7-deadly-cats-updates

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

·.✿ KMS COLLECTION — TEEN!RAFE’S HOBBIES // HEADCANONS

S I D E C O L L E C T I O N | K M S M A S T E R L I S T

these are headcanons related to my killing me softly series but this post can still be read as a standalone

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ some of these are pre!kms!reader, hints at an ed, mention of coke addiction, depiction of a stupid / reckless / immature teenage boy (character only, NOT endorsed) based on my own irl experience w an ex guy friend that was literally him aka pls don’t cancel me this is just how i perceive teen!rafe in all honesty 😭

✿ A / N ✿ based on this ask. idk if this is what you had in mind but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless. this is mostly how i see kms!rafe but i also feel like most of these definitely fit canon!s1!rafe. definitely wanna do more of these (even a part 2 of his hobbies & habits), had sm fun with this little exercise, and i hope you also see these fitting him hahahah so lmk your thoughts 🩷 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

Rafe doesn’t read. Not truly, at least. He doesn’t have the patience or motivation to sit down with literature, and in his head it’s a “girl hobby” anyway. Comics are different, though. The gorier and more action-packed, the better. Deadpool, The Boys, anything with violence, questionable humor, and blood. And, of course, his hormonal brain soaks up all the exaggerated visuals—the over-the-top characters, the “cool” guys with witty remarks, even the way women are drawn with exaggerated bodies (he’s a stupid teenager okay).

He’s a visual learner through and through. He picks things up by doing them, not by sitting around memorizing from books. No endless note-taking, no flipping through textbooks. If it interests him, though, he’ll master it frighteningly fast. That’s why he’s good at math, economics, and finance aka the things that actually capture his attention.

Writing? Uh, yeah, no. Rafe isn’t the type to journal or do anything remotely creative on paper. Too much effort, too cringe in his eyes. He probably tried it once and wrote down one single poetic line like “I’m pissed” and then got such secondhand embarrassment he threw the notebook in the trash and burned the whole thing. We know this idiot is bad with words, and VERY bad at expressing himself, so this activity frustrates him more than it helps, so this is off the table.

He channels his emotions through physical outlets instead. Rafe is action-oriented to the core. Sports, hands-on hobbies, anything that lets him move.

Golf? He only does it because it’s the ultimate Kook sport. And let’s be real, his impatient ass hates it: too slow, too boring, and way too polite. But he sticks with it because, well… it’s what people expect (ahem his dad ahem) of a Kook boy like him, and he can’t exactly skip the country club aesthetic.

Out of all the country club activities, though, tennis would probably be his thing. Fast, aggressive, sweaty, way more his speed than golf. He plays completely on impulse, taking wild risks and smashing shots without thinking… and somehow it works. He just trusts his instincts, moves with the game, and somehow stays one step ahead, even if it looks like chaos to everyone else

He also kind of fell into volleyball after Wheezie joined a school club. He’d never actually commit to a team like her, but beach volleyball? Yeah, that’s fun. Plus, girls in bikinis? Boy is locked the fuck in. He’s definitely the ace/outside hitter—serving would piss him off too much if people missed his shots (“you fucker miss my serve one more time and you’ll be catching something else”) and playing defense? Way too boring for his taste.

Rafe’s favorite movies are the ones that keep him entertained. No “deep” or “artsy” stuff (he’ll literally walk out if he’s bored). Comedy, ridiculous parodies like Scary Movie, or anything loaded with action and violence are his thing. He loves brutal movies, but also unfortunately leans into those questionable “alpha male” movies, or movies with questionable portrayal of women because his underdeveloped teenage brain ate that stuff up.

His Letterboxd top-rated would probably look like this: Bullet Train, The Spongebob Movie, Wolf of Wall Street (obvious reasons), Deadpool, American Psycho, Fight Club, Tropic Thunder, John Wick, and 21 Jump Street.

TV shows are a hit or miss. His attention span isn’t built for long dramas, so he’s into stupid, cartoonish stuff. Family Guy, South Park, Rick & Morty, SpongeBob. Basically anything that makes him laugh or distracts him for 20 minutes.

He only started going to the gym because Kelce hyped him up. Before that (like around 9th grade), Rafe just had an average teenage boy body. Definitely well-fed—not chubby exactly but like a little softer around the edges—thanks to the family housekeeper’s cooking and his love for snacks.

Once the gym phase started, he focused hard on arms and abs (stronger punch and better defense in stomach area). Kelce became his silent role model, even though Rafe would never admit it out loud. He leaned out, got more toned and fit, but it definitely wasn’t a healthy journey the whole way through.

During his cut, his coke usage combined with appetite loss almost pushed him into a dangerous spot weight-wise. Mentally, he wasn’t in the best place either because of his mom’s death BUT Kelce definitely looked out for his buddy and forced him to eat here and there, and little Wheezie definitely noticed and kept sneaking snacks into his bag, attaching them with sweet little notes.

He is the kind of person who eats the same 3–4 meals over and over. Not because he’s picky, but because he can’t be bothered to think about variety. Breakfast is either nothing, a protein bar, or an energy drink. Lunch and dinner? Something the housekeeper cooked. And at restaurants he rarely tries out new stuff.

Gets obsessed with things in phases. One week it’s golf every day, the next it’s poker nights, then suddenly he’s binging a dumb cartoon until 4 a.m. Then he drops it and never touches it again. Rafe needs that constant shift of focus, otherwise he gets bored out of his mind. That boy can’t stand routine for long, so if it’s not giving him enough stimulation, he’ll move on to the next thing that does because his attention span is wired for intensity, not consistency.

Next big hobby after sports, partying, and coke, is gaming. He’s definitely a PlayStation guy because Xbox? Nope (“only for gay dudes”). Nintendo? Only Pokémon and Mario Kart make the cut. Like everything else in his life, games need to be fast, competitive, and entertaining. He doesn’t touch slow or “boring” games like Animal Crossing or Zelda. Rafe thrives on games where he can show off, especially online: Fortnite (the boy could build a five-star hotel in seconds and snipe someone from across the map), Call of Duty, Rocket League, and of course racing games.

Considering his temper and aggression, he’s a definite rage quitter. Voice chat is always on, so everyone (aka poor 13 year olds) knows exactly how fucking shitty they’re playing. He’s not proud of the horrible slurs he’s thrown out in the past because there was even one (1) time, around 14, where some very out of pocket slur slipped out when he cursed a guy in his team. Kelce shut him down so fucking hard that Rafe was silent for the rest of the game, and afterwards he desperately tried to make it up… by gifting Kelce dozens of V-Bucks. Stupid idiot doesn’t know how to say “sorry,” but figures action speaks louder than words.

Of course, after he met you, a lot of these bad habits started fading fast. The slurs, the rage, the way he looked at women, they didn’t vanish overnight, but being with you gave him something he’d never had before: someone patient enough to take the time to teach him better, someone who challenged him to actually think before acting. Through you, he finally had a guide to show him how to channel his energy in healthier ways, and slowly, that dumbass starts slipping out of the reckless, toxic teenage boy into something healthier and more mature.

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

(taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff)

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[7-deadly-cats-updates]

// (KMS) ANNOUNCEMENT

for ALL readers: i might be a lil mia here and there bc i'm going on vacation this week for two weeks, but i’ll still be around to answer asks & interact whenever i can <3

for my kms readers: i know chapter 26 is coming up and it’s super anticipated (yes, the sleepover 👀) — i’ve already sat down to brainstorm a bit, but there’s a good chance it might only be uploaded in like three weeks. i probably won’t have much time to write while i’m away, and i really wanna do this chapter justice because i’ve been waiting for this sleepover since the very beginning 😭 not putting pressure on myself, just letting you guys know that if it doesn’t drop this week, it’ll most likely go up after i’m back 💌

i still wanna keep posting content while i’m gone, maybe even a kms (smau) extra or a tiny smau fic if time allows ✨

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

killing me softly | 25

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinker!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, horny!rafe (standard by now), jealousy and hints at possessiveness, reader kinda going crazy for rafe (slowly but surely), suggestive reaction pics, mention of coke addiction

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ // only read if you've read the reworked ch. 24 !

during a morning facetime, rafe calmed your fake dating anxiety. both of you posted private stories of it. cara picked you up and freaked out when you told her about the pavilion night and your “date” (aka sleepover) with rafe, making sure you were ready for your first time—which only made you panic more. she also casually mentioned giving topper head. at school, people were staring—probably because of rafe’s soft launch post. you texted him about feeling weird being perceived. in geography, you and molly planned a yacht setup for the “date night.” before lunch, rafe offered to calm you down but you got dragged into a convo with his fratboy party friends caleb and peter, who threw shade and made misogynistic comments. rafe stood up for you, ready to fight, and after peter said something unhinged, you slapped him. you had a panic attack after and hid in a study room. rafe awkwardly tried calming you down with some kiss method from teen wolf. you pushed him away, but it weirdly helped. after warming you up w a hug, you gently called him out on his behavior and phrasing during the fratboy convo and the way he talked about girls. he was confused at first but listened. instead of lunch with your friends, he took you out to apologize and suggested calling it a (fake) date—while dropping mixed signals about not wanting it to be fake. you agreed on “friendly lunch” but for the first time, wondered if he might actually like you more than just friends

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ lots of smau + 13k written story

✿ A / N ✿ help the smau parts start getting longer every chapter but i just can't help myself, sooo i hope you guys don't mind hahahaha. also, i know it's a rather "simple" chapter with not much happening but i tried incorporating many small little funny moments. i hope you guys enjoy and as always lmk your thoughts <33 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

// PLEASE CHECK IF YOU HAVE READ THE REWORKED KMS 24 CHAPTER.

// if you haven't, i'd highly advise / ask you to go back and reread the 2nd half (after the last chat pic) bc i made DRASTIC changes to it (1st half is the same)

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K T W O // T U E S D A Y 1 1 : 3 5 A M

"You okay, baby?" Rafe asked as you shoved your phone back into your bag with a deep frown, throwing you a more or less concerned look while cutting himself another slice of pizza.

Literally every time he called you baby, beautiful, pretty, or GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE, your heart skipped an actual beat and your stomach did THAT thing.

Which, fun fact, the second you’d stepped into Dolce Divino, he’d thrown away the whole boyfriend persona and switched into some weird-ass bro personality.

Why? You had no fucking clue, but you assumed it had something to do with him being salty that you’d turned down his date idea—aka him wanting to pretend the fake act was fake, which basically meant he’d suggested a real date, which still meant it was fake because he wanted to pretend— HONESTLY YOU COULDN’T EVEN FOLLOW YOUR OWN THOUGHTS ANYMORE.

He’d just scrambled your brain completely with his mixed signals before you even got to the restaurant.

First the hand-holding off school grounds, then him joking about the slap “stirring up feelings” in him so that’s why he wanted to kiss you, and his Oh, you think we’re acting right now? LIKE BOY THIS ISN’T FLIRTING. THIS IS STRAIGHT-UP PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE.

And then obviously the whole “cut the fake” from the fake dating so he could have a real first date for once, which had nearly sent you spiraling into another panic attack. And now this extreme friend act WHICH HADN’T EVEN BEEN AN ACT BECAUSE YOU WERE FRIENDS BUT—

Yeah, didn’t matter anyway because the second the cute waiter had shown up, Rafe was back on his full-time job (“One table for me and my girl,” “Baby, you order first,” “And another water for my girl”). Oh, and obviously, his hand that had been resting very platonically on your upper back suddenly dropped to your waist the second the waiter intercepted you two.

Also, crazy thing: they’d actually let you in despite you two not exactly fitting the upscale vibe with your casual school outfits, but apparently, some friend of Rafe’s uncle worked here or whatever, and you even got a nice table outside.

Again, not him flexing his contacts but—

“The love of your life is sitting across from you and you’d rather entertain some fuckass minion in your head,” he said, raising his brows in mock-disbelief. “Wow.”

BOYYYYYYYYYYYY.

Instantly, your neck heated up, another laugh slipping from your lips but this time a LOT more nervous because… OBVIOUS REASONS, HOLY SHIT.

You shook your head, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. “No, sorry, just thinking.”

“No shit,” he said, stabbing a small piece of pizza with his fork. “But what’s up? What’d your crazy-ass friend say?”

You poked at your almost-empty pasta bowl, grimacing. “Apparently, people are already talking about the slap.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He swallowed his bite, brows furrowing. “Fucker deserved a good beating, not just a slap.” A sly grin tugged at his lips. “Though that shit was crazy hot, just saying.”

DUUUUUDE.

This was like the fourth time he’d said that and you still didn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned about Rafe getting turned on by violence hahaha.

You exhaled, scrunching your nose. “This isn’t funny, Rafe.”

“You think I’m joking?” White teeth flashing you an almost excited smile, he gestured to his face. “Have you seen his expression? Shit was priceless. And the way he—” He stopped himself, his joy fading a little. “That about the perceiving thing you mentioned earlier?”

The fact he remembered and connected it to your current mood was remarkable—and honestly ridiculously sweet—because he always caught on so fast (LIKE, IT WAS CRAZY HOW WELL HE’D LEARNED TO READ YOU IN LESS THAN A WEEK).

Twirling some noodles around your fork, you nodded. “Yeah. I just…” You scowled, staring into your bowl. “I don’t like being the focus of attention. Especially not when it’s gossip.”

“Thought you didn’t care about that shit,” Rafe said, confused.

You grimaced, meeting his eyes, voice going slightly flat. “Yeah, well, turns out I do. No one likes being the center of gossip, shit talk, or twisted stories.”

“Okay, listen,” he said, wiping his fingers on the fancy branded napkin that probably cost as much as the pizza, a crooked smile tugging at his face. “Any fucker or bitch—and I’m allowed to say it because girls talking shit about you are exactly that—who even thinks about running their mouth with bullshit, I’ll nicely put in their place, alright?”

He shrugged, frowning. “Besides, I doubt anyone has shit to say about you anyway. Look at you.” He gestured toward you with both hands. “You’re sweet, polite, and drama-free. Not some bickering gossip bit— chick who sticks her nose in every little thing. Even my comment section is glazing you.”

“What?” A disbelieving laugh slipped out.

“Shit, yeah, haven’t you seen?”

You shook your head, smiling sheepishly. “I kinda avoided it for my own sanity.”

Uh, yeah, because getting soft-launched by Rafe Cameron while flying under the radar… with the drama-obsessed people at this school? Yeah, it was just safer to avoid whatever chaos was brewing in the comments.

“It’s me they’re throwing shade at.” Rafe scoffed, gesturing from his chest to yours. “You’ve got, like, one shit-talking comment and that’s from Amelia. I would’ve told her to shut the fuck up, but she’d probably take it as flirting.”

Great. Not only had his ex-whatever-girlie Gracie somehow resurfaced, but now Amelia too. And this bugged you a whole lot more than it should’ve.

ESPECIALLY BECAUSE YOU WERE HIS NEW GIRLIE—UGHHHHHH YOU HATED DRAMA LIKE THIS.

“Go on,” he said, nodding toward your bag. “Look for yourself. C'mon, don’t look at me like that, I just want you to see you’ve got nothing to worry about. People see you exactly as you are. Perfect.” He tapped his temples. “It’s just those little fuckass minions in your head feeding you bullshit again.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. It wasn’t that you were hesitating to check the comments because you didn’t trust him—you trusted Rafe enough to believe he was telling the truth—it was that he’d called you perfect again. First over text, now to your face, like THIS MAN DID NOT HOLD BACK WITH THE COMPLIMENTS.

AND IT WAS DRIVING YOU FERAL (internally, of course, because all you managed outwardly was some flustered, awkward smile).

“Okay, fuck that. Here.” He slid his unlocked phone over to you, gesturing at it. “I want your minions to see.”

You hesitated, glancing from the phone to him. His trust in handing you his phone startled you just as much as the first time. But then you grabbed it before the screen locked, eyes falling on the already-open comment section of your soft launch post.

You only scrolled through the first few—because there were like a hundred, HAHAHAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK—

Okay, four things:

Not Reggie asking if you’re bisexual—HELP—so her asking to hang out without Cara like fourth times HAD been some indirect move??? um… guess too late now???

