Midsummers
rafe x original!character
part 1 I part 2 I part 3
The next morning, Adelaide posted exactly three things to her story.
The first was harmless.
A polished family photo from the ballroom staircase. Her parents smiling perfectly beside her, silver chandeliers glowing overhead, old money elegance wrapped up neatly for public consumption.
The second photo had no caption at all.
Just her and Rafe.
Standing too close in the garden beneath the lights.
His hand at the bare curve of her waist. Her head tilted slightly toward him mid-laugh. Rafe looking at her instead of the camera with an expression that felt a little too possesive to post publicly.
No caption. No tag. Nothing.
And somehow that made it worse.
The third story was only a tap away.
A photo of her and Dean in that same garden, his hand at her waist, both of them smiling toward the camera. Another guys hand on Adelaide's waist in the Tannyhill garden.
A white heart emoji on the photo.
Simple. Polite. Intentional.
Rafe stared at that one longest.
Not only because of the picture. Mostly because they took a couples photo, acting all happy in the Tannyhill garden. The fucking nerve.
Kelce texted first, obviously.
Kelce: brother i regret to inform you that you are losing the narrative war
Rafe: kill yourself
Kelce: the no caption pic is CRAZY though
thats basically an engagement announcement in rich people language
Three minutes later:
Topper: ngl the heart emoji saved you
Rafe: how
Topper: everyone knows you two belong together
dean had to get a heart so other people wouldnt think you were her date
she should honestly apologize to him for posting him last
Rafe reopened the story again. The one with him.
Her smiling up at him. His hand on her waist. The way he was looking at her like he'd already forgotten the photographer existed.
Then his phone buzzed again.
A new message from Adelaide.
Adelaide: wanna go sailing with me? i gotta work more on my tan 💗
Rafe: you know i do
Adelaide: ill be right over 💗
Rafe: ill see you soon gorgeous
The house was quiet in that late-morning way that Tannyhill always got when everyone else had somewhere to be except him. Sunlight poured across the floors, too clean, too bright, like it was trying to expose something he wasn’t ready to name.
He changed without thinking too hard about it.
Swim trunks, white shirt half-buttoned, something expensive and unnecessary that his father would’ve approved of if he cared enough to notice. He didn’t check the mirror for long. He already knew what he looked like.
That wasn’t a problem.
The problem was the way his mind kept circling back to her. Rafe grabbed sunglasses off the counter and headed out.
The dock hit him with heat immediately, salt air, sun glare off the water, the slow creak of boats shifting against their lines. My Druthers floated there like it always did, polished and patient, like it had never once been used for anything as messy as feelings.
He stepped aboard and let his hand drag briefly along the railing as he passed. Familiar. Automatic.
Not because it needed to be perfect. Because he needed something to do with his hands that wasn’t thinking.
A few minutes later, he heard the sound of sandals hitting a sole on the dock.
Light. Unhurried.
He didn’t turn right away. He already knew it was her.
“You’re fast,” he said, finally looking up.
Adelaide was standing on the boat like she belonged there more than anyone else ever could. Sunlight on her skin already, hair in a loose braid, bag slung over her shoulder like she had stood in front of him many times before.
She smiled at him like nothing had changed since last night.
Like she hadn’t rearranged his entire sense of calm with a new guy in her life.
Rafe straightened slightly, sunglasses sliding into place as if that made him harder to read.
“You’re gonna stand there all day,” he said, nodding at her like that was the only thing worth commenting on.
And then, quieter, almost like it slipped out before he could stop it:
“You’re not being shadowed today, I see.”
Adelaide tilted her head, still smiling, but slower now. Not gone. Just… recalibrated.
“Shadowed?” she repeated lightly, stepping further onto the boat like she hadn’t noticed the way his grip tightened on the rail.
He exhaled through his nose.
“Dean,” he said, like that explained everything without needing to turn it into something uglier.
For a second, she just looked at him.
Then she set her bag down near the seating bench, unhurried, deliberate. Like she had all the time in the world to decide what version of this conversation she wanted to have.
“There’s no Dean on my Rafe day,” she said simply.
