching his forefinger against the speaker button. “He – uh – we, want to speak to you.”

Rafe nodded nervously , his eyes darting toward your room. “Just me?”

“Just you, buddy.” Kelce deadpanned, the grit in his voice clear, despite being miles away. “About our best friend.”

“Who we love very much.” Topper added, fixing Rafe with a pointed glare (though it appeared rather cross-eyed, without the same conviction in his tone). “And don’t want to see getting hurt.”

Rafe bit back a laugh, disguising his amusement through a deeply furrowed brow. “Of course. Because you haven’t hurt her at all on this trip.”

Through the phone, there came a buffered guffaw, Kelce’s laughter filling the long hallway and leaving Topper particularly meek.

“Shut up.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I apologised for that.”

“Don’t worry, Rafe.” Kelce added, a teasing lilt to his tone. “I already gave him shit for that.”

“I haven’t, though.” Rafe responded, thoughtful as his eyes met Topper’s. “You’ve been a bit of a dickhead to both of us on this trip, Thornton. Remember when you said you’d wingman me?”

“Hey!” Topper admonished, raising his arms in surrender. “I mean I did bring you together in the end, didn’t I? You should be thanking me for –”

“Speaking of bringing the two of you together.” Kelce interrupted, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “Cameron…”

He trailed off, allowing an uncomfortable silence to fill the air. “Swear to god, if you hurt her –”

“Dude.” Rafe swallowed, shaking his head vigorously. “No way. You guys know I’ve got it bad.”

They did, of course. It was part of the reason they became friends, in the first place, having been approached by the most popular boy in the school in sophomore year to talk about… their best friend?

“Yeah, Kelce.” Topper added, his expression grim, almost comical. “You should see the way they were all of yesterday in Mykonos. I mean holy fucking shit –”

“Rafael.” You warned, tattered book hiding your pink cheeks. “You’re staring.”

Rafe snatched the book from your grasp, propping himself up on his elbows before responding. “Y/n. You’re wearing zero clothing.”

“I’m wearing a bikini!” You sputtered, eyes widening as he pressed his signet ring against the tied strap. “Stop.”

Rafe shook his head, a strong arm circling your waist and pulling you flush against him. “True. It’s not what you’re wearing. It’s you.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, feeling self-conscious. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course, I do.” Rafe frowned, thumbing at your cheek, impossibly gentle. “You’re my dream girl, you know that?”

“You’re my dream girl, you know that?” Topper mocked, his features twisted, conveying disgust. “And am I your dream boy, Cameron?”

Rafe Cameron was hopelessly smitten, and if Topper wasn’t too busy cringing, he may have even found it endearing.

He paused, gagging violently before addressing Rafe. “No way you’re the same guy who hooked up with Amber and her best friend on the same night in junior year.”

“Fuck.” Kelce cursed, though his tone with lilted, amused. “I forget what a fucking douchebag you are, Cameron.”

“Was.” Rafe corrected, frowning. “Not with her.”

“With who? Amber?”

Rafe felt his features pale, grimacing momentarily before whirling around to face you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Rafael.” You frowned, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, he’s on the phone.” He offered, impossibly meek as he jerked a finger towards Topper’s figure. “Your boys are –”

“I thought that Amber thing was a rumour.” You interrupted, chewing at your bottom lip thoughtfully. “The way she was bragging about it…”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, speaking through a teasing smirk. “What? Were you jealous?”

You let out a particularly exasperated scoff, features reddening. “Can we get back to why Kelce is on the phone?”

“Just reminding Cameron that going out with you would be a terrible mistake.” Kelce started, his voice growing louder as you snatched Topper’s phone from his grasp. “How he should get out when he can…”

You blinked several times, feeling Kelce’s words wash over your features, leave them tense, irresolute. Though you had managed to proffer your love for the boy (a particularly notable feat, considering how long you had spent writing him off) on the ferry ride to Mykonos, there was still a big part of you getting used to this version of Rafe Cameron. Because when he was with you, he wasn’t the obnoxiously confident, brazen without motive, shamelessly cheeky Rafe Cameron who wolf-whistled his friends into every room. He was gentle, almost reverent; unafraid to raise the bar, to share a love so intimidating you didn’t know if you could compete. He was your Rafe Cameron, now. And the revelation of anything – anyone – being so wholly “yours”, was proving too unbelievable to accept, just yet.

“We’re not going out, per say.” You coughed, eyes darting toward Rafe’s figure nervously. “We’re just… uh, seeing how things go. Right, Rafe?”

Rafe swallowed, pausing momentarily before nodding his head. “Right.”

He forced his jaw to slacken, offering you a weak, half-smile before bowing his head. Having spent the better half of four years pining for you, Rafe Cameron had assumed that your hesitance wouldn’t hurt him; almost expected it, known that good things rarely come so easy. Perhaps the permanence of his heart on his sleeve was hindering him, in this moment, from understanding how daunting love could be. Sure, he was willing to wait; he could be yours enough for the both of you, he could do it forever, if he really wanted to. That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Rafe Cameron was feeling painfully human. And when he gazed down at you, so strikingly beautiful he was certain you weren’t real, Rafe Cameron thought privately that he looked the part, too.

Topper raised his eyebrows, carefully surveying Rafe’s expression, and then yours, before shrugging. “Whatever, dude. We were just telling our buddy Cameron here –”

He paused, punching a finger against Rafe’s chest, wincing slightly as it hit muscle. “ – that if he does anything to hurt you, then he’ll pay.”

“Pay?” You repeated, shaking your head bemusedly. “Fucking hell, I hate you guys.”

“No!” Kelce quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You love us. And you love this fucking douchebag for some reason too –”

“Stop!” You admonished, averting your gaze, cheeks impossibly flushed. “Shut up. You’ve already said enough.”

It hadn’t taken Kelce long to piece together the news, having spent the better half of his lunch break cringing at the copious amounts of content Rafe Cameron had already shared on his Instagram story.

“Ask me why.” Kelce started, wasting no time launching into speech once you had picked up the phone. “I want to gouge my eyeballs out. Go on. Ask.”

You let out a sheepish laugh, mouth opened in response before promptly snapping shut.

“Nothing?” He continued, a cheeky smile dancing on his features. “Had the displeasure of clicking on Rafe’s story.”

“Kelce –”

“Y/n.” He mocked, biting back a laugh. “Why the fuck is Rafe Cameron calling you, and I quote, mommy?”

You promptly reddened, your eyes darted toward your closed door before responding. “Shut up. You know why.”

“Holy fucking shit.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Admitted your feelings, huh?”

“I guess so.” You responded, pausing momentarily, brow furrowed. “Uh, I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s all very new, okay?” You offered, though your tone was entirely unconvincing, even to you. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Kelce faltered, cogs turning slowly in his head, aiding in his recollection of your previously non-existent love life. “Y/n…”

He trailed off, lowering his voice gently. “You deserve the kind of love Cameron can give you, you know.”

You were finding this fact particularly difficult to stomach.

Coughing awkwardly, you placed Topper’s phone back into his palm, sliding your own out of your back pocket in order to check the time. “We should go, flight soon.”

“Fuck you guys!” Kelce chided, his voice crackled, sounding a million miles away. “Have a shit time.”

“Love you too!” Topper grinning, shaking his head bemusedly before hanging up the phone. “Alright, come on.”

__

The flight to Barcelona was spent wedged against the plane window, Rafe Cameron’s roaming hands proving a particularly beguiling distraction. If he wasn’t threading his fingers through your curls, he was tracing circles on the skin of your bare thigh, his other arm circling your waist, slotting you into his side, keeping you impossibly close.

“Rafe?” You mused, eyes twinkling playfully. “Have you ever done the love languages quiz?”

Rafe frowned, sliding his hand under your t-shirt. “Love languages?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, straightening slightly to better survey him. “Like, how you express and receive love.”

“What are they?”

“Words of affirmation – that’s mine – quality time, acts of service, gift giving or receiving…”

You trailed off, quirking an eyebrow pointedly. “… physical touch. Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Rafe matched your expression, his fingers dancing along your skin, tantalisingly slow. “So, the way you like to receive love is through words of affirmation?”

“Mm-hm.” You nodded, hesitating momentarily before placing your hand atop Rafe’s. “And you clearly like to express love through physical touch.”

Rafe bowed his head, his gaze impossibly intense. “How do you like to express love?”

Your eyes widened at his proximity, eyes flitting toward his tinged lips. “Quality time.”

That was, of course, the love language you had adopted with Topper Thornton; spending your high-school years organizing movie nights, winter weekends with his family in Aspen, sultry summers sneaking drinks before tee-time. But as you leaned into Rafe’s touch, lips brushing against his, electrified, you weren’t sure that it was how you expressed love; you weren’t sure that it had ever been.

Because true love was written in the way you gravitated toward Rafe Cameron, in the outstretched palms and entertwined fingers and drunken lean you adopted when he was near.

“Maybe.” You added breathily, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Could be physical touch, too, unsure.”

“Really?” Rafe grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “What happens if we have the same one?”

“Nothing, buddy, nice try.” You laughed, aiming a playful punch at his chest. “What’s your receiving love language? Do you think?”

“Don’t know.” Rafe shrugged, knowing it was true. “Don’t care.”

Because when the reception of love was as scarce as it had been for Rafe Cameron, you managed to settle for just about anything you received; manifest through hook-ups, through the validation of football games.

You landed in Spain alongside the setting sun, checking into your hotel just as it dipped over the horizon. Having spent the better half of the day sitting idle, the three of you were eager to explore the bustling night-life, pointing out a number of possible locations on the taxi ride from the airport.

Topper and Rafe, ever generous, gave you exactly half an hour to get ready, the latter insisting that you would look amazing no matter what (and the former promptly gagging at the claim). It was as you were sidling into your summer dress that you heard a knock, groaning lowly before hastening to tie the straps at your shoulders.

“What?” You scowled, greeting Rafe’s figure with a pointed glare. “I still have two minutes.”

“I got bored.” Rafe shrugged, slipping past you and into your bedroom. “I’ll be quiet.”

Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you nodded, willing your breath to slow as you gave him a fleeting once-over. You weren’t quite sure how he made a plain white tee look so teasingly immodest; a silver chain peeking through the collar, floppy hair looking adequately ruffled. Rafe Cameron looked good. And it was making you painfully self-conscious.

Dipping back into the en suite, you laboured through your makeup routine, missing Rafe’s figure leaning against the wall opposing you, lips parted, awestruck.

When you did finally register his gaze, you crinkled your nose, daubing on a final coat of lip-gloss before turning toward him. “What?”

He paused, chuckling lowly before beckoning you forward. “Nothing.”

Not entirely convinced, you narrowed your eyes, sliding into a pair of leather boots before following him to the door. “You’re sure? Is it the outfit? Do I look weird? Because I can change–”

“Y/n.” He interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “If you take your clothes off right now, I’m probably not going to let you put any more on.”

He paused, biting back a smile at your flushed cheeks. “Don’t worry. The way you look in this dress is definitely fucking illegal.”

You swatted at Rafe’s chest, trying your very best to feign indignation. “Rafael. You can’t just say shit like that to me.”

“Why not?” Rafe challenged, his forefinger slipping under the strap of your dress, enjoying the way you shuddered. “Because it makes you nervous?”

“It shouldn’t.” He continued, bowing his head slightly, ever earnest. “You’re my girl.”

You faltered, swallowing slightly as the words washed over you. “When you say that, do you really mean it?”

“The ‘my girl’ thing, I mean.” You added, registering the way Rafe frowned. “Because, I mean, you’ve had a lot of girls in the past–”

Rafe straightened, coughing awkwardly. “In high school?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, chewing your bottom lip raw. “There’s no way they didn’t mean something, I mean…”

You trailed off, gesticulating vaguely. “…I don’t know.”

“They didn’t.”

And though the admission should’ve been a source of relief, you couldn’t help but wince, shoulders tense as you met his eye. “How can you be so blasé?”

Rafe hesitated, almost scared as he searched your expression. “Where is this coming from?”

“Why me, Rafe Cameron?” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut. “There’s so many. Why me?”

“…or maybe, Y/n.” Amber added, casting you a wayward glance as she raised her voice. “She’s the only other one I can think of.”

“Only other what?” You frowned, peeking your head out of your locker as the group of girls drew nearer. “What are you guys talking about?”

Amber raised her eyebrows, giving you a pointed once-over before responding. “Rafe still hasn’t asked anyone to prom.”

“I was thinking of asking him.” She continued, wistful. “But I feel like he’s going to say no.”

“Why would he say no?” You muttered, willing yourself not to roll your eyes. “Haven’t Top and a few other guys already asked you, anyway?”

“Your friend Thornton?” Amber echoed, promptly stifling her laugh. “Yeah. Not really interested.”

She paused, cocking her head to one side. “You can’t seriously be asking me why he’d say no?”

“Amber.” You cajoled, glancing past her, toward Rafe’s figure. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but he’s staring right at you.”

You jerked a thumb toward Rafe’s figure, your words punctuated by the click of your locker. “Great talking, as always.”

Rafe hastened when he noticed your quickening stride, catching you easily as he hurried past Amber’s posse. “Y/n! Wait up!”

You stumbled to a halt, frowning. “What is it, Rafael?”

“When can I pick you up for prom?” He grinned, bumping his shoulder against yours, teasing. “And what are you wearing? I can match my–”

“This is how you’re asking me?” You scoffed, shaking your head irritably. “Expected more from you, Cameron.”

“Didn’t realise you expected anything from me.” Rafe responded, paling. “Wait – I was kidding, but if you’re serious… I mean, I can ask again –”

“You were asking me as a joke?” You interrupted, grimacing. “God. Even worse.”

“No, uh, shit.” Rafe fumbled, and it was as though you knew, when he heard you giggle; knew the effect you had on him, despite your feigned disinterest. “I mean –”

“I’m kidding.” You lilted, amusement evident on your features. “But yeah, not happening.”

Rafe offered you a sheepish, half-grin, catching your wrist gently before turning you toward him. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You challenged, folding your arms across your chest. “You’ll do anything?”

“Anything.”

You narrowed your eyes, looking past Rafe, Amber’s hardened gaze particularly intimidating in the late afternoon light. “Ok. Then leave me alone, Cameron.”

Rafe cocked his head to one side, his tongue pressed against his cheek. “You don’t really want that.”

“And how would you know what I want?”

“Because you’re blushing, Y/l/n.”

Rafe scrunched up his features, rubbing his hands up and down your arms before pulling you close. “Why not you?”

You shrugged, jutting out your bottom lip defiantly. “Whatever.”

“Y/n.” Rafe started, his words punctuated by a low sigh. “What can I do to make you believe that it’s only ever been you?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, hating how out of control this was making you feel. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Rafe insisted, gentle as he thumbed at your cheek. “Ever. With me.”

He brushed his lips against your temple, peppering kisses down cheek before pressing one, passionate and slow, against your soft lips. “Seriously.”

“Alright.” You joked, struggling against his intensity, palms splayed on his chest. “When did you become such a lover boy? God.”

“Freshman year.” Rafe responded without missing a beat, prompt to slot you into his side. “Mr Williams math class. Very endearing speech. Think I’ve told this story before?”

