farmer rick’s little lady

His smile is soft and charming as he looks you over. You’ve applied a light layer of makeup similar to your look at the party last weekend. Your hair remains in a ponytail, but you’ve thrown on your lucky, sparkly headband for good luck. Not that you needed any luck. Garrett had assured you there was nothing to worry about. 

You suddenly feel like you’re forgetting something. “Oh, my purse!”

You hurry back into your apartment to retrieve it. Your roommate, Paige, and her boyfriend are making pancakes for dinner in the tiny kitchen you share. She isn’t wearing pants, and he’s made himself completely at home in nothing but his boxers. The moment you told her you wouldn’t be back until later, she’d invited him over.

You climb over your neatly made bed to grab your purse from the side table, which leaves you more out of breath than it probably should. Even though it contains only lip gloss, your license, a stick of gum, and a debit card with approximately seventy dollars on it, you feel much more secure carrying it.

When you turn around, Garrett is standing fully in your doorway, his eyes roaming over your shoebox apartment before settling on the couple in the kitchen.

“No way, you're Garrett Graham, right?” Paige’s boyfriend doesn’t go to school at Briar. You remember her saying he was about five years older than her, although you thought he could easily pass for thirty. 

Your heart pounds as Ethan makes his way over to your date, hand out for Garrett to politely shake. He’s close to rambling about Garrett’s last game, and then he brings up the score and some more terms you have no clue about. And because Garrett’s so good at commanding a room and taking up space, which you’ve never been good at, he cuts through the conversation. 

“Ready now, Bunny?”

Paige’s mouth gapes at his words, and you’re left with no time to process your new nickname. “Yes.” You’re next to Garrett in a flash, and his hand becomes wrapped around your waist. “Uhm, I’ll see you guys later!”

You have to close your front door tightly to relieve the awkward tension. “I’m so sorry.”

He shushes you as he leads you down to the elevator, as if he’s already comfortable navigating the building. Once you were in the privacy of the old elevator, Garrett asked, “That’s her fucking boyfriend?”

You nodded quietly. 

“How often is he there?”

“Well, they just got back together–”

“Before she started fucking Dean. How often was he over?”

You shrugged, “A few nights a week, I guess. He works from home.”

You watch as his face twists into something close to disappointment. Or disgust. “And how often does he walk around with no clothes on?”

“Not often,” You say almost to soften the blow, “He’s just comfortable there, I guess. And it’s okay. She makes sure I’m okay with it before he comes over.”

“Ha,” He laughs softly before his lips form a thin line. Bad start to the night, you thought. And it’s all because of Ethan’s Ninja Turtle briefs. The elevator dings, and the two of you walk out to his car. Like a gentleman, he opens your car door for you, and you take the opportunity to get a few deep breaths in as the door shuts and he rounds the hood of the car. 

You’re not sure why it’s so much harder to breathe when you’re close to him. You chalk it up to the two of you practically being strangers and your nerves.

During the drive to Garrett’s house, he doesn’t push the subject of your roommate and her boyfriend, which you’re thankful for. He decides to talk to you about his own roommates instead. You knew Dean, of course, and Garrett makes the point that he’s sweeter than he looks. Although he’s just as sexual as he comes off. Logan is his hardworking best friend. Tucker is also kind and is an amazing cook, according to Garrett. You do your best to listen, but as he parks his car on the street in front of the house, you realize that you’re about to actually meet all of them. Not in the setting of a party being hosted, but a casual weeknight where they’re living life normally. 

The seriousness of the situation hits you. Garrett assured you that the night would be low-key, but what was casual about meeting all of his best friends? 

“You okay?” A smooth voice snaps you out of your spiral. 

You nod, nervously smiling back at him, “Sorry, I’m okay …hungry.”

“Good. C’mon, Tuck made stir-fry.” 

You find that you don't actually need the courage to go inside and say hello to his friends because Garrett's hand on your lower back does the work for you. You don't have to say much. You don't have to figure out where to walk or stand because Garrett guides you.

Tucker stands near the stove, an apron tied around his waist, while Logan and Dean sit on bar stools at the kitchen island. They've already started digging into their meals, and when Tucker presents the two of you with your dinner plates, you can't help but marvel at both the presentation and the amount of food piled onto each one.

"Oh my goodness, you really didn't have to, Tucker—"

"No worries at all. Our casa is su casa, Y/N," he says, his voice warm and welcoming. "And I won't be offended if you don't eat it all. We eat a lot here."

