Request: first time reader calls rafe “just because” :)
Late Night Calls
Rafe Cameron x Reader
The clock on her nightstand ticked softly, the only sound in her quiet bedroom. The glow from the lamp painted the walls in a warm hue as she laid on her bed, staring at her phone like it held the answer to some great, unsolvable mystery. Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating for the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes.
She wanted to call him. God, she wanted to hear his voice.
It had only been a couple of weeks since they’d started dating—officially, anyway—and everything still felt new and delicate, like holding a butterfly in her hands. She loved that stage, but it made things like this hard. What if he thought she was too awkward? What if he was busy? What if he didn’t want to talk?
You’re just overthinking it, she told herself for the millionth time, but her nerves didn’t care.
She chewed her bottom lip, staring at the contact photo she’d saved for him—one she had secretly stolen from his Instagram before they were even a thing. He looked so effortlessly confident in it, sun-kissed skin and a cocky smirk that screamed Rafe Cameron.
Taking a deep breath, she locked her phone and tossed it aside. She sighed feeling as if the phone was staring holes into the side of her face.
Two seconds later, she picked it back up.
Her heart hammered as she pressed the green call button before she could talk herself out of it. The ringing tone filled her ear, and every nerve in her body went on high alert.
One ring. Two rings. Three—
“Hello?” His voice was smooth, a little lazy like he hadn’t expected the call but wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest.
Her breath caught. “Um… hi.”
A pause. Then, warmth. “Hey, sweet girl.”
The way he said it made her stomach flutter. He sounded amused—soft, but teasing, like he already knew she was a little flustered.
“Hi,” she repeated, quieter this time. Her fingers twisted in the edge of her blanket.
“You okay?” There was curiosity in his tone, not worry—just that effortless drawl he carried with him everywhere.
“Yeah, I—” She swallowed, nerves bunching in her throat. “I just… called.”
“You just called?” He chuckled, and she could practically hear the smirk through the line. “No reason?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Yeah. Just because.”
For a second, there was silence. Then his laugh came through, low and warm. “You’re cute, you know that?”
Her face burned even hotter, like her cheeks were on fire. “I—”
“What are you doing?” he cut in gently, his voice soft in a way that felt like he was afraid to spook her.
She glanced around her dimly lit room, even though he couldn’t see her. “Just… in bed. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Couldn’t sleep, huh? So you called me.” His tone had that smug edge, but not sharp—playful, teasing—just enough to make her heart stumble.
“I—don’t make it sound weird,” she protested, a laugh threatening to slip out.
“I’m not,” he said, low and easy. “I like it.”
That shut her up. For a moment, the only sounds were his slow breathing on the other end and the faint hum of crickets from wherever he was. It made her stomach flip, knowing she was sharing this quiet with him.
“What about you?” she asked finally, voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m outside,” he said. She pictured it instantly: him sprawled in one of those big chairs on the Tannyhill porch, long legs stretched out lazily, phone in one hand, hair a little messy. “Just smoking. Watching the stars.”
She smiled at the image, her chest warm. “That sounds nice.”
“It’d be better if you were here.” The words rolled off his tongue so casually, like they meant nothing—yet they sent her pulse racing.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile. The silence stretched, heavy and sweet, and she knew he noticed. Of course he did.
“Cat got your tongue?” His voice curled through the line, teasing but soft, almost coaxing her to speak.
“No,” she mumbled. “Just… you make me nervous.”
That earned her a low laugh, warm and a little surprised. “Nervous? Baby, I’m the one sitting here wondering what I did to make you call me out of the blue.”
Her heart gave a sharp little jolt. “I told you. Just because.”
“Mhm.” He sounded unconvinced, and she could practically hear the smirk tugging at his mouth. “You missed me.”
She froze, heat flooding her face, then groaned softly into the phone. “Rafe…”
“It’s okay. I missed you too.”
Her breath hitched at how easily the words slipped from his mouth—apparently it was the most natural thing in the world for him. No hesitation, no second thought. She didn’t know why it surprised her. That was Rafe. Confident. Direct. Always saying what he wanted without flinching.