“Shut up.” You muttered, ever bashful, especially in comparison to Rafe Cameron. “Topper’s probably already drunk, c’mon.”

When you did find him, he was tucked into a corner of the hotel bar, clinking shot glasses with a mystery girl, the liquor prompting a generous wince.

“Guys!” He called, raising an arm in welcome. “This is Hannah! She’s on holiday too!”

Hannah gave you a fleeting, once-over, her expression brightening considerably once fixed on Rafe’s figure. “Hey guys! Rafe and Y/n, I assume?”

“Yeah!” You nodded, leaning into Rafe’s side, as though on instinct. “Nice to meet you!”

Hannah slid off her chair, forcing you to step sideways as she inched toward Rafe’s figure. “Nice to meet you guys, too. Topper was telling me all about your trip!”

“Was he?” You coughed, offering her a tight-lipped smile. “That’s cool. Listen, we should probably head out–”

“About that.” Topper interrupted, raising an eyebrow pointedly. “Hannah was just telling me about how she was going to drink here, alone.”

“Alone?” Rafe frowned, seemingly unbothered by Hannah’s close proximity. “What about your friends?”

“They’re boring.” Hannah pouted, giving you a fleeting sideways glance before continuing. “You’re lucky, Y/n, Topper told me how crazy your nights can get!”

“Did he?” You gritted, fixing Topper with a pointed glare. “Thanks, Top.”

“Nothing bad!” Topper insisted, raising his arms in surrender. “Anyway, so I was saying, Hannah should totally come with us, right?”

You were opening your mouth in retort, ready to offer the girl a languid excuse, when Rafe’s voice filled the air, punctuated only by Hannah’s squeals as she grabbed her wallet from the table. “Definitely, Hannah!”

“Can call me Han.” She corrected teasingly, tossing her long hair before striding ahead. “Yay! Let’s go!”

You grimaced, pulling at Topper’s arm roughly as he made to follow suit. “Why?”

“Why what?” Topper retorted, irritable. “Dude, I’ve spent like this whole trip third-wheeling.”

“Yeah, but does she know that?” You muttered, glaring at Rafe’s figure as he caught her up. “Did you see how she completely ignored me?”

Topper faltered, his features bewildered. “Holy shit, you’re jealous?”

“No!” You spluttered, flushing slightly as Rafe turned around. “Shut up.”

Rafe cocked his head to one side, expression earnest as he surveyed your features. “You good?”

“Mm-hm.” You nodded, flashing him a weak thumbs up. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Dude.” Topper quipped, his lips barely moving in an attempt to be discreet. “I told her about you and Rafe, you’re fine.”

You frowned, registering the way she was leaning into Rafe’s side, balancing on tip-toes as she whispered a few words into his ear. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Topper inclined, his hand pressed against your back to guide you forward. “Plus, she was definitely checking me out –”

“Why would she do that?” You snorted, dodging Topper’s punch. “Relax. Kidding. Totally kidding.”

“Kidding about what?” Rafe questioned, slinking his arm around your waist. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing.” You coughed, keenly avoiding eye contact as you leant into his side. “Don’t worry about it.”

Hannah cast you a wary, side-ways glance, separating slightly as Topper sidled into Rafe’s other side. “You guys are really close, huh?”

“Me and Top?” You responded, crinkling your nose in feigned disgust. “Nah, I hate him, really.”

“You and Rafe.” Hannah corrected, lifting an eyebrow knowingly. “Don’t seem like the type to have much in common.”

You faltered, clearing your throat awkwardly. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Hannah dismissed airily, heading for the hotel exit with Topper close behind. “C’mon! I know this great place beside the water!”

“That was a weird thing to say.” You muttered, trailing behind slightly as you traversed the bustling street. “What does that even mean?”

Rafe offered you a half-shrug, seemingly unbothered by Hannah’s gall. “We don’t have to have a lot in common.”

“But we do.” You argued, jutting out your bottom lip. “I mean, we should, shouldn’t we?”

“Y/n–”

He wanted to assure you that you did have things in common; he was fairly certain it was impossible not to, knowing the lengths he would go to make you happy. Because when Rafe Cameron was all in; your everything with absolutely nothing in between, the things that you loved, were the things he loved, too. He didn’t know how exactly to convey this fact; it’s you, he wanted to say, it’s all you, don’t you see? But as he prepared to launch into speech, he was brought out of his reverie by Hannah, her voice particularly piercing, against the backdrop of his thoughts.

“Rafe!” She exclaimed, jerking her head toward your figures. “Topper tells me you ran track!”

Rafe exhaled, shaking his head slightly in an attempt to regain his composure. “Oh, yeah, all of high-school.”

“Me too!” She grinned, slowing down to allow him to catch up. “My whole family’s full of runners. How about you, Y/n?”

“No way.” Topper scoffed, biting back a laugh. “Y/n quit after like, freshman year.”

“Shut up, Top.” You scowled, rolling your eyes. “I just don’t like running competitively, okay?”

Rafe furrowed his brow, registering the way you tensed, your tone hardened. Slowly, he bowed his head, ignoring Hannah’s frown as he pulled you close. “You did the track team a favour.”

“Hey!” You admonished, exasperated. “I wasn’t that bad–”

“I mean.” Rafe interrupted, a teasing smirk on his features. “The only time I managed a sub 6 mile in freshman year was that week you skipped practice.”

“Hey!” Rafe called, catching you easily as you ran your second lap. “Nice speech in math this morning.”

You frowned, cocking your head to one side as you registered his figure. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

“Not officially.” Rafe chuckled, pressing his tongue against his cheek. “Rafe Cameron.”

You rolled your eyes, quickening your pace to jog ahead. “I was obviously kidding, Cameron. Fairly certain the girls in our class have already made a fan club in your name.”

“And are you a member?” Rafe teased, biting back a laugh at your prompt scowl. “I think I might have to make a Y/n fan club.”

You stumbled to a halt, folding your arms across your chest. “Unbelievable.”

“Y/n.” He grinned, catching your wrist as you made to turn. “Go out with me?”

“That’s never going to happen.”

Rafe paused, his gaze deepening considerably. “Not yet.”

“Awfully confident, Rafael.” You snorted, shaking your head bemusedly. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m a patient guy.”

“Shut up, Rafael.” You flushed, swatting at his chest meekly. “That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah.” Rafe nodded, ever earnest. “And that week you wore those Nike fucking pros –”

“Ew, do you see what I mean?” Topper gagged, eyes flitting toward Hannah before casting Rafe a wayward glance. “She’s my best friend, you douchebag. Disgusting.”

Rafe offered him a simple wink, his fingers pressed against the bare skin of your waist, keeping you close. “So? She’s my girl.”

“Your girl?” Hannah repeated, lifting an eyebrow. “Funny.”

“Funny?” You muttered, though your voice was far too low for her to register. “What the fuck is funny about that?”

Rafe raised your chin, his signet ring raising goosebumps on your jaw, voice barely audible over the building crowd. “You good?”

“M’good.” You nodded, forcing a smile. “C’mon. I think we’re here.”

By the time you had settled into a corner of the bar, the bass was heavy, and fairy lights dim; people were beginning to sway to the music, and you couldn’t feel further away from the bustle.

“Topper.” You announced suddenly, eyes trained on Hannah’s hand against Rafe’s, lingering. “Can I speak with you?”

“Alone?” You added pointedly, avoiding eye contact as you guided Rafe’s arm from your waist. “Let’s go get another drink.”

“But mine’s still half-full.” Topper frowned, gritting his teeth slightly as he nodded toward Hannah’s figure. “Uh, can’t Rafe go with you?”

You took Topper’s glass from his hand, downing the beverage in one go, willing yourself not to wince. “Now it’s empty. Come on.”

Stepping away from Rafe’s figure, you pulled at Topper’s forearm roughly, ignoring his exasperated expression as you traversed the club. By the time you were at the drinks counter, you were in desperate need of more alcohol; a distraction from the feeling of inadequacy settling into your chest.

“Dude.” Topper chastised, forcing you to a halt. “What?”

You swallowed, your eyes flitting toward Hannah’s figure in the distance. “Think they’d be a good couple?”

“Who?” Topper frowned, pausing momentarily before snorting. “Rafe and Hannah? Y/n, have you been fucking paying attention?”

“Shut up Top.” You muttered, turned around to order another drink. “As if you don’t see what’s going on here.”

“Hannah knows you guys are together.” Topper argued, exasperated. “Why would she make a move? She –”

“Are we together, really?” You interrupted, sliding some cash across the counter before promptly downing your drink. “I mean, it’s been what, two days? And…”

You trailed off, paling. “Look. Look at her.”

Topper furrowed his brow, following your line of vision as it hit Hannah’s figure against Rafe’s. She was threading her fingers through his floppy hair, half-way whispering something into his ear, teasingly close.

“It’s nothing.” Topper proffered, though his forehead creased deepened, betraying him. “It’s so loud in here. That’s probably it.”

“Here.” You hiccupped, handing him another drink and clinking it against your own. “I feel sick.”

“Y/n.” Topper warned, snatching the drink from your grasp. “Don’t.”

You folded your arms across your chest, pushing yourself against his torso. “Give it back, Topper.”

Realising it was fruitless, you let out a laboured sigh, frowning slightly as you gazed back toward Rafe and Hannah. “What do I do?”

“Maybe don’t leave them alone together?” Topper offered, shaking his head bemusedly. “Why’d you want me to come with, anyway?”

“For help.” You groaned, burying your head in your hands. “You’re no help.”

“Y/n.” Topper exhaled, raising your chin slightly. “You don’t need help when it comes to fucking Cameron.”

Downing his drink, he placed his hands on either shoulder, guiding you back through the crowd and toward their figures. “Come on.”

“You’re so funny!” Hannah laughed obnoxiously, one hand clasping Rafe’s bicep, the other waving in the air. “C’mon. Let’s dance.”

“Actually.” You coughed, leaning into Rafe’s torso. “Rafael, may I speak with you?”

Hannah scowled, stepping backward slightly as he slotted you into his side. “You’re going to ditch the group again?”

“Hannah.” Rafe warned, stepping forward protectively. “That was a little rude.”

“I just mean.” Hannah responded, laughing nervously. “We should all dance together! Right, Topper?”

“Uh...”

Topper paused, casting you a helpless, sideways glance. “I guess?”

“Good!” Hannah beamed, linking arms with Topper and Rafe and pulling them toward the dance floor. “This bass is so sexy.”

Rafe shook his shoulder briefly, his other arm circling your waist and pulling you close. “C’mon.”

“I’m not really a dancer.” You muttered, narrowing your eyes. “By all means, have fun with Han.”

Rafe stumbled to a halt, unlinking his arm before turning toward you. “Huh?”

“It’s whatever.” You scoffed, gesturing toward Hannah’s figure. “I totally get it, you guys have so much in common, apparently, and she’s so fun, and–”

You faltered, registering Rafe’s smirk. “What is that fucking look for, Rafael?”

“Holy shit.” He laughed, feeling warm, almost endeared. “You’re jealous?”

“No.” You fumbled, frowning slightly. “Shut up.”

Rafe nodded sagely, leaning in as he cupped your cheeks. “Y/n…”

He trailed off, pulling you in for a kiss, gentle and slow. “…and here I thought we were just ‘seeing how things go’.”

“You’re teasing.” You pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. “Stop.”

Shivering slightly as his fingers slipped under the open back of your dress, you leaned into for another, impossibly head kiss, passion seeping through your skin where it was pressed flush against his.

When he did finally pull away, it was to thumb at your bruised lips, his other hand gripping your ass, signet ring imprinting the smooth skin.  “You know you have absolutely nothing to worry about, right?”

“No.” You shuddered, your eyes half closed. “You guys seemed awfully close –”

“She was asking about you.” Rafe interrupted, thumbing at your cheeks, coaxing your eyes open. “About me and you.”

You frowned, doe-eyed as you gazed up at him. “Didn’t seem like that from over here. Plus, all her little comments –”

“And I said.” Rafe pressed on, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That I’m all in.”

He paused, leaning closer. “That I have been for a while.”      

“Really?” You swallowed, reddening under his intense gaze. “And what did she say?”

“She was surprised.” Rafe responded, chewing at his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Said you seemed didn’t seem like you were, too.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“So, I said.” Rafe continued, gentle as he unfolded them, guiding them around his torso. “All good things take time.”

You paused, lips parting slightly as his revelation washed over your features. Perhaps the constancy of Rafe Cameron’s feeling had made them easy to disregard; his proclamations of love had never gotten to you, in the past, not like they did in this moment. Because as he dipped his head toward yours, the blue of his eyes brilliantly dizzying, you could feel the walls breaking down around you; leaving you more exposed than you had ever felt before. And though this should’ve been a source of panic; left you vulnerable, almost meek, when you gazed up at Rafe Cameron, all you felt was free.

“Listen.”

Rafe paused, swallowing slightly. “I get it. The whole ‘seeing how things go’, thing. And if this isn’t something that –”

“Rafael.” You interrupted, pressing your palms against his chest. “I’m all in, too.”

--

--

--

omg absolutely yes you can 🥹 Harry’s music IS so euro trip coded I 100% agree, SO EXCITED FOR U TO SEE HIM EEEE!!!

Late Night Talking

If you’re feeling down, Rafe just wants to make you happier, baby.

“C’mon. Swap with me.”

Noah tore his eyes away from the seating chart, surveying his best friend’s features with something akin to mild amusement. “Not sure that’s how it works, bud.”

“Want a bet?” Rafe challenged roguishly, cocking his head to one side, “go on, White. It’s just fucking calc.”

“Hey,” Noah shrugged, raising his arms in surrender, “it’s not like it’s up to me. Mrs Bright’s the one that put you beside Kelce.”

“And the one that put you beside Y/n,” Rafe pressed, eyes widening pointedly, “you’re not seriously going to —”

He was forced to falter as Noah’s palm made contact with his shoulder, grip punishing in an attempt to bring a halt to the conversation. A curt shake of his head, and Noah sent Rafe a meaningful glance, having registered you and Kelce walk into the classroom before he had.

Ironic, really, that he had clocked it first — Rafe was sure that your skin was magnetic; that his senses tended to note your presence before his conscious mind did. Relaxed features, and hair twisted back into a claw clip; something sweet in the air, and Rafe felt his eyes close a moment, taking his time to breathe this in. His figure was straightening just as you sidled in beside him, a crease in your forehead that had his thumb itching to smooth it out.

“Why,” you fixed Rafe with a pointed glare, as though he wasn’t halfway to dropping down on one knee and asking you to please (please) marry him, “are you guys congregating?”

a/n: this one's up there with one of my favourite concepts I've ever written into the pre-Euro trip timeline. Thank you to the wonderful @bookmarkies for reminding me of it !

The weekend before Rafe Cameron’s birthday, his younger sister Sarah forced him to watch The Great Gatsby. He was barely able to pay attention throughout the screening; too busy sending her pointed glares, exasperated by her stifled giggles. The excuse that she offered for her behaviour only made him angrier, of course, because what exactly did she mean by “the poetic irony” of the situation?

When he told his best friend Noah about the exchange the following Monday, he was met with a similarly perplexing response; the same knowing smile, the same irritating chuckle.

“What?” Rafe exhaled, throwing his hands in the air. “What am I missing?”