Garrett squeezes your hip, and it serves as a reminder to stop smiling at him like an idiot.

"Thank you so much."

"Thanks, Tuck." Garrett's hand finally leaves your waist so he can grab both plates. "You ready to go upstairs?"

"Yeah," you say, and Logan and Dean exchange a knowing glance.

Garrett tilts his head toward the stairs, and you take that as your cue to follow.

"I-It was nice meeting you guys," you manage to say, offering a small wave.

Logan and Tucker return it immediately. Dean, meanwhile, is already shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth. Before anyone can say much else, you hurry after your date.

Garrett's room is large and dark-toned. The windows are huge, but nighttime doesn't offer much light. You've only taken a few steps inside, but the air already feels intimate.

"Your friends seem nice," you say as you stand frozen, your eyes wandering over every poster and piece of memorabilia. "And this house is also... super nice."

"They are. And thanks." Garrett sets the plates down on his nightstand before patting a spot on the other side of the bed. "Sit down and get comfortable."

You'd already taken your shoes off at the door, even though Garrett insisted you didn't have to, so now you're walking around in socks covered with tiny strawberries. You take a seat where he gestures, leaning against his pillows and crossing your legs.

He hands you your plate of food before grabbing his laptop.

"So, what kind of movies do you like to watch, little bookworm?" Garrett asks casually as he settles beside you. He makes sure to close the gap between you, his knee brushing yours and his arm resting against your shoulder.

"We can watch whatever. I don't mind."

"Hmm, okay, but that's not what I asked."

You turn toward him and find that he's already watching you.

"What do you like to watch, Bunny?"

"Uhm." You're suddenly embarrassed as you think over your taste in media. "I like... romance. And historical dramas, I guess. But I understand if you don't want to watch—"

"So what's your favorite movie?"

And that's how you end up watching Little Women with Garrett Graham.

You do your best to tackle the mountain of restaurant-quality food Tucker provided. Garrett finishes his plate, and as the movie plays, he becomes more invested than you'd expected.

The movie reaches the Christmas scenes, where Beth is feeling better and their father returns home. Garrett asks a question—something about whether a certain moment happened in the book—when your phone starts to vibrate.

You pick it up to silence it, only to find five unread messages from your roommate. Worried something bad has happened, you open the text chain.

Paige: Are you still coming home tonight? Paige: Also, is it cool if Ethan stays for the rest of the week? Paige: Since you're gonna be busy with your new friend :) Paige: BTW I can't believe you're hooking up with Garrett Graham and today is the first time I'm hearing about it Paige: Oh and I need rent earlier than the 1st

"What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing."

You realize Garrett has paused the movie.

You know you should ignore her, but then you start thinking about what she'll think if you don't respond. You find yourself staring down at your phone.

"Your hands are shaking."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. His mouth is close to your ear, and he's looking down at your phone too.

Instinctively, you tilt the screen away.

"What did she say?"

"I'm sorry I interrupted the movie—"

"Y/N."

Garrett's voice is stern enough to silence the anxious thoughts racing through your mind.

Then he holds out his hand expectantly.

Your heart starts beating faster.

You hesitate—or at least it feels like you do—before handing over your phone.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants, uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you let him read the messages.

"So her boyfriend's moving in?"

"Just for the week."

"And she's making you pay half the rent when you sleep on the couch, and she's letting some asshole stay there?"

You can't meet his eyes.

"It pulls out," you mumble.

"Fuck that."

"You don't understand, Garrett. She's been there for me. She really has..."

"Do you even have the money to give her?"

"Yes. Well, I can use my savings until I get paid again—"

"Fuck that for sure. Tell her to fuck off."

A startled yelp escapes you at the shocking suggestion.

Garrett's jaw ticks.

You don't know him well, but even you can tell he's angry.

"Please, can we finish the movie?"

Your face falls as you pull your knees to your chest. Tears sting your eyes, and you know you can stop them from falling if he just... moves on.

Please.

Please.

Please.

You hear him sigh before you hear the click of your phone locking.

"C'mere."

His large arms wrap around your shoulders as the movie starts playing again.

You soften against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

His tone lightens.

"Just because she blows up your phone doesn't mean you need to answer. She can wait."

"Okay," you say, and you believe him. "I'm sorry I made you mad."