NOT THAT SABRINA COMMENT LIKE JESUS CHRIST—THE IDEA OF BEING ON TOP OF RAFE—NONONONONO NOT NOW (also, why the fuck did it annoy you so bad when this one girl claimed he was bad in bed??? HAHAHA were you insane for defending your fake boyfriend in your head when YOU DIDN’T EVEN HAVE SEX WITH HIM? maybe)

Amelia shut the fuck—

WHAT WAS UP WITH JJ HOLY FUCKING SHIT?! Like, no way he was serious, you KNEW he was joking, probably trying to rile Rafe up BUT STILL WHY DID THIS MAKE YOUR ADRENALINE SPIKE A LITTLE HAHAHAHA

…oh, five things.

After that horrible misogynistic fratboy run-in earlier, it was actually refreshing to see guys taking your side for once—AND KIND OF IMPLYING RAFE GOT LUCKY WITH YOU OH MY GOD.

Yeah, so this Tuesday almost topped yesterday in terms of mind-blowing events (though honestly, nothing would probably EVER top the pavilion night, be for real), because you genuinely hadn’t expected so many positive comments. Or rather, such a lack of shade and hate.

Maybe KA was finally crawling out of its reputation as that drama school.

“So?” Rafe asked, raising his brows. “Minions chilling their asses now?”

A soft laugh escaped you, but it died in your throat when the black screen suddenly lit up from FaceID activating mid-motion.

AND. OH. MY. HOLY. FUCKING. GOD.

THAT’S.

ME.

THAT’S FREAKING ME. OH MY HOLY GOD.

RAFE CAMERON HAD YOU AS HIS LOCK SCREEN. HAHAHAHAHA. COOL COOL COOL COOL COOL COOL.

I’M FINE. I’M COOL. I’M COMPLETELY CHILL AND NONCHALANT AND—

“You have me as your lock screen,” you blurted out, smiling sheepishly as you looked up, meeting his blue eyes with such a rush of adrenaline you were sure he could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks across the table.

Rafe’s brows twitched, then he nodded. “Yeah? You’re my girl. Would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t, right?” His lips curled into a cheeky smile. “Plus, it’s the only memory I have left of my hoodie.”

JESUS CHRIST. HE WAS REALLY COMMITTED TO THIS ACT LIKE HE WAS TRYING TO WIN AN OSCAR.

You slid the phone back over to him, smiling awkwardly. “If you want it back—”

“Nah,” he immediately cut you off, waving a hand dismissively as he set his phone aside. “Looks better on you anyway. And I assume it’s covered in Taco’s fur by now. Don’t need that crap infiltrating my closet.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, but that can be washed off. I mean—”

“Keep it.” Without giving you a chance to argue, he added with a faint frown, “Why’d you react so surprised, anyway? Don’t you have me as your wallpaper, too?”

Um…

“I only have like one good picture of you,” you admitted, an awkward smile tugging at your lips. “From the open-air movie night.”

The others were just weird-ass selfies in which he frowned.

His dramatic ass looked offended (very much just like the selfies). “So why not use it, huh? You ashamed of—”

“You’re flipping Topper off in that picture,” you said flatly. “I don’t want to see that every time I open my phone.”

Rafe scoffed, pulling his wallet from his pants. “Wow. I see this is a very one-sided relationship.” Then he gestured to the waiter for the check.

Your smile faltered. Sure, his voice said I’m just messing with you, but his body language… yeah, it told a slightly different story.

And the worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

Rafe was way more committed to this whole fake dating thing than you were. Not that you had to put in effort outside of school or anywhere where the act didn’t matter, but still…

He actually seemed to be having fun—or at least trying to make the best of it—despite the grim reason for it. And did he care that he was sending massive mixed signals? That he might be dropping hints he liked you more than you thought?

Nope.

You, on the other hand, were too scared to flirt back. You’d never truly initiated any physical contact or made a move in this whole fake dating setup.

Sure, you’d had the guts to fully cuddle up to him on Sunday night, but other than that… Rafe was always the one starting things.

You were scared he’d think any touch, word, or gesture meant you liked him—which you DID. Worse, you were pretty sure you were falling hard. And wasn’t the point of having a crush for them to eventually figure it out?

UGHHHHH.

And Rafe showed signs—clear as day—that he liked you. At least as a friend, and definitely physically.

So what the fuck was stopping you?

Oh, right. The crippling fear of rejection. HAHAHA.

But fuck that.

Instead of being scared to show feelings, why not just start matching his energy? Last night’s suggestive pics had felt good. Fun, even.

And maybe, if you treated this fake dating like a fun little activity, you’d come out of your shell more.

HAHAHAHA. EASIER SAID THAN DONE.

Okay. Brain off now for real.

So, after Rafe paid—refusing to tip the waiter because, “Not paying some fucker for throwing my girl heart-eyes”—you tried to ignore the disappointment when he didn’t reach for your hand. Probably still fake-offended about the wallpaper thing.

So you did it yourself. AWKWARDLY. REACHED OUT AND GRABBED HIS HAND.

HELP.

And he looked at you SO BAFFLED, like actually perplexed for a solid second before his expression morphed into the cockiest grin imaginable, fingers intertwining with yours like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And before he could throw some wildly suggestive comment at you—or a casual “I’m turned on right now”—you smiled sheepishly, gathered all your courage, and said, “This is not a one-sided relationship.”

And since you were already in too deep—FINE—your thumb brushed softly over his.

You expected a smug remark or cocky chuckle, but instead, his whole expression melted into something so raw and boyish it made your chest ache.

HAD NO ONE EVER SHOWN THIS BOY REAL AFFECTION BEFORE?

How would he even react to genuine cuddles? Or soft kisses? Or scalp massages? Or—

“Shiiit,” he chuckled, smug mode returning. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze as you stepped back onto the main street. “No need to throw your whole self at me.”

BRO.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to come across as cold or deflecting." You blinked, realizing how that sounded dangerously close to talking about your actual feelings, and quickly added, “I mean, in our friendship as well.” As well? Ugh, girl. “I just—”

“I get it.”

Your eyes widened slightly, brain still buzzing from the skin-on-skin contact. “Really?”

“Nah,” he said, chuckling, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “But I get you’re a laid-back person. So I guess that applies to how you express yourself, too, right?”

Why did he say he didn’t get it when he totally got it?

You nodded. “I just need some time to fully warm up.”

“Don’t worry,” he grinned so cocky you would’ve frowned if it didn’t fit his face perfectly. “I’ll help you warm up later when you’re pressed against me again.”

THIS MAN COULD NOT GO TWO SENTENCES WITHOUT MAKING IT SUGGESTIVE.

BRAIN OFF. BRAIN OFF. BRAIN OFF.

Except your stomach flipped every time he said something like that. And your chest ached for tonight’s sleepover. Doing his makeup, cuddling, sleeping in the same bed…

SAY IT. SAY IT SAY IT SAY IT—

“Or you against me.”

Rafe stopped dead in his tracks. His grin dropped into the most baffled, stunned, what-the-hell-did-you-just-say expression you’d ever seen. Big blue eyes blinked at you, wide with disbelief, like you were some ancient treasure he’d just stumbled across.

YOUR FACE INSTANTLY HEATED UP AND YOU GAVE HIM THE MOST AWKWARD SMILE KNOWN TO MANKIND.

Then—he laughed. The cutest, most boyish sound you’d ever heard left his mouth as he walked on, hand still in yours, giving it a soft little squeeze.

“Shit, baby,” he said—AND YOU NEARLY STUMBLED RIGHT THERE BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK—and then threw you the smuggest side-eye imaginable. “Should’ve listened when you asked to go straight to the yacht earlier.”

BYE.

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"Good morning, people." Mr. Collins chuckled as he greeted his Econ class, setting his briefcase on the desk. "Or rather, afternoon."

The class chuckled back, but you and Rafe just exchanged dry side-eyes.

Though… something was off.

Not about Rafe (though, really, he should get his horny ass checked), but about one specific sound missing from the usual noise.

Ruthie’s high-pitched pick me choose me love me giggle—the one that basically screamed I’m obsessed with my twenty-years-older teacher, please notice me, Mr. Collins.

Eugh. Disgusting.

And the worst part? She was a star Econ student, so naturally Mr. Collins had picked her as his favorite. Even worse? He actually seemed to flirt back in this weird, subtle way, throwing her smirks and looks that would be 100% illegal if she weren’t already of legal age.

But today, the whole class was spared from this gross little dynamic and from Ruthie’s annoying ass entirely. Apparently, she’d called in sick yesterday and wouldn’t be back until Friday.

WHAT A WEIRD FUCKING COINCIDENCE, HM.

Good for her, though, because either Cara would’ve smacked the hell out of her (without even knowing the reason) or you would’ve. That girl definitely deserved a slap.

Was it anti-feminist to want to slap a girl who basically personified internalized misogyny? No, right? In a way, it supported feminism. Hahahahaha… right??

Anyway, it was like finally putting on noise-cancelling headphones after a subway ride full of crying kids and loud conversations—blissfully free of that obnoxious voice interrupting every few minutes.

“Y’know,” Rafe murmured, leaning in so close his breath brushed your ear, GIVING YOU FUCKING GOOSEBUMPS, “Gracie’s alone today. Perfect chance to corner her later.”

You clenched your jaw. Hell. Fucking. No.

Why did he keep bringing up his ex-hookup? Yeah, sure, it made sense to approach Gracie about the whole Ruthie-video situation but, AGAIN, Gracie was Ruthie’s best friend. She’d never betray her.

AND WHY DID HE KEEP BRINGING HER UP, HUH?

“What? My girl’s jealous?”

You blinked, cheeks heating immediately at his cocky smile. Quickly, you shook your head and opened your mouth to reply but Rafe went on: “No? You literally just threw her a death glare.”

WHY DID HE NOTICE THAT? AND WHY DID HE HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD? RAFE TRYING NOT TO MAKE A SITUATION UNCOMFORTABLE: CHALLENGE IMPOSSIBLE.

“Or maybe,” you muttered quietly, frowning at his smug expression, “your girl just doesn’t want you getting dragged into a bigger mess.”

Rafe chuckled, clearly amused. “Nah. You’re definitely jealous.”

YES. I AM. HAPPY NOW?

“Okay,” you said, shaking your head with your mouth corners turned down, “go ahead then. But if this whole thing blows up in your face, you can ask her to help you clean it up, because I won’t.”

Shit. That really sounded a lot like jealousy.

And Rafe obviously picked up on the edge in your voice, his grin only deepening. “Nah, I’d rather clean up our mess.”

ENOUGH. HOLY FUCK. THIS BOY WAS SO FUCKING HORNY IT WAS RIDICULOUS.

“Remember how last week you said I needed to get laid?” you asked, deadpan. “Kinda feels like you were just projecting.”

Rafe scoffed, amused, then raised a brow. “Yeah, maybe we should just cancel our date tonight. I could hook up with Gracie again, kill two birds with one stone. Get laid and convince her to delete the video.”

A deep, ugly feeling twisted in your gut. You knew he was just joking, just messing with you but hearing it out loud churned something rotten in you.

The idea of him cancelling your much-anticipated sleepover just to go sleep with some bitc— GIRL made you angrier than it should.

And… shit. Had you almost called some poor girl a bitch just because you couldn’t stand the thought of a boy who owed you zero loyalty—other than his fake devotion—sleeping with someone else?

Ughhh. Maybe Rafe’s ugly sides were rubbing off on you.

BUT NO. FUCK THAT. NO WAY HE WAS DITCHING YOU FOR SOME EX-GIRL.

“Cheating after one day?” you said, way too bitter for a joke. “Guess I’d better find another date for the Gloaming, then.”

FUCK.

You should’ve just laughed at his stupid joke or kept your mouth shut. Now you really sounded like some bitter, jealous girl.

Rafe’s smile went crooked, something unsettling flashing in his eyes. “Yeah? And who? That fucker Lewis—”

“Cameron. Y/L/N.” Mr. Collins’s voice snapped both your heads up. “I’ve had enough of your flirting for today. Miss Y/L/N, would you be so kind as to move to the front?” He gestured at the empty seat beside Gracie. “I don’t need Mr. Cameron distracting you any further.”

KILL. ME.

The entire class turned to look at you—some chuckling, some rolling their eyes, others whispering.

UGHHHHHH.

“Was just explaining the Hawk-Dove Theory,” Rafe said, suddenly all neutral again. “Y’know, two players compete for—”

Collins cut him off with a snort and a dismissive wave. “Thank you, Mr. Cameron, I’m aware you’re fluent in the topic. I’d just prefer you tutor her outside my class.” His gaze shifted to you. “So, if you’d be so kind, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Most. Embarrassing. Moment. Of. My. Life.

You nodded, your whole upper body burning with heat. “Yes, sir.”

“Next class, you can return to your seat, but take this as a warning,” Collins said, turning back to teaching Game Theory. The class slowly turned back as well, and you just wanted to jump out the window.

With furrowed brows, you packed your stuff, ignored Rafe’s gaze, shouldered your bag, and made the walk of shame to the front row.

Right.

Next.

To.

Gracie Malone.

Aka Rafe’s ex-hookup.

Great. Just fucking great.

You threw her a fake polite smile, sat down, and unpacked your stuff, trying not to think about how you’d made a fool of yourself twice today.

First, that slap everyone in class probably already knew about. And now this.

Both kinda Rafe’s fault.

Idiot.

“You two look cute together.”

You froze when a quiet voice spoke beside you.

Forcing a tense smile, you set your iPad on the desk and turned to meet Gracie’s hazel eyes, taking in her whole face for a moment (okay, yeah, you understood why Rafe had hooked up with her) before replying politely, “Uh, thanks.”

Like… what else were you supposed to say? She was the ex, you were the current girl. This was peak awkwardness.

To be fair, Gracie’s voice had sounded genuine, and her smile actually looked honest. And you knew she wasn’t a Ruthie-type harpy. Just a follower, stuck in her best friend’s shadow.

Honestly, you were surprised she hadn’t called in sick this week too.

“He seems so gentle with you,” she said, a little awkward but laid-back. “I—I mean, from what I’ve seen.”

Um… she sounded surprised. Why did that kind of sound like—

You furrowed your brows slightly, smiling in mild irritation as you blurted, “Are you saying he was rough with you?”

Because the idea of Rafe being rough—that kind of rough—with a girl (even an ex-girlie he’d hooked up with :)))))) ) made something twist painfully and wrong in your stomach.

He already had those aggression issues, those intense moods, that… vibe. You really didn’t want to imagine that extending into sex, or how he treated other girls who weren’t you.

Gracie shook her head quickly, looking just as uncomfortable as you, WHICH GIRL WHAT THE FUCK, since she’d started the conversation. “No, no! I mean, I barely know him at all. I just… saw you two cuddling during movie night. It looked really sweet.”

Yeah. If your bitch-ass bestie hadn’t interrupted it.

You smiled anyway, fidgeting with your bracelet. “Yeah.”

“You’ll be going to the Gloaming together then, I assume?” she asked quietly, just as Collins turned back to the whiteboard to explain some shit. Her eyes almost lit up at the thought.

Why the hell was she happy for you?

Wait. Or was she checking if Rafe was still free for the Gloaming?

Was this some weird Ruthie move?? Staying conveniently absent from school but still playing her games by letting Gracie act as her proxy?

A tight-lipped smile tugged at your mouth. “Yeah.”

If he didn’t actually ditch your sleepover tonight for her. Because then you’d definitely rather go with Rob like Top had suggested.

“Bet a lot of girls will envy you,” she said with a quiet chuckle. Then, for some reason, her face shifted into something more serious, almost worried. “Every year’s Gloaming ends with one girl in a chokehold. I hope it’s not you or me.”

This would’ve sounded like a threat if she didn’t look genuinely concerned. Which—considering the girl she hung around with—almost made it feel like a warning.

…

You gave her your sweetest, most clueless smile. “What do you mean? Did you hear something?”

Gracie’s brows twitched. That was answer enough.

Shit.

So either she was hinting at the whole blackmail thing with the deadline being the Gloaming, and didn’t realize you knew, or Ruthie had actually planned some weird-ass Gossip Girl plot for that night.

Either way, someone’s evening was getting wrecked. Maybe yours.

“I’m just saying it might be best to tone down the presence and visibility,” Gracie continued, smiling awkwardly. “Gossip before the Gloaming tends to stick until the night itself.”

Great. She meant the slap, didn’t she?

“And Rafe dating someone is a big topic right now,” she added, her brows furrowed slightly as if she was searching your face for answers you didn’t have.

Ohhhh.

She was talking about Rafe actually choosing a long-term relationship for once. Well, yeah, you’d noticed the sudden spotlight this morning too. And that was exactly why you’d have spiraled into anxiety if Rafe hadn’t calmed you down over text.

