♛

Curiosity may have killed the cat – a cautionary tale at the base of Emma’s mind the moment she asked who the mysterious figure had been near the end of her driveway – but satisfaction brought it back. She was in her groove now, a spark in her hues and a kind of delight to her expression. Stepping towards him, the brunette rested into a comfortable position, thumbs hooked around the leather straps of her small backpack and leaning into one hip, as the ball of her weightless foot pressed circles into the ground; dark hair spilled down her shoulders as she tilted her head at him, the earlier humour easily seguing into thought as she listened to him. Maybe she was a little too focused on his deliberate gestures, but she was listening to him… multi-tasking seamlessly as she drank in the details of his stature, right down to the twitch in the corner of his mouth that preempted a smirk. Emma didn’t realise how transfixed she had been until space for a reply came and her gaze shifted, changing the pressure on her chest and the half-breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, bow-stealer,” Came her first tease, a dimple ghosting at the edge of her tiers before her orbs rolled back to him and she leaned in. “And – no. There are plenty of words I could think of to explain your face, not all of them in English, but ‘sweet’ isn’t one of them.” She straightened then, contours of her face expressing her contentment at their banter; brows raised then as she added in a tone that mocked game show hosts. “Would you like to try a vowel?”

                                              It was strange to feel so close to a person you once thought the worst about, but it was a relief to— a newfound sense of hope, and maybe especially because it was Rafe; someone she had come to care about, but also felt a strange kinship with. Like he understood her like few other people did, and perhaps, just maybe, that went both ways too.

                                 “I cheated on Adrian,” she reminded him. “And he fought for me. Well, not just for me, but for us. I guess, he saw that… it wasn’t about him, it was about me, and whatever shit I was going through, and maybe that’s just something we’re not mature enough to do when we’re in our early twenties, going through college and all that stuff, but…” Her point was unclear, and she knew it would likely have to stay that way if she wanted to keep June’s words to herself. “I don’t know,” she mumbled instead, shaking her head lightly from side to side. “I guess it’s just… it’s sad.” It was, and she regretted not being mature enough herself back then, to see and understand what was going on, or that Rafe truly did love June. Even if he’d fucked up.

                                   Naturally, she wanted to find a way to solve everything, to fix the disconnect between Rafe and June, but she had to remind herself that it wasn’t her place— that sometimes, even when it hurt and seemed senseless in every way, things had to be solved on their own. “Hey, I’m… I’m sure things will get better, right? Over time it’ll get easier,” she said, essentially lying, but if her heart was in the right place, she figured it might not count as a lie. June, what she felt about Rafe, that left very little room for a friendship to bloom between the two. It was sad, but then on the other hand, Zoe could’ve never gone back to just being Adrian’s friend either, so she understood. “Either way though, I’m not letting you run off to L.A again, alright? I can’t have you throwing bags of coke in strippers faces anymore— not now when we’re officially friends.” She elbowed him lightly in the side and shot him a pointed look, a hint of a smile breaking through the facade little by little.

                                      When he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, her features softened and her head lowered in a humble nod. “Yeah, you too, Delgado.” She smiled earnestly and put an arm around his shoulder, giving his opposite one a reassuring pat. It definitely meant something to her too, that they’d come this far, and no reservations seemed to linger between them anymore. That was perhaps the best thing about this strange evolution of their friendships; she’d already seen the worst of him, and him of her, and left was only the good. “I’m gonna hug you know,” she warned him, a large smile tugging at her lips. “—are you ready? I’m gonna do it,” she joked, pretending to hold back after first opening up her arms, but then smoothly wrapping them around him and pulling him in, squeezing him tight. “You really are a good person, Rafe— just don’t forget it…”

                                         After they pulled back again, and he mentioned a likeness between his mom and her, she smiled warmly. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve liked her too— and, you know, felt sorry for her for having such a crazy-ass kid for a son,” she joked lightly, but with features soft. He never talked about his mom to her, and it felt… important somehow, that he’d mention her. “Nah, she was lucky to have had you.” It was her time to squeeze his shoulder now, her smile genuine and near permanent. At his question, she shook her head though. “No, honestly… All I’ve been wondering about lately is you and June, so this,” she said and motioned between the two of them. “—was really helpful for me too, so thank you.”