“Really?” she whispered, unsure if she even wanted the answer because her heart was already doing somersaults.
“Really,” he said, and this time his tone dipped lower, slow and deliberate, like he knew what it did to her. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. “I like hearing your voice. You don’t call me enough.”
Her cheeks were bright red by now, and she rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like it could help her answer without sounding so nervous. “We text all the time.”
“Texting’s not the same.” The way he said it—firm but soft, like a secret—made her chest feel tight.
There was a pause, and then he added, voice curling warm and teasing through the line, “You sound cute right now. All quiet. Bet you’re hiding under the covers, huh?”
She buried her face into her pillow like he could somehow see her through the phone. “Stop.”
He laughed, low and easy, and it did something to her—like sunlight slipping through the cracks of a unlit room, filling her chest with warmth she didn’t know she needed. “Shit, I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Maybe,” she admitted finally, and that earned her another laugh, louder this time, the kind that made her smile without meaning to.
After that, the nerves faded and they slipped into an easy rhythm, talking about everything and nothing. He asked about her day, and she told him the little things—what she had for dinner, the song that had been stuck in her head, how her mom burned the toast that morning and tried to play it off like it was “extra crispy.” He listened like it mattered, throwing in comments that made her laugh softly into the dark.
Then he told her about his day—golf with Topper, an argument with Ward that he brushed off like it didn’t matter, how Wheezie had stolen his hoodie and refused to give it back. She could hear the faint smile in his voice as he talked, and with every word, her shoulders sank deeper into the mattress, her nerves melting away until it was just them, two voices in the quiet.
“Hey,” he said after a while, softer than before—so soft it made her heart squeeze tight.
“Yeah?”
“Call me whenever you want, okay? Doesn’t have to be a reason.”
She smiled into the pillow, biting her lip to hold back the warmth blooming in her chest. “Okay.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Good.” He paused, and in the silence, she caught the faint metallic click of a lighter, followed by the soft crackle of flame. Then his voice came through, lower, rougher, like the smoke itself. “God, I wish you were here right now.”
Her breath hitched, sharp and unsteady. She didn’t even have time to respond before he kept going, words sliding out slow, like he wanted them to sink in.
“You’d look real good in my sweatshirt,” he murmured, voice edged with that lazy confidence that made her pulse skip. “Sitting on my lap while I smoke.”
She made a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and his name. “Rafe—”
His chuckle was low, deep, curling through the line like smoke. “Relax, sweetheart. Just saying.”
But there was nothing casual about the way her heart wouldn’t calm down after that—thundering so hard she could feel it in her throat. Not even when the conversation slipped back to safer ground, like nothing had happened. They talked for hours after that, letting time stretch and bend until it didn’t feel real.
At some point, she yawned, soft and unintentional, but he caught it immediately.
“Tired?” he asked, voice softer now, like the night was settling into his bones.
“A little,” she admitted, shifting under the covers.
“Don’t hang up,” he said quickly—so quick it almost sounded like he’d been holding it in the whole time.
“I wasn’t going to,” she whispered, smiling into the dark.
“Good.” A pause, quiet and heavy, and then his voice came again, lower than ever. “Stay with me until you fall asleep.”
Something in her chest melted at that. “Okay.”
She curled deeper under her blankets, phone pressed close to her ear, every nerve tuned to him. His voice dropped into something slow and honey-thick, like the night had pulled all the sharp edges out of him. He talked about random things-anything he could think about— and she listened, eyes slipping closed, letting the sound of him fill the quiet spaces of her room.
Warmth pooled in her chest, heavy and sweet, as sleep began tugging her under.
“Hey,” he murmured after a while, his voice curling around her like a blanket. “You still with me?”
“Mhm,” she breathed, barely awake now.
“Goodnight, pretty girl,” he said, softer than she’d ever heard him. “Sweet dreams.”
The last thing she heard before the world went dark was the low hum of his laugh and the faint sound of him saying her name like it was his favorite word.
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