Rafe gave a short nod, like that should’ve meant something comforting.
It didn’t.
Because it wasn’t the point, and they both knew it.
She kicked off her sandals, sitting down with her legs folded under her, already tilting her face toward the sun like she belonged to it more than she belonged to any conversation they were avoiding.
Rafe watched her for half a second too long. Because she’d stepped into the part of him that didn’t know how to be convincing her that she was just a friend to him still.
Adelaide had already claimed the sun pad like it was hers.
Which, on some level, it always had been.
Rafe kept one hand on the helm, the other resting loosely nearby, eyes forward like the open water required his full attention. It didn’t. The yacht practically drove itself in this stretch. Calm seas, clear horizon, nothing to react to.
Except her.
She’d had flung her braid over her shoulder, messy and careless in a way that still somehow looked phenomenal. Lying back on the sun pad in a black bikini that made absolutely no effort to be subtle, skin already warming under the sun like she’d been built for it.
She wasn’t doing anything.
That was the problem.
Just existing there. Relaxed. Unbothered. Like she hadn’t turned his entire morning inside out with a photo order and a text message.
Rafe adjusted the speed slightly. Not because he needed to. Because he couldn’t not move.
“You had fun yesterday?” he asked, voice casual enough that it almost passed as normal.
Almost.
Adelaide didn’t open her eyes right away.
“Mhm,” she said. “It was nice. Beautiful venue really.”
Rafe exhaled through his nose, eyes flicking briefly toward her before returning to the water.
“Sure was.”
A pause.
Then, lazily: “You’re literally interrogating me from the helm right now.”
He hated that she was right.
Still.
He leaned slightly against the wheel, shifting his weight like it didn’t matter.
“Did you eat before you came out?” he asked instead.
That earned him a look. One eye open now, shaded by sunlight and lashes.
“What?”
“Just asking,” he said evenly. “Dean feed you before your tanning day or is that not part of the...” he paused, searching for the right word that didn’t sound like what it was “...routine.”
There it was. A beat of silence.
Then Adelaide sat up slightly on her elbows, studying him like she could see exactly what he was doing and was deciding whether to call him out or let him dig his own grave.
“There’s no ‘routine,’” she said finally.
Rafe nodded once, like that settled it. But he didn’t look away from the horizon.
“Right,” he said. “So he’s just… invited to Midsummers without a routine.”
Adelaide let out a small breath that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t so controlled.
“Well, we've just been taking it slow for a while.”
Rafe finally glanced back at her then.
Just for a second.
“Yeah,” he said. “Slow.”
She held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary before leaning back again, arms stretched above her head like the conversation wasn’t doing anything to her at all.
“It’s called 'testing the waters',” she said.
“Mm.”
Rafe adjusted the helm again, subtle correction, unnecessary movement.
“Hope the waters cold then,” he said.
That made her pause. Not much. Just enough.
And then, softer, still looking up at the sky:
“You’re not exactly competing with him.”
Rafe didn’t answer immediately.
The yacht kept cutting forward, smooth and expensive and indifferent to the way something tightened in his chest.
He should’ve laughed. He didn’t.
Instead, he said the only thing he could say that didn’t give anything away.
“Good,” he replied. “Wouldn’t want that much disadvantage for him.”
But his grip on the wheel stayed a little too steady after that.
Like if he let go, something else might slip instead.
Rafe didn’t answer her right away.
He just adjusted the throttle, let the yacht level out into a slower glide, then set the helm on autopilot like the open water could be trusted to behave without him for five minutes.
It couldn’t. Neither could he.
Adelaide had already turned back onto her stomach, sunglasses on again, face angled toward the sun like she’d dismissed the entire conversation as something unimportant. Something passing.
Like he was passing.
That thought alone pulled something tight in his chest.
Before he could overthink it, Rafe stepped away from the helm.
Not hurried. Not obvious.
Just decided.
He crossed the deck and dropped down onto the sun pad beside her like it had always been the plan, one arm stretching out behind him as he settled in. Legs spreading slightly without thinking, taking up space in the way he always did when something felt like his and he wanted it known.
The yacht shifted gently under them, steady and expensive and private.