+ Rafe’s eyes falls to the table besides them as he takes a moment to digest Zoe’s words. Comparing Rafe’s past relationship to Zoe’s isn’t entirely fair for both of them; from the nature of the infidelity to the type of love itself. Perhaps, subconsciously, he sought this conversation in hopes to confirm his hopes their differences are with the former. Whether it’s intentional or not, there seems to lie fractions of an answer somewhere within her statements, and it’s not the one he wants to hear. Zoe and Adrian fought for their relationship and they found each other again; June and Rafe didn’t and so lost it all. He shakes his head at the thought. 

“What would you have done if he didn’t? Fight for you, I mean...” He asks after struggling with the urge to ask whether if any of Zoe’s words were June’s. Never would he doubt Zoe’s integrity, not even when he thought badly of her, but assuming the pair spoke about almost everything, his curiosity relentlessly tests his virtue. 

He locks eyes with her at her assurance. In that moment, it feels like a silent acknowledgement of sorts. So he nods once, lips pressed into a tight smile. “Okay,” he says simply. There’s a very small part of him that believes Zoe, that things would get better with time, which is more than what he had before this conversation. A low chuckle escapes him at the unexpected throwback, shaking his head lightly, disapproving his own actions. There’s a hint of remorse behind his eyes.“Officially friends, huh? I ain’t believin’ it ‘til you make it Insta offish,” he says. “And, by the way, that was one time. I think..?” 

The conversation naturally takes a much lighter direction and Rafe feels relief, which isn’t to say he engaged in the previous topics unwillingly. Far from it, in fact. And he meant every word of his appreciation. However, more thought on the matter and surely his brain would explode. He responds to her warning with genuine surprise; eyes wide, brows raised and lips parted. “Wow, really? A hug?! You must really love me...” He teases as he welcomes the embrace. “Bring it in, Frosty.” Arms wrapped around her small frame, he swings to the side, back and forth, whilst patting her back a few times. A gesture that truly cements the fact that they are now ‘officially friends’. “Let’s be honest,” he says, pulling back from the hug a little with his hands on the sides of her shoulders. “I’m not, but I’m tryin’... I mean, I wanna ask you what June’s said, but I’ve been holdin’ back so much, so that’s gotta count for somethin’, right?” 

                                  Turning around at the sound of Rafe’s voice, Adam’s brows furrowed in somewhat confusion. “That depends,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “What do you want?”

{ » @rafedelgado.

From 4pm to 5pm, only one customer dropped by the shop. It was Mr. Masterson from down the road — June had grown up with his kids, and every time she saw him now, she thought about that one time her and his eldest daughter snuck out and went ice skating on the lake at midnight, only to go through the ice and nearly drown. She still felt bad about it, even though it was obvious he no longer harboured any resentment for it. The memory was usually enough to steal her mind away, to distract her from woes of daily life, but not today. With resent conversations lingering in her head, one with Adam and one with Zoe, June was unsure what a walk with Rafe would mean — And why she said yes in the first place. Ten minutes to five, she began closing down, and at exactly 5pm, she pressed the number to activate the alarm and stepped outside, locking up and turning around to see Rafe walking up the street towards her. Part of her thought maybe he wouldn’t show, which had been a comforting thought in many ways, but a light sense of relief at the sight of him managed to sneak up on her nevertheless. 

Scarlett’s gaze narrowed in on Rafe as he spoke up, an amused smirk toying her lips. She was quick and perceptive; it was apart of her job to be able to pick up on people’s cues. And she knew he’d zoned out for a majority of her story, but that was something she was used to, luckily, knowing she had a tendency to ramble, and knowing people mostly didn’t give a shit. Not that she cared. “Like, maybe for the first few hours before their body completely shuts down they might retain some form of a tan if they’d had one before. But not the point Rafe,” she cut off, slamming her palms down on the table dramatically, unnecessarily. “The point is Captain I-hate-the-world doesn’t understand a joke—couldn’t understand a joke if it hit him in the face with a brick.”