Noah snorted, glancing past his figure before slowly shaking his head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Listen.” He added, his eyes trained on your features, squinting down at the book in your hand. “How goes the party planning?”

“Good.” Rafe smirked, jerking his head toward your locker before continuing. “Invited everyone, except…”

BAE I LOVE U HERE'S ANOTHER HEHE

The beginning

You're extremely late to freshman math. And Mr Williams isn't the only person that notices.

Rafe flung his school bag onto the desk beside Noah, not bothering to take out any of his books before collapsing into the seat.

“White.” He grinned easily, dapping up his best friend before scanning the classroom for more familiar faces. “Oh shit — Amber!”

Balancing on the hind legs of his chair, he allowed a beat to pass before continuing; his head cocked to one side roguishly, tongue pressed against his cheek. “There’s a seat beside me, Graham.”

Amber quirked an eyebrow at Rafe’s figure, the phantom of a smile tugging at her lips. “You saved me a seat?”

“I always save seats for hot girls.” Rafe shrugged, and when Amber blushed crimson, it only acted to spur him on — enjoying the way this was making him feel; the way he could so effortlessly shift her off-balance. He patted the chair beside him expectantly, flexing his bicep in the process. “Come on.”

Amber was half-way to standing, whispering something imperceptible to her best friend Sophie, when Mr Williams nearing footsteps — his gait alarmingly loud — forced a falter. She froze, hazarding an apologetic glance at Rafe (his bottom lip jutted out in a teasing pout) before reluctantly settling back into her seat.

Hey so I’m kind of obsessed w ur taste, requesting so many absolute OGs and it’s making me emosh 🥹🥹 thank YOU for all of the love and support, ily 4ever more<333

Perfect Timing

The Thornton Family had always played a devoted role in the development of Kook Academy. One of the greatest traditions it had gifted the school was the annual Thornton Family Fundraiser; an extravagant, Island Club brunch that commemorated the beginning of football season.

Since its origin, back in the 1950s, the fundraiser had grown to adopt a range of fairly peculiar practices. For example, courtesy of Topper’s grandfather (who was in the process of coveting his grandmother, at the time), each player is allowed entry if, and only if, they bring with them a significant other. Of course, over time, the rule has waned considerably; players have brought friends, and friends or friends, in an attempt to gain entry to the prestigious event.

You almost made it through your high-school career without having to learn all the rules; you were a supporter on the side-lines, rarely someone who found herself in the midst of any drama. Almost.

a/n: a very happy birthday to the most wonderful @cutesouls, thank u for reminding me how much I love this blurb !!!!<3 18+, minors PLEASE dni!!

You really wished Noah hadn’t roped you into this game of stack cup.

Subpar aim and questionable booze was a bad enough combination as is — lightweight or not, the recipe for disaster was resolute. Because now, he was thrusting a cup filled with God-knows-what into your chest, and you were wondering whether being the “— totally fucking chill —” girlfriend was really worth it.

Alright, no — this was fun. You were fun. There was a sprig of lavender behind your ear, and your curls tousled a little, wild. Fresh creases at the waist of your dress and strappy heels with the clasps undone, as though you didn’t care about anything at all and all you wanted to do was dance. Heavy bass pounding through your ears, hard liquor burning down your throat, slurred yells and frat-boy tells and everything about this situation was completely fine. Being in control? Overrated. You had decided on being carefree, tonight. (As though it was possible to somehow force it.)

You peered into the cup a moment, a reflection overwhelmingly unlike your own swirling within its depths. A stranger, though perhaps the kind Rafe Cameron would like better.

Breathing a sigh, you took it from Noah’s grasp, met with a triumphant whoop and strong arm thrown over your shoulder.

“Drink. Drink. Drink.” He chanted loudly — obnoxiously was a little more accurate, though you were the girl who didn’t mind that tonight, so you promptly ignored it. The girl who gulped down warm beer mixed with passionfruit seltzer and tequila, who laughed at inappropriate jokes and let down her hair a little more often. The girl who didn’t care what people thought of her, who spoke her mind and looked insanely sexy doing so; the girl just as loud, just as obnoxious — the chill girl, one of them.

Like Hannah, for example. Beautiful, effortless, carefree Hannah who took ECON315 with Rafe Cameron.

“There.” You grimaced finally, the last few drops coating pursed lips with a purpose. “Happy?”

“Extremely.” Noah grinned easily, making a show of bowing down to you before bumping your shoulder with his. “C’mon — let’s go find Cameron.”

Alcohol in excess was overrated. Sober thoughts, drunk words, drunker actions — overrated. Had you not downed the King’s cup a moment prior, you were sure your hesitation would’ve appeared less obvious. Slipped through the cracks with unsurprising ease, rather than furrow Noah’s brow in the confronting manner it was currently doing. Stupid, deceptive liquid honesty disguised as tequila and vodka. You were only a single hour into pre-gaming, and it was already proving capable of ruining the rest of your night.

“I — yeah.” You nodded fruitlessly, as though Noah’s gaze wasn’t laser-sharp, and you weren’t fairly see-through. “I think I saw him by —”

“Nope.” Noah interrupted, frowning. “What happened?”

You swallowed slightly, absently chewing on your bottom lip. “No, I — nothing.”

Shaking your head a little, you let out a breath, focussing only on the alcohol clouding your senses. There was a familiar flush creeping up your cheeks, and you tried not to think about the bone-crushing revelation that was prompting it’s permanence. Chill girl didn’t mind free-falling. Chill girl welcomed the gold rush.

“Right.” Noah responded after a beat, clearly unconvinced. He eyed you warily before slowly nodding, knowing it wasn’t his place to push you; to intervene despite better judgement.

“I mean — he seemed busy before.” You explained lamely, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I’ll catch up with you two later, yeah? Going to go see where Top and Kelce are at.”

“Aight.” Noah responded defeatedly, sending you a reluctant wave. “We’ll come find you.”

When he turned around and disappeared into the crowd, you allowed your shoulders to wilt, a laboured exhale on your lips. You dragged your feet through the crowd, finding Amber leaning into Topper’s chest within a hidden corner of the living room.

“There you are!” Amber exclaimed, straightening once you were within earshot. She threw a careless arm over your shoulder, pulling you right into her chest. “Where’s Rafe?”

“Dunno.” You shrugged, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Just played a game of stack cup with Noah and some of the other guys.”

Amber narrowed her eyes slightly, seeing right through your feigned nonchalance. “You weren’t with Rafe?”

“Uh, no?”

Beside her, Topper raised an eyebrow, the revelation piquing his interest, too. “Wait — what? Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not’?” You frowned, feeling defensive. “He found some of his business school friends, so I thought I’d let him do his thing for a bit.”

“Who?” Topper pressed, seemingly bewildered. “Do you not like them or something?”

“What?” You scoffed, voice a little high-pitched. “Why wouldn’t I like them?”

“No — it’s just…” Topper took a pause, brows snapping together. “…makes no sense. You guys are fucking glued to each other usually, let alone at parties, and now you’re avoiding him and he’s somehow letting you —”

“I’m not avoiding him.” You argued meekly, folding your arms across your chest. But there was an uncomfortable ache in your stomach, now, Topper’s words leaving you feeling unsteady. He was right, really — why was Rafe letting you avoid him? Maybe this was what he wanted. Maybe he preferred it this way.

“Then, what?” Topper challenged, far-too-confronting for drunk you to handle. “Are you guys in a fight or something?”

“Topper.” Amber admonished, finally intervening. “Stop, holy shit. Not our place.”

“Ambs.” Topper sighed, sending her a meaningful glance. “I’ve known Y/n since she was like eight. Safe to say that it is my place —”

“Stop.” Amber repeated, sterner this time. She turned toward you with an apologetic expression on her features, separating from Topper’s figure to link her arm in yours, tight.

“Let’s go outside.” She said with a reassuring smile, throwing a simple see you soon over her shoulder before guiding you through the crowd. “I need some fresh air.”

Amber knew exactly what this was about. She had seen it on your face when you had been introduced to Hannah Walker, earlier tonight; seen the way your smile had faltered, the way the twinkle in your eye had dwindled.

“So.” She started, finding a quiet spot on the deck before continuing. “Hannah.”

Your eyes widened, mouth going dry. “I didn’t mean to be obvious —”

“You weren’t.” Amber assured, shaking her head a little. “I swear it. I just recognised it because I know. How it feels, I mean.”

“You?” You echoed, near indignant at the claim. “No way, Amber. They talk about her like they talked about you in high-school.”

“Not Rafe.” Amber responded, an eyebrow raised knowingly. “Y/n — he’s always known exactly what he wants. And that’s always been only you.”

“No way.” You frowned, unconvinced. “I mean — I know Rafael loves me. I do. But he’s with Hannah a lot, and all of his friends are obsessed with her.”

You took a small pause to gather your thoughts, feeling a little out of breath. As though you had been waiting for an opportunity to lay out all the facts — a catharsis, of sorts, ironic as that sounded.

“And.” You continued with a frown, a little more determined now. “And they’re always sitting together in ECON, and she’s so pretty and confident and Amber — he called her the ‘chillest, coolest girl he’s ever met’—”

“Okay, stop, I was there and he definitely just said ‘chillest girl in ECON’, not —”

“— and he totally meant it, I mean, they were laughing at some stupid inside joke a minute later, remember? And all his business school friends were eating it up and I had to fucking excuse myself and Rafe didn’t even look twice in my direction when I did —”

“Dude.” Amber interrupted exasperatedly. “Stop.”

She placed her hands on your shoulders, halting your downward spiral. “You need to breathe. And get your fucking facts straight.”

“Because if I remember correctly.” She accused, quirking an eyebrow pointedly. “He absolutely fucking looked twice. Are you kidding?”

—

Rafe Cameron was confused.

Admittedly, the distracted way in which you told him that you were “going to do a round” had been vague enough to sound temporary. It hadn’t stopped him pulling you in for a farewell kiss, nor allowing his eyes to linger on you as you disappeared into the crowd. What it had done, however, was stop him stopping you — he was sure you would return once you were done, and he could deal with the gold rush whilst you were gone.

But it was fifteen past eight, now, and you were still nowhere to be found. Rafe furrowed his brow at the revelation, gaze moving from Hannah’s face to the space just over her shoulder. There was a crowd gathering near the pong table, and he craned his neck, interest piquing.

Ah — there you were. You were with his best friend, Noah, and Rafe visibly relaxed as it registered.

“Yo — you good?” Hannah asked bemusedly, bringing his attention back to the conversation. “What are you looking at?”

She turned her head to follow his gaze, landing on your figure within the bustle. “Oh you fucking simp — it’s been like… what? Fifteen minutes?”

“Probably.” Rafe shrugged, already half-way making his way over. “I should —”

“Dude.” Hannah interrupted exasperatedly, bringing a hand to his chest. “Stop. She’s in the middle of a game.”

Rafe frowned, not quite understanding. “So?”

“So… let her finish?” Hannah chided, raising an eyebrow pointedly. “You guys don’t have to be together 24/7, you know that right?”

“Oh.” Rafe nodded. “Right.”

Of course you didn’t. But he wanted to, and it took everything in him not to make that happen. Admiring from afar had never really been his style, though perhaps Hannah had a point — just because his life was yours, didn’t necessarily mean the same was true the other way around.

So he remained where he was, and all he did was watch. You moved in slow-motion, and perhaps that was why it felt like you had been gone so long. God, you were beautiful. Rafe hoped you knew it, too. Because in between confusion and distance, trying to figure out your emotions and how they fit within his, Rafe couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you were fucking beautiful. Just standing there, lavender dress with your curls pushed back. It didn’t make any sense. Maybe it was the drinks he was downing, but he concurred — it didn’t make any fucking sense. How were the people standing close-by not going crazy at the thought of you? How many people had walked past you, he wondered, and thought — wow. What would it have felt like to grow up that fucking beautiful?

There was no way he was ever going to deserve the way you made him feel. And it was only then that he clocked it, the way your smile faltered for a single moment. Slight as it was, perhaps he recognised it because it mirrored that very thought. Ridiculous, really, but was there a part of you that believed that you didn’t deserve him, too? He hoped not. He hoped it wasn’t something  that had crossed your mind. And he hoped to God it wasn’t why you had left him earlier that night, because that was insane and you were insane and now, Rafe was going insane at the thought.

—

Okay — yeah, you could get used to Rafe Cameron in royal blue.

His button-up was completely undone, his torso broad and welcoming, jaw chiseled, sharp. And he was standing there with an arm out, radiating warmth and looking all yours, and alright — you were more than a little drunk, now, but you didn’t think you would ever get used to the gold rush.

Perhaps it was the jealousy talking, but you wanted to immortalise this moment like a secret kept — his and yours, only.

Not Chang’s from the sorority next door, nor Georgia “Geeg” Jones’ from the BUS311 seminars he would attend in the fall. Not the leggy blonde making eyes at him from across the room all night, nor the loud brunette who talked football and lacrosse and golf and everything else Rafe Cameron loved. Not any of the girls’ that wanted him, nor the ones who wondered what it would be like to love him. And especially not Hannah Walker’s, who he had introduced as “the chillest girl in ECON315”, all cascading hair and piercing eyes and a smile confident enough to intimidate even Amber.

So when you opened up Instagram and took a photo of Rafe like this, it was with minimal hesitation that you typed up a caption and pressed post.

You weren’t one to share love so unabashedly on social media, but chill girl probably was. Chill girl didn’t care about her Instagram feed; she posted candidly, far more often than you did.

And it wasn’t as though this was untrue, you had Instagram-stalked Hannah more than once before, what with the endless conversations her name had crept into. Granted, most of them were with Topper and Kelce, but hearing “— and then, fucking Hannah went up to the bartender and —” or “— Hannah doesn’t give a fuck, I swear, it’s so cool —” for the umpteenth time had admittedly, piqued your interest.

Of course, you had found an Instagram feed as carefree as she was — a fact that was causing significantly more chagrin now that you knew how well-acquainted Rafe was with her, too. You wondered whether he chill girl-monologued about her with Noah the way Topper and Kelce did with you. The thought tightened at your chest a little, an uncomfortable twang that vibrated into your stomach. You felt nauseous all of a sudden, cold despite the alcohol blanket. Envy laced your thoughts like poison, unforgiving; you were spiralling now, and it was entirely Hannah’s doing.

“Baby?”

Rafe Cameron’s voice sounded distant. He had introduced you to her earlier, and she had been perfectly nice, save a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. A group setting, but had made you feel small enough to excuse yourself — insist Rafe stay with her and his friends; you would find Kelce, or Topper, or someone else that you knew, he should be able to have fun without worrying about you. Because you were a chill girl, just like she was; you didn’t need to be with him every second of every night out.

And you had proved it, too, drinking far too much on an empty stomach when Noah White had found you. See — you could party with his friends, as well. But there it was again, Rafe Cameron’s voice in your head; Hannah Walker was the “chillest girl he’d ever met”, or whatever else he had said. No one did it better than her. Who were you kidding? Jealousy was a dangerous game, and you were losing.

“Baby.” Rafe repeated, this time a little louder.

If his voice was distant before, it sounded almost non-existent now. Rafe and Hannah Walker on campus, chill guy and chill girl — equals. You had always thought you were a little too high-strung for him; didn’t often approve of the stupid pranks him and his friends played. Hannah Walker, chill girl, shotgunning beer and winning pong games and playing video games on first dates.