You just nodded slowly, still wondering why she was telling you any of this. Why she was being nice? Why she was talking to you at all??

Yes, Gracie was laid-back. Yes, she was way nicer than Ruthie. And yes, she didn’t start drama unless Ruthie was involved.

But.

She was Ruthie’s best friend for a reason. And your brain kept whispering she was passively fishing for information. About what exactly? No clue. But weird she picked these topics to chat about.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you said awkwardly, then forced a polite smile. “So… what about you? Do you already have a date for the Gloaming?”

Gracie’s smile faded slightly. Not in defense or annoyance, but almost… sadness. She averted her gaze, fidgeting with her Apple Pencil, and even from the side her profile looked unfairly pretty. “Not yet. Ruthie doesn’t either, so I figured I’d ask her.”

Shit.

You actually felt bad for her.

Ruthie not having a date? Hilarious. But Gracie? She just seemed like a girl who wanted her last Gloaming to be cute and fun and full of good memories.

So that’s why she probably seemed excited about you and Rafe going together. Maybe she was just wishing for the same.

Or maybe she still liked Rafe and was happy he was happy???

Ugh. No. Weird. They had been hookup partners, not lovers. She’d even said she barely knew him. So it made no sense—

GIRL. STOP BEING JEALOUS OVER A GUY WHO ISN’T EVEN YOURS.

“That’s sweet,” you said, a little surprised at your own sincerity. “I would’ve asked Cara too if we both hadn’t found a date.”

Gracie blinked, then quickly shook her head with an awkward chuckle. “Oh, no, I meant as an actual—”

“Ms. Malone.” Collins’s voice cut through the classroom without him even looking up from the board. You and Gracie both snapped your heads up, startled.

“Yes or no — if both players choose their dominant strategy, is that always the best outcome for everyone?” He turned around with a fake-polite smile.

Fuck.

Not someone getting called on because of you again.

She looked completely clueless, just like you had last week. This was a yes/no question, a fifty-fifty chance, but oh no, she genuinely seemed lost.

WAIT.

You knew this one.

This was the Prisoner’s Dilemma, right? Exactly what Rafe had been going on about last week when Collins questioned him.

Gracie was already about to shake her head and go with “No,” and as much as you shouldn’t care about Ruthie’s best friend—and Rafe’s ex—you couldn’t just sit there and watch her sink while Collins made some snarky remark.

And maybe, okay, maybe you wanted her to owe you. (FUCK, RAFE’S INFLUENCE WAS GETTING TO YOU.)

So just before she spoke, you casually twisted your hand behind your iPad, giving her a discreet thumbs-up. Collins couldn’t see a thing.

The question was, would she—

“N—yes,” she blurted, followed by the most introverted, awkward chuckle you’d ever heard.

Seriously, how was she friends with Ruthie?

She gave off major freshman shy-art-club girlie energy. Not bitchy-head-cheerleader-sidekick energy. She didn’t fit Ruthie’s circle. She didn’t even fit Ruthie’s orbit.

Whatever.

Collins nodded, satisfied, though he did shoot you a knowing side-eye, and moved on to another student for the explanation.

Which meant… Gracie did owe you now.

FUCK, NO SHE DIDN’T. JESUS. HELP.

There was definitely a little Rafe-minion in your brain now, settling in, bickering, talking shit, fumbling with the controls—

#actualschizophrenic

“Thanks,” Gracie mumbled, both embarrassed and relieved.

You nodded, smiling genuinely because this fake posturing wasn’t really you, and you had no clue why you’d even acted like that (hmmmm, nothing to do with her past with Rafe, obviously). “All good.”

And, because you needed to clear your bad karma for even thinking she owed you over a simple question, you added, “Y’know, I actually know someone who’d love to go to the Gloaming.”

Like. Come on. It was her last Gloaming as well, she’d never actually done anything bad to you, and she was also just a girl. A girl who might deserve a nice date. And Rob would match her so well with his golden retriever energy, and JESUS CHRIST THEY’D ACTUALLY BE SO CUTE TOGETHER.

Maybe you really should become a matchmaker. You were literally the reason Molly and Kelce had gotten together, soooo...

“A guy?” Gracie asked, tilting her head sheepishly.

You smiled. “Yeah. Rob. He was at the party on Friday and—”

“Oh, no, I mean, that’s really kind, but…” She chuckled awkwardly, almost embarrassed. “I’m good, but thank you. Really.”

Uh…

Alright, clearly you needed to evict the Rafe-minion from your brain, because you were losing the one thing you’d always been best at: reading people.

What’s next? Talking like a toddler, punching walls, sniffing lines, and getting turned on every time Rafe looked at you?

Wellllllll. You did almost get off yesterday thinking about him, so apparently the answer was yes.

FUCKING SHIT.

After class, you packed your stuff immediately, shouldered your bag, gave Gracie a polite goodbye-smile, and rushed out before Collins could stop you to lecture you on interrupting his class.

Just as you were about to turn around to wait by the door for Rafe, he nearly crashed right into you.

You stopped him with both hands on his chest, laughing. “Geez, you almost knocked me over.”

Rafe blinked. “Thought you’d left without me.”

CLINGY-ASS BOY.

“No,” you chuckled, dropping your hands and tugging him to the side so other students could pass. “Just didn’t wanna get kept behind by Collins.”

Which reminded you, best to leave before Collins spotted you still hanging around.

Without a second thought, you reached for Rafe’s hand and motioned for him to start walking, surprised by how natural the move felt.

And apparently, he was just as surprised because, even though he fell in step beside you, he looked at you confused. “So you’re not mad?”

You furrowed your brows, smiling irritated. “No? Why would I be?”

“Because I said that shit with Gracie.” His frown was small, but it looked more like guilt than annoyance. “You reacted so weird and threatened to look for another date for the—”

“Threatened?” You laughed, genuinely amused.

Now his frown turned into a proper scowl as you both turned a corner. “Yes. I made a harmless joke and you immediately started talking shit about ditching me for some other guy.”

Um.

Had he… actually taken that seriously?

“I was obviously joking too,” you replied, smiling awkwardly as your thumb brushed over his, giving yourself goosebumps. “Plus, wouldn’t a real girlfriend react like that? I mean, you’re my pookie, right? Of course, I’d get pissed if you started talking about other girls and joked about hooking up with them.”

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HE WOULD’VE SAID. BAHAHAHHAHA.

Not funny. I’m actually arguing with some hypothetical situation JUST LIKE HIM. I’m literally turning into him. HELP.

Rafe’s brows twitched and then, of course, a big cocky grin spread across his lips. “So I was right. You were jealous.”

Ha. You know what? You could say whatever the fuck you wanted right now because you could always play it off as “girlfriend persona” behavior. HAHAHA.

Which meant you could say the truth without coming across as insane. OH MY GOD, YES.

God bless fake dating.

“Maybe,” you said, smiling cheekily. “No girl who’s actually smitten with her boyfriend wants him talking about sleeping with other girls.” HAD YOU ACTUALLY SAID THIS OUT LOUD? AHHHH. “Plus, you’d reacted the same way as I mentioned another guy.”

Rafe nodded, a crease forming between his brows. “Nah, that’s not jealousy. Just don’t need some fucker stealing my girl.” His nose scrunched up. “Like that asshole at the restaurant. Seriously, he eyed you like I wasn’t standing right there as your fucking boyfriend.”

OH, HE WAS JEALOUS. OH MY GOD.

Wait. Or was this just his boyfriend persona speaking?

AHHHHHH THIS ACT WAS SO CONFUSING. But either way, those words alone made your stomach tingle like crazy.

“So, it’s possessiveness then,” you countered, chuckling.

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head, and looked at you way too seriously for it to be fake. “Call it what you want. A good boyfriend makes sure everyone knows who his girl belongs to.”

Okay!

Okay!

Okay.

You could—potentially—put him in his place right now, give him a whole lecture about how wrong that phrasing was, about how you didn’t belong to him, even if this was just part of the act and he’d probably just worded it badly.

Because obviously, you weren’t anyone’s property, and it was important to keep Rafe in check sometimes and remind him of that—especially because, let’s be honest, he actually did seem like the type to be possessive, and his clinginess probably came from that too.

BUT.

BUT.

…It felt so fucking good being called his girlfriend. His girl. His baby.

His.

It scratched something in your brain in the best possible way, made your butterflies go feral, sent your adrenaline spiking, and left your nerves humming the sweetest melody under your skin.

Something about Rafe wanting you all to himself?

Um. Kinda made you want to turn those suggestive pictures into… a suggestive reality. HAHAHAHAHA.

#notjustschizophrenicbutalsoinsane

So this time, you decided to let it slide… but you’d keep an eye on it for the future. (Good thing you hadn’t been overthinking this just yesterday. Help. ANYWAY.)

“Actually,” you replied teasingly, “a good boyfriend would stop joking about sleeping with other girls.” Okay, fine, maybe you couldn’t let the phrasing completely slide. “And also, your preposition was wrong.”

His dumbass pulled a face. “The fuck? You trying to be my English teacher now or what?”

“I belong with you,” you said, amused but firm enough for him to know you were serious, “not to you. I’m not a dog.”

Rafe shook his head, all fake-innocence. “Of course, baby. You’re my beautiful, gorgeous girl who should be with me 24/7.” His grin turned teasing. “That’s what a good girlfriend would do.”

This guy was the clingiest human in the entire universe, and he made it sound so sweet and charming that all you could do was chuckle softly and lean into him as you left the main building for the courtyard.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, not even letting your thoughts spiral as your gaze flicked toward a group of students clearly gossiping about you and Rafe from a bench to the left.

Rafe’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he raised a brow. “Didn’t you say ‘yeah, yeah’ basically means ‘kiss my ass’?”

Yeah. Just last Saturday in front of Bulk & Bloom, when he was the one being sassy.

But right now…

A sly smile tugged at your lips, and since the banter had you feeling bold as hell, you tilted your head and dared, “Yeah. And?”

Aaaaand if you weren’t in public, he’d definitely have thrown himself at you right there, judging by the way his eyes lit up like he was already imagining it.

Geez. Maybe Cara was right about bringing condoms. HAHAHAHAHA.

JUST KIDDING. OH MY GOD.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

At home, a different hurdle awaited you.

Your parents.

Or, well—telling your parents you and Rafe were “dating” and that he’d be coming over tonight on a random Tuesday to have a sleepover on your mom’s yacht… with just the two of you.

HHAHAHAHAHAHA. Good thing this wasn’t completely out of the blue.

But yeah, you had to get it over with. At the very least, they’d find out at the Gloaming, and you didn’t want to hurt Rafe’s chances with the deal. Plus, you knew he’d go full fake-boyfriend mode if he got to talk to your parents today.

So no choice but to stick to the plan. You made sure to get it over with quickly, because NO WAY IN HELL were you letting the conversation drift into awkward sex talk or listening to your parents’ “first date” stories.

Smiling awkwardly, you went up to them right after school (Rafe had insisted on driving you home because he wanted to “drive his gorgeous princess home”—OKAY SIR, MARRY ME, HOW ABOUT THAT) while they were just finishing lunch in the dining room.

Perfect, because they’d have to get back to work after, and you could use “plans with the girls” as an excuse to dip.

And, to your luck, it went… pretty smoothly.

You’d greeted them and your housekeeper Mary, taken a seat, joined in their small talk about the Gloaming, and used their question about whether you had a date as the perfect opening.

“Actually, I do,” you said, smiling sheepishly as their faces lit up in pleasant surprise. “I’m going with Rafe.”

SAYING THIS OUT LOUD WAS INSANE.

Your mom’s smile widened as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “That’s really great, sweetie. You two make such a cute couple.”

Almost too easy.

“Because we are,” you replied with an awkward chuckle, feeling your face heat up for whatever reason.

Both your parents blinked in surprise.

“Is that the reason for his bruise?” your dad asked with an amused smile as he poured himself another glass of sparkling water. “Standing on business for his girl. Boy’s already got a plus point in my book.”

Uh. Hahahaha. Yeah. Kinda.

You let out a nervous chuckle, but before you could answer, your mom spoke first.

“And how long has this been going on?” she asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Since the project?”

Here came the fun part.

You smiled sheepishly and shook your head, repeating exactly what you and Rafe had agreed on last night.

“No, about a month,” you said, watching their expressions twist into surprise. “We just… wanted to keep it lowkey, y'know. Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” You fidgeted with your bracelet under the table, trying not to mix up the story.

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you,” you added with an awkward laugh. “Honestly, no one knew. It’s the first relationship for both of us and we didn’t want the pressure.” Your eyes widened as you quickly added, “Not that you’d pressure me, but—”

“It’s okay, honey,” your mom cut in, saving you from digging deeper. She smiled warmly. “If that’s what felt right, we understand. We’re just happy you feel comfortable telling us now.”

She chuckled, sharing a knowing glance with your dad. “We kinda figured you were hiding something anyway. Rafe wasn’t exactly subtle with those heart eyes.”

OH MY GOD THIS MADE YOU SMILE LIKE AN IDIOT.

Your dad nodded, folding his napkin, a smile tugging at his own lips. “Not to mention your nightly getaways lately. Boy’s been taking you on secret dates, huh?”

More like… complaining about McDonald’s, punching his friends, kinda stealing your dad's car, and dragging you into this whole act.

So yeah, Dad, real romantic dates.

You chuckled. “Something like that.” Then you took a shaky breath and brought up the next big thing. “And, uh, we actually have another planned tonight.”

“That’s sweet,” your mom said as she passed her plate to Mary with a quiet thank you. “What do you have planned?”

UMMMMM.

“Yeah…” You bit the inside of your cheek, glancing at her awkwardly. “I was hoping we could use the yacht.” And then, with an even more awkward smile: “For the night.”

Both of them immediately glanced at each other.

Nope. You knew exactly where this conversation was about to go.

So you jumped in quickly, laughing nervously. “It’s just gonna be a little sleepover. Movies, games, and stuff.”

“Stuff.” Your dad raised his brows with amused suspicion.

WHY DIDN’T YOU PICK A DIFFERENT WORD.

“Why not invite him here?” your mom asked, and for the first time she looked a little tense. “We won’t bother you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no.” Yes, actually. “We just…” Shit. What excuse could possibly make sense here?

"Honey," your dad said, his voice softly aimed at your mom. "Let them have their little sleepover. Can’t blame them for wanting some privacy." He chuckled. "Remember how we always snuck off, telling your dad we spent the night at Rocco’s when really we booked a hotel room? Be glad they’re not lying to us."

Uh, yeah… about the lying part hahahahaha.

For a moment, your mom eyed you hesitantly, lips pressed together, her minions probably running through every possible scenario you and Rafe could get up to on the yacht.

In the end, though, she nodded with a smile.

"Okay," she said, though the concern still lingered faintly on her face. "You can have it. But if you two need anything or feel more comfortable sleeping here, don’t hesitate, okay?"

You nodded, mirroring her smile. "Thanks."

"And remember to use protection," she added, amusement and genuine worry mixed in her eyes. "Safe sex is—"

"I need to go now," you cut her off quickly, laughing awkwardly as your face heated up. "Promised Cara and some friends I’d hang out."

Both your parents chuckled.

"Alright, angel." Your dad stood up too, but his expression sharpened. "But bring Rafe here before you head over to the yacht. Wanna check how his bruise is healing."

Uh, yeah… he definitely meant a “be nice to my daughter or else” talk with Rafe. And since there was no way around it, you just nodded with a soft smile.

"Yes, thanks."

With that, you headed upstairs, shut the door behind you, and let out a relieved exhale as you dropped into your desk chair.

Could’ve gone a lot worse. Actually, it went very smoothly, despite almost slipping into an awkward sex talk. AND you’d probably come across as convincing, right? Otherwise, they would’ve questioned the relationship and everything.

So that part? Shoved deep into some dusty corner of your brain where you wouldn’t spiral over it.

Okokokokokok, another item off your checklist for the day.

Now. Get ready to hang out with the girls and use the afternoon to prep the setup for Rafe.

Alright. You and Rafe had agreed on 6 PM. He’d pick you up, and you’d go on a little snack-shopping spree for the sleepover because you’d promised him you’d give him the full experience.

Okay, but first—Sarah.

You’d seen her notifications pop up during class, but you weren’t about to get caught texting in Collins’ class and risk another warning. And you also didn’t wanna risk annoying Rafe by giving his sister attention while in his presence. Like… how dare you.

