#developer!rafe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delayeddrabbles · 9 days ago

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playing house - developer!rafe x designer!sofia x barry

part 1: quarter life crisis

plot: rafe and sofia meet at a conference and get caught up in a whirlwind romance which leads sofia to unexpectedly reunite with an old friend. cw: one night stand, swearing, alcohol, drugs. rafe is a kook asshole. 5k. not proofed. ft. Barry nb: sofia still thinks rafe is perfect and good at his job. this isn't neccessarily true so just bare with her rose tinted glasses for now.

Whether he felt it or not, Rafe Cameron made it all look so easy. He was the perfect property developer. He wove smoothly through crowds of strangers, he smiled into his sip of a cocktail as if it didn’t burn, he held eyelines and shook hands with such confidence while she hid at the bar. He knew how to network. How to joke. How to drink. God, even his business cards screamed luxury.

Everyone knew he was a nepo baby, that he'd inherited a massive fortune, and was basically three children in a trench coat and yet he still seemed to be winning them all over.

While Sofia felt like an outsider, he completely belonged. Right down to the make of his watch and it drover her mad, only adding fuel to her already raging insecurities. By the end of the week-long conference on Norfolk, Sofia was ready to give up completely.

She'd quit the property scene all together and go back to slinging drinks. A hot house flower like her didn’t belong in this sea of sharp suited white men and hardened women.

She’d built her career from the ground up. Gotten every scholarship. Every good grade. Every crappy unpaid internship. She should hate everything he stood for and yet she longed for that sense of ease.

That smooth smile. That perfect skin only money could buy. That pristine white shirt that probably sat on a rack of multiples just like it and was always pressed and dry-cleaned without having to live in fear of sweat stains or hot sauce. Those hands that had never worked a day in their lives.

Somehow she’d caught his attention. The guy who’d been slacking off the whole week seemed to lock in on the focused quiet girl with worry lines and ink stains, furiously scribbling down ever last piece of wisdom she could get.

They’d share glances in workshops when the old men accidentally made innuendos or roll their eyes when a speaker droned on and on in that stuffy auditorium. He’d linger at the edge of her peripheral vision and peek at her notes or hand back her pen when it fell. Never speaking, only flirting. A glint in his eye. A quirk of his lip. A brush of his hand.

Sofia negleted her much-needed networking to play his little game. She'd had enough small talk and trauma dumping from creepy old men to last a lifetime but flirting with her peers? That she could do.

A business card slipped in his inside pocket, deft elegant fingers mindlessly adjusting her necklace or brushing against her neck, a slightly shorter skirt, a wrap dress that would slip open. It was a welcome distraction.

The Thursday evening cocktail party was in full swing by the time Sofia had the courage to approach him. She straightened her black maxi dress and fixed her red lip. She was two wines deep and feeling the swell of Dutch courage, when she spotted those broad shoulders in the navy-blue suit and buzzed hair in a circle of aging men with glowing cigars and drunken cackles. If she could slot in beside him, she could get her face in front of those men. She could smile and look pretty on his arm and get her foot in that door.

It was a last-ditch attempt at a crumbling dream. Nothing more.

She plucked two drinks off the counter and bee-lined through the crowd.

“H-Hey…” she breathed quietly and wrapped her arm around his free one and replaced his empty drink with a fresh one with a familiar ease, as if she did this every day. “Making friends, baby?”

His blue eyes doubled in size. “H-hi” he stammered as his face spun through a whole cycle of emotions before he finally caught on and slipped his arm from hers to rest his hand on her hip and tug her close. “Have y’all met Sofia?”

“Your girlfriend, Cameron?”

Sofia fought a gleeful beam as Rafe looked to her for confirmation, that cool façade slipping for a moment in sheer panic. “It’s still new” she stepped in and offered a handshake to each of them “It’s nice to meet you”

“That was mean” he murmured against her temple, ghosting a soft kiss against her hair, as they waved goodbye to the last of their companions. His voice was velvet soft with the slightest edge of grit that made her insides molten.

Sofia jabbed him with her elbow with a giggle as his hand remained on her hip “We had to talk eventually, and I’ve been trying to get an intro with them all week”

“Who said we had to talk eventually?”

“What?” she caught a glimpse up at him with a coy smile “You were just going to let me leave tomorrow? Let this slip through your fingers?”

“I like a good simmer." he shrugged as he stayed by her side. Her jasmine perfume had soaked into his suit now mixing with the deeper cologne notes already there and filling her senses. He felt warm and solid against her as the soft lights blurred into a golden tipsy haze. "Keep the excitement going”

The grin broke into a wide beam. “You’re unbelievable”

“Not my fault you have a little a conference crush?” he scrunched his nose and let his eyes teasingly wonder the room instead of meeting her eye but despite that nonchalant pretence she could still here that soft sprig of excitement in his voice.

“ ‘Me’?” she gaped at that audacity.

“Mhm” he held firm, the edges of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“People are thinning out…”

He lifted his hand from her hip to check his watch, but she made no move to pull away from him. “And it’s only half passed nine…Amateurs” She giggled wholeheartedly with a bright smile and crinkled eyes, and something shifted in his gaze before he suddenly suggested. “Do you want another drink?”

The next two hours disappeared in a blur. He ordered a bottle of the most expensive white wine from the bar as the crowd slowly died and the fluorescent lights came on. He took her hand and ran.

Her hotel was closer and so they sat in her room and drank crisp wine and gorged themselves on room service until the suite grew quiet and cozy and dim.