"You didn't do anything, baby," he reassures you.

You do end up crying that night, but it isn't because of Paige.

It's Beth March's death that gets you.

The two of you make it almost to the end of the movie. Mr. Dashwood is just about to publish Jo's book when your eyes begin to grow heavy. Getting up early for class that morning has finally caught up with you.

The rolling credits are the last thing you see.

And the last thing you feel is Garrett Graham pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Garrett had no intentions of stalking you, given he’d already decided you were his now. And he could acknowledge that going through someone’s phone is bad behavior, but he had to understand this situation with your roommate more. How else was he going to solve your problem if you refused to admit it was one? 

Your roommate sent you the occasional good luck for a test, and there were a few times she told you to have a fun weekend. At least through text, he didn’t see any indications that she was supportive. Half your conversations were her just asking you to do the most outlandish things for her. Just two weeks ago, she asked you to clean the entire apartment, including her room, because she wanted to have friends over. A week before that, she asked if you could stay out of the apartment from seven o'clock to ten o'clock at night because a guy was coming over and she wanted privacy. 

And all of your responses were the same. 

So sorry!!

Of course!! 

That’s fine!! 

I really don’t mind!!!!

His hindbrain was telling him to find a way to escalate the situation, blow up your life, and let him pick up the pieces. The more logical part of his brain knew it was a matter of time before this bad situation got worse and that he could be the one to save you when that inevitably happened. And maybe, just maybe, he could help it hurt a little bit less. He could also make someone else suffer for hurting you. 

He watched you sleep for a short while, and when he inevitably settled against you, grabbing your waist and pushing your bottom against his crotch, you didn’t even stir. 

Garrett felt grateful that you were here with him tonight and sleeping peacefully in his bed instead of squeezed onto that pathetic pullout couch. His own anxiety felt better knowing you were safe. Whatever feeling you had planted inside of him at that party was only growing. 

Garrett pressed his face into your hair and closed his eyes.

He'd make sure this became a regular thing.

You were so embarrassed when you woke up the next morning and realized you'd fallen asleep. As if you were the one taking advantage of him. It took some time for you to regulate and for Garrett to convince you that you hadn't done anything wrong.

"I wanted you here, Bunny. You look good in my bed," he'd said.

Over the next week, the only time you spent apart from Graham was when you had class or work. Even then, he offered to pick you up and drive you everywhere. It just made sense. You had no car. He did.

"I want to send you money. I'm wasting so much of your gas," you said as the two of you drove back to the hockey house.

"I don't want or need your money, Y/N."

"There has to be something I can do." Garrett watched the wheels turning in your mind. "I know. I'll bake you something."

"You can bake?" Garrett's eyebrows rose.

"No, but I could try." You shrugged, and his eyes softened as he held your gaze.

"That would be nice, Bunny, but I know what I want."

"What?" you'd asked with a smile.

"A kiss."

You stared back like a baby deer caught in headlights. "A kiss? From me?"

"Yes, genius."

"I've never kissed anyone—"

Then it was Garrett's turn to blanch. "What? You're serious?"

"No, I mean, I've been kissed. I have. I've just never done the..."

"You've never kissed someone first?"

You nodded hesitantly.

"Then let me be your first."

A long silence passed between the two of you as the radio played softly through Garrett's speakers. After he parked the car and undid his seatbelt, he reached over, like usual, and unclicked yours. Garrett had started noticing more and more of your nervous tics. Right now, your leg was bouncing so hard it practically shook the entire car.

"I mean, you kinda owe me, right?"

You bit down on your lip as you pulled your knees onto the seat and folded them beneath you. Leaning toward the center console, your smaller hands found his shoulders. Slowly, they slid to his neck and then the sides of his face. Your thumb brushed over his stubble, and you watched his eyes darken.

Garrett's eyes closed when your lips pressed softly against his. The kiss was brief and sweet, but it still left his head spinning.

You were still holding his face when you asked, "How was that?"

Garrett answered by leaning in and kissing you again.

Your lips worked to keep up as Garrett set a steady rhythm. Your hands found his shoulders while he reached for your waist. Before you knew it, he was hoisting you over the middle console until you were straddling his lap.

If there was any control you had left, you let it go.

Making out was kind of like all your conversations. Garrett pushed, forcing you to open up, and he peeled back your layers slowly. And he decided when it ended.