So, you answered now.

Bruh.

Who the fuck was that girl talking shit about Rafe dragging you after him like some violent dog with his toy?

Which… better not think about too much before you spiraled about what else could’ve been added to that story you definitely didn’t wanna know.

So—HAHAHAHA—WHERE WERE YOU?

Ah! First the girls hangout, then Rafe.

Good thing they were down to help you prep the yacht. Some fairy lights, flowers, cute bedsheets, and some gifts. Though, you had no fucking clue what to gift him.

He’d put so much thought into his setup and gifts for you, even made a personalized FunkoPop miniature scene, but he was such a complex guy and you didn’t even know what he liked. Actually—holy shit—you just realized you had no idea what Rafe did in his free time except coke (business), partying, country club visits, and driving Wheezie around.

Like… what were his favorite movies? Shows? Games? Color? Food? EVERYTHING. WHO EVEN WAS THIS GUY AHHHHHHH.

Okay, wait.

You didn’t have to come up with something entirely on your own. Rafe had asked Cara and Molly for help for your setup.

Sooooo… you could just do the same, right?

And without second-guessing how it might come across, you dug through some random class group chat, found Kelce’s number, and texted him. Like—hello—you were Rafe’s girl, it wasn’t crazy to text his best friend. Plus, you got along with Kelce just fine so—

I’M OVERTHINKING THIS AGAIN, GEEZ.

JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Okay, 1. The fact that Rafe had YAPPED to Kelce about tonight’s sleepover and also compared you to cocaine like—?!?!!? 2. WHY had Kelce immediately told you what condoms to buy, and 3. The fact that flirty, horny-ass Rafe, who was always talking about sex and suggestive shit and wanting to rail you 24/7, DIDN’T plan to bring condoms tonight???

And 4. WHY THE FUCK was this freaking you out?!?!?!

And worse—why the hell were you feeling DISAPPOINTED, huh? HELP.

Like, be for real—no way in hell had you actually expected to have sex—your freaking first time—with Rafe tonight. You hadn’t even kissed yet and—

YET?!

YET?!?!?!

GIRL.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN THINKING ABOUT HELP.

Okay, okay, okay, calm the hell down. You would NOT be having sex with Rafe tonight, and you definitely wouldn’t be doing anything else you needed to prepare for, RIGHT?!

BUT THE POSSIBILITY WAS THERE. Like… he definitely wouldn’t say no, and you’d been so fucking horny these past few days, so… what if???

No. Nonononono.

WAIT—literally NO!

Rafe had told Kelce “no sex.” So obviously, there wouldn’t be any sex.

BUT WAIT—what if he’d just told Kelce that to look like a good boyfriend for the act but actually planned to bring condoms anyway? AND HOLY FUCK WHY WERE YOU SPIRALING SO HARD ABOUT THIS.

Your pulse was so high you could feel it in your cheeks.

And then… you made it worse.

Trojan Magnum.

Ha. Ha. Just curious. Just a quick Safari search. Just a very simple—

WHAT.

WHAT THE—

Trojan Magnum fits a penis with a girth of approx. 5.1–6 inches.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. HE’D RIP YOUR WHOLE PUSSY APART.

Oh!

Girth was NOT diameter. It was circumference. That… didn’t really help.

You quickly typed those numbers into a converter and—

1.62–1.91 inches diameter.

NOPE. STILL NO SEX WITH RAFE. EVER.

THAT WAS. THE POSSIBILITY OF 2 INCHES OF DIAMETER. HOW WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO FIT IN THERE!?!?!?!?!?!

And then the final boss of secondhand embarrassment hit you because… WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING LOOKING UP RAFE’S POSSIBLE DICK SIZE FOR WHAT REASON???

Nope.

Before you could actually jump out the window from self-inflicted humiliation, you deleted your search history, mentally replaced Rafe’s dick with a smooth Barbie doll crotch, and went about your life :)

Besides… Kelce was definitely just bullshitting to hype Rafe up. Like… make him seem like some big-dicked cool dude or whatever.

RIGHT?!

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"Riiiight," Kie said, curling her lip in a grimace at the Polaroid camera in Cara’s hands before turning to you. "I’d never ever hand this guy physical nudes of me, just saying."

Uh, yeah…

By about 1:45 PM, all the girls had gathered at the private dock where your mom’s yacht was moored. Everyone had brought decorations, snacks, and random bits of stuff, even though you’d specifically told them not to because you wanted to shop for snacks with Rafe. But whatever.

And, well… Cara had brought FUCKING TROJAN MAGNUM CONDOMS ("I gasped when Top said Rafe used them, like—good for you, girl"), FUCKING HANDCUFFS (like, bro), LUBE ("I’m sure he’ll get you wet enough but you never know"), and a Polaroid camera for exactly what Kie had just mentioned.

"Not nudes," Cara countered with a dramatic scowl (it was honestly getting scarier by the day how much she and Rafe had in common). "Just some aesthetically pleasing bikini pics. Y/n asked for gift ideas, and this was mine."

Her gaze drifted to you, blue eyes (EVEN THAT she had in common with him, Jesus Christ) shining almost dreamily. "Just imagine how cute it’d be if he kept one in his wallet and every time someone asked, he’d be like ‘That’s my hot girlfriend.’"

DUDE.

Cleo chuckled as she helped Sarah string fairy lights across the deck. "Nah, he’s the type to take it out on purpose just to show her off."

"Yep," Sarah agreed with a wide smile, standing on a stool. "I overheard him talking to Rose earlier, and he wouldn’t shut up about what a perfect match you were for him. Mind you, this was the longest conversation he’s ever had with her." She looped the fairy lights around a post, grinning. "A whole ten minutes without losing his temper in her presence. A new record."

Molly giggled as she trimmed the stems of the bouquet you’d picked out together over FaceTime (YOU DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO DO IT IN PERSON, OKAY?).

The bouquet, by the way, was Shadow-the-Hedgehog-themed for one reason only: You’d once seen Rafe’s iPad wallpaper with some dramatic moonlit picture of him (probably thinking literally me) and thought it’d be hilarious to explain that to him later.

So, mixed in with the classic red roses (his dramatic ass would love the cliché romance flowers), you’d added burgundy dahlias, chocolate cosmos, deep red anthuriums, dark sunflowers, plus eucalyptus and olive greenery woven through.

"Kelce also said Rafe might commit a murder tonight," Molly said with a laugh.

You blinked. "What? Why?"

"The slap," she clarified. "Said he blew up his phone during the last two periods because of Peter and Caleb." She raised her brows, eyes fixed on the dark sunflower she was cutting. "Apparently, he was furious."

Huh. You hadn’t noticed that. Okay, well, you couldn’t have, since you’d spent the last two periods in the front row next to Gracie. But still… Rafe had seemed totally “normal” (aka horny) after class. No traces of anger.

Which made you think… you thought he’d brushed off the interaction with those two jerks, but if he’d been ranting to Kelce behind your back…

Shit. Please don’t do anything stupid. After the coke video, he really couldn’t afford another slip-up.

"Honestly," Kie said, taking the Polaroid from Cara and setting it aside ("Hey!") before turning to you with furrowed brows. "I’m still surprised he didn’t go for the guy’s throat, considering he literally called you a bitch."

Ugh. Again?

You’d already gone through the whole slap-and-fratboy interaction the second they stepped onto the dock. It was literally the first thing Cara had brought up because she and Sarah couldn’t hold back their curiosity anymore.

Cara nodded. "Right? I would’ve slapped Rafe too for not beating those pricks up."

"Guyssss," you said, smiling faintly as you handed Molly a vase from a drawer. "Like I said, Rafe reacted appropriately. And he literally did try to go at Peter’s throat. If I hadn’t stopped him, he absolutely would’ve beaten him up."

You frowned slightly. "And as much as they deserved it, Rafe would’ve gotten detention, and probably another bruise. So it’s fine." The next part you directed at Kie and Cara, since they were the ones who’d been pushing this earlier. "Can we drop it now?"

They both pressed their lips into tight, frowning smiles but nodded.

"Damn, girl," Cleo said with a chuckle. "Taming not only Rafe but these two lionesses too."

After setting up the yacht with more fairy lights, some paper lanterns, rose petals leading to the bedroom (HELP—Cara insisted and you couldn’t exactly tell her this was just a platonic sleepover), lots of fluffy blankets and cushions (you still wanted to buy some cute sheets), tons of board games the girls had brought, some consoles and video games—and the rest you’d grab now to make it more “Rafe”.

At around 2:30 PM, all of you squeezed into the Twinkie Sarah had borrowed from John B and sped off.

“Where to?” she asked, driving onto Main Street in Figure 8.

“Walmart,” you decided at random. “Got everything, plus it’s right next to a copy shop and GameStop.”

Kie scoffed. “He’ll sleep on the couch if he finds out his bedding came from a peasant store.”

“I doubt it,” you said, smiling at the thought that he definitely wouldn’t care where you cuddled, as long as his clingy ass got some closeness (though, yeah, sure, he’d throw a tantrum beforehand).

Molly giggled. “Same. He’d sleep in a trash bag for you, I’m sure of it.”

“If he fucks this up, he’ll end up in one,” Kie replied, making everyone laugh.

In the Walmart parking lot, you split into pairs with lists you’d made. Cara and Cleo hit Walmart for more cutesy decorations and bedding, Kie and Molly went to the copy shop to print your cut-out collage snippets into a bigger format, and Sarah and you headed to GameStop.

That way you could get this whole little shopping-sleepover—ahem date—prep done faster, then chill with them after.

And also… you could breathe a little, because as much as you loved these girls, they did not stop talking—questions about you and Rafe, your plans, sex talk (UGHHHHH), just yapping without pause. You’d been this close to telling them it was JUST a harmless sleepover so they’d shut up.

But for Rafe’s sake, you endured it.

“Alright,” Sarah said as you stood in front of GameStop’s wall of figurines. “Before we start looking, I need to tell you something.”

UM. Instant adrenaline spike. That could mean anything from I’m pregnant to Rafe’s cheating on you.

You eyed her with a laid-back smile. “Sure, what is it?”

WHY DID SHE LOOK WORRIED?

“I didn’t wanna bug you in the chat earlier, and I especially didn’t wanna bring this up in front of the others,” she said, those big brown eyes searching yours for some reason. “But… I don’t want you getting played, okay?”

Oh no.

Your brows furrowed, still smiling like you weren’t already bracing for impact. “What do you mean?”

BRINGING THIS UP RIGHT BEFORE THE SLEEPOVER—AND JUST AFTER YOU’D STOPPED SPIRALING ABOUT RAFE’S INTENTIONS—HELP.

“I… don’t know for sure, it’s just—” Sarah exhaled, like this was difficult to say. “When he was talking to Rose earlier, she got curious about you and asked questions about your relationship. Nothing crazy of course,” she added with a quick chuckle. “He had nothing but good things to say—how much he cared about you and all that. Just…”

You tilted your head slightly, already tense. “Just what?”

WAS HE SECRETLY SEEING SOME OTHER GIRL?! (WHICH—LET’S BE REAL—YOU WEREN’T EVEN THE MAIN CHICK EITHER, TECHNICALLY.) OR DID HE SAY SOMETHING THAT HINTED HE’D DITCH YOU?!

Sarah sighed, lips pressing together before she said, “When Rose asked how long you two have been dating… he lied. Said a month. And that’s not all. He made it sound like you actually had. Saying stuff like ‘You were the one’ and such, y’know.”

She tilted her head, concern all over her face. “Don’t get me wrong—it’s clear he’s into you. I’m not doubting that. I just thought it was weird he didn’t just tell the truth.” Her awkward smile widened slightly into discomfort. “And I thought you should know.”

Oh.

Well. That was…

THAT’S what had you on the verge of spiraling into a thousand holes questioning Rafe’s intentions?!

GEEZ. Like, yeah, okay, that was a detail you and he hadn’t discussed—but JESUS, SARAH, YOU ALMOST GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK. Which, funny enough, made this statement, aka her almost catching onto you and Rafe’s actual situation, feel way less nerve-wracking.

Still, what should you say hahahhaha?

Alright. First, a baffled laugh. Yes, perfect. Maybe a small shake of your head. Mhm. Okay. And then—

HA!

“Oh, yeah, that,” you said, rubbing your jaw with a sheepish smile. “That’s okay.”

Sarah blinked in confusion. “Y/n, he lied. He acted like—wait. You knew about this?”

CAREFUL NOW.

You nodded slowly, your pulse picking up, because anything you said next could lead to way more questions.

"Yeah," you replied, fidgeting with your bracelet. "My parents wouldn’t just let some guy I started dating yesterday sleep over alone with me, so I told them we’d been lowkey dating for a while but I just hadn’t told them yet. And I told him to tell your parents the same thing, just in case, y'know." You let out an awkward chuckle. “I guess he just… got a little carried away with the story.”

WAS THAT BELIEVABLE? HOLY SHIT—you’d just freestyled that on half panic mode. JESUS CHRIST—THIS MUST BE HOW RAFE FELT TALKING TO HIS DAD, JUST WORSE.

PLEASE BELIEVE ME PLEASE BELIEVE ME PLEASE—

“Oh!” Sarah laughed awkwardly, cheeks hinting pink. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—God, now I feel stupid. Sorry if I scared you.”

FUCK YEAH.

I MEAN—NO—but hell yeah, your lie worked.

“All good,” you said, smiling for real this time. “I totally get why it seemed sketchy, and I appreciate you telling me. But don’t worry, this lie came from my side.”

Sarah nodded, visibly relieved. “Good. I almost went up to Rafe to put him in his place because I thought he might be playing some stupid game.”

YEAH, LET’S HOPE HE DOESN’T HAHAHHAA.

Nah—just kidding. By now, even you and your little minions had realized Rafe was serious about his friendship with you. You’d learned to accept he liked and valued you, and you weren’t just some part-time fun.

You laughed, genuinely touched by Sarah’s willingness to defend you. “Thanks, Sarah. But really, nothing to worry about.”

“Alright,” she said, leaning toward you with a side-eye. “Then let’s grab what you need and dip. The cashier’s been eyeing us, and I don’t want another Switch pitched to me.”

You snorted. “Another?”

Back in the Twinkie, you shoved everything into the car however it fit, barely leaving room for yourselves, even though the van was huge. Luckily, the others had gotten everything you’d asked for. Sarah cranked up a loud Taylor Swift song, and the girls all sang along.

Somehow already exhausted, you leaned back into your seat next to Cara, staring out the window and laughing here and there. It was barely past 3 PM, and Rafe wouldn’t show up for another three hours.

You couldn’t even fully enjoy the time with your friends because your thoughts kept drifting to him and the sleepover. Just thinking about sharing the night with him was like your butterflies had done a few lines of coke and were now bouncing ecstatically in your stomach, sending buzzing shockwaves up your nerves.

…Or maybe that buzz was just your phone in your purse, lol.

You fished it out and nearly lost it (your vajayjay definitely did), quickly angling the screen toward the door and staring at that ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS ARM PIC for a solid thirty seconds before answering.

“Damn, babygirl,” Cara giggled after you shoved your phone back into your purse, OUT OF SAFE REACH FOR HER. “You two are getting real flirty in there.”

The others chuckled, and you could feel your whole face heat up, NOT EVEN KNOWING WHAT TO SAY.

Molly leaned forward with a kind smile. “It’s sweet you finally feel so comfortable with someone.”

“They were talking about his cock,” Cara clarified, and Sarah and Cleo lost it in the front.

Then Sarah quickly pressed her lips together, face flipping back to serious as she cleared her throat. “Okay, different topic now. No sex talk about my brother when I’m here.”

THANK YOU.

“And no talk about your brother when I’m here,” Kie added, and even you laughed.

Finally, after more than two hours of setting up the yacht, shopping, finalizing, and wrapping gifts, you and the girls called it a day.

The third hour you used for just chilling—sunbathing on the deck and sipping ice-cold smoothies Kie and Molly had grabbed at Walmart.

“You two have the most fun ever,” Cleo said, hugging you goodbye outside the Twinkie. With a wink she added, “No matter what kind.”

MH-HM.

Molly giggled, throwing her arms around you next. “Don’t pressure yourself. I hope he likes the flowers, and I’m so excited to hear what you have to tell us tomorrow.”

GOD, FACING THEM AT SCHOOL AFTER THIS NIGHT… EUGHHH. (Wait—WHY WERE YOU ACTING LIKE SOMETHING WOULD HAPPEN?)