His hands lingered on her hips and his chest warm against her back as she showed him her drawings splayed out on the bed. She climbed into his lap so she could see his latest blueprints on his laptop screen. His fingers ran absent mindedly through her hair as he flicked through boring tv channels. Every touch, every soft drop of their voices, every private secret shared seemed to all be heading straight for the same destination.

"I'm not sure I want to be an architect?"

Sofia lay flat on the moss green patterned carpet and stared at the ceiling as Rafe lounged, deliciously dishevelled, like some faux therapist in the vintage armchair with a blunt propped out the cracked open window.

"What are you talking about? You're talented. You're popular-"

"Yeah, but I don't know if it's for me...Like today, I nearly fell asleep in most of the sessions-"

"So did I"

"Yeah, but you were clearly hungover"

"So was half the room!"

"Yes...but you weren't exactly subtle about it"

He shrugged off that remark and Sofia scowled enviously. Of course he shrugged. What did he have to be subtle about? He could coast through his whole career if he wanted to. Never worrying that he might set a foot out of line because everything always worked out for him. He was his own boss.

"I don't need these p-people to like me"

There was something hollow in that phrase. Something forced and evasive that seized her attention. "Yes, you do. You know how to work a room "

Rafe went to speak but found no retort, blushing with a nod and she returned to her drunken spiral.

"What if...What my parents just wasted all that time and money putting me through college for a job I don't even want?"

"Then pivot" he pouted with a shrug, taking a drag from his blunt, as if it was the simplest thing in that world.

"What?"

"Just change "

"It's not that easy "

"Why not? What do you want to do?"

"Interior decorating" The words came blurting out before she could polish them. Deep down that had always been that part of the job she enjoyed but it was too girly, too “easy”, too inconsistent. Architecture was safe. Consistent. Well paid. Well respected.

"Really?” he slurred, and her gut dropped at that reaction. “You want to be at the bottom of the food chain?!"

"Yeah…It's the part I like! I'm sick of building offices and... and convention centres and toilet blocks. I want to create homes! Warm welcoming environments people actually want to live in. Not staging. Not faking it for real estate agents but actually making something together... with the client"

"That..." He'd never cared about anything that much in his life. He'd just gone through the motions. Creating a legacy and empire for the family company and its not even something he could feel true ownership over. It was Ward's. All Ward's. "Sounds great" he mumbled dejected.

Was he some kind of fraud that couldn't feel passion? Was everyone else walking around with this burning creative energy he could never replicate no matter how much he tried to play the part? Could she see straight through him?

"Yeah!” she downed the rest of her glass “Yeah, that's what I wanna do"

“So do it” he pinched his joint out and set it down before crossing the room to her. His heavy steps squeaking the floorboards and muffled against the carpet sending vibrations beneath her head. She closed her eyes and listened to that sound and felt his shadow fall over her. Cold excitement flashed through her stomach at the feeling of his eyes on her again.

Sofia grinned, soaking in the swirling giddiness of just enough wine and too much food, and offered her empty glass for a refill.

“We’re out” he murmured huskily.

With a childlike frown and pout, she opened her eyes to find him towering over her. So close. So intimate. His presence so large and looming that he blocked the light above her and twisted something deep in her stomach. Sofia’s mouth ran dry as he lingered close, his smile sloppy and lazy. His warm fingers brushed hers and he took the glass carefully from her and set it aside.

His eyes wandered over her, round cheeks flushed, dark eyes heavy and glazed, make-up smudged and oily, dark curls spread out in all directions, and a black strap fallen off one shoulder. She tried her best to not shrink beneath the weight of that stare as it sank lower, to the dip of her cleavage, the hand fidgeting at her hip, the lopsided hem around her ankles.

How did he still look so perfect when she felt so messy?

“Do…” his raspy low voice cracked for a second and she bit back a grin. While she tried so hard to remain stoic and strong she could see him grow quiet and scared, hopeful but tentative as he muttered his words as his feet before sneaking questioning glances up at her. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Do you want me to order another?”

More wine meant more talking. More skirting around what this night had become. She’d reached the end of the tales she had to tell and the things she needed to get off her chest and so there was only one thing left to do.

It was late. They were both tired and tipsy and unravelled. And he looked heaven sent with that halo of hotel lights glowing around his head. This was exactly what she needed. A mast in the storm. A stranger she could forget in the morning.

She shook her head, and she couldn’t quite tell if he relaxed or stiffen but the air shifted around him as his eyes flickered in surprise. “Yeah?” he breathed quietly.

“Yeah…”

Sofia went to get up but Rafe quickly shook his head. She paused. Her stomach tightened and her breath shuddered slightly as she clenched her fists at her side. She held his eye and slowly lay back down. Maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew here.

With his jacket and shoes already discarded and his shirt already half buttoned he already looked soft and crumpled and tactile. She wanted to grip that shirt in tight fists and run her palm over the smooth fabric hugging his ass. Yet, he stayed standing. He stayed halted in that spot when she wanted him down with her.

He dropped his steady eye contact to bite his lip for a moment, and she wanted to reach up and touch grip it between her finger and thumb. He stepped forward so one foot fell between her legs and the other to her side, his soft black socks brushing gently against her soft skin inside her calves and she swallowed thickly at that proximity.

Finally, he unbuckled his belt, and her fingers twitched enviously. He whipped it off quickly and tossed it away before his eyes found hers again. With a deep breath, he slowly sank to his knees and leaned for to rest his weight on his forearms either side of her head. True to his word he let things slow right down to almost a halt. He hovered just out of reach and watched her squirm with a victorious grin. He lowered his weight down onto her and Sofia's heart picked up pace. Rafe nudged her nose with his own and ran his fingers through her hair eyes studying every little reaction intently before he gently lowered his lips to hers.