His hands traveled up your waist and beneath your shirt, his large palms roaming over the expanse of your skin. You felt warmth gather low in your stomach as your hips shifted against him.

You only tried to pull away because you needed air.

He kissed you so thoroughly that your lips already felt sore and swollen.

"Garrett," you breathed.

Immediately, he loosened his grip.

"Can we... I feel..."

"You feel what, Bunny?"

"Overwhelmed."

"I'm not gonna fuck you if that's what you're scared about. I just wanted to taste you."

"Oh." You weren't entirely sure how to respond to such blunt honesty. "Okay."

Maybe you'd been wrong to assume he wanted some kind of relationship.

Maybe he wanted something in between.

You'd never been in a real relationship before, so it wasn't like you knew exactly what you wanted. But deep down, you knew you didn't want a casual situationship.

And if that was what Garrett wanted... how would you even say no to him?

"What's wrong? Do you want more, Bunny?"

He toyed with the waistband of your jeans before his hand slipped lower and grabbed a handful of your ass.

You couldn't help how flustered you became. Suddenly, the car felt far too small.

"I like you like this."

He pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, and your eyes threatened to roll back at the pleasure of it.

"Like what?"

"Squirming on top of me." His voice dropped lower. "I can't think about anyone else, you know?"

"You can't?"

"I'm crazy about you."

He kissed your cheek.

Then the other.

Teasing you.

And you found yourself melting against him.

"I hate when you leave."

"Why?"

"This feels right, doesn't it?"

A kiss against your nose.

"You with me."

Another brush of his lips.

"I think you need me."

"I do?"

He hummed as his lips hovered over yours.

"I'll take good care of you."

You leaned closer, but he still didn't close the distance.

"You'll let me take care of you, right?"

Your lips parted.

You knew you didn't fully understand what he meant.

But you knew exactly what he wanted to hear.

And somehow, you wanted to give it to him.

"Yes."

A dark satisfaction flashed across Garrett's face.

"Good fucking girl."

Then his lips were on yours again, and every sensible thought you'd ever had disappeared from your mind.

Paige is right. You find that you're barely home over the next month, mostly because Ethan has been there every day since they'd gotten back together. You have no privacy to study, no room for your groceries, and Paige and Ethan have sex loudly most nights. Worst of all, he uses up your favorite brand of overpriced conditioner, the only kind that helps tame your hair.

The hockey house, although it's full of rowdy college boys, ends up feeling more peaceful. Garrett protects your space, makes sure you always have quiet when you study, and even buys you another set of all your toiletries so you don't have to pack a toiletry bag every time you come over. Plus, there's a free dinner almost every night, and Garrett's friends seem to actually like you. They ask questions about your classes, and they don't talk over you even though their voices boom much louder than yours.

You've started to rely on Garrett so much that the situation with Paige becomes something you want to handle on your own.

It takes everything in you not to just give in. You throw up twice before you can bring yourself to face her, but you eventually do. You're logical. You explain that you don't think it's fair to keep paying half the rent for a quarter of the space and no privacy.

She agrees.

She actually hears you out and promises she'll find a split that's more proportional.

Your shoulders feel lighter when you finally tell Garrett. He's frustrated, of course, that you kept it from him, but supportive nonetheless. Feeling any sort of control in your relationship with Paige is strange.

And ultimately, short-lived.

A week later, you have a babysitting gig that Paige helped set up for you. A friend of a family friend of hers. It should be an easy night considering the child you're babysitting is less than a year old.

Garrett has a game that night at Harvard, and Paige promises she'll be able to pick you up from the nearby city when she tells you about the job.

So the clock turns to eleven, the baby's parents come home, and you expect to find Paige waiting for you outside the apartment building's lobby.

Except she's nowhere to be found.

The lobby doors lock behind you, and she isn't picking up her phone.

The bus isn't running anymore.

And Garrett is at least an hour away in Boston.

Maybe she's just busy driving.

11:20.

You sit down on the steps outside the building, glancing between your phone and the city street in front of you.

11:35.

Your body starts to shake, and your heart pounds so hard in your chest that you can feel it in your ears.

11:45.

Garrett's smiling face appears on your screen, and it takes you a long moment to muster the courage to answer.

"Hello," you say. Your voice sounds smaller than it ever has before.

"Why are you still in the city?"

You'd forgotten he could see your location on his phone, a feature you'd never particularly used before but that Garrett insisted was for safety reasons.