“Okay.” He huffed a sigh, stepping close enough to force you out of your reverie. “You need to tell me what’s wrong.”

You furrowed your brow, gaze trained on the Instagram app open on your phone. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s not true.” Rafe frowned, circling your waist to pull you right into his chest. There was a slight slur to your words, and he wondered whether it was to blame for that faraway look in your eye.

You let out a laboured sigh, resting your chin on his sternum to finally meet his gaze. Concern circled his pupils, and you almost wanted to mean what you said next. “Yes it is.”

“Sweetheart —”

“Rafael.” You interrupted, pulling away from his figure. “C’mon, we should go, we’re going to be late —”

“I don’t care.” Rafe dismissed, combing his fingers through his hair. “Figuring out why you’re upset is way more important than the fucking formal.”

You let out a defeated sigh, averting your gaze lest he see the way it faltered. “But all your friends will be there.”

“My friends?” Rafe frowned, taken aback. “What friends?”

“You know.” You responded, chewing on your bottom lip awkwardly. “The kids in your business classes. Logan, um… Hannah.”

Logan? He had been a part of the group you had separated from, sure, but Rafe didn’t consider him a good friend, let alone noteworthy enough to mention. And… Hannah? Perfectly good company in ECON315, but if anything, she was Topper and Kelce’s friend, not his.

He furrowed his brow a little, attempting to make sense of your answer. Was it possible that you were re-hashing an old argument; one about “holding him back” that had ended in tears and heartbreak, freshman year? His features blanched at the thought, expression faltering. He hoped not. He hoped to God that he had it all wrong.

“Y/n…” He started carefully, not wanting to butcher his words. “…listen, if you’re worried about what I think you’re worried about —”

“Of course I am, Rafael.” You exhaled, shaking your head defeatedly. “I mean, all Top and Kelce do is rave about her, and you called her the hottest girl you’ve ever met —”

“Wait, what?”

Alright, now Rafe really didn’t know what was going on.

“You know what.” You muttered, levelling him with a glare. “I mean, I totally get it, Hannah is super fucking chill and she’s probably the reason you didn’t bother finding me earlier —”

“Hannah?” Rafe echoed, fairly incredulous at this stage. “Y/n — I — what?”

“Rafael.” You frowned, indignant, folding your arms across your chest. But relief was washing over his features then, and there was a quirk to his lips that hadn’t been there before. He took a single stride forward before you could continue, insistent hands tugging you into his chest.

Fuck if he was half-way to a heart attack, but you didn’t in fact want to break up with him — you were just jealous, and okay, Rafe could definitely work with this. It was kind of endearing, really, because in what world would he be with someone else when you existed? Stupid, insanely beautiful, and all his. He hated that he didn’t remind you enough. Sure, he wore his heart on his sleeve, but perhaps what he really needed to do was place it on yours, instead.

“Y/n.” Rafe lilted playfully, and you were feeling a little silly now, because there was that look in his eye he didn’t give anyone else. Fingers on bare skin, and lips and stubble and welcoming chest, and the gold rush was dissipating, leaving only blue in its wake.

“What?” You scowled, allowing him to guide your arms around his neck. You roughed nimble fingers over his buzzcut absently, blush roaring back as you registered his grin.

“You’re going to have to remind me when I called Hannah the ‘hottest girl I’ve ever met’, baby.”

“So maybe I was paraphrasing.” You mumbled crossly, feeling him bow his head and nudge your curls away. “Whatever, you called her chill. Chillest girl in your class.”

“She is chill.” Rafe responded honestly, pressing kisses along the angle of your neck.

“And I’m not?” You accused, voice growing weak at his fingers on the strap of your lavender slip. A single tug, and it would fall to your feet. The street on which you stood was deserted, most party-goers having already Ubered to spring formal from the Frat. Maybe you would allow it. Maybe (definitely) you were too drunk to be making that decision.

“No.” Rafe answered simply, pulling you closer, closer still — you weren’t close enough, he needed you to melt into his fucking skin. “Y/n…”

He trailed off purposefully, drawing back a moment to meet your gaze. “…after all these years, you still think I’d choose chill over the way you drive me fucking insane?”

“Top and Kelce would.” You argued lamely, jutting out your bottom lip. “And a lot of other guys too, clearly, I mean her Instagram is fucking full of them —”

“I don’t even follow her.” Rafe breathed out, absently licking his bottom lip. “Baby, I love you — but how are you this stupid?”

“Hey.” You frowned, palms splaying his chest half-heartedly. “I’m not —”

Rafe swallowed your words with lips on yours, kissing you hard — like he had something to prove.

“You know what I love the most about you being jealous?” He murmured into your skin, hands everywhere till your skin was on fire, so close to lost in the feeling that you didn’t feel Rafe guiding you back into the Frat. It was only when his bedroom door clicked shut that you registered that you were back inside, pulling away from Rafe’s figure to find blown-out pupils still on your lips.

“What?” You managed to say, eyes wide as he took a step closer.

He dipped his head to eye-level, tugging down the straps of your lavender slip until it pooled at your feet, forgotten. “It’s an excuse to show you exactly why you shouldn’t be.”

When he kissed you this time, it was with his figure crowding you against the opposing wall and his bruising grip finding its way to your thighs. He gave them a tap, signalling for you to jump into his arms, and when you wrapped them around his torso he let out a strangled groan, guiding you back toward his large, grey comforter.

“Dream girl.” He breathed out, the sight of you on his bed like a gold rush. “Why would I want anyone else when I’ve committed the way you taste to memory?”

He manoeuvred his figure over yours, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your left nipple until you keened into his touch. His tongue slipped out and rolled around it, forefinger brushing over the one of the right.

“Perfect fucking tits, by the way.” He muttered gruffly, darkened gaze meetings yours with a purpose. “Remember our first time?”

“Yeah?” You managed to breathe out, biting back a moan as he pinched your right nipple — teasing.

Rafe pressed his thumb between your teeth to prevent your lips pursing, wanting to hear you. “I could’ve cum at the sight of them.”

You couldn’t help but grip at his shoulders a little at that, the dirty talk pooling at the very bottom of your stomach like something syrupy.

He tilted your chin downward, eyes on your features as he pressed lingering kisses down your torso. They left a trail of fire in their wake, and you could feel yourself getting impatient. Pressing his calloused palms against your bare thighs, he slowly pushed them apart, a forefinger teasing at your core through the black lingerie you had picked out for the occasion.

“Fuck.” He cursed darkly, sliding them to one side at the feeling of your folds, already slick. “Were you planning on being this wet at the formal, too, baby?”

“Rafael —” You breathed a moan, fingers ghosting over his buzzcut desperately. “Please stop — teasing.”

Rafe smirked at the way you stuttered, free hand catching your wrist to press it against his uncomfortably tight crotch. He tilted his head to one side, watching the angle of your throat as you swallowed. His cock twitched at the action, like clockwork, because really — when had the simple things you did not driven him up the fucking wall?

“This.” He murmured, bucking his hips into your hand. “You make me feel like this without even fucking doing anything.”

You breathed a moan, eyes half-closed. “Rafael.”

“S’all you, baby.”

He let go of your wrist to shift back and lower his head, pressing kisses on the apex of your thighs as he slowly tugged your panties off. His hot breath fanned your wet core, teasing, and the mere promise of his lips had your breath catching, fingers on non-existent locks of hair.

He curled a forefinger into your core first, sliding it between your folds to oblige entry. When his tongue followed, a drawn-out moan escaped your lips, his free hand hoisting you up to bury his face into the space between your thighs fully. His ministrations were slow and teasing, as though wanting to make this last — taste all of you, all night, till you realised you were the only one. When his tongue rolled over your clit, you bit back a gasp, pleasure knotting at your stomach and pressing your thighs against his ears. He drew back with a satisfied grunt, lips parted and glistening slightly.

“I want to hear you, angel.” He instructed, absently licking his bottom lip, breath heavy.

“Rafael.” You breathed out, core throbbing at the loss of contact. “Don’t stop.”

Rafe teased his forefinger into your core, keeping his gaze trained on you as you squirmed. “I could do this all fucking night.”

When his tongue slipped into your core for the second time, his movements were purposeful and quick in a way that made your head spin. His hand slid over your torso to your breasts, forefinger and thumb rolling your sensitive nipple between them. He pinched at them as you keened, inwardly groaning at how sweet you tasted on his lips. Sucking on your clit, hard, he elicited moan after breathy moan from your lips — the overwhelming feeling of pleasure was growing already, and you’d never finished this quickly before but the fact that he hadn’t yet caught his breath was making your legs shake and retina fill with stars.

He could feel you reaching your climax, and it only made him pull you closer, tongue curling into sensitive spots you didn’t know existed and dirty praises raising goosebumps on your skin.

Between close already? yeah? good girls and fuck — I could watch you come undone all nights  and several my girl. I want to fucking hear you say its, the orgasm building near your core was so pleasurable it was blinding. You fisted at the sheets either side of you, Rafe sucking on your swollen clit one last time before he curled his fingers back into your core, bringing you over the edge. A tumble of curses left your lips as you came on his face, though Rafe had no plan on stopping, palms pressed into your shaking thighs to keep them open for him. His mouth rode your high, continuing to stimulate the sensitive skin until you bucked your hips a little, feeling overwhelmed.

“S — stop.” You managed to stutter out, squirming as his tongue continued to slide in and out of your core, rolling right over your clit. “Too much.”

Rafe only pulled back then, feeling your figure vibrate against his hands.

“Never fucking enough.” He muttered, tugging you down until you were right below him, arms bracketing your slightly flushed face.

You bit your bottom lip, as if you were trying to fucking kill him, head still a little foggy as you came down from your high. “S’not resolved just because you ate me out, Rafael.”

“No?” Rafe challenged, tracing the curve of your waist down to your hip. “Round two?”

“Rafael.” You frowned, catching his wrist. “I’m serious.”

“Baby.” Rafe breathed a laugh, raising an eyebrow bemusedly. “I don’t think there’s space in my head for anyone else.

You scrunched up your nose a little at that, the ghost of a smile on your lips. “Whatever.”

“It’s fucking true.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if there was.” You frowned, expression serious. “Really — I mean, I get it, Hannah is kind of perfect —”

“She isn’t, but that doesn’t matter.”

He took a pause, here, leaning in close till your foreheads were touching. “Because perfect or not, there’s no one like you, Y/n Y/l/n.”

omg eeeee<3 you're way way too kind to me! My writing may have changed a lot since I first wrote this one, but it’s one I’ve always been proud of !!! 🫶

Not that guy

a/n: set near the beginning of junior year aka douchebag Rafe territory

As Rafe Cameron strode toward your spot by the kegger, only a single thought crossed your mind — something was different. Something subtle, but something different, all the same.

Though you were sure you knew what exactly it was, the risk of having your worst suspicions confirmed was enough to bury the thought, entirely. Something was different — but several other somethings were also exactly the same. The same calloused palm readjusting his backwards cap, the same tongue pressed against the same flushed cheek as he flashed you that roguish smirk, the same striped polo — popped collar and all — with its sleeves stretched taut, the same unwavering conviction, the same frustrating gall, the same quirk of his eyebrow, and the same feelings for you. 

Not five minutes prior, his rugged figure had caught your eye; pressing a leggy, blonde touron against a tree as he allowed his hands free reign over her figure. She had his backwards cap placed atop her head (as they always appeared to do — in your direct line of vision, no less) and her hands tangled up in his hair, and if you weren’t so very certain that you hated everything he stood for, you might’ve almost found it endearing how he gave her that stupid, conceited smirk.

Now, he was walking toward you. And instead of pretending he didn’t exist (or trying to, Kelce would correct), all you could think was — something was different.

“Thornton!” Rafe grinned, bringing up Topper’s rear with his bicep wrapped around his neck. “Trying out again this year?”

Topper tapped his forefinger against Rafe’s arm, attempting to break loose from his iron-grip. “Shit — yeah bro. Hopefully our year. ”

(the lurkymurker legacy, part 2/5)

a/n: have decided to split this into 5 parts w how long it is, hope u enjoy the second installation <3 eeee!

wc: 10k

Topper Thornton was pacing.

“I got that girls number,” Rafe announced, offering you a half smile before continuing. “Uh, so if you guys…”

Your eyes flitted toward Topper’s features, hand impossibly clammy against his. “Right.”

“Right?” Topper echoed, brow furrowing slightly. “What’s right?”

“Oh, uh,” you paused, chewing at your bottom lip nervously. “You know, since we’re… uh, we could maybe, go to dinner, uh… a date?”

“Or not!” you hurried, glancing toward Rafe. “Unless Rafe wants to, uh, hang out with this girl, alone, in which case—”

“I’m fine,” Rafe dismissed, surveying your expression carefully. “Y/n…”

He hesitated, reaching out to take your hand. “Can I talk to you a second?”

“Me? Yeah.”

You glanced back at Topper apologetically, noticing the way his expression hardened. “Uh, sorry Top.”

Topper forced a smile, waving a hand in the air. “Oh no, it’s fine. We should go to dinner though, for sure.”

(the lurkymurker legacy, part 3/5)

a/n: the third installation of the Euro Trip repost coincides with some of my favourite parts from the OG, enjoy 🫶

wc: 11.5K

Letting out a laboured sigh, Rafe loosened his grip on your waist, doing up the remainder of his shirt buttons as you stepped away.

“You know I’d do anything for you.” He murmured, his gaze trained on your figure. “We can keep it down low if you want.”

“Thank you.”

You paused, absently tucking and untucking the stray curls framing your face. “Seriously.”

“Oi, we’re going to be–”

“We’re coming Top.” You interrupted, perhaps more scaldingly than you had intended. “Relax.”

Topper winced, frozen in place as he registered your hardened tone. Rocking back on his heels nervously, he smoothed out the non-existent creases on his dress shirt before jamming his hands into his front pockets.

“Hey.” He breathed, watching you stride through the bedroom door. “Sorry. You look really great.”

You faltered, softening momentarily. “Thanks, Top.”

He offered you a meek, half-smile, gesturing you forward before catching Rafe’s eye. “Nice shirt, Rafe.”

“You too, buddy.” Rafe responded, giving his shoulder an awkward pat before following suit. “Let’s go?”

You nodded, offering an outstretched palm, almost subconsciously, before quickly drawing it back to your side. “Uh. Right.”

Topper frowned at the jerky motion, eyes narrowing slightly as they darted between your figures. “And you’re sure that you two didn’t…”

He trailed off, quirking an eyebrow. “…uh, you’re sure?”

“Of course we are.” You scoffed, casting Rafe a side-ways glance before clearing your throat. “Anyway. We’re going to be late.”

Readjusting the straps of your dress, you nodded them forward, wedged between their broad figures as you entered the long hallway.

“So where did you say we were going again?” Rafe questioned, his hand hovering teasingly low on your back. “Is it far?”

“Not far. We can walk.”

You paused, waving a strappy sandal clad foot in the air. “Didn’t wear heels.”

“Good.” Topper laughed, though it appeared almost forced, as he glanced down at you. “Now as long as you don’t get drunk–”

“I won’t–”

“–drunk, we won’t have to carry you back home.”