Emma’s expression was on a ride – a rollercoaster of emotions, worn so shamelessly at the events unfolding in front of her. No longer numb to feelings, no longer muted by the heaviness of drugs and alcohol, the brunette was returning to her former habits; she was a capricious spitfire at the best of times, and her personality seemed to flex fully in the presence of one of her longest friends. She blossomed under his attention and in his company, like a kind of rose. There was nothing that could steal her focus as she brightened even more  at the arrival of her dog, but that delight quickly transformed into a mockery of outrage as the jest rolled out before her. A smile ghosted along Emma’s lips, eyes alight even as she radiated a form of disapproval; then she leaned in, pressing a kiss to Yankee’s forehead, idly fixated by scratching behind his ear as her gaze returned to Rafe, their proximity changing but energy remaining constant. “I think daddy is mistaken, not only for thinking he could use you against me, but for also thinking I would ever date a Republican,” Her tone held the same childish essence it always did when she spoke to Yankee, like some ridiculous dog mom – because she really, really was. It was far too easy to keep up the act in tandem with Rafe’s spiel. “It just sounds like he’s really confused in general so maybe we’ll clear things up for him, yes? You let daddy know… that he is, arguably, my one constant–” At that, her tone dropped in severity, an edge to her eyes; an intensity seemed to form between them almost immediately at the flush of sincerity that Emma had created. But then she smiled. Her goddamn smile gave it away, with tiers lifting and pearly whites flashing as her voice lightened as she added: “…And he’s going to constantly have to listen to me complain if he doesn’t just take one for the team, accept the fact that I was probably napping rather than schmoozing with a Senator, and hold my hand. And laugh at my jokes. Or do you think he can’t do that, huh?” The radiant smile softened on her expression, hazel gaze fixed on his in challenge, even as she reached out to pet the dog still happily in Rafe’s arms; the small animal radiated glee, as if there was no better place in the world. (Admittedly, Yankee wasn’t wholly wrong there.)

Callum was not usually one to skimp on the nightlife - he’d rather roll into work on three hours sleep than be holed up like a kept animal. But the case he’d been working on was an important one, and exceptions had to be made. “Three weeks with my head spent buried in depositions… What did I miss?” 

“ —– So my captain is getting a little concerned with my work habits,” Scarlett began, eyes boring into the person before her. Casually dressed with a smirk on her lips, it was her usual ammo for a day on the job. Her captain complaining — which Scarlett liked to call morbidly suggesting — that she wasn’t doing things correctly was a day-to-day basis thing as well. She knew she was good at what she did, he could shove it. “According to Captain I-Have-An-Electric-Rod-Shoved-Up-My-Ass, telling someone a dead body looks ‘gross and like it hasn’t been to the Bahamas in a few thousand years’ is not an accurate description to put on a police report. Like dude, I’m aware I can’t actually put that on a police report, but live a little maybe? Take a joke, damn,” she breathed out, a roll of her eyes at the thought of her repressed captain. “I was just speaking the truth, making an idle comment; my eyes don’t deceive. I know a good tan when I see one, and that honey did not have it.” For the most part, she was joking, but she knew what it looked like to the outside eye — not that she minded, she thought with a carefully crafted smirk and tilt of her head. 

“No, I get it.” He said, in response listening to the voice on the other end of the phone continue on, “it is a lot, I know.” He continued, more placating his boss than actually listening. There was no way it was happening, he didn’t fly anymore, at least not now, so getting what the man wanted was practically impossible, if he wanted to be undetected and that was all Hunter wanted. “Hey, let me think about it, but I’m going to have to let you go–” he was interrupted, “no, I know this is important but my meeting just showed up.” It didn’t he just needed a nice way to hang up, “yeah, uh huh.” He rolled his eyes before ending the call, directing his attention to the person nearing him, “you don’t know this, but I think you just saved someone’s life, I swear.” 