“Yes, thanks, Mollz,” you said, giving her a kind smile. “I’m sure he’s gonna love them.”

Would he, though? Lmao.

Next was Kie, stepping forward with an almost knowing smile. “Enjoy your date with that idiot. And don’t let him talk you into doing anything you don’t want, okay?”

You nodded, lips pressed into a tight smile. Why did they all assume you and Rafe would do the thing tonight—HELP.

“Have so much fun,” Sarah said, grinning like an idiot as she hugged you tightly. Her hands rested on your upper arms as she drew back, looking at you with those pretty brown eyes. “I’m serious—jokes aside, enjoy yourselves. Not THAT way,” she added with an amused side-eye at Cara and Cleo’s giggles before turning back to you. “But honestly. The fact my brother feels so comfortable with you to the point he’s ready for a relationship… I don’t think you realize how crazy it is that you got him here in DAYS.”

Cleo laughed. “If Rafe hadn’t asked her out, I would’ve.”

“Honestly? I see it,” Cara said, squinting between you and Cleo. “Kook and Pogue trope but make it for the lesbians. People would write fics about that.”

JESUS.

The others giggled, and you joined in, smiling sheepishly at Sarah. “Thanks, Sar. But half the credit goes to him. He’s the one making me feel comfortable enough to want this too. He helps me a lot with my overthinking and just… getting out of my shell.”

“Yeah, sorry, Cleo,” Kie said, curling her lips. “Braindead boyfriend x overthinker girlfriend is a much better combo.”

You knew you were starting to feel overstimulated when Kie calling Rafe stupid made you internally defensive.

So you quickly moved over to Cara, pulling her into a hug.

“Updates,” she demanded. “Don’t care if you’re watching a movie, making out, or he’s balls deep inside you. Your bestie needs the real-time shit.”

You laughed. “Let’s pretend you’re worried about my safety.”

“Yeah…” Cara nodded quickly. “Totally.”

“Alright,” you chuckled, turning to the rest of the girls with a sheepish smile. “I’ll text if possible, but please don’t blow up my phone if I don’t, okay?”

Lots of grinning nods.

Yeah… no way they were actually going to respect that.

After another round of giggles, goodbyes, and a massive thank-you for helping you out, they piled into the Twinkie and drove off.

FINALLY, you could exhale, nerves hitting all at once.

One hour left until Rafe showed up. RAFE FREAKING CAMERON WAS SLEEPING OVER TONIGHT. LIKE, WHAT.

WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT.

THIS WAS ONE OF THE MAIN BEFORE-SLEEP SCENARIOS LITTLE YOU (AND, HELP, OLDER YOU) HAD DREAMED ABOUT, AND NOW IT WAS ACTUALLY HAPPENING.

NONONONONONO—the way your nerves buzzed, your hands going clammy—it was almost like the start of another panic attack.

NOT AGAIN.

Where was Rafe when you needed him?

You blinked.

Not Rafe, but Nacho.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as your cat wound around your legs, meowing. Before crouching to pet the little guy, you decided to annoy Rafe a little.

Ha ha ha.

And Kelce claimed Rafe wasn’t bringing condoms tonight. THIS MAN WAS THE HORNIEST GUY ALIVE.

Girl, be for real—what are you hoping for? OH MY GOD.

HAHAHAHA, but maybe shave just in case?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!!

#losingIt

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“You two have fun,” your mom called as you headed toward Rafe’s black Benz, definitely hiding her stress under a way-too-tense smile. “And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to hit us up, okay?”

You nodded, holding onto Rafe’s hand a little too tightly, scared she’d revoke yacht privileges at any second. “Yes, thanks, Mom.”

“And make sure Rafe uses the ointment I gave him,” your dad added, face relaxed. “The bruise will be almost gone by the Gloaming with consistent use.”

Rafe chuckled, opening the passenger door for you. “I will. Thank you, sir.”

He shut the door after you got in and waved one last time to your parents before climbing in himself “Alright, so—”

“Just drive,” you cut him off, waving toward the house with a strained smile. “Before my mom changes her mind.”

Rafe let out an amused scoff, quickly pulling onto the street. Only when you hit Main Street did you finally exhale.

“All good?” he asked, glancing at you.

You sank into the seat, nodding. “Yeah. Just… a stressful day.”

“I’ll help you relax soon,” Rafe said, grinning as he turned a corner.

A soft chuckle escaped you as you tilted your head toward him. And—fuck—you just noticed how good he looked.

Freshly showered, curtain bangs not just hanging into his face but actually styled a little, the bruise somehow making his already stupidly pretty profile even hotter—and BY GOD, HIS BICEPS AND ARMS (yes, another polo, but polos were made for him).

And the smell—? His expensive aquatic cologne lingering in the air, mixing with his own scent and the faint scent of his car—

“Stop staring,” he said with a chuckle, eyes still on the road.

HELP.

Completely caught, you turned back toward the front, feeling your whole neck and chest go up in flames.

“You’re looking good,” you blurted, PRESSING YOUR GODDAMN LIPS TOGETHER AFTERWARD.

You almost backtracked, but—NO. LET HIM KNOW. He was always showering you with compliments. It was about time you gave one back.

A boyish chuckle escaped his lips, AND DID HE SOUND NERVOUS???? "Dressed up for you."

HAHAHAHA—YOU KNOW WHAT’S FUNNY??

‘FOR YOU.’

NOT “for my girl,” or “for my baby,” or “for my pookie.”

No. For you.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

You needed to chill. It was literally just a sentence. No need to write a five-page analysis about it in your head.

“And I can see you did too,” Rafe said, letting his eyes travel over you at a red light (HELP) before meeting your gaze with a sweet smile. “Too bad I’m gonna tear this off later.”

A baffled laugh escaped you at how his innocent expression completely contradicted the tone.

“I’d rather have you tear out our new collage pieces,” you said, trying to change the subject because your cheeks could not handle more heat.

Rafe groaned. “C’mon, do we really gotta do this shit today? We’ve got enough time tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s dinner with your family,” you reminded him. “And we barely have anything left to do in terms of project stuff. So why not finish it today?”

“Thought we needed to reprint them in larger format,” he said, waving a hand toward you as the light turned green. “Don’t see you carrying the damn snippets with you.”

You chuckled. “Don’t worry. Kie and Molly took care of that earlier. Now we just have to cut them out and glue them onto big sheets, and we’re done.”

“This sucks,” Rafe complained, grimacing. “Was so excited to spend time with you, and now you’re forcing me to do school shit.”

First—you literally said hours ago you wanted to finish the project today. Second—NOT HIM AGAIN MENTIONING HE WAS EXCITED. AHHHH.

“But we are spending time together,” you said, amused, then raised a brow. “Or am I only good enough for you when it’s physical?”

Rafe scoffed, almost offended. “Fuck, what? No.” His voice softened but stayed strained. “Just… it was a shitty day for me too, and I could’ve used some bonding moment stuff.”

You blinked. Did this have to do with his dad, the deal—or worse—Ruthie?

“Why?” you asked, genuinely concerned. “What happened?”

Rafe pressed his lips together, brows furrowing as he shook his head. “Nothing, just…” His fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel.

Something definitely happened.

“Rafe, you can tell me,” you said softly, fiddling with your bracelet. “Is it your dad? Did Ruthie—”

“No.” He exhaled heavily. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Just felt off today after school. Restless. Shitty. Can’t explain it.”

Huh. You hadn’t really noticed that today. Sure, he’d been on edge after the Peter-Caleb thing, and your panic attack had definitely thrown him off, but otherwise… he’d seemed fine.

Your chest tightened. “You’re probably stressed from everything that’s happened lately. The deal and all that shit. That’s normal—”

“It’s not that,” he said tensely, fingers gripping the steering wheel. “Fuck, I don’t know. Was so close to snorting a line earlier.”

oh...

You eyed him, worried. “How far back is your last one?”

“Sunday night.”

“And… how often did you usually consume before that?”

A pause. Then: “Two or three times a day.”

Jesus Christ. You hadn’t known he’d been using that regularly. Or that he was that addicted in the first place.

“Then you’ve got withdrawals,” you said dryly.

Rafe let out a tense breath, tapping his chest. “Shit, I’m not a junkie, okay? I just…” He dragged a hand down his face. “And I barely even did a line last week.”

“I’m pretty sure you came to school once after doing one,” you countered, frowning slightly. “Blown pupils and all that.”

“Just wanted to test something,” he muttered.

You nodded, brows raised. “Uh-huh. Sure.” Then, not wanting to scold him or kill the mood, you said, “Still, you managed to resist the urge for almost two whole days. However you compensated for it, it seemed to work. Did you change something in your routine?”

And then something funny happened.

Rafe shifted awkwardly in his seat, smiling so strained it looked like you had a gun pointed at him.

OH. COME. ON.

That’s why he’d been so fucking horny? Jesus. His body was probably trying to swap his coke addiction for a sex addiction or some shit, because it hit the same part of the brain or WHATEVER, HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU EVEN KNOW.

Wait. Fuck. And then the question hit you:

Had he hooked up with another girl in those two days if he'd been able to resist the urge?

“Shit just gets depressing after doing it solo so often, okay?,” Rafe finally said, frowning deeply as he stared straight ahead—A FUCKING BLUSH ON HIS CHEEKS, OH MY GOD. “Just more fun with someone else.”

OFTEN?!?!??!??!?!?!??!?!?!??! IN TWO FUCKING DAYS.

BYE.

PLEASE. TOO MUCH INFORMATION.

And the worst part? You fucking chuckled, unable to hold it back from sheer secondhand embarrassment.

“Stop that,” Rafe said, hiding a grin of his own. “Not my fault you won’t let me hit.”

HELP.

You raised your hand to your mouth, trying to stifle your laugh, but failed miserably. “Sorry.” Somehow, though, his apparent sudden hypersexuality-issue was more hilarious than it was embarrassing or gross.

“Yeah, real funny I’m suffering,” Rafe scoffed, pulling into the Aurora Market’s parking lot. He didn’t even look at you as he grabbed his stuff and unbuckled. “Now get your ass moving.”

Biting back another laugh, you shouldered your purse and stepped out, giving him an offended look as he just stood there staring at you from the driver’s side.

“What happened to opening doors for your girlfriend?” you asked, one brow arched in amusement.

Rafe looked at you deadpan, tapping his chest. “What happened to girlfriends taking care of their boyfriends’ needs, huh?”

SO DRAMATIC.

“Alright, needy boy,” you teased, circling the car to stop in front of him. “How about we speedrun our project back on the yacht, and then I’ll help you forget your needs?”

WAIT, THIS SOUNDED SUGGESTIVE OH NO.

“Yeah?” He reached for your hand, massaging your fingers, eyes locked on yours. “And how?”

The way his eyes lit up with pure anticipation was so fucking hilarious, you almost felt bad when you said, “My mom’s got some really nice cookies stocked in the yacht’s kitchen. Could snack them, cozy up and watch some stupid movies.”

You laced your fingers with his, smiling up at him with a playful glimmer. “Could help both of us sleep better, too, after a shitty day like this.”

OKAY GIRL.

“Bet those cookies taste real nice,” Rafe replied, EYEING YOUR FUCKING LIPS AS HE SAID IT.

BOY, YOU’RE NOT SLICK.

Still, you chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat. “Not as good as a solid, productive project session.”

Watching his joy melt into a deep scowl was the funniest shit ever, but before his dramatic ass could complain, you tugged at his hand with a cheeky smile. “Now, c’mon. Business before pleasure.”

Surprisingly, Rafe fell into step beside you without complaining, and of course, his horny ass couldn’t let that saying slide without twisting it.

“Baby,” he said, “everything that involves you is a pleasure for me.”

Baby. I might just die.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @softiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

// KMS ANNOUNCEMENT

ok so i finally made a community for killing me softly and honestly i should’ve done this way earlier lol

you’ll find everything related to the series there — info posts, sneak peeks, progress updates, random babbles and yaps, etc.

everyone’s welcome to join, it’s just for this series specifically!

so from now on i won’t be posting sneak peeks etc. on my writer's blog anymore, that’ll all go into the community.

asks and general interactions still stay on my @7-deadly-cats though <3

I FORGOT THE LINK: HERE

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

// IMPORTANT KMS INFO

@ any reader who already read KMS 24 fully, pls go back and reread the second half as i’ve reworked it and made some drastic changes to it.

aka the new ch 24 is the CANON KMS CH 24!!! the og version doesn’t count!

i explained the reason here if anyone didn’t already get wind of my anxiety posts lmao

// only the 2nd half was changed, the 1st is the same

sorry for this confusion and chaos!

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

killing me softly | 24

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinker!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, reader wearing makeup & jewelry (pics of reader just for vibes), themes of misogyny and objectification of women and reader, reader experiencing a panic attack, anxiety and overthinking, mixxxed signals, pet names

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿

after spending the night with rafe at the pavilion, he finally dropped you off late at night. you both agreed to soft launch your dating-decision to avoid the flood of questions that would come with telling your friends in person (mainly bc you asked for it).

rafe posted a photo of you on his instagram, but no one really caught on—so you followed up with a story and added a heart next to his name. the girls immediately lost it, blowing up the group chat.

you told them half the truth: rafe had prepared a pavilion setup, got you flowers and gifts, and asked you out a for the gloaming. later, the conversation had turned to relationships, you joked about dating each other, and that’s how you made it official. you promised to catch up with them as soon as you were free the next day.

rafe was worried you regretted your agreement because you seemed low-energy, but you quickly reassured him by sending a flood of cute pics and even getting bold with some suggestive ones, short-circuiting his brain but he quickly returned the energy.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ lots of smau + 13.8k+ written story

✿ A / N ✿ i'm so sorry @ kms!rafe for dumbifying him for the sake of forced growth when in reality he always stands on business for his pookie but ig i got so fixated on the fact i wanted to show reader another side of his that i kinda missed the point of their whole dynamic and just went extreme. and also sorry @ my kms!reader for making her so passive the very first time. but i'm still very thankful for the positive feedback on the og chapter, and i also hope you guys will still like this version (which imo is the "true" version) and i hope i did both reader and rafe justice. PLSSSSS LMK YOUR THOUGHTS. xx ᓚᘏᗢ

ps: the header image is reader and rafe eyeing the fratboys, not each other lmfao

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@ everyone who fully read the og version. the first half is the exact same; changes were only made after the last chat pic when reader leaves to meet rafe

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W E E K T W O // T U E S D A Y 6 : 4 4 A M

"Fuck this shit."

You chuckled at how fast his smile had dropped. "What?"

From the current POV of the video call, he was holding his phone in his hand, his face so close you could see the cute little speckles in the blue of his eyes.

"What is this shit?" he muttered, still staring at something on his screen, his frown so deep you feared it might leave a permanent crease.

Another laugh slipped from your lips as you paused mid-makeup. "Rafe, what?"

He looked up, brows still furrowed, giving you a look so overly dramatic you had to bite back another giggle.

"Your story," he said flatly, like you'd just made it onto the Top 10 Anime Betrayals list. "Why the hell am I not on the big screen?"

He looked so damn cute with that pouty scowl and big eyes, like a kid being denied candy.

"I'm doing my makeup," you replied simply, a smile tugging at your lips as you resumed exactly that. “How else am I supposed to see where I need to apply it?”

Rafe did not look satisfied. He placed the phone back down, where it had been leaning originally. “Shit, and? That’s a weak-ass excuse. Don’t you have a damn stand-up mirror or something?”

“I do.” You raised your brows, amused, your cheeks already warming at what you were about to say next. “But I figured you’d prefer when I’m looking in your direction.”

His frown deepened. “Obviously I do, but you could’ve at least switched it up for the story. Now everyone thinks I’m just some NPC in your life.”

You laughed, genuinely baffled. “We literally soft launched each other yesterday.”

Saying that out loud—even if it was for the act—made your heart skip a beat in the most chaotic, nerve-wracking way. This morning, your brain had finally caught up with the fact that you’d be dating Rafe for the next few days (AND MAYBE LONGER IHHIHIHI), and had promptly launched you into a full-blown anxiety attack.

You were actually living out the scenario that little you had always dreamed of. This was so fucking surreal. A week ago, you’d been strangers. Four days ago, friends. AND NOW DATING? HOLY SHIT.

And yeah… HAHAHAHA. The fact you’d agreed to fake-date in front of your friends, too? WHAT THE FUCK HAD LAST NIGHT’S YOU BEEN ON???