He bowed his head ever so slightly, breath tickling your neck, eliciting a shudder. “Although I wouldn’t mind doing so, you know.”

You felt your eyes widen at the remark, darting toward Rafe, as though on queue. “Uh. I won’t get drunk.”

Rafe hand was resting entirely on the small of your back now, brow furrowed slightly as he registered the exchange. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Inside joke.” Topper responded, gesticulating vaguely before continuing. “You wouldn’t get it. Don’t worry about it.”

He cocked his head to one side, punching the ground floor button before throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Didn’t think I’d see this dress make it out of that changing room, if I’m honest.”

“God, I know.” You laughed, making a face as you imitated your mother’s shriek. “’Y/n! Absolutely not!’ You guys didn’t even back me up.”

“I was a little distracted.” Topper coughed, removing his hand to trace the curve of your waist with his forefinger. “Look at you.”

“Topper.” You admonished, weakly swatting his hand away. “Stop it. You’re making me blush.”

“What?” Topper shrugged, raising his arms in surrender. “It’s true. Though I’m sure Rafe’s already told you that.”

“I have.”

“He has.”

“But you’re teasing.” You added quickly, your eyes fixed on the elevator doors, then the straps of your sandals, the faint glow of the floor numbers, anywhere but Topper’s features. “You didn’t even like me back then–”

“Who said?” Topper challenged, his knuckles grazing your own, purposefully slow. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

Rafe frowned at the admission, recalling Topper’s insistence of the exact opposite a mere month ago. “But you said–”

“I haven’t said anything to you.” Topper interrupted, tugging at his shirt collar nervously. “So, whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

You knitted your brow slightly, casting Topper a wary, sideways glance. “Why are you getting so defensive?”

“I’m not!” Topper contended, pausing momentarily before letting out a harsh breath. “Okay. I am. He just doesn’t know anything about us, so I get frustrated when–”

“There is no ‘us’.” You interrupted, manicured fingers raised in air quotes. “What are you talking about?”

Topper grimaced, breaking eye contact to thread his fingers through his hair. “You know what I mean.”

“Not really.”

“Drop it.” Rafe announced, feeling your body tense against his side. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

__

“You’re sure?” Topper hissed, gripping at Rafe’s forearm as you strode ahead. “Nothing happened?”

“Bro.” Rafe frowned, pulling away easily. “Relax.”

He kept his eyes trained on your figure, the way your hips swayed, the gentle breeze teasing curls out of your claw clip. “She’ll hear you.”

Unsatisfied by his response, Topper let out a desolate huff, jogging slowly to catch you up and throw a protective arm around your shoulder. “Nearly there?”

“Mm-hm.” You nodded, pointing toward the well-lit restaurant before glancing back at Rafe’s figure. “Rafael. Rule #1.”

“Y/n.” He mocked, registering the way your eyes lingered on his broad shoulders. “Rule #1.”

Your eyes widened at the remark, fist raised half-heartedly as he drew nearer. “Shut up.”

Rafe shook his head, tongue pressed against his cheek, smirking knowingly. “Can’t help it.”

Turning slightly, you cocked your head to one side, Topper’s arm sliding off your shoulder as you stepped toward Rafe. “Can’t help what? Being a nuisance? Or breaking Rule #1?”

“Wait a minute.” Rafe mused, his eyes darting downward, holding his breath at your proximity. “Breaking Rule #1 isn’t being a nuisance? And here I thought–”

“It is.” You swallowed, feeling your cheeks flush. “But you knew that.”

“In that case…”

Rafe paused, slipping a forefinger under your dress strap to give it a firm tug. “Both. Obviously.”

“It’s 7pm.” Topper announced warningly, still standing two steps away, rapping a finger against his watch. “C’mon, Y/n, you hate when we’re late to things.”

You nodded your head slowly, stepping backward in an attempt to regain your composure. When you spoke again, your voice was perhaps weaker than you had intended, goosebumps raising the skin of your collarbone where Rafe’s signet ring clad finger had been. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Beckoning Rafe forward, only to be guided forward, instead (“Ladies first!” “The feminist in me–” “Don’t worry. Nothing chivalrous. Just feel like staring at your –” “Rafael.”), you found your way to the front counter, greeted by a bored looking waitress busy scrolling through Instagram stories on her phone.

“Uh, hi.” You started, offering her a gentle smile before continuing. “Reservation for three? Under Y/n?”

She spoke without glancing up, replacing the phone on the counter to search through a tattered book in front of her. “There you are.”

Giving your name a purposeful tick, she readjusted the tie of her faded apron, half-way tightening her loose ponytail when she did finally meet your eye. Her gaze moved from you, to Topper, to Rafe, straightening slightly when she gave the latter a once-over. “Oh! Hi! I’m Anna.”

She was speaking only to Rafe, of course, though it was you who answered for the group, gaze hardened, sidling closer to his figure. “Hi, Anna. I’m Y/n, this is Rafe and Topper.”

“Right.” Anna nodded, her eyes lingering on where your hand hovered against his. “This way.”

She traversed the large restaurant, giving an equally bored looking waitress a pointed nod as she passed through the outside area. Gesturing you toward a candle-lit table overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, she placed three menus on the table, allowing you to seat yourselves before giving Rafe’s shoulder a gentle tap.

“If you need anything else.” She offered, smiling shyly. “Just let me know!”

“We will!” Topper called, quirking an eyebrow at Rafe’s awkward expression. “Thanks Anna!”

She reddened slightly, smoothing out the creases on her apron before disappearing into the restaurant. When you did finally hazard a glance at Rafe, you couldn’t help the way your stomach turned, his eyes trained on her figure, lips parted slightly, a Rule #1-esque gaze that made you want the ground to open under you and promptly swallow you whole.

She was definitely Rafe’s type, you found yourself thinking, brow furrowed slightly as you recalled her beautiful complexion. She had the kind of slender figure Rafe enjoyed dangling off his arm; a charming accessory, one you so hated, one the high-school version of Rafe Cameron couldn’t seem to live without. They were always stumbling against tables and furniture, his backwards cap on their head, a teasing smile on their features, flush against his torso as he aimed the ping pong ball–

“Y/n.” Rafe called, attempting to bring you out of your reverie. “Did you want to share the Carpaccio?”

“Oh.” You swallowed, shaking your head slightly. “Right. Yeah. Sure.”

Rafe frowned, cocking his head to one side. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere.” You responded, tone rather meek despite your feigned defiance. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah.” Topper smirked, nodding pointedly toward the interior of the restaurant. “Don’t worry about anything, Anna’ll definitely take care of it–”

“Shut up Topper.” You scoffed, stealing a glance at Rafe before continuing. “She was just being nice.”

Topper gave you a questioning look, pausing only momentarily before bumping his fist against Rafe’s. “Dude, she’s totally hot.”

“Eh.” Rafe offered, eyes on you, ardently so. “She’s alright.”

You felt yourself flush under Rafe’s intense gaze, chewing at your bottom lip nervously as you spoke. “She was really beautiful, to be fair.”

“Didn’t register.” Rafe shrugged, reaching forward to grab a menu. “Too busy staring at someone else.”

Topper faltered, drawing his eyebrows together as he glanced between you and Rafe’s figures. Eyes widening at the admission, you pressed a hand against Topper’s chest, shaking your head slightly as he mouth opened to speak.

“Rafael.” You coughed, eyes widening warningly as they caught Rafe’s. “Rule #1.”

You tightened your grip on Topper’s dress shirt, the action an attempt to wordlessly remind Rafe of the promise he had made, not an hour prior. Rafe cocked his head to one side, searching your expression bemusedly before registering your hand on Topper.

“Oh shit.” He nodded, adjusting in his seat. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Topper questioned, his expression incredulous. “Since when do you say sorry when you’re–”

“Let’s just order.” You interrupted, the growing tension almost palatable against the gentle breeze. “Yeah, let’s get Carpaccio to share.”

“And a salad?” Rafe offered, squinting slightly as he read through the “Contorni” portion of the menu. “To share?”

You and Topper nodded, thumbing through the rest of the options before reaching the drinks, displayed on the last few pages. “And drinks.”

“No bottle.” You added warningly, quirking an eyebrow at Rafe’s frown, daring him to protest. “A glass each.”

“Boring.” Topper lilted, though he silently agreed to the terms, after their nightmare of a night in Florence. “Sav?”

“Sav.” You affirmed, glancing up in time to see Anna reappear with a small notebook clutched in one hand. “I can order.”

Plastering on a sweet smile, you followed her figure as it traversed the crowd, huffing slightly as it reached your table and sidled into Rafe’s side. “We’re ready to order, thank you!”

Anna faltered, forcibly peeling her eyes from Rafe’s features. “What can I get started for you?”

“So, um, can we start with the carpachacio–”

“It’s carpaccio.” Anna corrected, rolling her eyes discreetly before glancing down at Rafe. “Maybe you should order, Rafael.”

“Italian name, no?” She continued confidently, missing the way your jaw tightened at her use of his full name. “Do you speak any Italian, Rafael?”

“Just Rafe is fine.” He smiled, casting you a helpless look before opening the menu in front of him. “Uh, to start, just carpaccio, this salad here – sorry, if I pronounce it, I’ll butcher it – and three glasses of your best sauvignon blanc.”

Anna let out a tinkling laugh at Rafe’s attempt at a joke, punching her pen against his shoulder playfully as she spoke. “Ah, it is pronounced spinachi freschi, Rafe.”

“You friend is funny.” She added, glancing toward Toppers figure before raising an eyebrow at yours. “Or boyfriend?”

“No, no.” Topper assured her, shaking his head bemusedly. “These two hate each other.”

“Not hate.” You blurted out, perhaps more eagerly than you intended. “Uh, I mean, strongly dislike. Sure.”

“Oh, not me.” Rafe chimed, his eyes twinkling mischeviously. “I’ve been trying to get her to go out with me since we were fourteen.”

You faltered, lips parting slightly at the admission. “Fourteen?”

“Mm-hm.” Rafe shrugged, offering you a lopsided grin. “Mr. William’s math class.”

You paused, chewing at your bottom lip thoughtfully. “What about it?”

“That detention! For being late. You were standing at the very front of the class, arguing with Mr. Williams about how ‘Time is a construct’ and ‘Don’t blame me. Blame the patriarchal society that forces me to wake up an hour before my male peers to put on makeup and straighten my hair and look presentable’ and I remember thinking, yeah. None of us deserve to be in her presence. At all.”

“Still true.” Rafe added solemnly, giving you a cheeky wink before turning. “Anyway. I think that’s all, thank you Anna.”

Anna’s pen was frozen against her notebook, brow knitted slightly as she registered the exchange. Awkwardly, she wrote down a few words, clearing her throat before stepping backward. “Sure. Coming right up!”

“That’s not true, is it?” You questioned, hoping Rafe didn’t notice the hopeful lilt in your tone. “I mean, it can’t be, you were such a fuckboy all of sophomore year, and then junior year, and then god, Izzie’s party in senior year–”

“None of them really mattered to me.”

He winced slightly, hating how blasé he sounded. “I mean, shit, that’s not what I meant, they’re all great girls–”

“Right.” You interrupted, quirking an eyebrow at his harried expression. “Of course they are.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you bowed your head, busying yourself with the frayed edge of your menu in lieu of meeting Rafe’s eye. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Reminder?”

“That you’re still a douchebag.” You muttered inaudibly, your back stiff, emotions high. “I forget sometimes, why I disliked you so much in high-school.”

“Huh?” Topper frowned, eyes darting toward Rafe’s figure momentarily. “We didn’t catch that.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, grabbing your phone from the table before standing. “Nothing. Just need to use the bathroom. Be right back.”

Rafe pressed his palms against the table, already half-way standing, ready to follow. “You good?”

“Fine.” You nodded curtly, eyes fixed on the bright screen on your lock screen as you whirled around. “Don’t worry about it.”

Not entirely convinced, Rafe made to stand completely, halting only when met with Topper’s strong arm on his shoulder. “Sit. She’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?” Rafe questioned, raking his fingers through his hair. “What was that about?”

“That fucking locker room comment, obviously.” Topper scoffed, surveying Rafe’s expression with interest. “Why’re you so antsy? We already know she’s not the biggest fan of you.”

Rafe bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to remain nonchalant. “Yeah, of course.”

“Wonder why she was being so quiet before, though.” Topper mused, gesturing toward the darkened street below them. “She didn’t even walk down with us, she was always two steps ahead.”

Rafe shrugged, fiddling with the signet ring on his finger. “Yeah. Tough nut to crack.”

“I guess. For you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. I mean.” Topper paused, gesticulating vaguely. “I’ve known her forever, and she’s liked me forever–”

“Well maybe not anymore.” Rafe gritted, a dangerous flush rising up his cheeks. “What is your problem, Top? You like throwing that in my face?”

“Woah.” Topper derided, raising his arms half-heartedly. “Relax. I thought this was well established, I was the one wing-manning you–”

“And then you stopped, because you caught feelings.”

Rafe let out a harsh breath, jaw tightening almost immediately after. “You said you wouldn’t. Before we came, you said, you could never. Why did you lie to her when she asked?”

“Lie to her?”

“You said that, ‘maybe you liked her before’.” Rafe recited, air quoting the phrase scathingly, almost bitter. “And you let her believe it.”

“Dude, what does it matter?” Topper responded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Why are you getting like this?”

“You don’t care about her.”

“And you do?” Topper scoffed, letting out a mirthless laugh. “Don’t act like she isn’t just a little challenge for you, someone you’ll never have–”

“What the fuck?”

Rafe could feel the anger rising in his chest, flashing through his pupils and leaving them dangerously flared. “What, because she’s yours?”

Topper cocked his head to one side, offering a half-shrug in response. “Well, she’s certainly not yours, is she?”

Rafe wasn’t sure why it was that statement in particular that caused him to snap; hell, Topper had perfected the art of getting on his nerves, spent the better half of the last two weeks pushing every single one of his buttons. With palms pressed against the table so firmly it creaked, Rafe leaned in, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as he spoke.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snarled, vehemence lacing every word. “So, shut up.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Topper quirked an eyebrow, ignoring the way Rafe’s fists tightened at the taunt. “I think I know her better than you do. And you should give it up.”

“Give it up?”

“Yeah. It’s clear she wants nothing to do with–”

“Really? Didn’t seem like that when she came onto me an hour ago.”

Rafe felt his jaw slacken, eyes wide as he slapped a hand over his mouth. Stuttering, barely audible, he began to shake his head, watching the admission wash over Topper’s features and settle into the steady frown lines etching his forehead and chin.

The building anger was gone as quickly as it had come, egged on Topper’s words and disappearing, as though satisfied, following Rafe’s contemptuous blunder.

“Shit, I–”

“Came onto you, huh?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, a desperate attempt to fight back the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. “Some speech you gave me before, Rafe.”

“You’re different.” You continued, your fingers raised in air quotes. “Always been you. I would never hurt you. But here you are, showing off to Topper like I’m some fucking prize you finally got your hands on.”

Rafe froze, the venom in your tone suspending him, barely able to turn around to meet your eye. “Y/n, it wasn’t like that–”

“Don’t.” You interrupted, eyes squeezed shut, barely able to speak. “It clearly meant nothing.”