One moment he was too far away the next it felt like he was everywhere at once consuming all her senses and Sofia’s shocked hum was muffled against his lips. He tasted like smoke and sweat and fruity notes that were more than her month’s wages.

His body melltedi nto hers. Warm and heavy. He was all smooth fabric and hard muscles and weed soaking into his skin.

As the kiss deepened the world faded into a dizzy heated haze of exploring tongues, rolling hips and quiet groans. When she found no hair long enough to cling to in the chaos, she clutched at his shirt, and he took that as a sign to whip it and his undershirt straight off.

“Shit!” she panted with wide eyes and eager hands that ran down his chest in awe as he pecked kisses across her cheek “you move fast…”

He breathed a laugh and slipped his lips down underneath her jaw. “I wouldn’t call four days fast…”

Sofia awoke in a cloud of white down pillows and puffy smooth comforters, gooey and aching and stretched.

“Hey, hey Sof…” Rafe gently shook her shoulder, but she protested with a groan at the too bright light and the too loud voice. “Hey, I’m heading out…”

“What?” she croaked.

“I’m heading down to the gym. Where’s your keycard?”

Her head spun off its axis as the alcohol and dehydration set in filling her with nausea and stabbing pain and she burrowed further under the covers. “On the coffee table…” she grumbled. “What time is it?”

“5”

“Rafe…” she groaned at the disruption “…the fuck?”

“Woke up early. Gonna blow off some steam”

She couldn’t help but grin into the pillows at that notion. “You didn’t blow off enough already?” she teased enjoying the little chuffed laugh it provoked and the pecked kiss she received on the sliver of exposed head he could reach.

“Nah, but this is normal. Not ‘bout you”

A yawn soaked into her voice slipping her back into a dreamy mumble “Are you coming back?”

“Yeah. Need anything?”

“Breakfast. You pick”

It was only ever supposed to be temporary. A nice easy fling in a random city she’d never come back to. Norfolk wasn’t exactly paradise, but Rafe had seemed to carve out a pretty nice slice it for himself at the Cavalier based on his photos.

It was insane, really, the level of expense he was willing to spend on comfort and quality. The nicest place her company would let her stay was here at the Hilton. Usually, she’d be staying at some crummy motel.

He wasn’t supposed to kiss her goodbye before going to get food. Or stare at her all the way through breakfast or sit beside her all through the final day of the conference.

They weren’t supposed to sneak back to her room instead of mingling at the luncheon and she definitely wasn’t supposed to feel a pang in her chest as the final remarks of the day ended and a sense of doom set in. She had to leave in the morning.

“I’m staying on a couple days…”

Sofia leapt out of her skin as she watched her boss disappear out to his taxi and Rafe suddenly appeared beside her.

“W-what?”

“I’m gonna stay the weekend at the Cavalier.” He lingered too close and murmured too softly Sofia couldn’t help but dart her eyes around the room to check no one was watching. His hand firm on the small of her back. His lips brushing her hair. “Then I’m off on another trip”

“Where are you going?”

“The Mediterranean”

Her professionalism shattered as she whipped around and stared him amazed “Really?!”

“Yeah. Wanna come?”

Barry Rosini had never planned to be a handy man. Like most things in his life, he’d sort of fallen into it. The army, the pawn shop, the dealing, the fishing. Now he found himself halfway between a fishing charter tour guide and a mechanics apprentice and somewhere in the mix there he’d gained a reputation for fixing things.

He had a very specific clientele. Kook old ladies who were completely oblivious to his checkered past and ex-customers stuck in a bind. Rafe Cameron was the latter.

He'd lived here long enough to know Rafe Cameron pretty well. He was the talk of the town. Most tolerated or hated him. Some feared him but Barry wasn’t among them. Barry had seen him do everything from lines off balcony railings to crying in bathroom stalls. Any illusion of him being a threat had quickly dissipated. He was chaotic, sure, but Barry was useful to him and so long as he remained useful, he remained on his good side.

Flush with cash from selling the pawn shop off to some hipster tourons, Rafe had no leverage over him now. Besides, despite his thick neck and deep scowl, Barry knew Rafe was a fragile little thing. Say just the right comment, twist just the right knife, and Barry could disarm him instantly. He knew too many of his secrets. Too many of demons. Failing that, Barry had no doubt he could put him in place if required.

Barry stayed in the cut even when his finances improved. Steadfast and stubborn to the end. He couldn’t leave the marsh behind even if he wanted to. This was home. This was where he’d rebuilt his life, and he found something to live for again.

Half the Pogues feared him and half the Kooks looked down their noses at him so where was he supposed to go? He didn’t fit in the Cut anymore but he’d be damned before he moved to Figure Eight and so he bought a small cabin on a couple acres of land and built his own sanctuary. His own empire.

It was peaceful out there among the trees and reeds and frogs. He dug a swimming hole and a built a fire pit. None of that fancy Kook shit with plush cushions around a metal brassiere or heated lanes in a pool that was tiled to perfection. He wanted it to stay rugged. He wanted it to stay wild. He fixed up the awnings and painted the shutters and built a giant live edge slab dining table with no one to sit at it. But he was happy. This is what he wanted right? For everyone who had ever been crawling all over the trailer park desperate for his services to finally leave him the fuck alone.

It was windy Fall afternoon when Rafe Cameron blew back into town like some ghoul summoned for Halloween. Smooth and dark and sharp shining teeth. The weather was still bearable, and the leaves still clung to their colour desperately as the Cut turned barren and dull.