"I'm, uh..." You hiccup. "Waiting f-for... Paige."

"She was supposed to be there an hour ago."

Not a question.

An observation.

"Why didn't you call me? Shit. Are you just standing outside?"

"I'm sitting outside the building."

"Jesus. Here's what you're going to do. Are you listening, Bunny?"

You nod before realizing he can't see you.

"Y-yes."

"Stand up. Turn to your right and start walking."

Although your knees wobble, you manage to do as he says.

"There's a fast-food place two blocks over. You're going to go inside and sit there. Don't talk to anyone, okay?"

You do your best to avoid eye contact with everyone you pass, from the twenty-somethings enjoying their night out to the shadier characters lingering on the sidewalks.

"Okay, Garrett."

You hold your bag tightly against your side. The night air has turned frigid, and your light blue crewneck does little to keep you warm. The cold motivates you to pick up your pace.

"I'm stuck here. I don't have my car, but I'm gonna call Jules, okay? I want you to wait there for them."

"Okay. I-I'm sorry I can't do anything right."

You're close to sobbing. You want to throw up. You're embarrassed, cold, and miserable.

"You just won your game. You should b-be celebrating."

"You're okay, baby. I'm gonna make sure you get home safely. I'm not mad at you."

His voice is deep and eerily controlled.

"Are you inside yet?"

The neon sign comes into view. It's still chilly inside, but you can finally breathe a little easier when you slide into an empty booth. A few people are scattered around the restaurant, but it's mostly quiet.

"I'm inside."

"Okay. I'm gonna call Jules. Stay put, okay? I'll call you right back."

"Okay. Thank you so much."

"Yeah, of course, baby."

to be fair, this was only the second time you’d ever gotten drunk.

you hated alcohol usually, which is exactly why rafe is sure you're going to regret this in the morning.

he knew all too well that one shot alone was enough to make your face hot and your words slur together embarrassingly fast. but tonight had been your birthday. every ten minutes somebody new would appear next to you, grinning with another bottle of tequila and insisted you take another birthday shot which involved your face up and a few wasted pours dripping down your neck.

the next few rounds of that turned into rafe carrying you bridal style up the stairs of your house because he knew you'd trip if you ever tried to walk up alone.

“s’fine, rafey,” you mumble lazily, words slurrying together while you sway slightly where you stand, “jus’ go home already.”

you don’t even wait for his response before flopping backward onto your bed, limbs sprawled out carelessly against the comforter.

your head spins pleasantly against the pillows while your overheated skin prickles uncomfortably beneath your clothes. with a soft whine, you start tugging at your skirt and trying to shove it down your legs.

“whoa—sweetheart, stopstopstop.”

his hands land firmly against your hips before the skirt can move any lower, keeping the fabric bunched stubbornly around your thighs while he leans over you.

you blink slowly up at him, struggling to keep your eyes open for more than two seconds at a time. and unfortunately for your poor drunk brain, this angle is horrible for you.

because rafe is hovering over you exactly the way he does in every embarrassing fantasy you’ve ever had about him.

his broad shoulders practically cage you into the mattress while the chain around his neck dangles over your clavicle.

even in your drunk state, you notice how messy his hair is from running his hands through it all evening while trying to manage you. plus, his stupidly pretty blue eyes keep darting everywhere except directly at your chest.

“it's soooooo hot,” you complain.

“i know, baby, i know.” his voice comes out rougher than he'd hoped. he immediately glances toward the wall again before shushing you gently. “you gotta keep it down, alright? your parents are literally just down the hall.”

you nod like you understand even though you absolutely don’t.

your attention is too focused on the fact that rafe smells really good right now. his expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and the ocean. right now, he smells like every bad decision you’ve ever wanted to make in your life.

and his hands are still resting on your hips.

you squirm beneath him again with another frustrated little sound, once more trying to peel your skirt down your legs yourself.

“wanna take it off.”

“jesus christ,” he mutters under his breath.

he’s barely holding himself together. he keeps grinding his teeth and exhaling sharply through his nose every time your skirt rides up your thighs again.

he's your best friend. which means he absolutely should not be reacting to you like this. and yet he is.

it doesn't help that the alcohol in your system makes you just aware enough to notice the way his hands tense whenever you move beneath him.

you tug at the skirt again stubbornly.