Adelaide turned her head slightly toward him.
One eyebrow lifted.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Rafe leaned back against his hands, looking out at the water instead of at her at first.
“Taking a break,” he said.
“Sure,” she replied, like she didn’t believe a word of it.
A beat.
Then, quieter, almost too casual:
“You gonna tell me what ‘testing the waters’ actually means or is that just something you say so people don’t ask questions?”
Adelaide sighed, shifting slightly on her stomach, one leg bending up at the knee.
“It means I’m not rushing anything,” she said.
Rafe nodded slowly, like he was considering that.
But his eyes flicked to her anyway.
To the way she was stretched out on the Cameron boat like she belonged there. Like she belonged in sun and salt and space that no one else was supposed to take up.
Especially not some guy named Dean.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Does he know that?”
Adelaide didn’t move for a second.
Then she turned her head just enough to look at him properly now.
“You’re really curious about him today,” she said.
Rafe let out a short breath through his nose.
“Am I?”
“You are.”
Silence stretched between them.
Engine hum. Water against hull. Sun too bright to look at directly.
Rafe leaned back a little more, manspreading without thinking, elbows resting behind him now as he looked down at her properly.
Not hiding it anymore.
Not bothering.
“Just trying to figure out the situation,” he said.
Adelaide smiled slightly again, but it didn’t reach her tone.
“There’s no situation.”
Rafe’s jaw flexed.
“Right,” he said. “So he’s just… a guy your parents like. You’re just… taking it slow. And I’m just what? Curious?”
He stopped himself there.
Didn’t finish it.
Didn’t need to.
Adelaide held his gaze this time, longer than before.
Then she turned her face back toward the sun like she was done answering questions she didn’t feel like making complicated.
“You’re my Rafe,” she said.
Simple. Clean. Fatal.
And Rafe sat there beside her, staring out at the water like it suddenly wasn’t wide enough.
Because if he was her Rafe, then why does it feel like he was the only thing on this entire boat that actually belonged to her, even when she refused to say it out loud?
Rafe didn’t answer right away.
For a second, he just looked at her.
Not like he was thinking about Dean anymore. Not like he was trying to solve anything. Just… looking.
Then he leaned back further in his seat across from her, one arm draped along the backrest, posture loose in a way that didn’t match the tension still sitting under his skin.
“Your Rafe, huh?” he said finally.
Adelaide didn’t open her eyes.
“Mhm.”
That small sound should’ve meant nothing. It didn’t.
Rafe let out a quiet breath through his nose, almost like a laugh.
“Bold of you,” he said. “Considering how you’ve been acting lately.”
That got her attention. One eye opened again, slow this time.
“Acting how?”
Rafe tilted his head slightly, like he was considering how honest he wanted to be.
Then he chose the version of honesty that kept things dangerous.
“Bringing another guy over,” he said. “Considering I'm yours.”
Adelaide exhaled softly, like she was already bored of this topic again.
“What?”
“I’m just saying,” he said.
A pause.
Then he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees now, voice dropping just a little.
“Maybe I just don’t like sharing.”
That landed differently.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… direct.
Adelaide turned her head toward him fully now.
“You don't want me to have options?” she asked, more meant as playful than the serious tone Rafe obviously seeked.
Rafe held her gaze.
And then, slower than before, almost testing it himself,
“I don’t remember signing up to be the second male lead”
Silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Not easy either.
Something suspended between them.
Adelaide studied him for a second longer than usual, sun catching the edge of her cheek, expression unreadable.
Then she smiled again. Smaller than before.
More knowing.
“And what do you think you are then?” she asked.
Rafe didn’t look away this time.
That was the point.
He let the silence sit for a beat longer than necessary, just enough to make it intentional.
Then, lightly, like it meant nothing even though it absolutely did:
“Depends,” he said.
Adelaide’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“On what?”
Rafe leaned back again, relaxed now, like he hadn’t just shifted the entire temperature of the conversation.
“On whether you keep calling me yours,” he said.
Rafe held her gaze for a moment longer than he should’ve.
Then he leaned back again, like he was settling the conversation into something more casual than it actually was.