Everything about him seems like bad news; from the dirt scuffs on his shoes, the rips in his jeans, the sharpness to his features, all tied together with the cigarette radiated a very easily thought of stereotype of those who weren’t from the Island. The unsavoury taste was often linked to those from North End, but Emma wasn’t going to make assumptions – her parents hadn’t poisoned her that much, at least. A part of her did, however, did rival his likeness to chaotic foes of the books she’d read outside of class requirements; he seemed as if he was a boy who enjoyed disrupting societal norms, lead by no country or law but only an independent fire within. When his reply came, her guesses were affirmed; the tease stirred familiarity and dawn washed over her porcelain expression. A hand raised without meaning to brush down her hair in the spot where it was typically tied with a silk ribbon. Then, the shock wore off as memories jumped to the front of her mind, and humour replaced the emotion. “Oh my God—” A blasphemous slip from the Catholic, but she didn’t have time for her religious dilemmas; she was too busy lighting up with a brilliant smile and feeling uncharacteristically confident with this almost stranger. “You’re the boy who stole my red ribbon. Wow, I almost didn’t recognise you without the puppy dog eyes and quivering bottom lip. You really wear your ‘my mom’s making me apologise so I have to be extra sweet’ face so differently from your normal one.”

+ “Yo, Sterling. You got a second?”

JUNE: Well, maybe I shouldn't, but... I did.

JUNE: So, uh... I'm at the flower shop in Haverford, but I close up at five. Can you meet me there?

RAFE: Yeah. Yeah, I'll meet you there.

                    Jason’s wolfish grin only broadened come Rafe’s shake, the classic clasp and dab of two male hands reached over the women who, undoubtedly, were involved in NYFW some way or another. Leave it to Rafe to always come through–– a fact Jason admired, almost as much as he envied, “He’s fibbin’,” Jason contested with emphasis in his southern drawls’ charm offensive, grinning a little bigger, a little harder, trying to muddle the splinters of ire that found their way into ceruleans, “Here at Kube it’s our sole purpose to get you nice’n drunk, and that’s a promise we stand by,” He assured, specifically to the birthday girl, who looked the hardest to please, “Come with me,” With the hoard of models in toe of them, Jason swung an arm around Rafe’s well-built shoulders and let out a low –– nearly menacing –– laugh, “And you, buddy, got a whole bottle of Henny with your name on it, and I want it empty by the end of the night, y’heard?”

                                      Eight years ago and Zoe would’ve never believed this was possible; her and Rafe sitting next to each other and having an honest conversation where the topic wasn’t something like ‘ten ways I would slowly kill you if I had the chance’, but something real, something that mattered. There was a bit of bite to both their barks, and maybe it was the things they shared in common that had both made them such great ‘enemies’ once upon a time, and such great friends now. Of course, June had played a deciding factor in Zoe’s aversion to him at the time too, her friend’s broken heart enough to make her loathe Rafe without having to try really hard.

                          But things had changed since then—- the man Zoe saw when she looked at Rafe now versus the one she saw back in Los Angeles, they were two completely different people. He had grown, and maybe Zoe had too; just about enough to make her realize how much they had in common, and now, how much they both cared about June. Stupidly enough, the brunette had never really delved into the idea that just because Rafe had made a mistake, it didn’t mean his love for the blonde hadn’t been real. Clearly it had been, and Zoe was finding it hard to convince herself it wasn’t still.

                          She laughed at his joke not just because he deserved it, but because he was funny—- he’d probably always been, but she’d refused to see it or acknowledge it for a long time now. “You’re a terrible person,” she said, recognizable amusement in the tone of her voice. “And for the record… I can’t imagine you getting married anytime soon, so I guess we won’t have to worry about that, right?” It wasn’t meant as a jab, but simple fact; Rafe as a married person? He’d probably pull it off, surprise everyone like that, but she didn’t think that was something he was even remotely interested in— well, that was until the words ‘Thought I was gonna marry her’ tumbled out of his mouth in reference to June, Zoe’s chest tightening for a prolonged moment for her friend, both of them even.

                          Looking at him and seeing flickers of unrestrained emotion, of honesty and nothing less, it was more than she’d prepared herself for, her eyes unwittingly glazing over and her gaze lowering to the ground. “God,” was all she could say first, the word barely there, caught somewhere between audible and just being a thought inside her head. “What the hell happened?” The question was rhetorical, it felt like that too, and yet not at all as it sat between them, lingering in the air as she wiped at the corner of her eye with her fingertip. “I know I’ve given you so much shit over the years, and honestly—- I’ve felt justified every damn time; I mean, I’v hated you, you know that? Not just because I had to for June, but because I just… I really didn’t think you cared. I saw you on magazine covers with random girls all the time, and I saw what that did to her, and I just… God, I fucking hated you so much, you know? But you… you loved her…” The last three words emerged like a statement, but one riddled with wonder; with confusion.