Rafe’s groundsmen had called him out of the blue to deal with a fallen tree on the drive. A hurricane had hit the island a few weeks before, but no one had thought to fix up Rafe’s property until right before he got home. Idiots. He’d been gone all Summer. They’d had so much time to deal with this.

So, Barry found himself covered in sweat and dirt and saw dust labouring over this tree that they’d cut into pieces and lugged to the side of the drive. He was hunched over a hunk of trunk chain sawing it into more manageable pieces when Rafe’s car pulled into. White and sleek and way too fast.

Barry flinched at the gust of sawdust that flew into his face batting against his safety glasses and white mask. The dirt and tattered leaves and flecks of wood caked his face and lodged themselves in his frizzy hair.

He cursed and glared at the passing car, paying no mind to the blur of dark pink in the passenger seat. Rafe Cameron was a lot of things both good and bad, but he was exactly the kinda guy that would return from his grand world tour with a pretty girl on his arm like she was some kind of fucking souvenir.

That’s exactly what he did. Sweeping back into town like he deserved some kind of ticker tape parade and like everyone should ogle his new girl and embrace her without question. He was just like his dad in that way. Forcing his problems and his love life on everybody else.

So, Barry turned back to task, minding his business as Rafe peacocked and the girl gushed as expected, admiring the house, the sea, the yard before Rafe swept his new toy off her feet and carried her inside with light airy laughter and way too much PDA. Disgusting.

It wasn’t until hours later that Barry realised that something was off.

Tree surgery was hard work. Even in the cooler October temperatures Barry worked up a sweat and Javier invited him inside for a glass of lemonade and a sandwich rustled up by Rafe’s cook. He didn’t catch her name. Gloria. Sonya? Something like that. A sweet older Mexican woman who squeezed his cheeks and called him too skinny and ran and hid the second she thought Rafe was coming down the stairs.

All judgement aside, Rafe had a nice place. Barry had been around a few times to fix the old light bulb or AC unit when Rafe was alone and off his face. Barry had never stayed long enough to really take it in in the light of day.

White marble kitchen counters, coastal furniture that somehow still looked expensive, big bright windows with a beautiful view. The kid had done well for himself, and Barry would happily steal a few seconds of the high life from him as he sank into a black leather bar stool that creaked and twisted beneath his weight. Returning the Cut could wait a little longer.

For now, he was cool and satiated and comfortable. The chilled lemonade glided down his parched throat and soothed his rough palms, the ham and cheese grilled sandwich tasted like heaven to his expectant tongue and growling stomach. Any food was good food in his book. Like a street cat turned house cat Barry would inhale anything he was given.

Jaiver rattled away to him in Spanish about his kids’ sports games and Barry picked up most of it. He really needed to go back to those classes at the Y in Charleston. Probably the support group while he was at it but nah, they wouldn’t want to see him!

Between Javier and what’s-her-name, Barry was so surrounded by Spanish that he didn’t quite register the quiet younger voice that joined them. Some small shrinking girl, probably a cleaner, mumbled an apology in Spanish and sneaked past the cook to refill her water bottle from the fridge’s dispenser.

Barry didn’t really bother with her until the sudden clatter of metal on tile suddenly shook them all from the cozy afternoon. The girl’s water bottle hit the ground and spilled its contents, but the girl didn’t hurry to clean it. Instead, she stood frozen, empty hand clutched in a claw where the bottle had been and she stared at Barry with wide eyes and parted lips. The blood drained from her face.

“Bar…?”

His stomach dropped.

Sofia.

Tiny little Sofia Marquez was standing in Rafe Cameron’s kitchen and not in a uniform either in a blue and white bikini, with tiny sunglasses on her head, a towel draped over her shoulder and gold jewellery curling around every available surface. She looked like a Kook. Shit, she looked like-

“Ready to go?” Rafe appeared in the doorway in a white and black striped tee and his Ray Bans already on.

“Ah…” Sofia was still staring straight at Barry, and he willed her to snap out of it. To save face. To say something to do something! His stomach twisted in knots and his jaw clamped down tight. Come on, Peaches. This is gonna look weird. “Yeah” Finally she forced a bright smile and bent down to scoop up her bottle and slap her beach towel down over the spilled water in one fluid motion. “I just need a new towel”

“I have spares in the car.” Barry felt Rafe push off the doorframe and glide across the kitchen floor behind him and into the room towards Sofia and peck her on the cheek “You good?”

Barry saw Rafe’s lip twitch slightly and his eyebrows drop in surprise at the sight of him sitting in his kitchen and his head snapped towards him Javier her shrunk under the weight of that silent warning as Rafe stayed all sweetness and light for his girlfriend. Was she really the kinda girl that would fall for this shit?

“Mhm.” Sofia squeaked slightly and nodded a little too eagerly “Just knocked my drink over”

“Do I need to call you a cab?” Rafe teased against her hair and Barry bit back a grimace. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Bar?” There was a slight edge to his warm friendly greeting and his grip on Sofia’s shoulder tightened every so slightly.

“Danielle brought down one of y’ trees while y’ were gone. I’m just gonna load her up on the truck and be outta y’ hair. Unless you wan’ it?”

“Nah, central heating.” Rafe waved a casual hand over his mansion and knotted his fingers through Sofia’s and started to lead her out “No need for firewood. You sell it. You need the bills”

Barry grit his teeth at that slight, feeling the barb exactly where Rafe wanted him to. Maybe he wasn’t as cool with Barry getting out of the dealing game as he claimed. He’d been all “Sure, Bar” “Fine, Bar” “it’s just business. I get it” Fucking liar. What was this? Some kind of pissing contest in front of Sofia? Had his 30th birthday really fucked with his head so much that Rafe felt the need to punch down when he was already winning?