“Okay,” he said.
Adelaide glanced at him, waiting.
He nodded slightly toward her, like he was choosing his words carefully, but not carefully enough to stop himself.
“How serious is it?” he asked.
Her brow flicked.
“That’s a broad question.”
Rafe shrugged.
“Answer it how you want.”
A pause.
Then, quieter, but not less direct:
“Like… are we talking dinner dates in Charleston, or are we talking like a few FaceTimes a week?”
Adelaide didn’t respond immediately.
That was what made it worse.
The delay.
Rafe’s jaw tightened slightly, but his voice stayed even.
“I’m not judging,” he added, though it didn’t sound entirely convincing. “I just want to know what I’m dealing with.”
Adelaide finally shifted, propping herself up a little more on her elbows now, sunglasses pushed up into her hair.
“You’re not dealing with anything,” she said.
Rafe nodded once.
“Right,” he said. “So it’s not serious.”
Adelaide sighed softly.
“I didn’t say that.”
That landed heavier than anything else so far.
Silence stretched again.
Rafe looked out at the water for a second, like he needed somewhere else to put his attention before it turned into something obvious.
Then he looked back at her.
“Okay,” he said.
Just that. A beat.
Then another question, softer in tone, but more dangerous because of it.
“Have you two fucked yet?”
Adelaide’s expression changed immediately.
Not shocked.
Not offended.
Just… frozen.
Like she’d finally registered what direction he was actually pulling this conversation.
Rafe didn’t look away.
He didn’t soften it. He just waited.
Because he already knew he shouldn’t be asking.
And still, he needed the answer anyway.
"No, we haven't fucked." Adelaide answered, tone sharp.
Rafe sat there for half a second too long. Then it slipped.
The tension in his face broke, not into words, not into explanation, just… relief. Real, immediate relief.
His shoulders dropped like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it. One hand came up briefly to his mouth, pressing there for a second like he could physically contain the reaction, but it was already out.
“Okay,” he said again, quieter now. “Good.”
Adelaide didn’t move at first.
Then she pushed herself up. Slowly. Fully.
The sun pad creaked slightly under the shift as she sat upright, legs bent to the side now instead of stretched out, like the entire posture of the conversation had changed with her.
Her sunglasses came off.
Not dramatically. Just deliberate.
And then she looked at him properly.
“You’re actually relieved by that?” she pointed out.
Rafe blinked once.
“What?”
Adelaide stared at him for a second longer, then let out a short, disbelieving breath.
“You’re actually relieved.”
Rafe shifted slightly in his seat, like he’d been caught doing something he didn’t mean to be seen doing.
“I didn’t say,”
“You literally said ‘good,’” she cut in immediately.
Silence.
The engine hummed under them, steady and indifferent.
Rafe dragged a hand through his hair once, then let it fall.
“I just,” he started, then stopped.
Because there wasn’t a clean version of it.
Adelaide leaned forward slightly now, elbows resting on her knees, fully engaged in a way she hadn’t been all morning.
“So what was that?” she asked, sharper now. “You ask me something completely insane, I answer you, and then you sit there like that.”
Rafe exhaled through his nose.
“It wasn’t insane,” he muttered.
That earned him a look.
“Rafe.”
He paused.
Then, quieter, more honest than he probably meant to be:
“I just don’t like the idea of you like... fucking him.”
Adelaide didn’t respond right away.
Just stared at him. Waiting.
For him to continue.
Rafe looked away for a second, jaw tightening, then back at her again.
“And I really didn’t like the idea of you not telling me.”
That landed differently.
Not softer. Just clearer.
Adelaide’s expression shifted, less offended now, more sharply focused.
“Why would I tell you that?” she asked.
Rafe shrugged once, too quickly.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Because it changes things.”
Adelaide let out a short, humorless laugh.
“What things?”
Rafe hesitated. Just for a second too long.
Then, quieter:
“Everything baby.”
And for the first time since she stepped onto the boat, the space between them didn’t feel like sun and water and distance anymore.
“Everything,” he repeated, quieter this time.
It felt like something had finally been named and neither of them knew what to do with it yet.