“Y/n.” Topper swallowed slightly, registering the quaver in your voice. “Is what he said true?”

You felt a tear roll down your pink cheeks, your words laboured, almost forced through your teeth. “Yeah. But it was obviously a big fucking mistake.”

Rafe stood, grimacing as you stepped backward, as though on instinct. “Let me explain.”

“Y/n!” Rafe called, his tongue pressed against his cheek as he gave you a once-over. “Game?”

You stumbled to a halt, quirking an eyebrow warningly as you turned toward him. “You have a partner already.”

“Oh, her?” Rafe responded, shaking his head slightly. “She doesn’t want to play.”

“Yeah, she clearly wants to do something else.” You quipped, rolling your eyes as the girl wrapped her arms around his neck. “Bye, Cameron.”

“Next time!” Rafe called teasingly, pressing his hands, almost absently, against the girl’s waist. “Hey! You didn’t even wish me happy birthday.”

The girl frowned, leaning backward as he survey Rafe’s expression. “S’ya like her?”

Peeling his eyes away from your figure, Rafe frowned slightly, guiding a hand around the girl’s waist and dragging her toward the kitchen. “Amber, you’re drunk. Let’s get you a glass of water.”

“But I wanna kiss.” She pouted, leaning in and pressing a kiss on the edge of Rafe’s lips. “C’mere.”

“You’re drunk.” Rafe repeated, pushing her against the counter to grab a glass from the bottom drawer. “Here.”

“You like her.” Amber garbled knowingly, accepting the water without a second thought. “D’finitely.”

She wouldn’t remember this in the morning, of course, having thrown back far too many shots of alcohol in her haste to covet Rafe Cameron. He would, though. He would remember her claim, how true it was, even back then.

“Explain what, exactly?” You retorted, incredulous. “That you’re exactly who I thought you were? That you’re the same fucking douchebag who’s managed to make his way through our senior class, somehow unscathed? God Rafe, I really fucking thought you liked me. I really fucking did.”

“Y/n.” Rafe started, his voice so gentle he was speaking through his breath. “I do like you. I really do.”

“Duuuuuuddddeeee.” Rafe slurred, eyes bright as he pressed the bottle of whiskey against Noah’s torso. “Look at her. M’gonna go speak to her.”

“No, you’re not buddy.” Noah responded, stopping him easily as he lunged for your figure in the distance. “We’re going home. C’mon.”

Rafe shook his head jerkily, squinting as he watched you sway in the distance. “No. Its prom. M’gonna go ask her out.”

“Prom’s over, buddy. We’re at the afterparty, and you’re wasted. Come on –”

“Y/n!” He called, frowning slightly as Noah covered his mouth with his hand. “G’out with me. I’ll do anything.”

His voice was muffled against Noah’s palm, earning only a fleeting glare from you before you disappeared onto the deck.

“Dude.” Rafe frowned, pushing against Noah determinedly. “Gerroff.”

He managed to escape the boy’s grasp, stumbling slightly as he followed you toward the large swing set outside. “Y/n!”

“Rafael.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What do you want?”

Turning around, you gave him a fleeting once-over, his dress shirt half undone, tie loosened, gelled hair ruffled. “Uh, you good?”

“I am now.” Rafe smiled, nodding his head dopily. “Y/n. I need to ask you s’thing.”

“If it’s what I think it is–”

“G’out with me.”

“No.”

Rafe pouted, taking your hand in his, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “Why not?”

You hesitated, deciding against lying, knowing Rafe was unlikely to remember this exchange through his inevitable hangover. “I’m going to get hurt.”

“No, no, no!” Rafe shook his head vigorously, eyes widened, appearing comical against the backdrop of the party. “Never. Swear.”

“No.” You hissed, vision blurring as your whirled around. “You don’t. You like that I finally fucking ‘came on to you’. Good for you, Rafe Cameron. Fooled every girl in our class, and now you’ve managed to fool me, too. Impressive feat. Well, fucking, done.”

Hot tears were flowing freely as you strode through the restaurant, creating rifts in your carefully daubed makeup and leaving your skin uncomfortably taut. It was only when you spotted Anna’s figure in the corner that you clumsily swiped at your mascara-stricken cheeks, offering her a weak smile before stepping through the exit door.

The cool breeze outside should’ve been a welcome relief, drying the tears against your cheeks and calming the red splotches overtaking your skin.

Instead, it made you think about Rafe Cameron, and how willing he always was, to offer you his far-too-large football jersey when it got cold. How his arms wrapped around your shoulders, almost instinctively, whenever a particular harsh wind interrupted the calm, summer air. The smell of his cologne, the teasing “Not that I’m complaining about how much skin you’re showing, but maybe you should dress warmer next time, Y/l/n”, the way your breath hitched as his fingers danced along your bare skin. The way he smiled when you laughed, the way he fiddled with his signet ring when you were angry, the way he gave you that look, that goddamn brilliant blue-eyed, longing look that made you wish you had never written down Rule #1 nor attempted to enforce it in its entirety.

“Wait, wait.”

You stumbled to a halt, hating yourself for wishing –albeit, fleetingly–to have heard a different voice. “Topper, I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“You shouldn’t walk back alone, though.” Topper responded gently, sidling in beside you with his hands still jammed into his front pockets. “C’mon. I told Rafe to wait back, a bit.”

“Why’d you do that?” You questioned, stepping away slightly as he made to thumb at your cheek. “Stop. I’m fine.”

He frowned, placing a hand on either shoulder to whirl you around. “You’re not fine.”

Hesitating slight, he slid his hand down your forearm, resting them on your waist before wrapping you in his arms. “C’mere, you dumbass.”

You didn’t realise that you had been holding your breath until you were flush against him, guiding your arms around his torso before exhaling harshly. It was as though you had forgotten how comforting your best friend’s touch could be, until this very moment, allowing yourself to bury yourself in his chest as you sobbed.

“Shhh.” Topper murmured, feeling your body shake, and pulling you impossibly closer. “Shit, Y/n, what happened?”

You willed yourself to calm down, forcing in a few painful, gasps before raising your chin slightly. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not.” Topper comforted, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Rafe is just –”

“Exactly who I thought he was.” You finished, squeezing your eyes shut frustratedly. “I’m an idiot.”

“Fuck, Top, I mean…”

You paused, pressing your hands against your cheeks. “…I didn’t even fucking realise, you know? That I felt something for him. And you were being so confusing and weird, and I didn’t know what I was feeling and–”

“I’m sorry I’ve been confusing and weird.” Topper laboured, thumbing at the mascara streaking your cheeks. “This whole situation has been confusing and weird.”

“It has.” You laughed, wincing slightly at the way your skin tightened, still raw from tearing up. “I’ve been an idiot.”

“I thought this whole time, he’d actually changed. For me. I mean, how fucking stupid is that?”

“It’s not stupid.”

You ignored Topper’s sentiment, already rebuilding the walls Rafe had so exhaustively broken down. “But clearly he’s incapable of change. He’s Rafe fucking Cameron.”

And as Rafe drew nearer your figures, a single rose hidden behind his back, he was able to ascertain only the last sentence of your exchange, the words ringing in his ears, painstakingly slow. ‘He’s Rafe fucking Cameron’. ‘You’re… you.’ He was blaringly inadequate, and now, you knew it too.

He let the rose fall from his hand, a single thorn piercing his palm as he fell. Stepping toward you, he winced slightly as you turned, your raw cheeks a piercing reminder of his words, how much they had hurt. “Let me explain.”

“No.” You responded simply, arms folding against your chest defiantly. “I don’t need an explanation.”

“But.”

Rafe hesitated, threading a shaky hand through his hair. “But maybe you’re wrong about me, maybe–”

“Maybe what? I’m different to the other girls?”

You let out a bitter laugh, already halfway turning around. “Already used that line on me, remember?”

Hesitating momentarily, you blew out your cheeks, your voice almost defeated when you spoke again. “You promised, Rafe. That you wouldn’t say anything. That you couldn’t hurt me. And then I find you…”

You trailed off, breathing slow. “Showing off, about what, me giving in? Coming onto you? That hurt. You hurt me.”

“It wasn’t like that, Y/n, I–”

“Don’t bother.” You interrupted, filled with a renewed sense of defiance. “Because, I mean, what else could it be like, really, when it comes to you?”

Rafe swallowed, feeling his gaze harden slightly. “That’s unfair. I’ve always been honest with you about how I feel.”

“How you feel?” You taunted, scoffing mirthlessly. “What, those stupid comments you make constantly?”

“I get that you’re upset, but if you’ll just let me explain–”

“Why should I?”

“Fuck, Y/n.” Rafe laboured, feeling himself begin to snap. “You think it didn’t hurt when you wanted to keep this a secret? As if I haven’t been openly pining for you since we were fucking fourteen?”

“You were fucking showing off–”

“And you’re ashamed that you have feelings for me.”

You faltered, feeling your lower lip begin to tremble. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You know what?” Rafe gritted, turning you roughly. “I don’t think you ever did. I think you just wanted an excuse.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling a new set of tears threatening to blur your vision. “If that’s what you think, then let’s stop talking about it.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

Rafe loosened his grip on your shoulder, bringing his free hand up to smooth out his hardened features. Gesturing you forward, he gave you and Topper space to stride ahead, hands shoved keenly in his pockets, as though afraid what they might do. There they remained, tightened in fists as he trailed behind you, the whitened knuckles a backdrop for his inevitable self-destruction.

Having spent so long building up a wall, a self-assured façade that fooled even him, he was almost surprised at how quickly he was beginning to crumble; forced to face that that was all it was, an illusion.

Because in this moment, he wasn’t the confident, obnoxiously handsome Rafe Cameron that plagued your every thought. He was just Rafe Cameron, disappointment to his father, constantly falling short, never able to garner anyone’s attention and therefore doomed to remain a failure. He was just Rafe Cameron. And though just Rafe Cameron had supposed he wasn’t good enough for you, the nail you hammered into his coffin still stung; he had deluded himself, you see, into thinking he could be yours. He couldn’t be. He was just Rafe Cameron. And you were, well, anything but ‘just’.

__

Kelce was five minutes away from the Island Club when you called, having just completed a particularly grueling week at his summer internship. Your words, spoken through shuddered breaths, were enough to compel him to pull over and park his car between the rhododendron shrubs that decorated the Figure Eight in the summer.

“Y/n, hold on.” He answered, balancing his phone between his ear and his shoulder in order to turn off the ignition. “I’m just driving.”

You grimaced at the poor quality; barely able to make out his words through the brokenness of it’s crackle. It acted as a painful reminder of your distance; how very implacable this mess was, and how far away it seemed, from a feasible solution.

;;

“Okay, hey, I’m here.”

“Kelce.” You quavered, catching your features in the bathroom mirror, registering the way they blanched. “Kelce, I think I fucked up. I really fucked up. It’s all fucked up.”

“Hey…”

Kelce paused, his brow furrowing. “Slow down. What happened?”

Laboriously, you recounted the night’s events to your best friend, pausing only to swallow the lump in your throat, to sharply exhale, to blink back unshed tears, to slowly, clumsily, collapse into yourself.

You were lucky, really, that Kelce could read between the broken lines; he could fill in the background details, could place Topper’s strange behaviour and Rafe’s steady advances. When you were finally done, there filled a weighty, almost comforting, silence in the air; one that blanketed you, absorbed all you had divulged and left you emotionally exhausted.

On the other end of the phone, there was a faint crackle, several, heaved breaths, and then finally, a sigh. Solidarity.

“Y/n…” Kelce started, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. “I should come. I can come. I can find a flight.”

“No way, Kelce.” You responded, though you felt your features soften, touched by the sentiment. “I already have enough people on my case. Don’t wanna add your dad to the list.”

“You should ditch them, then.” Kelce offered, threading his fingers through his hair. “You haven’t caught a fucking break, apparently.”

“I haven’t.” You affirmed, pausing momentarily before continuing. “Part of that is my fault though, obviously. I mean fuck, making Topper jealous with Rafe? And then, kissing Rafe? And then…”

You trailed off languidly, as though the consequences of your actions were just now hitting you, painfully, and all at once. “Well, and then…”

“Falling for Cameron?”

You winced. “Falling for fucking Cameron. What the fuck is wrong with me Kelce? Why do I always manage to go for guys who don’t reciprocate feelings? I mean, the way he was talking about me –”

“Dude.” Kelce frowned, speaking carefully, purposefully slow. “Cameron does reciprocate feelings. The boy is in love with you. Embarrassingly in love. The way he gets when he talks about you? Look…”

“So, uh.” Rafe paused, pulling at the bill of his backwards cap. “She’s coming tomorrow, then? To the game?”

Topper bit back a laugh, sharing a knowing look with Kelce before responding. “Might be. Why?”

“Good.” Rafe shrugged, still attempting to feign nonchalance. “No, nothing. I was just wondering, since you guys are close –”

“Dude.” Topper interrupted, shaking his head bemusedly. “You know she hates you, right?”

Rafe lifted an eyebrow, offering the shorter boy a cheeky, lopsided grin. “For now.”

“Forever.” Kelce corrected, giving Rafe’s shoulder a fond pat. “In your fucking dreams, buddy.”

“That too.”

Kelce hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve known him since freshman year, and–”

“Who’s side are you on?” You accused, feeling a familiar flush creep up your cheeks. “I mean, did you hear what he fucking said? I feel like an idiot, Kelce.”

“And Topper…” Kelce pressed on, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, don’t worry about him. I’m going to talk to him. I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing but he clearly needs someone to just fucking–”

Kelce put down the phone, the sound of his fists swiping the air barely audible over the traffic. “– you know?”

You let out a weak laugh at the sentiment, wiping at your cheeks as you spoke. “I mean, I can totally do the honours.”

“Let me speak to him, yeah?” Kelce responded, relieved to hear the smile in your voice. “Don’t worry about him. I think he’s just… well he’s fucking Topper.”

“But, uh…”

He hesitated, contemplating whether now was the right time to ask. “I mean, uh, you and Topper…?”

Though you knew the question was inevitable – Kelce was frustratingly perceptive, even more so, when it came to you – you couldn’t help the way you cringed, placing the phone on the comforter beside you to bury your head in your hands.

“I don’t know.” You muffled, fingers pressed against your heated cheeks. “I’ve liked him forever, haven’t I?”

“Have you?” Kelce challenged, quirking his eyebrow knowingly. “You say you have, but have you really?”

You faltered, raising your chin ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Y/n…” He sighed, his eyes darting across his dashboard, as though it’d help him find the right words to say. “Being in love with your best friend is kinda easy, isn’t it?”

“I’m not in love with you, though.” You joked, though your frown was audible, laced into your feeble tone. “What do you mean, easy? You know how many times he made me cry at parties, kissing some other girl–”

“Cry like this, though?”

Topper offered you a mock salute and a wink, nodded pointedly at Amber’s figure before jogging to catch her up.

“You suck!” You called lamely, wrapping your arms around your chest in an attempt to stave off the biting, February air. “Making me walk alone.”

“Dude.” Kelce admonished, separating from his football team to match your stride. “I’m right here.”

“Right.” You muttered, feeling the tips of your ears redden. “I just meant…”

“I know what you meant.” Kelce dismissed, surveying your expression carefully. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

You offered a meek shrug, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “It’s always been like this.”