No, dude. Chill. Don’t spiral.

Rafe had literally just helped you calm down a few minutes ago. Everything would be fine.

“Exactly,” he said, subtly shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “I’m your boyfriend. I deserve the big screen.”

Geez. How many times did you have to remind him that this act was dating stage only, not full-on couple mode? But at this point, you stopped correcting him—it felt like he was doing it on purpose (which only worsened the feral little butterflies in your stomach).

“And also,” he added with a grimace, “what the hell is that caption supposed to mean, huh? You make it sound like I’m bothering you every time I talk.”

You chuckled, fishing out your favorite lip gloss. “That’s not true.” The gloss opened with a wet sound, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned in a little closer to apply it properly. “Obviously, I was just joking. I like hearing you yap,” you said, parting your lips slightly as you began applying the gloss.

…

Your brows furrowed when he didn’t respond. Your eyes flicked down to the bottom right corner of the screen—

—and instantly your cheeks heated up.

He was just watching you. Silently. His frown had melted away, replaced by this soft expression and an unusual warmth in his eyes.

“What?” you asked, sheepish, setting the gloss back down.

Rafe stared for a second longer, brows raised slightly. Then he blinked, scratching his jaw. “You do?”

WHY WAS THAT SUCH A SURPRISE TO HIM? BRO, I’M DOWN BAD FOR YOU. WHATEVER COMES OUT OF YOUR MOUTH, I EAT THAT SHIT UP (most of the time).

Play it cool. Don’t blow it.

“Yeah,” you said, your nerves sparking under your skin at how intensely he was looking at you. “It’s cute.”

HELP. He looked like you’d just short-circuited his brain. Like you could almost see the little loading icon spinning above his head.

WAIT. HAD YOU… ACTUALLY FLUSTERED HIM?

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD. YES.

You giggled softly at his stunned expression. “But I can delete the story if it bothers you.”

That seemed to snap him out of it fast. He shook his head, frowning again. “What, no!”

“Want me to post a new one then?”

Rafe blinked. “Like what?”

“With you on the big screen”, you suggested, smiling amused.

He nodded slowly. “Nah, then everyone’s gonna think I asked for it.”

“Because you did,” you teased, thoroughly entertained by the way his body language always gave him away.

Rafe rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Aight. If you’re so insistent.”

Boy, shut your beautiful ass up.

Still, you nodded. “Okay. Lemme just change first. I don’t like this outfit.”

You’d never seen anyone snap to full attention that fast.

“Alone,” you added flatly.

And just like that, he was back to his cocky smile, letting out a boyish laugh. “What’s the matter? We’re getting cozy tonight anyway.”

WHAT THE FUCK.

Your face flushed hard at that implication, your expression turning into a sharp frown.

“What?” he asked, lips tugging into a downward smile. “Those pics you sent last night made that very clear.”

KILL ME.

WHY. HAD. YOU. SENT. THEM.

Your brain had been overloaded with serotonin after your night at the pavilion with Rafe, that late-night walk, the way the girls had hyped you up—so you hadn’t even thought twice about firing off those suggestive pics.

AND HONESTLY, YOU’D ONLY SENT THEM OUT OF PRINCIPLE. WHY WAS HE ALLOWED TO SEND THAT SHIT, BUT YOU WEREN’T?

Well. Now you were paying the price.

“I already told you why I’d sent them,” you muttered, brows furrowed, fully aware you probably looked like a sulky little rat.

Rafe laughed, the sound so sweet in your ears despite how embarrassed you felt. “Nah, I think you’re just too shy to admit you wanna get down to it too, so you let your shitty pics do the talking.”

SOMEONE SHOOT ME. PLEASE. HOLY SHIT.

Your face was burning, nerves buzzing so loud under your skin you thought you might snap.

NO. Fuck that.

Your frown returned. “Or,” you said as you grabbed your phone and got up, “I’m just having fun. Like you are.”

“Oh yeah?” He rested his chin on his hand, that infuriating smirk spreading across his face. “Y'know, we could have some fun tonight and—”

You hung up.

A startled laugh burst out of you the second the screen went black.

The insane thought of actually getting down to it tonight made your adrenaline skyrocket into fucking orbit.

NO. NOPE. NOT THINKING ABOUT IT.

Tonight was just a harmless sleepover. He was just being his usual flirty, stupid self. Surely you wouldn't need to—

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and a jolt of electricity shot down your spine. You were one second away from going full minion mode and setting your entire brain on fire.

But that feeling disappeared fast as the FaceTime screen popped up again, his little video preview sliding into the bottom right corner.

And his face?

For a moment, you just stared at each other like that, neither of you saying a word or moving a muscle.

Yeah, let him marinate in it. The silent treatment always made him cave. Though it was real hard not to burst into laughter because he looked so dramatically betrayed.

You saw the exact moment he gave in—the slight crease forming between his brows. "Minions okay?"

You chuckled. "Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yes, I just panicked."

Rafe rubbed his jaw, brows still furrowed. "I didn’t think."

"Do you ever?" you teased, barely holding back a grin.

His mouth tugged into a downward smile. "Yeah, well, shit, what else am I supposed to think when you’re leaning forward, glossing your lips like that, huh?"

HORNY-ASS BOY.

You smiled sheepishly, cheeks warm. "I should really get ready now."

He nodded, scoffing amused. "Aight. Will you manage till we see each other?"

"I’m not hanging up."

He blinked. "Thought you needed to get dressed."

"I’ll just turn you around."

The sweetest smile tugged at his lips. "Okay, baby."

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

Before he could see how flustered you probably looked, you placed your phone flat on your desk, eyes wide from the fluttery feeling that one word had stirred in your chest.

Baby.

Getting it over text had already made your heart skip. But hearing him say it, in that soft cheeky tone of his—HOLY SHIT.

"You naked yet?"

You laughed, a tingling feeling blooming in your lower stomach from how... thrilling this felt.

Like you were undressing in front of him—even though the phone was turned around. And you knew he was grinning like an idiot on the other side.

"I’m just slipping into another outfit," you said, smiling as you pulled your top over your head.

"Why?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused. "You looked pretty."

YOU WOULD NEVER GET USED TO THESE COMPLIMENTS CASUALLY FALLING FROM HIS LIPS.

A soft laugh escaped as you rifled through your closet. "I dunno, I thought it was boring."

"Even boring looks good on you," Rafe replied without missing a beat, and the butterflies in your stomach went feral.

You smiled to yourself as you pulled on a new outfit. "Maybe I just wanna put in more effort for my pookie."

Silence.

Then: "Is that like the cutesy version of poo?"

A laugh burst out of you (how was he so ridiculously clueless about relationship stuff?). "No, it’s like an affectionate pet name. Like sweetheart or sugar pie."

"Nah, sounds like a cutesy version of poo."

You reached for a necklace, still laughing. “What do you want me to call you then? Rafey?”

"Eugh, fuck no! Absolutely not," he said, full offense in his voice (and you knew he was making that signature disgusted face without even having to look). "Immediate turn off."

Now we finally have a way to shut down your horny ass, you almost said.

You laughed, clipping on some earrings. "What’s so bad about it?"

"Fuckass nickname," he muttered.

You peeked at the screen without him seeing you and chuckled at his dramatic scowl.

"I’m serious, Y/n," he went on (wow, you knew he meant business if he used your actual name), brows knitted as he sulked, unaware you were watching him. "Had some chick call me that during sex and I nearly—"

He stopped mid-sentence as you stepped back into view, flashing him a cheeky smile and switching his screen into the big view (mostly so you didn’t have to listen to more weird sex stories).

His face lit up with a huge smile, eyes scanning the screen (checking you out through the phone—boy, you ain’t slick). "C’mon, beautiful, give me a full view."

FUCKING DEAD.

This time, you couldn’t hide your flustered expression, whole body buzzing as you let out a breathy laugh. Then you held the phone up, so he had full view on your outfit, catching his stupidly cute smile with a quick screenshot.

"Shit, you’re fucking gorgeous," he said, and YOU DIED FOR THE SECOND TIME TODAY. "Saying that as both your boyfriend and your friend, by the way."

[system error. please try rebooting.]

WHAT THE FUCK. This was worse than him NOT clarifying his mixed signals.

A nervous breath left you, face burning as you brought the phone back to eye level. Not knowing what else to say, you mumbled, "I need to go, Cara’s here."

SHE WASN’T. BUT YOU WOULD EXPLODE IF HE SAID ONE MORE SWEET THING.

Rafe laughed, probably fully aware you were lying, and nodded. "Aight, Pretty. Don’t let her overrun you with her crazy ass, okay?"

ENOUGH WITH THE PET NAMES. YOU’RE ABOUT TO COMBUST.

You gave a small nod. And just as he moved to hang up, you blurted, "Rafe, wait."

“Hm?” He blinked, eyes alert.

COME ON. SAY IT.

You gathered up all your courage and the serotonin he’d just given you and said, "You look really pretty too, today."

Really? GIRL, GET A GRIP.

For a second, he just stared, stunned. You expected a snarky "Just today?" but instead, he ruined it with, "Well, I’m a little hard now, so I should hang up."

DUDE.

Somehow, both of you laughed—even though you didn’t miss the pink dusting his cheeks—and you nodded, deciding to help his maybe-situation by saying, "Okay, Rafey. I better hang up now."

The second a deep scowl flashed across his face, you hung up, laughing in disbelief and burning with secondhand embarrassment while your heart pounded in your chest and ears.

Blood pressure: maxed. You’d barely been awake an hour.

You quickly texted Cara that you were ready and uploaded the screenshot you’d taken to your Instagram story as promised.

You laughed when his message popped up a second later.

And to be able to call his dramatic ass your fake dating partner, situationship, love interest—ugh, he was right, all of that did sound stupid—boyfriend?

Such a sweet feeling.

Because even though your stomach twisted at the idea of keeping up this whole act in less than 30 minutes, he was just as committed to being dramatic as he was to easing your worries and quieting your minions.

So as clueless as Rafe was about relationships, he was doing a damn good job at being your fake boyfriend.

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"Rafe Cameron’s freaking girl," Cara shrieked, gripping the steering wheel of her dad’s Jeep like her life depended on it, her grin so wide it had to hurt. "I can’t believe it! Wait, no—I can. It was just a matter of time before one of you lovebirds confessed."

Uh, yeah. The moment you got into the car, Cara had demanded a full recap of what happened yesterday—starting from the second she dropped you off at your place.

And you’d told her. Mostly.

Okay, so you basically just repeated the stuff you’d said in the girlies’ group chat, but with more detail. Leaving out the obvious—Ruthie’s blackmail, the deal, and the fact that it was all pretend.

HAHAHA. LYING TO YOUR BEST FRIEND FELT GREAT :))))

But technically, you weren’t lying. You just left out a few key details. The rest? Totally true. Starting from Rafe picking you up, driving to the grove, the whole setup and gifts, asking you to the Gloaming, CARRYING YOU TO THAT DAMN LOUNGE BED BRIDAL STYLE (Cara nearly crashed the car at that part), and you two getting cozy, gaming, talking, then your little walk through your street.

And you’d also told her how the topic of relationships and dating had come up while you talked (which was fake but that’s the story you told them last night as well)—Rafe saying he was done with hookups, you jokingly suggesting he try a relationship, him joking about dating you, the flirty back and forth, and finally, the two of you deciding to give it a shot for real.

"Yeah, our convo yesterday kinda encouraged me to bring it up for real," you said, referring to how she'd suggested you should just go for it, tell him you wanted to date, and ditch the whole friends (of three days) thing.

Cara beamed, shaking her head. "I’m genuinely so freaking happy for you, girl." She raised her brows and gave you this dreamy look. "Like, this is all you’ve ever wanted. I’m seriously thinking of sending Mr. Smith some flowers for pairing you two up. He probably shipped you guys just as hard as I did."

You laughed. "I’m pretty sure he picked the pairs randomly, but he’d probably appreciate the flowers still."

"I mean, he’s kinda cute," she teased.

"He’s 54."

"No, no, no," Cara said firmly. "Don’t you dare change the subject now. You still haven’t told me the juicy details."

Um.

An awkward smile spread across your face. "Well… because there are none?"

Cara scoffed. "You’re not seriously telling me NOTHING happened." She shot you a look full of disbelief before focusing back on the road. "I mean, cozy setup, very intimate, A FUCKING BED, you were all cuddled up and had just confessed, and nothing happened? Nah. Not buying it." She smacked the steering wheel dramatically. "Like okay, I didn’t expect you to go full freak mode but like… at least some finger magic? Oh! I bet Rafe knows how to—"

"C, nothing happened," you cut her off, half laughing, half dying inside at the very vivid image of Rafe’s hands anywhere near your underwear— AHHHHHHHH.

"Yet."

You chuckled awkwardly. "We’re trying to take it slow."

Though, if it were up to Rafe, you'd have already been in his bed last Saturday. JESUS CHRIST.

"Okay, but did he at least try something? You know, make some kind of move?" she asked, clearly disappointed.

You were this close to telling her about the boner incident during the open air movie night, but something about that felt like... crossing a line. Like betraying some weird little trust you shared with Rafe.

So instead, you went with a different memory from that night.

"His hand wandered toward my hip," you admitted, heart racing at the memory and that sheepish little smile he’d given when he’d pulled back, apologizing.

Cara gave you a blank stare. "And…? Is there more or…?"

I WISH.

"Uh, no."

"Al—lright."

Yeah, the fact that last night really had just been innocent cuddles—no boner, no wandering hands—was somehow more disappointing now.

She had a point. The setting had been perfect and—

AND WHAT, GIRL? BE FUCKING FOR REAL. Did you seriously expect something to happen???

...Yes.

Somewhere deep inside you, something had shifted. This tiny, newly ignited desire. And Rafe being so flirty, throwing out compliments, even straight-up saying he wanted to get you laid—you had almost let that feeling take over last night, lying in your bed alone.

It wouldn’t have been your first time doing a solo session, of course. Sure, you were inexperienced when it came to sex-sex, but still curious about this topic, and well...

BUT TO DO IT THINKING ABOUT RAFE? OH MY GOD. You’d actually combust the next time you saw him.

I’M JUST A GIRL.

"Y/n?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Thinking about your sweetheart?" she grinned as she turned into the school parking lot. "I asked if you knew when you had time today. The girlies wanna hang, remember?”

Oh shit. You’d almost forgotten.

You scratched your jaw, letting out a sheepish breath. "Uh, yeah… maybe after school?"

Cara chuckled, scanning for a parking spot. "Evening’s booked, huh?"

"The night, actually."

The car screeched to a halt, the seatbelt tugging you back.

"WHAT?!"

A nervous laugh left you as you checked the side mirror. "You’re lucky no one was behind us."

"What do you mean, the night?" Cara asked, completely ignoring everything else around her. Her eyes were wide, wild. "Like, sleeping over? WAIT—did you plan to get down to it tonight? Do I need to walk you through it? Oh my god, now I’m panicking. Okay, you know foreplay is important to—"

"Geez, C," you laughed, half amused, half horrified. "It’s just a sleepover." Then it hit you—two people who just started dating wouldn’t call this just a sleepover, right? "I mean, my mom’s yacht is free tonight, and I figured it’d be a comfy place for our first date."

Nice save...

Cara blinked, lips parted. "Girl."

"What?"

"This SCREAMS 'Netflix and Chill' except there’s nothing chill about it and I’m so close to combusting right now." She shook her head, actually looking serious. "You still got the condoms I gave you, right?"

Used them all already... OF COURSE I STILL HAVE THEM.

You nodded. "Uh, yeah but—"

"No buts," she cut in. "I’m sure Rafe will bring some, but you should too. Better safe than sorry."

A baffled laugh left you. "C, we’re not gonna get down to it tonight."

RIGHT???

Cara raised a brow. "Sweetie. You’ll be alone. On a yacht. No parents. Just the two of you. You’ll cuddle. You just confessed. Sparks will fly. Rafe’s bold. He’ll make a move. One thing’ll lead to another and your face’ll be pressed into the sheets before the night’s over."

Jesus Christ. She sounded just like Rafe.

BUT ACTUALLY THOUGH?! Now that she’d said it out loud, the truth was kinda setting in—yes, you’d be alone with Rafe. Probably even sharing a bed since there was only one. Definitely cuddling again. And maybe…

HELP.