“fuck. okay okay,” he says quickly, finally catching both your wrists in one hand before you can flash him accidentally. “i got it, alright? just—just let me do it for you.”

completely unprompted, you let out a soft pleased little moan while relaxing against the mattress.

his entire body goes rigid hovering over you while a slow flush crawls up the back of his neck. the universe apparently enjoys torturing him. you can physically feel the way he reacts to the noise through the denim of his jeans.

your sleepy eyes blink downward curiously.

“rafe...” you whisper, dazed.

“don’t.” his response comes immediately. with one hand still bunching both of your wrists together, he points a finger at you without looking directly into your eyes yet,

“don’t start.”

but you’re drunk enough to lose whatever tiny filter you normally have around him.

“you’re hard,” you murmur with genuine surprise.

rafe actually lets out a short laugh at that, except there’s absolutely nothing amusing about it.

“yeah, wonder whose fault that is,” he says tightly.

you stare up at him for another long second before your lips part slightly in realization.

“is it ‘cause of me?”

his head drops briefly forward while he drags a hand down his face, shoulders tense so tight they look painful.

as he looks back down at you, the expression on his face makes your stomach flip drunkenly.

“sweetheart, you are laying half naked underneath me asking if i’m hard because of you. what do you think?”

rafe had a pretty good idea why, though was still slightly confused to your sudden detachment.

he knew you were shy, practically cowering in on yourself when any attention was directed your way. he knew he was pushing you, all but forcing your hand when offering you a blunt and not wasting a minute asking are you sure? before crashing his lips into yours.

though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't growing frustrated with the sudden radio silence.

he walked through the doors of kelce's house. he'd been here a number of times, especially for events just like the one tonight.

rafe had to hand it to him. kelce knew how to throw a house party.

despite the blaring music around him and the glitter that was swarming him, all he could think of was you. he'd tried getting a hold of you on various occasions but it was as if you'd fallen off the map. he wondered why you hadn't visited sarah until he found her in the kitchen, stating that she was off to your house.

meaning you had been avoiding him. hell, you'd been avoiding tannyhill altogether.

"man, my fucking eyes." rafe actually had to hold a hand to his eyes when he took sight of topper. kelce had been trying this new thing where he added a 'theme' to each of his houseparty's. tonight's theme was glitter.

topper's face was decorated in gold glitter, swarming through the golden locks of his hair and dripping onto his white shirt. "where's your glitter?"

an annoyed squint was all he offered. "i'm not putting that shit on me."

"kelce isn't gonna be happy. we're supposed to be supporting this whole 'theme' thing." rafe rolled his eyes as topper spoke. they moved through the house, making their way to the living room where most the party was.

kelce's house was huge and the kook's sure as hell filled it.

"dude." the sight of kelce filled his vision. he was seated on the couch, his arm strewn across the back, around some girl rafe didn't care to know the name of. "where's your glitter?"

but his words fell on deaf ears.

rafe's eyes were too busy travelling across the room, landing on you.

you weren't sitting on the couch with your friends or the chairs behind you. you were seated on the carpet, hands playing with a dainty bracelet that you often wore on your wrist. rafe wondered for a moment were you messing with it to soothe the anxiety he knew was bubbling in you. you didn't often come to things like these.

you were dressed in a white, almost silverish dress with two thin straps winding around your shoulders. he swore you never showed so much skin in public, usually a cardigan drawn over you.

pink glitter dusted your hair and he could see it faintly tracing your skin along with your eyelids and your nails painted the same glittery pink.

he was almost getting sick of the glitter everywhere, but you seemed to be changing his mind on the matter.

the chatter continued through the room and they quickly turned their attention away from rafe. you, however, couldn't seem to. you felt your cheeks heat up at the mere sight of him.

how could you ever look him in the eyes again? especially after that night. you'd been so desperate, asking him with a please to kiss you. you'd rutted your hips subconsciously against him, all doey eyed and all but begging for his lips. you'd never done such a thing, acted such a way. you were sure you could never face him ever again after it.

but rafe only took that as a challenge.

you watched as he walked towards you, plopping onto the free armchair you'd chosen to sit next to. like this, he could have fooled himself into thinking you were sitting pretty on your knees for him.

"hey, sweetheart." his tone was a soft greeting, lips playing into a quirk.

a squeaked out "hi." was his response before you whipped your head away from him, turning red in the face. the colour of your cheeks almost matched the glitter in your hair.