Maybe it had. Why else would someone disappear off for almost six months to “see the world” and then bring his vacation fling home to move in? That’s what she had to be right? Last he heard she was building skyscrapers in Chicago. What? Were people using LinkedIn for dating now?

Sofia. She was here. She was here in Kildare and staring at him with big brown eyes and a worried furrowed brow as Rafe dragged her away from. Pulling her away before he could speak. Before he could explain. Shit.

“Appreciate it” Rafe dropped two hundreds on the counter as he passed and slapped him on the back a little too harshly before the happy couple went off about their day, leaving Barry in a tailspin.

gradient: text color fader - aqua adapted (94dfdf 9ddbc6 89cfe3). dividers: @bbyg4rlhelps and @cafekitsune

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itneverendshere · 9 months ago

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you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (four)

requested here; (one); (two); three

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader(the duff inspired) word count: 5k

Why did it feel like his stomach dropped out his ass when Nate showed up?

It wasn’t like he actually expected you to choose him over Nate. The guy was practically perfect—your textbook version of what a guy should be. Clean, nice, predictable. The opposite of him.

But watching you hesitate like you were weighing your options right in front of him? That hurt like a bitch and he hated how much it did.

He couldn’t shake that look in your eyes.

Like you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore. While every time you were around, he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. It’d been like that since the beginning, even back at that party when you tossed your drink in his face after he called you that stupid fucking name. He could still remember the way you glared at him, cheeks flushed and eyes blazing. He’d been a cocky little shit, sure, but that fire in you? It hooked him.

Yeah, he liked messing with you. Always had. But lately, it didn’t feel like just messing around anymore. It felt different. It felt like he was doing it because he didn’t know how else to get close to you.

And now Nate was here, acting like he had some claim. Offering you lunch like it was some kind of test. Rafe should’ve laughed it off. Should’ve let you go. But instead, he was standing there, watching the whole thing go down, and all he wanted to do was grab you by the hand and pull you out of there. Away from Nate.

Away from all this... bullshit. There he was, full-on spiraling because of a girl. Because of you.

He knew he was developing feelings, had been knowing, which terrified him because it was unfamiliar territory—he was used to being in control and suppressing emotions, not feeling vulnerable or emotionally attached.

Because maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to be the guy you rolled your eyes at anymore. Maybe he was done playing the part of the asshole who didn’t give a fuck.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Rafe walked faster, trying to shake off the feeling. But he knew. It was the way you laughed when you were around him, even when you were annoyed. The way you always gave as good as you got. The way you’d looked at him today—like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as immune to him as you tried to be.

You were off having lunch with Nate.

The safe choice. And if there was one thing Rafe Cameron wasn’t? It was safe. And maybe, deep down, he hoped that was the reason you wouldn’t be able to walk away from him for good.

He kept walking, his footsteps loud in his head, like each step was trying to drown out the voice that was screaming at him to turn around. To go back and say something. Anything. But he didn’t. He wasn’t that guy. Not the one to chase after someone, to make a big scene. No, he was the one who sat back, arms crossed, and watched the whole thing play out like it didn’t bother him. Like it wasn’t tearing him up inside.

Rafe realized he was pissed. Not at Nate. The guy was just playing his part. But at you. No, not really at you either. He was pissed at himself. For letting things get this complicated. For letting you get under his skin the way you had.

It wasn’t like you were his. It wasn’t like he had any right to be jealous.

But damn, the way Nate had just swooped in like it was nothing, like it was so obvious you’d say yes to him. The dude barely had to try, and there you were, actually considering it. Maybe you even wanted him to. He stopped walking, running a hand through his hair, trying to clear his head.

Screw this. He needed to get out of here, away from the whole situation. Maybe blow off some steam, hit the gym, or go for a drive. But the thought of you sitting there with Nate, laughing, maybe even flirting—it was enough to make his jaw clench.

What if you were actually into that guy? What if all this back-and-forth with him was just... nothing to you? Some game you were playing because you liked the attention, but when it came down to it, you’d always pick someone like Nate?

If you picked Nate, fine. But if there was even a part of you that was feeling the same thing he was—if there was even a chance you weren’t as over him as you pretended to be? He wasn’t going to let you walk away that easily.

Not without a fight.

Rafe dug his phone out of his pocket, stared at the screen for a second. He could text you. Could hit you with some sarcastic line, ask how lunch with Captain America was going, but it felt... small. Petty. And, honestly, he didn’t want to come off as that guy—the jealous, insecure type. But not doing anything felt worse, like he was just letting things slip through his fingers.

He leaned against a nearby fence, staring off into the distance. Part of him was waiting for some kind of sign. Like maybe you’d ditch Nate and text him instead. Maybe you’d realize that this whole thing with Nate was boring, that you needed something more.

Or maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d laugh and smile at Nate’s predictable jokes, and that’d be it. You’d pick the guy, the one your friends would probably approve of. The one who didn’t make you feel like you were on a rollercoaster every time you were around him.

Rafe kicked the fence post. He hated this. Hated feeling out of control, like someone else was calling the shots. Like you were making choices that didn’t involve him.

And yet, there he was. Waiting.

He was about two seconds away from hurling his phone into the bushes when it buzzed in his hand. His heart actually stopped for a second. No way. There was no way.

He glanced at the screen, and there it was—your name, lighting up his phone.