Of course, Cara didn’t know it wasn’t a real date but just a (PROBABLY?!) harmless sleepover so Rafe could finally experience one, but the possibility that something MIGHT happen was starting to freak you out.

And somehow, this whole fake-dating thing felt less dramatic than whatever tonight had in store for you.

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA OKAY CALM DOWN, CALM DOWN, CALM—

"Shit, I’m sorry," Cara said, pulling you back to earth. She shook her head and gave you an apologetic smile. "Please don’t panic, I was just trying to make sure you’d be safe during sex and mentally prepare you in case tonight’s finally your first—"

"Okay, okay, I get it." You let out a breathy chuckle, feeling the minions in your head scramble for the nearest fire extinguisher. "But like I said, we wanna take things slow." And just to shut her up, you added with a sheepish smile, "But I’m not ruling out some kissing... or stuff like that."

GIRL?! One of your minions just threw you a massive side-eye like be for real.

YES, I’M FOR REAL ACTUALLY.

Cara shrieked, clapping her hands. "So close to borrowing JJ’s diving gear and stalking you two from the water."

You laughed (maybe Rafe was right calling her crazy). "So, things didn’t go that great with Topper yesterday?"

The fact that she was still thinking about a guy after a one-time hookup kind of proved she felt more for him than she wanted to admit. Then again, it might also just be because JJ happened to own some diving gear.

And then you felt bad, realizing you’d been so caught up in your hangout with Rafe, you hadn’t even asked about her date/rendezvous/thing with Topper yesterday.

Oh wait. WAAAAAIT.

"Oh my god, did something happen?" you asked, eyeing her cheeky little smile.

Cara was just about to open her mouth when a car honked behind you, making both of you jump.

She glanced in the rearview mirror with a frown and flipped someone off. “Asshole Reid. Who else.”

After she aggressively parked her car, nearly fought Reid for catcalling her, you both headed into the main building.

There were still plenty of students loitering in the hallways outside their classrooms. Some were hanging out in study halls. Everything looked the same as always... except it wasn’t.

You barely processed what Cara was talking about—apparently something about her and Topper getting closer—because the unmistakable feeling of being watched crept up your spine.

It wasn’t like you were some invisible loser that no one ever noticed. Of course, people looked when someone walked past. But this? This was different.

Girls were glancing over their shoulders one after the other. Two frat guys you recognized from Rafe’s PE class smirked at you. And one girl—Amelia Brooks, Rafe’s most recent past hookup/fwb/whatever after Gracie—actually threw you the dirtiest side-eye you’d ever seen.

Um... okay?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. What is this, a real-life Gossip Girl/Mean Girls/high school drama bullshit?

"—I even swallowed for him and— Wait, are you even listening?"

You blinked, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, flashing her a caught smile. "Sorry, I zoned out."

"Too much info about how I gave Topper head?" Cara teased. "By the way, he’s packing more than—"

"Yeah," you cut in, amused. "Way too much info."

In bio class, you and Cara took your usual seats in the third row. Far enough in the back to whisper or scroll on your phones without much risk.

Mr. Martin had put on a movie about natural selection and had promptly fallen asleep ten minutes in. Four students were actually paying attention. The rest were either chatting or scrolling on their phones.

Cara was currently filling you in on her hangout with Topper (again haha since you didn’t hear it earlier). They’d gone for a walk on the beach, had a picnic with candles and wine, things had gotten cozy, her hand wandered, and well... congrats to Topper on his first blowjob.

And apparently he was just as inexperienced as you when it came to all that, since he’d only ever dated Sarah—and they hadn’t gone beyond kissing—and he hadn’t been with anyone else because he was waiting for the right girl (which, honestly? Cute).

And judging by how fixated Cara was on him now… he probably wouldn’t stay inexperienced for long. Welp.

"—and I think he was so overwhelmed from the whole thing, he forgot to ask me to the Gloaming," she finished her ramble, pouting.

You chuckled. "What happened to ‘I want a necklace, a rose bouquet, and a fancy dinner?’"

Just yesterday at lunch she had loudly declared what she expected from being asked out properly but her and Topper’s hangout (blowjob) date had 'just' been a cute picnic.

Cara smiled sheepishly, twirling a blonde strand of hair as she looked at you. “Honestly, his little sounds and whimpers were gifts enough.”

TOO MUCH INFORMATION.

You nodded, lips pressed together in a UH-HUH expression.

"Like, you have no idea how needy—"

"C, please."

She laughed. "Alright, alright. Saving that for Molly."

THANK YOU.

After a bit more chatting about ideas for later with the girls, the two of you eventually leaned back in your chairs, both focused on your phones.

And just a second after watering Cacty (level 5 now, yay), Mr. Clingy himself popped up.

Um. You had two options here.

1. Analyze the hell out of this chat—him calling you his first girl (even if this was fake, it still hit like a truck), him saying you were perfect (BUTTERFLIES? OBLITERATED), calling you a good catch AGAIN, joking about wanting kisses (?!?!!?!), telling you you're pretty for like the fifth time TODAY, casually admitting your opinion mattered to him, and also hinting at some (maybe) questionable preferences in bed because he’d now twice said he liked when you were mean UM OKAY.

OR

2. Just go on with your day.

Yeah, as if your brain ever even had a real choice hahaha. But actually, not today.

No overthinking. No spiraling. No second-guessing intentions, messages, or pictures.

If you wanted this act to work—and most of all, your friendship with Rafe—you needed to stop questioning every single thing he did.

So instead of looping thoughts about pressure, Rafe’s flirting, school gossip, or the guilt of lying to Cara, you pushed it all aside and focused on the good stuff.

Positive thinking, remember?

Wasn’t it way more fulfilling—and a hell of a lot less stressful—to focus on how close you and Rafe had gotten? How safe you made each other feel in just a few days? How somehow your opposite energies just balanced each other out perfectly? How genuinely happy you were to call him your friend?

Sure, getting this close to your years-long crush was INSANE, but even if you weren’t crushing, you’d still be thankful for him. Rafe hadn’t just helped you manage your overthinking (thanks to the minion analogy making it actually graspable); he’d made you feel special, boosted your confidence, made you feel comfortable and accepted in your own skin.

And most fulfilling of all? You helped him be real.

You didn’t know how or why, but somehow, the way you handled and navigated Rafe as a person was actually nudging him into a healthier version of himself.

The Rafe from a week ago couldn’t have expressed himself like this. Okay, sure, he was still basically a toddler when it came to emotional communication, but still. He got less angry—at least with you around. There was such a big contrast between the frat boy version of Rafe Cameron everyone knew and the clingy, soft version of Rafe when he was with you.

Not that you were complaining.

Also, HOW INSANE WAS IT THAT YOU BAGGED RAFE FREAKING CAMERON AS A FRIEND? Like, no modesty for a second—YOU were the first girl to call him a friend.

YOU were the one he’d chosen to spend the rest of Kelce’s party with. YOU were the one he’d cuddled during movie night. YOU were the one he’d asked out to the Gloaming. YOU were the one he’d picked for this whole fake dating act.

And YOU were the one he seemed to feel the most comfortable around, spend his free time with, and cling to like his life depended on it.

Were you insane for loving how obsessed he seemed with your friendship?

Maybe. Who cares.

NOT ME HAHAHAHA.

The last sixty minutes of Bio class were spent watching that boring-ass documentary while Mr. Martin snored away in the front, commenting with Cara about the cursed graphics used in said film, and trying your best to not spiral about the fact that in just 90 minutes, lunch—and all your friends plus Rafe—awaited you.

But no point in spiraling now, right?

Thankfully, Geography with Molly was the perfect distraction. She was super respectful and laid-back when asking about you and Rafe, and—unlike some people (Cara)—she didn’t derail the convo toward sex.

Instead, she gushed about Rafe’s setup ("I was at Kelce’s when he sent the pavilion photo and we giggled so hard"), the flower bouquet—which she admitted to helping pick out ("My mom’s a florist, so I just helped with the filler plants! The rest was all him!"), and got genuinely excited when you told her about your sleepover date.

"Do you need help setting the yacht up?"

Uh.

Shit.

You’d been so focused on the fact that there was gonna be a sleepover in the first place (and obviously still stuck on last night) that you hadn’t even thought about prepping a setup of your own.

Or rather, you didn't think it was needed... considering this was just a sleepover and not actually a date hahaha.

But now that you thought about it, you really wanted to prepare something for him. Rafe had put so much effort and thought into his surprise—not to forget the many gifts he’d given you—that it was your turn to give something back.

You scribbled some grumpy-looking cat on the side of your notes, mumbling, "Yeah, you think the others would also lend a hand?"

"Of course." Molly nodded, smiling sweetly. "We want your first real date to be perfect."

You blinked, startled.

Real? HAHAHAH WHY DID SHE SAY THAT?

"What do you mean 'real' first date?" you asked with a way-too-tense smile.

Oh god, of course, Molly wasn't stupid, of course she knew what was up, she must smell the 'fake' from miles away. Shit what if—

She chuckled. "You know, because now it's officially your first date. Of course, your little rendezvous before also count."

"Oh yeah," you said, exhaling quietly in relief.

Aahhhh, alright.

Shit, you really needed to relax. There was no reason why anyone would assume this thing between you and Rafe was an act.

Um, except the fact you barely knew each other for a week and he'd never been interested in dating before and hahaha yeah totally believable, right???

DIDN’T FUCKING MATTER BECAUSE THE BELL RANG, SOUNDING AS LOUD AS YOUR HEART IN YOUR CHEST.

LUNCH.

Okay. Calm down. Everything’s fine. It’s gonna be okay. Just be yourself. Don’t act any different; nothing changed. You and Rafe just had a (fake) label now.

RIGHT! Rafe would be there. He'd made sure you felt comfortable and at ease. Plus, it’s not like you had to prove your dating through kissing or some shit. This was just gonna be a normal lunch break. Also, he promised to take over talking if anyone asked any questions.

You clung to that thought as if your life depended on it... which it kinda did BECAUSE IF THE OTHERS OVERRAN YOU WITH QUESTIONS YOU’D PROBABLY DIE.

I'm so normal, wow.

Just as you were shouldering your bag, getting ready to head with Molly to the dining hall, your phone buzzed in your bag—twice. You took a quick peek at the messages and chuckled, surprised about Rafe knowing about orcs in the first place.

But okay, yes. You did want to meet up with him beforehand.

So you nicely asked Molly to go ahead, you'd be joining them soon. After she nodded with a knowing smile and a "Of course," you tapped into the chat.

As much as these crazy flirtations and mixed signals messed with your head, more than all it was cute how much fun he had in his little role as a boyfriend.

Though, he enjoyed using his free pass for flirtations way too much (not that he'd held back before but these were getting crazier by the day), you also loved how he actually genuinely wanted to make sure you felt comfortable above all. And maybe this was why you let these extremely suggestive innuendos and vibes slide.

Also, fucking shit, you enjoyed being fake courted like this, what about it?

But when you reached the west wing of the main building, your nerves started buzzing again. And not in the good way.

Because who was standing there with Rafe? Caleb Avero and Peter Winslow—two of the most popular frat guys on campus, aka certified fuckboys, and also Rafe’s friends—aka the same two assholes who’d smirked at you this morning.

Not real friends-friends, that much you knew even just from watching Rafe from afar over the years. Like, he only ever really talked to Kelce and Topper at school, and the second the bell rang, he dipped.

But at parties? Those were his people—or at least the closest thing to a group he socialized with. Okay, yeah, he still mainly stuck to his main babes but when he got in a social mood, you’d definitely seen him talking to these two, downing shots like it was a sport.

Great. And now you had no choice but to walk up to them, because they’d already spotted you. All three of them were grinning, though one grin stood out from the others.

Rafe's looked genuinely happy to see you (obviously?), but Caleb and Peter’s… not nasty, exactly, but definitely weird. Like that smirky look bros get when they think their buddy just got laid.

It’s fine hahah, just say hi real quick, and then surely Rafe and I will go meet up with the others.

ALSO WHY WAS WALKING UP TO THEM THE MOST AWKWARD THING ALIVE. WHY HAD THEY SPOTTED YOU SO EARLY AND WHY WERE THEY JUST WATCHING YOU WALK OVER while saying something to Rafe, who just nodded and kept grinning?

Ugh, great. He was probably already mentally slipping into his boyfriend persona.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said as you FINALLY reached them, instinctively gravitating toward him, because 1. you just felt way more comfortable around him than these jerks, and 2. you were his girl, haha, remember?

When his hand slid around your waist—smooth, confident—FUCKING ELECTRICITY SHOT UP YOUR SPINE. It definitely started you a little but more than anything grounded yourself in the warmth of his touch.

Plus, this exact move was on the green side of gestures you and Rafe had agreed on last night by making a list, so he wouldn’t overstep, soooo… this was completely fine.

STILL, IT FELT SO JDCSKJNCJKDJNJKSEJKE.

Real.

You gave a small, awkward smile and mumbled a soft “Hey” to him, and also to the other two, because you had manners, okay?

Caleb nodded with a casual “’Sup,” and Peter didn’t say anything, just eyed you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl.

Okay, look, you usually had NO problem talking to other guys, like sure you were awkward and laid back, but you could handle a basic conversation with the opposite sex if needed BUT THIS?

“So, Y/l/n’s your new girl, huh?” Caleb asked, flashing a row of perfect white teeth your way. “Sweet.”

Could’ve been a compliment. Could’ve been a veiled jab. You just smiled in response, hoping Rafe would take the lead, introduce you quickly, and then dipped.

Peter snorted. “Must be something special if she got you to settle down.”

Was that shade? Toward Rafe? AND you???

"Yeah," Rafe said, raising his chin with a crooked smile, nudging you gently against his hip without breaking eye contact with Peter, his voice slightly on edge. "Couldn't have made a better catch."

Oh. There was some tension there.

Also… you kinda liked it when Rafe called you a perfect catch in private, because you knew how he meant it. But saying it like this, in front of these guys? It felt like he was comparing you to a fish or some wild horse he managed to tame.

But, okay, Rafe sucked at words, so...

Now it was Caleb’s turn to eye you weirdly. “Shit, and she really puts up with your shit? Like, the coke and all that.” He glanced at Rafe in mock shock. “Oh wait, she knows about that, right?”

Seriously, what the fuck was this? Were they trying to mess with your dynamic? Either they were jealous Rafe had managed to keep a girl around for real, or they had some twisted frat boy logic where any meaningful connection was a threat to their fragile egos.

Nah. Fuck that.

“I do,” you said firmly, before Rafe could respond.

The question hadn’t even been directed at you, but the way they talked about you like you were just Rafe’s accessory? Nah. You weren’t having it.

And clearly they didn’t expect you to speak, because both of them raised their eyebrows and looked at you like, who the fuck asked you?

Jerks.

Rafe’s grip on your waist tightened slightly. Whether it was protectiveness, annoyance, or straight-up anger—you couldn’t tell.

Honestly? Probably all three. But it was directed at them, not you, that much you knew.

"That true?" Caleb asked with an irritated smile directed at Rafe, almost seeming pissed with your answer.

Rafe nodded, fiddling with the fabric of your top (wait… was he nervous?) and said, “Even tags along when I pick up my shit.”

Um…?

You blinked at him, confused.

Was he referring to that one time last weekend when you went to Barry’s pawn shop together? Where he dared you to wait in the car, but you followed him in anyway to meet a friend, not to be part of a drug pickup?

He made it sound like you willingly joined him on drug runs all the time or something.

“Oh shit,” Peter said, letting out a nasty chuckle. “Already got her following you around like a stupid lovestruck puppy.”

What the actual fuck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rafe’s brows twitch. But instead of snapping, he just… laughed along (???) in a weird tone that didn't sound genuine, then added, “Fuck, no, more like an independent stray cat.”

The other two cracked up, dirty laughter echoing in the hallway. And suddenly, you felt super gross standing there.

Because why hadn’t Rafe shut that down? Instead, he’d added another weird comparison, which sure, in private, maybe that line could’ve been cute given the right context. But in front of two undeniably misogynistic jerks?

Weird call.

And it seemed like he realized that, too, when his eyes met yours, clearly noticing your furrowed brows as he was probably trying to check why you weren't laughing along.

Yeah, you dumbass. Not funny.

His smile faded instantly, and he looked like he was about to say something, but Caleb jumped in first.

“Thought you hated cats,” he said with a self-absorbed grin, throwing a glance in your direction. “Quiet little monsters that scratch for no reason and never do what they’re told.”