"leave her alone." sarah was dressed in a shimmery gold dress, almost the same shape as yours. it was apparent that you'd been matching. yet she also found a way to match with her boyfriend, same golden glitter decorating her face as his did. "she doesn't need you following her around like a dog."

rafe rolled his eyes, watching his sister blow out the smoke from a blunt and pass it off to her boyfriend. it appeared as though two blunts were going around the circle gathered in the middle of the living room. most people at the party were off doing their own thing. they wouldn't dare join.

"it's―it's okay, sarah." your meek words caused sarah's brows to furrow while rafe's face only went slack, a smirk filled with pride falling across his lips.

you didn't often speak up to sarah.

but you did, for him. perhaps it was just a quiet argument, nothing extreme. but to rafe? well he thought you ought to gain a reward.

"y/n?" your eyes snapped across the room to a boy on the couch. rafe believed his name was max, dark hair and dark eyes, shorter than himself. "you want a pull?"

a breathy giggle passed your lips as your cheeks turned pink for a reason nobody but rafe knew. "no, thank you." was your gentle response.

good girl rafe uttered in his head.

as if on cue, your eyes glanced up at him where he sat on the armchair. he gave you the smallest of nods, one not perceptible to anyone but you.

and you knew as you squirmed on your knees that you'd done the right thing.

"please." a huffed laugh fell from sarah. "y/n would have to be possessed by satan himself before she'd touch weed."

again, your eyes flickered back to rafe, this time more hesitantly.

he had this amused look on his face, as if he could read you so well. and he could. perhaps that was the scary part. these people surrounding you, they'd known you for forever. sarah was your best friend, you were closer with nobody else in the world, you told her all your filthy secrets and she shared all of hers.

but rafe... it was rafe who seemed to know you the most out of everyone in the entire room.

he was aware of your filthy little secret, not sarah.

she was completely naive to you sitting in her brothers room, atop his lap, glazed over eyes as you begged him over and over again to kiss you, a blunt being passed between you two.

a shaky breath left your lips and you stood. "'m gonna go get a drink."

"there's juice in the fridge!" kelce called after you, knowing you wouldn't actually dare drink any of the other beverages he had to offer. alcohol simply wasn't your 'scene'.

apparently weed was.

you didn't actually make it to the kitchen, though. rafe stopped you in the hallway before you could, his large hand coming to wrap around your upper arm.

skin on skin.

your head felt suddenly floaty. "shit." he let go of your arm once you were backed against the wall, swallowing thickly. "there's fuckin' glitter everywhere." wiping his hands against his jeans, coating it with pink glitter.

you frowned at his words. "'s on theme." you mumbled.

you were acutely aware of how trapped you were, between the wall and rafe's towering body. you never realised how tall he was until he was so close to you. "why are you avoiding me, huh?"

you couldn't look at him. you couldn't be this close. you couldn't. you couldn't. you couldn't.

all you could think of was his hands on your waist, his lips on your own. you could have let out a whimper at the mere flashback. "'m not."

"don't give me that shit, princess." his two fingers hooked under your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at him. this is when you panicked, eyes turning wide as saucers, top lip biting your bottom, as much as he'd told you to stop beforehand. "what, you're gone all shy 'cause you knew you wanted me to fuck you, is that it?"

for the first time, words slipped so easily from you. "rafe!" hands reached up, trying to cover his mouth.

you should've known better than that, though.

his hand swiftly grabbed your wrist, pushing it downwards. you were sure it'd leave a mark by morning. in a strange way, you hoped it did. a mark of his fingers digging into your skin. like his touch would still be there by the time you woke in your bed.

"scared people'll hear, huh? scared they won't think you're the good girl you're pretendin' to be?" he tilted his head gauging your reactions. "asked you a question, angel."

his grip tightened on your wrist and you couldn't help but whimper out, "yes." aware of the many bodies surrounding you, anyone could have easily spotted you two.

perhaps that was the upside to kelce inviting every single person to have ever lived on figure eight to his house parties. they were a bunch of nobodies. they didn't know you and you didn't know them. they didn't matter. what mattered was rafe, standing right in front of you, bending down lower so his lips could reach your ear.

"worried what they think, huh? 'n 'm the only one in this whole fuckin' house who knows who you are." suddenly his fingers softened against your chin, rough hold loosening while his fingers traced gently across your cheek. "so worried about what they think of you. y'can still be my good girl, yeah?"

you swore then and there that rafe had ripped every pretty thought that had ever developed in your head.

you were totally and utterly dumb.

and all you could offer him was a haste nod.