Every instinct told him to play it cool. Let it ring a few times, don’t seem desperate. But his hand moved on its own, thumb swiping across the screen before he could stop it. He brought the phone up to his ear, heart hammering in his chest, trying to sound normal.

“Yeah?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, like he wasn’t dying inside.

And just like that, everything else—Nate, the frustration, the whole stupid back-and-forth—faded into the background. Because right now, you were calling him.

Lunch with Nate was proving to be exactly what you expected: normal. easy. boring.

He talked about his classes, his weekend plans, asked you a couple of questions about your own. And you answered, smiling, nodding, doing all the things you were supposed to do. But your mind? It was somewhere else entirely.

It was with Rafe. With the way he looked at you before he left, like he was daring you to stop him. Like maybe he wanted you to say something, anything, to keep him from walking out. And as much as you tried to ignore it, that little flutter in your chest hadn’t gone away.

“So, how’s studying going?” Nate asked, pulling you back to the conversation.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s fine. Just... a lot,” you mumbled, forcing a smile.

Nate raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the fact that you weren’t all there. “You sure? You seem a little distracted.”

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to Rafe. To the way he’d been so close to you during your study session, leaning in like he had every intention of pushing your buttons. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he’d talked about the bonfire, about seeing you as more than just someone to mess with. And for the first time, it felt like maybe Rafe wasn’t just a flirt. Maybe he was actually trying to tell you something.

“I’m fine,” you lied, stabbing at your sandwich with way too much enthusiasm.

But you weren’t fine. Not even close.

You knew why. Sitting here with Nate, everything felt... off. It was like you were trying to make this picture-perfect version of your life fit, but the edges weren’t lining up. You were supposed to want this—supposed to be happy that the guy you’d been into for months was finally showing interest. But instead, all you could think about was Rafe. About the way your heart had sped up when he looked at you, the way his voice dropped when he was being serious, when he wasn’t hiding behind that smirk.

God, why couldn’t you stop thinking about him?

Nate cleared his throat, snapping you out of it again. “You sure you’re good? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

You bit your lip, nodding, but it was like the words were stuck in your throat. “Yeah. Just... got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Like how you might’ve just let Rafe walk away.

Nate didn’t push it, and part of you was relieved. The other part? It was screaming at you to stop pretending. To be honest, at least with yourself. Because the truth was, as much as you wanted to want Nate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Rafe was the one you should’ve been sitting with right now.

And that scared you. Because choosing Rafe meant choosing chaos. It meant diving headfirst into something that had no guarantees, something that could blow up in your face. But it also meant feeling alive. Because with him, everything was more intense. More real.

As you and Nate left the sandwich shop, walking back to campus, you couldn’t help but glance around, half-expecting to see Rafe somewhere. But he wasn’t there. He was gone, and now you were stuck wondering if maybe you’d just made a huge mistake.

Nate smiled, oblivious to the storm inside your head. “So, you wanna do this again sometime?”

Your heart sank a little at the question. Because the answer should’ve been a yes, no hesitation. But instead, all you could think about was Rafe. About how you wished you were with him, laughing, arguing, feeling that electric tension that seemed to hang in the air whenever he was around.

You swallowed, forcing a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

But as the words left your mouth, you knew you were lying.

And Nate, being Nate, didn’t seem to notice. He was still smiling, probably thinking the lunch went fine, like everything was falling into place just the way he thought it should. But you? Your mind was miles away, stuck on other guy and the way he’d left without looking back.

You felt like you should say something to him, like you should be more present in the moment, but every time you opened your mouth, nothing came out.

Did you really want Nate? Or had you just been chasing the idea of him this whole time because it was easy, because it was safe? Because he was the kind of guy you grew up thinking you should be with?

But then there was Rafe. And the more you tried to push him out of your head, the more he stayed there, taking up space, making everything with Nate feel... dull in comparison.

“So, I was thinking,” Nate said, breaking the silence, “Maybe we could check out that movie this weekend? You know, the one you mentioned a while back?”

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you blinked, trying to focus. “Oh. Yeah, maybe.”

But the truth was, you didn’t care about the movie. You didn’t care about any of it right now.

“Hey, you okay?” Nate’s voice snapped you back again, his eyes narrowing in concern.

You plastered on a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah, sorry. Just... distracted, I guess.”

“Well, if you’re busy this weekend, we can always reschedule.”

“I’ll let you know,” you replied, hoping he wouldn’t push it any further.

Nate nodded, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced. And honestly?

Neither were you.

By the time you made it back to your dorm, you were mentally exhausted. Nate had left with a casual wave and a promise to text you later, but as soon as he was out of sight, you let out a long breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone like a fucking idiot. But no messages came in, no missed calls from Rafe or anyone else. It was just you, sitting there, replaying the whole afternoon in your head.

Why did everything feel so wrong with Nate? He was supposed to be the plan. He was supposed to be your choice. The easy, right choice.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts. Your heart jumped in your chest as you glanced down, half-expecting it to be Rafe. But it wasn’t. It was Nate, sending a follow-up text about the weekend plans.

You stared at the message for a long moment, your thumb hovering over the keyboard.

What were you doing? Why were you still holding onto this idea of Nate when your heart was clearly somewhere else? Somewhere messy, complicated, and... dangerous.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed out of Nate’s message and opened Rafe’s contact. Your thumb hovered over his name for a second before you hit "Call."

The phone rang once. Twice. Your heart pounded in your chest as the seconds dragged on. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you should just hang up before he—

“Yeah?” Rafe’s voice came through the line, a little gruff but unmistakable.

You froze for a second, suddenly unsure of what to say. But then you took a deep breath. “Hey, uh... you busy?”