“Do you ever feel…”

Kelce trailed off, his eyes darting between you and Topper, contemplating. “You know what. Nevermind.”

You were halfway opening your mouth in retort, ready to force Kelce’s words out of his throat, when Rafe’s broad figure sidled into your other side, wrapping his letterman jacket around your shoulders.

“Here.” He breathed, his hair teasingly ruffled, how you secretly preferred it. “You were shivering.”

“I wasn’t.” You scowled, attempting to shrug it off your shoulders to no avail. “I don’t need this.”

“Keep it.” Rafe insisted, his tongue pressed against his cheek as he gave you a once-over. “Looks better on you than it does me.”

“Rafael.” You warned, quirking an eyebrow at his figure. “Don’t start with your little comments.”

“One more?” He reasoned, bowing his head slightly, enough for his breath to tickle the sweet spot on your neck. “Did you see me make that last play?”

“Might’ve done.” You muttered, cheeks tinged pink. “What about it?”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Without me?”

“Mm-hm.” Rafe nodded, the field lights speckling his blue eyes. “You’re my lucky charm, you know. You should come to games more often.”

Satisfied by your wide-eyed silence, he jogged forward, throwing an arm around Noah’s shoulder as he caught up with the rest of the group.

“Rafael. Your jacket!” You called, though you felt yourself wrapping it closer around you, breathing in the faint smell of sweat and cologne. “I’m going to leave it on the fucking grass if you don’t take it right now–”

“Give it back to me at the party!” Rafe responded, waving an arm in the air. “Or don’t. Keep it. Sleep in it. Wear it without anything else underneath –”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

You had spent the rest of the night coming up with different ways to convey this phrase, complaining about the gall of Rafe Cameron while Kelce was forced to keep his mouth shut. Ironically, the activity proved a useful distraction from the indiscretions of Topper and his newest blonde obsession, Amber Hartley; your feelings for him had been overpowered, replaced, albeit momentarily, by a different kind of passion.

“I mean, look.” Kelce pressed on, using your silence to his advantage. “It’s always going to be the same old story with Top. You’re not afraid to let your guard down with him. So why is it up so high when it comes to Rafe? You’re usually super chill, and then Rafe walks into the room, and–”

“Because he sucks.” You argued, jutting out your bottom lip, ignoring the way it trembled. “Because I hate him, and his little comments, and–”

“But they shouldn’t bother you this much if you didn’t care about him.”

“Not necessarily true.”

“Y/n.” Kelce sighed, lowering his voice slightly, adopting a gentler tone. “I just think your feelings are a little more complicated than you’re letting yourself believe –”

“Not anymore, I –”

“ – but, it isn’t all fucked up, and you haven’t fucked anything up. All I’m saying is, I’ve watched Rafe pine for you since before I knew him. He isn’t going to let up this easily, despite what’s just happened.”

“He isn’t going to let up?” You repeated, incredulous. “Despite what’s just happened? Wait a minute, you think I’ve done something wrong?”

Kelce paused, frown lines etched into his forehead. “Y/n, come on. It’s not like you were the only one hurting in that argument.”

“But I was hurting more.” You insisted, though you felt your heartbeat quicken as panic settled into your chest. “I was.”

“I know.” Kelce agreed, chewing at his bottom lip nervously. “I think he is too, though, that’s all.”

“Fuck.”

You let out a harsh breath, pulling your knees into your chest. “What do I do, Kelce?”

“Here’s what you do.” Kelce responded, absently tapping his fingers against his car window. “You do nothing. You take care of your fucking self.”

“I’ll speak to Top.” He continued, frowning slightly at the fingerprints he left on the tinted glass. “And Rafe will speak to you. You’re going to Santorini tomorrow, right?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Just, enjoy Santorini, okay? Call me whenever. You should’ve called me sooner. I’m right here, you know.”

You nodded slowly, speaking through a small smile. “I didn’t want to annoy you.”

“Are you kidding?” Kelce laughed, the sound impossibly comforting in the present moment. “This is the most interesting thing that’s happened to me this break.”

“No offense.” He added, hearing your scoff. “This internship is fucking boring. And your Instagram stories aren’t helping.”

“Two more weeks!” You sang, peeling yourself off your comforter to steal a glance at the wall clock opposing you. “Anyway, dude, I should probably go so I can get some sleep before tomorrow.”

“Fuck off. You didn’t even ask how I was.”

“Shit.” You winced, phone held close as you dragged your feet toward the bathroom. “Sorry Kelce, how’ve you been?”

“I’m teasing, you idiot.” He chuckled, balancing his phone against the steering wheel as he turned on the ignition. “Don’t worry, I’m heading to the Island Club now, anyway.”

“Shit. Okay.”

“Hey Kelce?” You added, squeezing out the last of your toothpaste. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, dumbass. Okay, now leave me alone, I’m trying to enjoy my Friday night.”

__

“Dude. What the fuck?” Kelce hissed, scrambling to grab his wallet and keys from the passenger’s seat. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Hello to you, too.” Topper yawned, propping himself up on his elbows. “I’m good, Kelce, thank you for asking. How are you?”

Kelce ignored him. “Stop being an asshole. She’s our best friend.”

“Fuck, Kelce.” Topper laboured, smoothing a calloused hand over his features. “You don’t think I fucking know that?”

“She called me crying, you fuckwit.”

Topper faltered, jolting upright. “She did?”

“Of course she fucking did. She can’t talk to you, can she?”

“You don’t understand.” Topper reasoned, raking his fingers through his hair. “Rafe is being… and she…”

“What I don’t get, though.” Kelce pressed on, leaning against the side of his car and squinting toward the looming Island Club. “Is that you told Rafe you’d wing man him. What the fuck happened to that?”

“I think I like her.” Topper responded, though his tone was unconvincing, even to himself. “Did she tell you they fake flirted? In front of me?”

“You don’t. And even if you think you do, you need to get over it.”

Topper forced a scoff, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. “You don’t know shit.”

“I know you. And I know her.” Kelce countered, his tone determined, a stark contrast to Topper’s. “You’ve just gotten used to her being about you all the time.”

“But I love her–”

“So do I! But you’re not in love with her.”

Kelce paused, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. “Look. You can’t sit here and tell me you think about her like Rafe does.”

“What?” Topper frowned, fisting at his duvet until his knuckles whitened. “What the fuck does he have to do with anything?”

“Dude, holy fuck.”

Kelce rolled his eyes, feeling himself getting frustrated. “Just… don’t be a dick. She’s clearly hurting right now, so don’t add your fucking baggage onto this situation, okay?”

“How are you taking Cameron’s side, right now?” Topper huffed, collapsing back onto the bed with his head in his hands. “You weren’t even on board with him coming on the trip. You know that Y/n doesn’t –”

“Except she does, obviously.”

Topper blinked several times. “No. It’s me and her. It’s always been me and her.”

“No.” Kelce chastised, pressing his fingers against his temple before continuing. “It’s always been just her. You didn’t like her before. And I don’t even think you like her now.”

“But–”

“Bro.” Kelce interrupted, locking his car behind his shoulder. “Look, I’m late, so let me just get to my fucking point.”

“Just… fucking, be her friend, okay? She needs one. And you haven’t been one for a while, apparently.”

Topper squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head, maintaining a nonexistent sense of defiance. “You don’t know shit about my feelings.”

“Clearly you don’t either.”

Kelce sighed, halfway pressing the red, “End Call” button as he strode through the Club entrance. “Look, I gotta go, just, stop being an idiot. And take care of yourself.”

Topper was letting out a weak “Fuck you too, bro.” when he heard the steady beep of the disconnect tone; the sound piercing the airless silence and accentuating Kelce’s words. Slowly, he pushed himself back toward his pillow, propping his head against his palm to stare at the tall ceiling above him. He would lay there till morning, wide awake, combing through his blonde locks until they lay limp, matching his languid figure.

__

Rafe Cameron was self-destructing.

With his back pressed against the headboard, still wearing dress shirt you had picked out for him, he removed his phone from his front pocket and unlocked it with a punctuating click. The bright screen illuminated his hardened features; loosely captured his despondence as he selected the message thread he shared with you.

Slowly, painfully, he typed out a broken message, his thumb hovering dangerously close to the “Send” button as he gave it a once-over. “Hey, I’m sorry, can we talk?”. He shook his head awkwardly, scrunching up his features before holding down the backspace. “Hey, I know I’ve fucked up, will you give me a chance to explain? We should talk.” Again, the steady click of the backspace. “Hey, I know I don’t deserve you. That was an extremely stupid thing for me to say, and I really want to explain. I never wanted to make you cry, Y/n, ever. Can we talk?” This time, he punched his finger against the button purposefully, removing letters, then words, then spaces, until he was left with only a single sentence. “Hey, I know I don’t deserve you.”

Rafe stared at the screen for several minutes, reading and rereading the seven words until they appeared foreign under his gaze. Swallowing slightly, he exited out of the messages app, replacing it with Instagram and typing in your handle.

He was torturing himself, really, looking through your old photos, knowing they would only affirm what he already knew. You were nothing short of the personification of sunshine to him, brilliant, bright-eyed, wearing a crinkly smile and a beautiful wardrobe as you posed alongside a handful of your closest friends. Rafe had to squeeze his eyes shut and furrow his brow to picture himself inserted into the frame; he wasn’t sure he’d ever belong there, in your world, especially not now, especially not after tonight.

Sliding down the headboard, he clicked his phone off, placing it onto the bedside table before pushing his head into his pillow. He didn’t bother to change out of his clothing, nor get up to turn off the ceiling light. He stared up at it until he saw stars in his eyes, and then, he stared at it some more.

__

Having barely slept the night before, the ten hour flight to Santorini should have been a welcome relief; an opportunity to avoid the present situation in lieu of getting some much needed shut-eye.

However, as you dragged your feet across the foyer, Rafe and Topper’s tired figures already leaning against the front counter, you felt your yawn catch in your throat, shoulders tensing slightly as you gave the former a fleeting once over. Though the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, Rafe Cameron was wearing Ray Bans, lazily staring down at his phone with his tousled locks flopping over his forehead. His shirt was carelessly unbuttoned, loosely matching a pair of shorts, with a thin, silver chain peeking out from under the collar. Perhaps you had expected him to appear more disheveled; to match your hopelessness, portray it through the way he dressed. Rafe Cameron looked perfectly normal. And it infuriated you to no end.

“Shall we?” You beckoned, avoiding his gaze as you drew nearer. “I didn’t call a taxi, but–”

“I did it.” Topper dismissed, frowning slightly as he surveyed you. “Hey, how are you?”

He hesitated, arms raised awkwardly before wrapping them around you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” You muffled, grateful for his concern. “How’re you?”

“You’re sure?” Topper muttered, ignoring the question. “Because…”

He paused, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. “Kelce told me you called him.”

“Topper.” You warned, clearing your throat awkwardly. “We can talk about that later.”

Slowly, you stepped backward, turning slightly to address Rafe’s figure. “Rafael.”

“Y/n.” He responded, not bothering to look up. “How’s it going?”

“Okay.” You laboured, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. “You?”

Rafe offered a half-shrug, sliding his phone into his back pocket before meeting your eye. “Could be better.”

“Right.”

“We should go?”

“Right.”

And though you nodded slowly, reaching down to grab your bag, you swore that his voice had dulled; its usual lilt was indistinct, and it made you tense all over.

__

Despite your heart-rending night in Florence, you were determined to follow Kelce’s advice and make the very most of the Greek Isles. Having spent most of the flight stifled by an awkward silence, stepping into the golden sun was a welcome relief; a breath of fresh air, an opportunity to separate.

“I think I’m going to go to the beach for a bit.” You announced, opening the door to your room as Rafe and Topper fiddled with their keys. “It’s still nice out.”

“I’ll come.” Topper offered, flashing you a sheepish smile. “We can talk?”

You chewed at your bottom lip, eyes darting toward Rafe’s unmoving figure. “Yeah, sure. Rafe, you want to come?”

Rafe swallowed, shaking his head slightly. “Didn’t get much sleep before, might just stay here.”

“Okay.” You nodded, hating how disappointed you felt, how much you wanted him to come, despite it all. “We’ll see you for dinner then.”

Lugging your bag onto your bed, you slid into a new bikini, throwing a summer dress over it before grabbing your tote from the side pocket.

“Top.” You acknowledged, finding him leaning against the wall as you closed the door. “What do you want to talk about?”

Topper straightened, jamming his hands into his front pockets as he stepped toward you. “Everything.”

“Everything?” You repeated, quirking an eyebrow, daring him to continue. “What do you mean?”

“Firstly.” He started, beckoning you toward the elevator. “How are you? After everything?”

You frowned, jerking your head toward Rafe’s closed room door, as though hoping he was standing there, waiting. “I’m fine now.”

“Seriously?” Topper pressed, unconvinced. “Because you were in a pretty bad state over Cameron, and I just…”

He hesitated, threading his fingers through his hair. “I know I’ve been a shitty friend. So, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You softened, doe-eyed as you gazed up at him. “Hey, thanks Top.”

“Of course.” Topper affirmed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “And listen, I’ve been a dickhead about… you know…”

He trailed off, gesticulating awkwardly. “Everything else. How I feel.”

“And how do you feel?” You questioned, swallowing slightly. “About me?”

“I mean, I thought I liked you.” Topper doubted, eyebrow knitted as he met your eye. “But then–”

“Kelce?” You finished, letting out a weak laugh. “Me too.”

Topper offered you a half smile, pulling you closer to lean his head atop yours. “Yeah. Kelce. He was a real dick about it, by the way.”

“Good.” You chided, aiming a playful punch at his chest. “You’ve been a fucking asshole these past two weeks, you know that? The shit I’ve done to get you, and now–”

“You want someone else?”

You faltered, shaking your head half-heartedly. “It’s complicated.”

“Are you guys going to talk about it?”

“I don’t think he cares enough to do that.” You grimaced, screwing up your face momentarily. “Whatever. It’s whatever.”

Topper frowned, leaning backward to survey your features. “He does care, you know.”

He paused, shaking his head reflectively. “And I’ve been a real dick to him about just how much.”

“Maybe he did.” You sighed, stepping into the foyer with Topper close behind. “But he doesn’t anymore. And neither do I.”

“You don’t mean that.” Topper reproved, catching your wrist in his hand. “You have feelings for him, Y/n.”

“I did. And then I got hurt. And now I don’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling your lower lip begin to tremble. “Can we drop it now and go back to being best friends? Santorini was our most anticipated destination, Top.”

And as he registered the way your eyes glistened, almost threateningly, under the light fixtures on the ceiling, it took everything in him not to wrap his arms back around you, resigned to beckoning you forward, his tone forcibly light. “Okay, okay. C’mon.”

__

The next few days in Santorini occurred without fault, spent basking in the sun, wading through the Aegean Sea, and exploring the local markets stalls that lined every cobbled street. Gradually, you and Topper fell back into each other’s stride; linking arms and sharing ice cream cones and taking more than enough selfies to make up for lost time. And though you and Rafe did labour through small-talk ridden conversations, it lacked his teasing lilt, your indignance that opposed it; replaced instead by a heavy tension that left you feeling exhausted after every breath.