"y/n?" rafe allowed his hands to fall away from your skin at the sound of your name being called. you blinked, trying to come back to reality after rafe had messed you up completely. you were met with the sight of max, looking dangerously between the two of you. "he bothering you?"

you looked up at rafe in confusion while the blonde boy merely made a scowl at max. "wh―no, no he's not bothering me." your voice was sickly sweet, innocence radiating off it.

you didn't understand max's intentions.

that was why you were safe with rafe, who would make sure no man ever got to act on such thoughts.

none but himself. of course.

"come outside 'n smoke a blunt with me, then, yeah?" once again, your brows furrowed at his words. you didn't really know max all that well, just that he was a newfound friend of topper's. he moved to the outerbanks not too long ago.

"dude, are you deaf?" it was rafe who responded, instinctively standing out further than you, almost as if he were shielding you from the boy. "she said no, what―five fuckin' minutes ago?"

max's eyes squinted. "listen, with all due respect, wasn't fucking talking to you."

rafe's lips quirked upwards, tongue digging into his cheek. you looked nervously between the boys. "yeah, well you're talkin' to me now. fuck off 'n find someone else to go smoke a blunt with, yeah?"

"think i'll take this one, actually." you felt the boy reach out for you, grabbing your upper arm and dragging you forward. you stumbled as he did so, his grip made from seemingly iron.

rafe's face dropped almost instantly. his eyes glared at the hand that held you. his eyes flickered up to your face, head bent, nervously biting your bottom lip while your face contorted into a kind of stinging pain. "get your fucking hands off of her."

"yeah?" max suddenly pulled you closer, hitting your back against his chest. your eyes went wide as they looked for rafe's. you wouldn't admit it aloud, but sudden white hot fear filled your chest. "or what?"

a breathy chuckle left rafe's lips as he nodded to himself. it was almost as if he were mulling a thought over. it didn't take him long to decide.

max didn't get to let out another word before rafe was throwing a punch across his face, knocking the breath out of him.

the boy stumbled backwards, shouting out a swear and clutching his face. you felt rafe's hands immediately win you back, pulling you closer to him as your breath picked up. your eyes glanced around the house, a hundred eyes suddenly all looking at you. you didn't like this. you didn't like any of this at all. and it was all your fault.

"rafe." you practically whimpered out, hand tugging at his sleeve. you could feel tears welling in your waterline. "please, let's just g―"

"take her." max was wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand. "don't fucking want the slut anyw―"

it was safe to say that max didn't get to finish his sentence because before you could do anything to stop it, rafe was discarding you. he was practically on top of max within a blink of an eye.

you called out for rafe, begging him to stop.

you didn't want any of this, and it was all your fault.

panic filled you and suddenly there was too much air in your lungs. you felt wet hot tears against your cheeks and you tried getting rafe to stop but too many people were surrounding you now, enclosing in on you.

people knew you were shy. you didn't like meeting new people or talking in groups.

but it went so much deeper than that.

the people surrounding you made your head fuzzy. the loud noises of screaming and yelling, some telling him to stop, some egging him on further. it was all beginning to get too much and you couldn't feel yourself breathe.

you only allowed yourself to leave out a breath when topper and kelce came running through the crowd, pushing people apart to get to rafe. they all but pulled the blonde boy off of max, kelce holding him by his chest and telling him to relax.

you couldn't actually hear anything, you could just see lips moving.

everything was a blur.

rafe was yelling back at kelce, half explaining-half shouting past him to max.

he didn't stop until his gaze reached your watery eyes.

"rafe!" you could hear sarah yelling from beside you. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

you wanted to stay to help the boy. oh you did dearly. he'd done so much for you already. but you were a coward and the panic in your chest, the frosty fear in your stomach. it wasn't going to simmer away while you stared at rafe, hands all bloody and knuckles split.

so you turned.

and you ran from it. from all of it. from him.

hey guys, i know i took a long time to post this one, but i didn’t really have any inspiration. i’m posting it anyway, even though i’m not sure if i like it yet, so i’m gonna need your opinions. please remember i’m not a professional writer, i just write whatever comes to my mind, so let me know what you think ♡

you can dm me on instagram : @drewiddle if you want, since i'm not good with tumblr lol.