There was a pause, and you could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “What, finally realizing Nate’s not as fun as you thought?”

“Something like that.”

There was a beat of silence, and you thought maybe he was going to tease you some more. But then his voice softened, just like it had earlier. “You wanna meet up?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Another pause, and then: “Same spot?”

You knew exactly what he meant. The library, third floor, in the corner where you’d been studying. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“See you in a few.”

And just like that, the line went dead. What had you just done?

You hung up, heart racing like you’d just agreed to do something you weren’t supposed to. But wasn’t that the whole point? This thing with Rafe—it was unpredictable, messy, and completely off-script.

As you grabbed your jacket and headed out the door, you couldn't help but feel like you were crossing some kind of line. With Nate, things were clear-cut, easy. But with Rafe? It was like stepping into the unknown. You knew there was a chance this whole thing could blow up in your face, but for once, you didn’t care.

You wanted real. You wanted fire. And right now, that was Rafe.

As you walked to the library, the campus around you blurred, your thoughts spinning back to every moment you’d had with him. Every teasing comment, every cocky grin, every time he’d gotten under your skin without even trying. Maybe you had been pretending with Nate—pretending to want something you were never actually sure about.

But with Rafe? You weren’t pretending. Even when it terrified you.

When you reached the third floor of the library, it was quiet, almost too quiet. Your footsteps echoed as you made your way to the spot you both knew so well. And there he was, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he wasn’t the reason you’d been tied up in knots all day.

You rolled your eyes and crossed the room, dropping into the chair across from him. “Don’t start,” you warned, though the edge in your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be.

Rafe’s grin widened. “What, can’t handle me being right for once?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Right about what? You being a total pain in my ass? Sure, I’ll give you that.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand like he was amused by your whole existence. “C’mon, you know why you’re here.”

“So,” you started, trying to act casual, like your heart wasn’t pounding out of your chest. “I guess lunch with Nate didn’t really do it for me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “No shit. Figured as much.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept up. “Why are you so smug about it?”

“Because,” he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table, “I knew you’d come back.”

Your breath caught in your throat at how sure he sounded.

Of course he knew. That cocky, self-assured grin of his said it all. He’d been waiting for this moment—waiting for you to realize what he had probably known all along.

And damn if it didn’t piss you off.

You sat down across from him, trying to hold onto the last shreds of your resolve, but it was slipping. Fast. Because the way he was looking at you? Like he was daring you to admit what you were really feeling—it was messing with your head.

“So, what now?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rafe crossed his arms, biceps bulging in his stupid polo, like he was giving you all the space in the world to figure it out. “That’s up to you.”

That’s the thing about him—he could act all indifferent, like he wasn’t bothered, but you could see it. There was something behind his eyes, just barely kept in check. And it wasn’t nothing. It wasn’t just some game to him. Not anymore.

But you weren’t ready to give him that satisfaction. Not yet.

“What makes you so sure I’m not just here to tell you I’m picking Nate?”

That smirk faltered for just a second. “You’re not.”

You couldn’t be.

“How do you know?”

“Because if you were, you wouldn’t have called me.”

The way he said it—so simple, so damn certain—made your heart skip. He was right, and you hated that he knew it. Hated that he had this pull on you that no one else ever had. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the truth. Not when it was staring you in the face, wearing a smug expression and leaning back like he had all the time in the world.

“What if I did?” you shot back, still trying to hold your ground.

He shrugged, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. “Then I guess I’d have to live with that. But I’m not worried.”

Lies.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You’re so damn cocky, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he said with a wink.

You wanted to roll your eyes again, to act like he wasn’t getting to you. But he was. And he knew it.

You rested your elbows on the table, your eyes meeting his. “And what if I told you I wasn’t sure? What if I told you I’m still figuring it out?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just kept his eyes locked on yours, like he was seeing right through the bullshit. “Then I’d tell you to take your time. Figure it out.”

The way he said it—so calm, so sure—made your stomach twist. He wasn’t asking you to pick him. He was daring you to. Because Rafe didn’t do half-measures. He didn’t do safe. He was all or nothing, and right now? He was putting it all on the table.

All you could think about was the way your heart was hammering in your chest, the way every part of you was screaming that this—this—was what you really wanted.

And that’s when it hit you: you weren’t scared of Rafe. You were scared of how much you wanted him.

“Rafe, I—” You stopped yourself, unsure of where you were even going with that.

His expression softened, just a fraction. “What? What do you want to say?”

You wanted to say everything. That you weren’t just messing with him anymore either, that you couldn’t stop thinking about him, that you were tired of pretending like Nate was some perfect choice when he wasn’t even in the same league. But saying all that? To someone who hurt you so much before?

He had that look, like he knew exactly what was going through your mind but was giving you space to figure it out on your own. But you weren’t sure. You weren’t sure if you were ready to say it out loud. Admitting how much Rafe meant to you felt like letting him win, like handing him all the power. And after everything, after all the back-and-forth, you didn’t want to be that vulnerable. Not with him.

“I know I’ve been an asshole,” he started, almost hesitant. “All those years, the shit I said—it wasn’t right. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve that.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He ran a hand through his hair, like he was trying to figure out how to keep going. “I just... I don’t know. It was easier to push you away, to act like I didn’t give a fuck, you know? Like messing with you made it better somehow. But it didn’t.” He paused, his voice softening. “It made me feel like shit.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You just sat there, staring at him, trying to process the fact that Rafe Cameron—Rafe—was apologizing.

He swallowed, looking down for a second before meeting your eyes again.