“Top can you do my –”

You faltered, registering Rafe’s unmoving figure settled on the towel beside you. “Sorry, Rafe, uh, can you do my back, by chance? Not sure where Topper’s gone.”

Rafe nodded, fishing for the bottle of sunscreen in your bag. “Here, let me, uh…”

Trailing off, he awkwardly moved your hair to one side, his signet ring eliciting a shudder as it pressed against the skin of your neck. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You dismissed, waving a manicured hand in the air. “Thanks.”

“No biggie.”

He held his breath (unknowingly, you were holding yours too), gentle as he massaged the sunscreen into your back. When he was finally finished, his fingers lingered against the strap of your bikini, swallowing slightly at how flimsy it felt, held under the pad of his thumb. “All done.”

“Thanks.” You responded, crinkling your nose slightly as you gazed up at him. “Jesus, did you do your fucking back? You’re going to burn, Rafael.”

Rafe smiled at your use of his full name; an endearing, almost automatic remark that you probably hadn’t thought twice about.

“I haven’t. Can you do me?”

And rather than settling back into your stride, you were settling into an entirely new one; one that you knew wouldn’t last, not until you addressed your last night in Florence, that was.

You squinted slightly at the small mirror by the stall, holding the necklace against the nape of your neck. “What d’you think?”

“Buy it.” Rafe responded without missing a beat, wincing slightly when he realised you weren’t talking to him. “Top probably thinks so, too.”

“Yeah.” Topper affirmed, lifting an eyebrow at Rafe’s expression. “You good?”

“Here.” Rafe offered, ignoring Topper’s sentiment. “I can buy it for you.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching the necklace from his grasp. “Shut up. You’re not doing that.”

Rafe cocked his head to one side, already passing the stall owner a wad of cash. “Why not?”

“Here.” You groaned, shoving it into his chest. “Give it to someone else. I don’t want it.”

“There is no one else.”

Rafe swallowed, shaking his head slightly. “Uh, I mean… doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

What was two more weeks of awkwardness to avoid a difficult conversation? You had convinced yourself you could live like this. Topper was determined to convince you of the exact opposite.

“No.” Topper hissed, dragging you through the foyer. “Today, we’re all having dinner together.”

“But I wanna sit at the beach.” You mumbled, though you had taken extra care doing your makeup, that day, spent several more minutes than required teasing through your curls. “I don’t want to.”

Topper exhaled sharply, fixing you with a pointed glare. “You’ve sat on the beach for the past two days. You guys have to fucking talk about this.”

He plastered on a smile as he neared Rafe’s figure, the taller boy handsome as ever, his unbuttoned shirt showing off his tan. “Rafe!”

“Hey.” Rafe smiled, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Where are we going?”

“Oh yeah, let me sort an Uber for that.” Topper answered, pushing you forward as he headed for the entrance. “You guys wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“Topper.” You warned, flushing under Rafe’s gaze. “You can do that right here.”

Topper offered a simple shrug in response, mouthing a few imperceptible words with his phone pressed against his cheek. He gave you a thumbs up before turning, an arm raised in farewell as he disappeared into the late afternoon soon.

Rafe hesitated, surveying your expression carefully before letting out an awkward laugh. “He won’t be long.”

“He did this on purpose, you know.” You sighed, raising your fingers in air quotes. “To ‘talk it out’, or whatever.”

“Oh.” Rafe nodded, chewing at his bottom lip thoughtfully. “And you don’t want to?”

You swallowed, eyes widening slightly. “No, no! It’s not that, uh… I don’t know.”

“Right.”

Rafe paused, furrowing his brow. “Listen, about what I said, I’m really sorry. Topper was riling me up and… anyway, that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled, stepping forward instinctively. “I’m sorry, too. I, uh, said some shitty things that I didn’t mean.”

“I deserved it.” Rafe dismissed, though he offered you a sheepish grin, all the same. “Don’t worry about it. All is forgiven.”

“Good.” You exhaled, clutching at your chest. “Can we go back to you making little comments and me getting mad? That was fun.”

“You had fun?” Rafe teased, brushing his fingers against yours, teasingly slow. “Need to up my game, then.”

And so, the situation had been resolved. Hadn’t it?

__

“Hey, we should go to this.”

You groaned, swatting at the flier Topper held against your book. “Go away. I’m reading.”

“You’re rereading.” Topper corrected, snatching your book away before you could protest. “Can we like, party? I’m fucking bored.”

Rafe stirred beside him, untucking the hand resting under his head to shield his eyes from the sun. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” Topper shrugged, wearing a shit-eating grin. “But this really hot Greek chic gave me this flier and told me we should go. So we’re going.”

“Fuck sake, Topper.” You laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows. “How do you know she’s not just, like, a club promoter or something?”

“She probably is.” Topper responded, giving the poster a thoughtful once over. “I still want to party, though.”

“Fine, we’ll go. Now shut up. I’m trying to enjoy this.”

Eventually, Topper’s restlessness got the better of you, and you were forced to peel your body from your beach towel and drag your feet back toward the hotel. After a reasonably long cold shower (with minimal wincing, despite your patchy sunburn), you slid into a loose summer dress and sandals, giving your reflection a fleeting once-over before heading for the hallway.

“Partyyyy.” Topper whistled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. “Please look more excited. It’s extremely difficult being the fun one.”

You scoffed, sharing a knowing look with Rafe before pulling away from Topper’s grasp. “Everyone knows I’m the fun one.”

“No.” Rafe and Topper said in unison, biting back a laugh at your prompt scowl. “You’re not.”

“It’s okay, though.” Rafe muttered lowly, closing the distance between you as you stepped into the elevator. “You can be the hot one.”

You scoffed, flustered. “Shut up, Rafael.”

You’re the hot one, you wanted to add, your eyes lingering on the silver chain peeking out of his striped shirt. You’re most definitely the hot one.

Topper punched a finger against the ground floor button, rubbing his hands together as he spoke. “Should we get some food?”

“I’m not hungry.” You shrugged, your eyes flitting toward Rafe. “You?”

“Can get something small at the club, I guess.” Rafe responded, pulling at the bill of his hat. “No biggie.”

“Good.” Topper responded, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I want to get extremely fucked up.”

“Topper.” You warned, pressing your hand against his chest. “Okay, maybe we should get some food.”

“What?” Topper quipped, raising his eyebrows at your features. “You’re the only one allowed to get embarrassingly drunk?”

You swallowed, feeling yourself flush. “That was mean. Take it back you dick.”

“Nah.” Topper shrugged, laughing as he dodged a punch. “Relax, not the first time.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, feeling Rafe’s eyes bore into your back. “Anyway.”

You cleared your throat, striding through the elevator doors with Rafe and Topper close behind. “Is it walking distance?”

“Think so. Here, Google Maps says it’s five minutes away.”

“Perfect.” You responded, wedging yourself between their figures, linking arms expectantly. “Well, c’mon.”

“So, did you get this girl’s number, Top?” Rafe questioned, casting him a wayward glance as you stepped onto the cobbled street. “Can she get us free drinks or something?”

Topper lifted his shoulders awkwardly, beckoning you toward a throng of people before offering a demure response. “Dunno. Doesn’t matter. Drinks on me.”

“I got it.” Rafe gritted, placing a punishing grip on Topper’s shoulder. “Listen, can I talk to you a second?”

He paused, features softening as he gazed down at you. “Do you mind, sweetheart?”

“Not your sweetheart, Rafael.” You muttered, though you separated from their figures, striding two steps ahead. “Yeah, yeah, go on.”

Rafe pressed an arm against Topper’s shoulder, forcing him to a halt. “Look. Thanks for forcing us together yesterday, but I still haven’t received a fucking apology from you. And this whole club thing better not become–”

“It won’t.” Topper swallowed, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. For real.”

“Huh.” Rafe faltered, nodding slowly. “Didn’t think it’d be that easy.”

Topper flashed him a sheepish, half-smile, guiding him forward as he spoke. “No hard feelings. I was being an idiot. I’ve sorted it out with Y/n, now, and we’re on the same page. So, there’s no use me acting like I didn’t fuck up. I did.”

“Oh.”

Rafe winced, dragging his feet along the loose gravel. “You guys are on the same page?”

“Relax.” Topper responded, lifting an eyebrow knowingly. “I mean we just figured out that we’re best friends, before anything else. Not, uh, not on the same page like that.”

“Right.” Rafe nodded, swiveling his cap so it sat backward on his head. “I wish we were on the same page.”

“Aren’t you?” Topper frowned, gesticulating vaguely. “You guys talked last night. Didn’t you?”

“Oh. That. Yeah, I guess.”

Not entirely convinced, Topper faltered, halfway opening his mouth when he registered you walked backward toward their figures.

“Okay. I’ve given you enough space. Hurry up.” You sang, beckoning them forward. “Hurry up.”

You stopped against Rafe’s broad torso, eyes widening as he steadied your hips.

“You should watch where you’re going, Y/n.”

“Shut up.” You shot back, leaning backward, as though on instinct. “As if you care.”

“You’re right.” Rafe murmured, guiding you through a throng of people as you neared the busy club. “Don’t mind you being this close.”

You swallowed, pressing your hands against his where they rest on your bare skin. “Rafe.”

“Y/n.” He teased, though he drew them back to his side, joining the queue were Topper stood. “C’mon.”

__

Rafe Cameron was drunk.

Shortly after entering the bar, and acquiring Greek style beverages, the three of you had settled into a corner of the outdoor area, enjoying the balmy, summer breeze that wrapped around your sunburnt figures.

Feeling particularly left out of the inside jokes you and Topper had shared, Rafe had managed to down twice as many drinks as either of you, using the act of purchasing more as an excuse to escape the scene than anything else. He had been used to the distance before, having spent much of his adolescence receiving little to no attention from you. But after two weeks of playing the will-they, won’t-they game, the distance was no longer endearing. It was painful. And it was hurting Rafe Cameron.

And as he leant against a counter, gulping down the last of his rum-based beverage, he came to terms with why he was drinking; the answer clear as day, as he looked around for your figure. He had assumed that the alcohol would have helped loosen his tongue, revive the flirtatious exchanges he had spent the better half of the Euro Trip perfecting. But when he spotted you in the distance, swaying against Topper’s figure, the intoxicated version of him was anything but loosened up. His jaw was set, his shoulder’s tensed, and his eyes were dangerously narrowed; he was frustrated, and he was teetering over the edge of doing something about it.

Nothing had been resolved, you see, in the Parent Trap-esque exchange Topper had so stealthily organised. Rafe Cameron required a resolve. And he required one, now.

“Shot?” Rafe asked, catching the eye of the nearest barkeep by punching a fist against the drinks counter. “Two, actually.”

“Who’s the other one for?” A girl teased, sidling in beside him with a quirked brow. “Not me, I hope.”

Rafe laughed awkwardly, jerking a finger toward the floor before responding. “Both are to help me with her.”

The girl paused, surveying Rafe’s expression carefully. “Her?”

“I’m in a situation.” Rafe explained, picking up a shot and downing it with a wince. “Really like this girl. But it’s never going to happen.”

Frowning slightly, the girl peered over his shoulder, eyes darting between dancing figures in an attempt to place you. “Why isn’t it going to happen?”

“She’s perfect.” Rafe responded easily, downing the other before swiveling in his seat. “I’m not.”

“You’re not so bad.” The girl offered, patting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Came over here because I thought you were the exact opposite, actually.”

She hesitated, cocking her head to one side. “But I see you’re preoccupied.”

“Mm-hm.” Rafe nodded, making to step away from the counter. “Bye!”

“Wait!” The girl called, her grip on his shoulder tightening. “Hold on. You’re not going to speak to her when you’re this drunk, are you?”

“Why not?” Rafe scowled, shrugging her hand off him. “Need to fix this.”

“Dude, not going to end well.”

Rafe ignored her. She was a stranger, what did she know?

Striding through the crowd purposefully (and pushing against a fair few people, in the process), Rafe managed to find you and Topper, propped against a small brown table with identical drinks in hand.

“Where’d you go?” You called, giving him a once over as he drew nearer. “We couldn’t find you when we came inside!”

“Y/n.” He slurred, taking his hand in hers. “Can we talk?”

Topper frowned, his gaze fixed on Rafe’s harried features. “Rafe, how much did you have to drink?”

“Shhhh, Top.” Rafe hushed, using his free hand to press a finger against Topper’s lips. “I’m speaking. Y/n?”

“Rafael.” You warned, squinting slightly as you scrutinised him. “You good?”

“Are you?” Rafe pressed, thumbing at the soft skin of your palm, gentle despite his clumsiness. “After Florence?”

You exhaled, pressing your palms against his chest. “Rafe, we’re not talking about that here.”

“Why?” Rafe complained, pulling you impossibly closer. “I need to tell you something.”

“Rafe.” Topper hissed, roughly pulling him away. “C’mon, bro, you’re drunk.”

Rafe frowned, staying rooted to the spot. “No.”

“Y/n.” He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut in order to concentrate. “Y/n, I know I don’t deserve you.”

“But I want to deserve you.” He continued, eyes snapping open, as though pleading. “Because I’m sorry about what I said. Didn’t mean it. Topper made me.”

You faltered, brow furrowing slightly. “Topper made you?”

“Taunting me!” Rafe nodded, pointing an accusatory finger at Topper’s figure. “Saying you couldn’t ever like me. Is that true?”

“Rafe…”

You trailed off, gazing up at him helplessly. “Can we please talk about this when you’re sober?”

Rafe ignored you. “One more thing.”

He crinkled his nose, a languid attempt to gather his thoughts. “It’s always going to be you, you know? It’s all I think about. When you act like you don’t care, like you don’t want me, it hurts. Like what I said. In Florence.”

You swallowed several times, feeling your lower lip begin to tremble. “Rafe, I’m sorry about –”

“Shhhh.” Rafe interrupted, stumbling slightly. “Let me finish. Don’t care. Forgive you. Can’t stay mad at you because it ends up hurting me. You’re a part of me, you know?”

“Rafe –”

“Y/n.” He warned, his eyes impossibly bright. “Doesn’t matter if you don’t feel the same. I really like you. You don’t have to like me too. Because I like me, when I’m with you. I can do both. Do anything, for you.”

a/n: Surprise! Details of the fake dating memoir we never got in the OG series. Set on a cruise along the River Seine, somewhere between OG part 2 and 3 🤭🤭🤭

Like champagne.

It’s the first thought you have as you look over the Seine, ribbons of light splintered by propeller-made waves, thinner tendrils as they dissipate. Quick shimmers, the kind you’ll miss if you blink, before they disappear altogether. The glass canopy boat you’re on feels like it’s floating on nothing. It leaves a trail of sea foam like bubbles. Champagne bubbles.

The second thought you have is far less romantic. (Or maybe, even more so — you just don’t know it yet.)

Your eyes move away from the water, and are met with Rafe Cameron. And you think, shit, because Rafe Cameron is your fake almost-boyfriend. Your faux one-sided-situationship. The side that you’re on is still unclear.

The third thought you have is, should I be acting pleased by his proximity? And then, is Topper nearby? And then, does it even really matter? Which really means, am I even acting?

Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Where’s Top?” you ask discreetly, gaze sweeping over your surroundings.