                            “And she…” Her bottom lip quivered for a moment, the words suspended in thin air and the brunette’s head shaking from side to side, gaze faltering to trembling hands, the sentence forever infinite. “I don’t get it. I don’t understand what the hell happened— how it’s almost been a decade and you sit here and you say that shit to me like it was yesterday, and yet… you’re both strangers to each other?” She wanted to point out that June— June was the same; she’d had the same look in her eyes, the same urgency that wiped away a decade like it was nothing; like she loved him today the way she had then. However, it wasn’t Zoe’s place to tell, and all she could do was marvel and wonder, look at him with eyes incredulous. “I want to, like, grab you and shake you, you know that? What the hell happened— why didn’t you fight for her? Why didn’t she fight for you, for your relationship? Why are you both like this?” She shook her head, not stupid enough to expect any answers, but frustrated beyond anything that what was essentially two of her best friends had ended up like this when there was so much there; so much unsaid, and so much still lingering.

                            Pushing her fingers through her hair, combing it away from her eyes with a shaky exhale, Zoe stretched out her legs in front of her and looked straight ahead for a beat or two, silence shrouding the two for a moment. “I’m gonna let you off the hook; I don’t wanna force you to talk about this, but I… I’m glad you did.” She turned to look at Rafe, really look at him. “I’m just sad it’s like this for you. For the both of you.”

+ As much as they’d exchanged stories and lighthearted banter -- the kind often mistaken for genuine distaste -- it’s the first Rafe’s been able to speak so candidly with such raw honesty with all his emotions in place. He’s grateful for it’s the first time he’s heard his truth leave his lips. Perhaps it feels easier to be so open with someone like Zoe, who’d thought the absolute worst of him, because she’d respected him enough to do the same a year ago.

It takes some time for everything to settle in. After unloading all of that he expects the weight of his statements to feel heavy, but it’s quite the contrary. It feels lighter. But there’s a hushed utterance, barely audible, and it brings his brows together, gaze hardening with concern. Did he say too much? Worried, he stares back at her, heart beating at an increased pace as he notices her finger. He manages a small nod of acknowledgment, muttering a low ‘well deserved’ to not appear to have turned to stone. Until further into her explanation, he felt like he’d done something wrong. At those three words, a small sigh of relief escapes him, easing the tension built up in his shoulders. She believes him now. It didn’t matter then, but it matters to him now.

“Why would she fight for me, Zoe? I cheated on her.” He answers both questions with one answer. “It should’ve been me doin’ the fightin’, me doin’ the beggin’, but I didn’t. I was young, and stupid, and had too much pride. And then, by the time it all hit me, it was too late.” A light, humourless chuckle leaves him as he recalls the moments of Zoe standing by her door, smugly telling him June was out with a guy, a good guy, and then his final visit when he found out she left for Europe. “Don’t blame you, obviously. I wouldn’t have taken me seriously either.”

Seeing Zoe as frustrated as she is doesn’t feel good for Rafe, and if anything makes him want to sort it all out, if possible. In a small town like Lanford, an issue between two people often affected everyone around them. “Look, bottom line, I don’t know her anymore.” One night wasn’t enough to catch up on everything they’d missed. Yes, they’d said things to each other that night that still felt like yesterday, things that couldn’t be repeated elsewhere, things that maybe should’ve have been said, but they hadn’t actually talked. “Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have this problem. Or maybe it’d be worse. I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out. Worse comes to worst, and I still shit my pants every time I see her, I’ll just move back to LA.” He says with a shrug, small smile on his lips. “But Zoe,” he reaches out for her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s actually been really fuckin’ sweet talkin’ to you. Might not feel the same way tomorrow mornin’ when I recall everythin’ I just said out loud, but-- you a real one. I appreciate everythin’ that you are, Zoe Foster. Thank you.”