“I know I’m a mess. Hell, I’ve always been a mess. And I get why you’d pick someone like Nate. The guy who won’t make you lose sleep wondering what the hell is going on.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But the truth is, I fucked up. I’ve been fucking up since the beginning. With you, with us. And I hate that I did that." He pushed back slightly, running a hand over his face like he was frustrated with himself. “I’m not good with this... with feelings. With being upfront. But I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to figure it out. I don’t expect you to forgive me just like that or trust me after everything I’ve pulled. But I want you to know I’m not the same guy I was back then. It sounds fucking insane, but I’m not. I want to be better. For you. Because, fuck, I don’t want to lose you to some guy just because I couldn’t admit I was scared of this—of us.”

You bit your lip, not trusting yourself to speak just yet.

“And look, I know I’ve made it hard for you to believe me,” he said, his voice softer now, more honest than you’d ever heard him. “But you should know that you’re not just some game to me. Not anymore. You’re... everything I’ve been too afraid to want.”

The guy who spent years acting like nothing could touch him, like he was untouchable, was now sitting across from you, pouring his heart out. And you had no idea what to say.

Your mind was racing. It felt like everything you thought you knew about him, about what you were feeling, was suddenly flipped upside down. You'd always assumed Rafe would never be the guy who’d sit down and admit he was scared of something, especially not scared of you.

But here he was, looking like he was waiting for you to say something—anything.

What? What were you even supposed to say? That you forgave him? That you didn’t? That you were still figuring out how you felt about everything? You weren’t even sure yourself. But you did know one thing—whatever this was—it was real.

You couldn’t deny that anymore.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know that I’m not going to play around anymore. Not with you.”

Your heart clenched at that. And the thing was, you could see it in his eyes—he meant it. There was no teasing smirk, no cocky attitude. Just him. Raw and real and honest in a way that caught you completely off guard.

And suddenly, you realized that was what scared you the most. Not Rafe, but the way he made you feel. The way he pushed you to stop pretending, to be real, even when it terrified you.

You stared at him, feeling like your brain was short-circuiting. He was spilling his guts to you. It felt... unreal, and you were torn between wanting to laugh and maybe freak out a little.

All you could think was, How the hell am I supposed to handle this? This wasn’t what you were expecting. Not from him.

“So, what,” you started, leaning back a bit, trying to keep your voice casual, “you’re just, like, a totally different person now? Is this the part where you tell me you’ve been secretly going to therapy or something?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, but he didn’t fully smile. “No, not exactly,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But... I’ve been trying to figure shit out. With myself. With us.”

With us. Your stomach did this stupid little flip at that, but you ignored it. “That’s a big statement, Cameron. You’ve had, like, two whole epiphanies and suddenly you’ve got everything figured out?”

He sighed, “I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out, alright? I’m just trying to be honest for once. I’m done screwing around with you.”

His tone was sincere, and as much as you wanted to keep teasing him, the look in his eyes made your throat tighten a bit. You shifted in your seat, your mind running a million miles an hour.

“I mean, I guess that’s an improvement,” you muttered, keeping it light even though your heart was pounding.

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You guess?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, crossing your arms and giving him a pointed look. “You were, let’s see, kind of a dick for a long time.”

He didn’t argue. “Yeah. I was.”

That caught you off guard. No defense, no excuses. Just... agreement.

“Okay, so... what now?” you asked, trying to play it cool. “You apologize, and I just forget all the crap from before? You’re really not making this easy,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but your voice betrayed you, sounding a little too soft.

Rafe shrugged, that little smirk threatening to return. “Didn’t think you wanted easy.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep your composure. “You think you know me so well, huh?”

“Better than you think.”

Your heart raced. “Right, because I just love being confused and frustrated. It’s my favorite hobby.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Well, you could always just admit that you’re intrigued. That might save us both some time.”

“Intrigued? Please. More like I’m questioning my life choices.”

Rafe leaned forward, “Hey, at least it’s not boring, right? I mean, look at us. This is way more interesting than whatever you were doing with Nate.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “True. But interesting doesn’t mean it’s not a total trainwreck waiting to happen.”

“Maybe,” he said, “But it could also mean something different.”

“You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh?” you said, trying to lighten the mood again. “What’s next? A serenade?”

“Actually, I’m not a bad singer,” he quipped, flashing that trademark grin. “But I think I’ll spare you the performance for now.”

“Wow, I’m overwhelmed by the humility.”

He chuckled softly, “You love it. And you know it.”

There it was again—the way he said things like it was a fact, like he could read you better than you could read yourself. And the worst part? He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“You don’t know everything about me, Rafe,” you said, your voice quieter now, but not weak.

His smile softened, just barely, like he heard what you weren’t saying out loud.

“Maybe not everything. But enough to know you’re not here by accident.”

It was easier to blame the pull he had on you. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just him. You were here because something between the two of you, no matter how messy, no matter how confusing, felt unfinished.

You crossed your arms, trying to gain some control of the situation. “You’re awfully confident for someone who doesn’t have all the answers.”

“Not all of them,” he agreed, leaning back in his chair again, “But I know enough to know I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

There it was. That line you didn’t know you were waiting for. The line that said this wasn’t just some flirty game for him anymore. That maybe he was as scared of losing you as you were of admitting how much you wanted him.

And in that moment, sitting across from him, with all his defenses down and no jokes left to deflect with, you realized something terrifying: you weren’t ready to walk away either.

“Well,” you said, your voice softer, “I guess we’ll see if you’re really up for it, won’t we?”

His eyes locked onto yours, something serious flickering there for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah. We will.”

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