You shifted uncomfortably, pulse climbing. The passive-aggressive jabs, the subtle shade—they weren’t even subtle anymore.

And the worst part? The way these two clearly saw girls as disposable. A pastime. The fact that Rafe partied with them—even occasionally—really started to grate on you.

And the fact that you feared what he was about to say next, because his whole cat-comment already threw you off?

Your stomach twisted.

But then his hand moved gently along your waist—barely a motion, but enough to soothe your spiraling thoughts—and his eyes locked on Caleb.

“Y’know, dude, best keep your mouth shut when it’s just bullshit coming out,” he said with a crooked smile that basically screamed ‘so close to decking you.’

And as much as that little pushback made you feel better, it also gave you war flashbacks from that Truth or Dare game at Kelce’s on Friday night when he almost fought Chris if Rob and Kelce hadn’t stopped him.

Though, he was coked out that night. Surely he wouldn’t start something sober, in broad daylight, on school grounds... right?

Caleb just scoffed, amused. “Does she even know about all the other chicks you’ve been with? I mean, the way you used to get around and--”

“I don’t care about past involvements,” you said flatly, cutting him off, pissed off at their little sabotage game and their stupid comments.

Sure, this whole thing between you and Rafe was an act, but they didn’t know that. And the way they were trying to poke holes in it? Low as hell.

Especially because they acted like Rafe was some fuckboy like them when in reality he only hooked up like twice a month (as far as you knew hahaha).

“Involvements, she says,” Peter laughed, elbowing Caleb, both of them grinning. And for the first time, he spoke directly to you. “Shit, you do realize he hooked up with tons of bitches before you, right?”

And the moment you felt Rafe’s hand slip from your waist, you knew he was about to go for the guy’s throat. Instinctively, your other hand shot out and grabbed his, holding on tight.

His head whipped around, scowl carved deep into his face, but his expression softened just slightly when you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“What, dude, huh?” Peter snorted, raising his brows at Rafe. “You gonna fight me now over the truth?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched as he shifted his gaze back to the jerk, still holding your hand like he wasn’t planning to let go. Which, honestly, just made your heart go absolutely feral.

“Yeah, if it means shutting your bullshit up, I’ll gladly beat your ass,” Rafe said, scoffing. He pointed to his own chest with his free hand. “I mean, fuck, you’re really here talking shit about me like that when the only girls you ever pull are too drunk to even recognize your ugly face. I’ve never seen a single girl look at you sober.”

Oh—and the way Peter’s grin disappeared was the most satisfying thing you’d seen all week. (Okay, it was only Tuesday, but still.)

Caleb let out a condescending laugh and gestured toward you without even looking. “Shit, bro, we both know you’re only keeping her around ‘cause everyone knows shy girls are the freakiest—”

“Finish that sentence,” Rafe cut in, his voice low and dangerous, his hand almost painfully clenching around yours, “and I swear to God, I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.”

Uh. Let’s not.

You gently tugged on his hand, giving him a look that said please let’s just go.

His grip softened instantly, and when he looked at you, it almost felt like an apology.

“Shit,” Caleb chuckled again, pulling Rafe’s attention back. “Cameron’s pussy-whipped over a wallflower. Cute combo, honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re gonna drop her by next week just like your other chicks.”

You know what? Rafe was allowed to punch him. You were officially giving him full moral clearance.

Instead, he just shook his head, looking so done as his hand slipped from yours to tap both sides of his temples. “Bro, is it really not clocking to you that everything coming out of your mouth is just complete bullshit? Like, do you honestly think I give a fuck?”

His hand found yours again, giving it a little tug, clearly ready to leave, but didn’t break eye contact with the two of them as he threw a dismissive wave. “Seriously. Go find some fucker or lonely bitch who gives a shit about you puffing your chests.”

And without waiting for their response, he turned and started walking away, still dragging you by the hand (!!!), his face tense with that deep frown.

But as you passed Peter, he didn’t let it go—no, instead, he eyed you with a look so sleazy and condescending, it felt like he was undressing you with his eyes.

“Funny you’re talking about lonely bitches,” he said.

Rafe stopped.

Which meant you, too, were forced to come to a halt—right in front of this misogynistic piece of shit.

Peter didn’t look at Rafe. No. His gaze was locked on you, grin spreading deep and wide in the worst possible way. “When you've already got your fingers on one.”

His face met your open palm in a sharp, ringing slap.

And somehow, all four of you stood frozen for a solid ten seconds. Even a few students nearby went completely silent.

Your face flushed as the realization of what you'd just done sank in and you even almost apologized out of sheer shock at your own reaction.

But Rafe beat you to it.

His stunned expression twisted into something so furious, it made your blood run cold. “What the fuck did you just say?”

That’s when the one logical minion in your head took over and kicked you back into motion. You stepped in front of Rafe, holding his hand tightly, shaking your head, completely overstimulated by everything that had just gone down.

“Don’t,” was all you managed to say, your voice so sharp even Rafe blinked.

“I get it now,” Peter called from the side, rubbing his cheek with a crooked smile. “You’ve always had a thing for crazy chicks, Cameron. This one’s no different.”

Rafe looked like he was about to murder him.

So you took control. You moved. Because if you didn’t, this would end in detention. His or yours, DEPENDING ON HOW SERIOUSLY THE SCHOOL TOOK VIOLENCE HAHAHAHA.

You barely registered Rafe following you, still gripping your hand, still cursing under his breath about killing both of them after school. But all your brain could focus on--BESIDE THE FACT THAT YOU WERE HOLDING HANDS WITH RAFE--was the way your heart rate had suddenly picked up like crazy.

And your nerves? Humming and buzzing under your skin in a way that made you wanna rip it open. And your clothes felt like they were suffocating you. Like every fiber was clinging to your body, too hot, too loud.

This wasn’t a fucking panic attack, was it?

Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Why? What had even triggered this? Holding hands with Rafe??? No, no way. That couldn’t be it. You’d literally cuddled with him before—this was child’s play compared to that.

No. It was that slap.

But that hadn’t even been that dramatic, right? No. He’d deserved it. Right? RIGHT? He really did.

But the people who saw it—oh god, the gossip, the whispers, the rumors that would spiral from it. On top of the whole fake-dating Rafe thing. And the fact you had to keep this charade up. And the Ruthie situation. And the lying to your friends and your family and—

YOUR FAMILY.

YOU HADN’T EVEN TOLD THEM YET THAT RAFE WAS COMING OVER TONIGHT. SLEEPING OVER. JUST YOU AND HIM. AND HIM BEING YOUR BOYFRIEND NOW—WHICH HE WASN’T, BECAUSE YOU WERE JUST “DATING,” NOT A COUPLE. BUT STILL. THIS WHOLE INTERACTION HAD FELT TOO REAL—THE WAY HE STOOD UP FOR YOU, HIS HAND ON YOUR WAIST, THAT PRIDE IN HIS VOICE AND—

—and the fact he’d still joined in on that laughter earlier, compared you to an animal, lied about you going with him on drug runs, and even entertained a conversation with those misogynistic assholes in the first place…

It made you wonder if maybe—

“Shit, Y/n, wait a fucking second!” He pulled at your hand a little harder, making you come to a stop, your chest heaving, head spinning.

“You okay?” His voice was as soft as it could be. “You look one second away from one big-ass minion spiral."

Only then did you realize you’d dragged him all the way to the end of the west wing, where only some locked storage rooms and one empty study hall remained.

“Shit, don’t tell me those fuckers got in your head,” he said, gently brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, brows furrowed in concern. “I swear, the second they step outta school, I’m gonna—”

“I’m having a panic attack.”

His whole face blanked. “What? Why?”

“I…” You shook your head, letting your clammy hand slip from his. Your body was burning. The air around you thick with pressure. “I—I don’t know, I—shit, I don’t—”

But the words got stuck in your throat, a fresh wave of panic crashing into your chest, tightening it until it felt like it might strangle you, making everything worse because now you were hyper-aware of your racing heart, and on top of that, aware that yes, you were officially having a panic attack, and THAT made it all spiral even harder because WHY WAS THIS EVEN HAPPENING AND—

“Talk to me.” Rafe’s hand reached for yours again, snapping you out of it for a moment. His face full of worry. “Shit, Y/n, come on, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, pulling away again, and the look on his face—hurt, confused—only fueled your spiral.

You needed to breathe.

Desperately, you scanned the hallway, spotted the unlocked study room door, and rushed in. You tossed your bag onto a table, rubbed your sweaty palms against your clothes, sat on a stool, then immediately stood up again because sitting felt worse than pacing.

You rushed to the window, trying to open it—get any fresh air into this suffocating room—but it wouldn’t budge.

Your fingers fumbled helplessly with the handle, panic climbing—

Again, Rafe’s touch grounded you. This time, it was a hand on your upper back, gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion before he softly said, “Step aside.”

You did, almost begging him to keep his hand there as it slipped away. He stepped into your spot, and with one clean motion, the window flung open. Fresh air poured inside.

When he turned back to you, his expression was somewhere between concern and alarm, soft but intense in a way that sought answers.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, his blue eyes locked on yours.

And then—for some godforsaken, messed-up reason—it hit you like a brick wall.

This was Rafe Cameron.

The Rafe Cameron you had crushed on from a distance for years. The one you’d exchanged maybe a single sentence with in your entire life. The guy who never once spared you more than a glance. The boy little you had once dreamed of marrying just because he was pretty.

And now he was here.

Standing right in front of you.

Looking at you like he knew you. Like he understood. Like you two hadn’t been complete strangers just eight freaking days ago.

This was—

No.

No.

Your brain had completely glossed over how fast—HOW UNNATURALLY FAST—you two had gotten close. You’d been spiraling over the small things, but somehow ignored this—the single biggest shift your life had ever taken.

And calling him your friend now? Your boyfriend?

Cuddling with him, holding his hand literally seconds ago, and now planning to sleep in the same bed tonight?

NO NO NO NO NO.

Fake. Wrong. Unreal.

Probably just a dream.

Fuck, why hadn’t you taken the time to actually process all this? And now you were drowning in the full wave of it.

Your hands were trembling, mind going back to slapping Peter, and you felt so stupid for reacting this hard to a slap—a deserved slap—for NO. FUCKING. REASON.

"This doesn’t look like you’re feeling better," Rafe said tensely.

You could only shake your head again.

That’s when full-on panic washed over his face. “Shit, okay, fuck, maybe we could…” He glanced around, jaw clenched. “Fuck, I don’t know what to do in a situation like this. Do you need water? A blanket? An inhaler?”

A breathless, baffled laugh escaped you before panic took over again. You shook your head. “I—I don’t know. I haven’t had a panic attack like this in a long time.”

“Then tell me how I can help you,” he said, his voice strained, borderline desperate.

God. No. Rafe being distressed could mean anything from punching a wall to telling you to fuck off if his patience ran out.

BUT WHY DID YOU THINK THAT? He was probably just as panicked and scared, trying his best to help.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.

"Y/n?" he said again, a little more urgent. You flinched, throwing your hands up toward your chest in frustration.

"Rafe, I don’t fucking know, okay?" You snapped, trying to regulate your breathing. Then your expression softened, guilt crashing in because it wasn’t his fault. “Just… talk to me. Keep me distracted or something.”

He blinked, completely lost. “What should I say?”

“ANYTHING.”

“Shit, okay, uhh…” He scratched his jaw, visibly distressed, then gave a startled laugh. “Do you know how hot that slap was? Like I don’t think I’ve ever been turned—”

“NO.” You cut him off, eyes squinting in disbelief, your HEART SHOOTING THROUGH THE STRATOSPHERE.

WHY DID HE THINK THAT WAS WHAT YOU NEEDED TO HEAR NOW?!

He chuckled tensed, then pressed his lips together, failing badly at hiding a grin. “Okay, okay, then maybe… shit, I don’t know.” Another grimace. A hand ran through his hair. Your nerves were near snapping.

Then he froze. Face suddenly dead serious—like he’d had some kind of brilliant revelation.

“I…” He laughed, nervous. “Can I try something?”

“If it’ll help, then yes, fuck, do it,” you said frantically, feeling the heat in your body shift to a weird, icy hum.

He paused, eyes locked with yours, intense. You half-expected him to slap you just to shock you out of it but instead he stepped closer, CUPPED YOUR CHEEKS IN HIS HANDS, LOOKED AT YOUR LIPS, AND LEANED IN FAST—

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” you shrieked, hands flying to his chest to shove him back, panic skyrocketing.

DID HE JUST TRY TO KISS YOU???

Rafe blinked, completely startled, brows jumping in confusion and panic. “I… shit, I was just—I was trying to help.”

Your chest heaved. “HELP ME?!” your voice jumped an octave. You shook your head rapidly, hands fidgeting. “You thought kissing me would help?!”

That's it, you were gonna die. You could hear and feel your blood pumping so fast.

“I—I saw it on TV once,” he said, face twisted into panic, as he gestured vaguely to his chest.

WHAT THE FUCK.

"Just some fuckass scene from some fuckass show Wheezie watched with some furries", he added, grimacing. "Fucker had some panic attack or some shit I dunno and the chick kissed him, and shit was okay afterward."

You just stared at him. Baffled. Utterly in disbelief.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Teen Wolf,” you said flatly, so thrown by the fact Rafe Cameron just used Teen Wolf logic to fix your panic attack that you couldn’t even keep spiraling.

Rafe nodded, rubbing his jaw. "Yeah, think that’s the one." He searched your eyes, distressed. "Look, I’m sorry, I--I didn’t--Shit, I thought it would catch you off guard and shut your minions up and--"

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you.

Honestly, THIS startled you more than the attempted kiss because he genuinely seemed like he thought using a Stydia scene was a valid solution.

Kissing you.

That.

Was he fucking stupid?

You shook your head, still startled and amused at his worried face, the way he looked sad it hadn’t worked.

At least not at first. Because weirdly enough, your brain finally slowed. That tight, suffocating feeling started to lift. Just a little.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, mildly offended. “It wasn’t some desperate attempt to make a move on you.”

Uh, yeah… how exactly were you supposed to explain that clarifying that only made it worse?

You shook your head, baffled. "Rafe, that was—" You broke off, laughing again. "That was literally the worst possible thing you could’ve done."

“Why?” he asked, quieter this time. “I asked for permission.”

Boy.

You eyed him deadpan. “You didn’t say anything about a kiss.”

“Yeah, to catch you off guard and refresh your brain or some shit.” He threw his hands up. “I didn’t think you’d react that disgusted.”

“What? No!” you laughed, amused. “I was just…”

How do you explain to someone that a kiss you once fantasized about your entire life being suddenly dropped on you mid-panic attack might cause… well, a bigger panic attack?

“Not disgusted, for sure,” you finished, awkwardly smiling.

He blinked. “Then why’d you push me away?”

“Rafe, I was having a literal panic attack. I was barely breathing and you tried to put your mouth on mine,” you explained, half-laughing again. “I mean... shutting off my only source of air? Not really the best strategy, right?”

He paused.

...Really? Now he was thinking about that?

“Yeah, shit, you’re right,” he muttered, scratching his jaw. Then, smiling like a cheeky little shit, he added, “Guess watching you slap that fucker just stirred some feelings. Just deserved a kiss, y'know?"

NO, I DON'T KNOW.

His grin said “I’m kidding,” but the timing?

ABSOLUTELY WILD. LIKE WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT WHEN HE KNEW DAMN WELL ONE MINUTE AGO YOU FELT LIKE DYING BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING KISS.

Too startled by his joke, all you managed was a way-too-tense chuckle, arms hugging your own bod, trying to ground yourself. Your temperature had dropped and the aftershock was kicking in.

“Shit, you cold?” His grin faded into actual concern as he stepped closer, clearly wanting to reach out but looking lowkey hesitant after how you reacted earlier.

You smiled, grateful for how quickly he could switch from cocky flirt to concerned friend. “Yeah, just chills. I always get them after a rush of anxiety.”

His brows twitched, and your stomach did a flip at the way he pressed his lips together, the urge to reach out basically written all over his face.

A soft laugh escaped you. “What?”

“Am I banned from touching you now?” he asked, pulling the funniest confused frown ever.

Your cheeks warmed at how sweet he was being. And to think you’d ever even considered lumping him in with those disgusting frat bros...

“No,” you said simply, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes flicked over his arms for a second before landing on his again, sheepishly. “You’re always warm.”

Got the hint?

HE SURE AS HELL DID, BECAUSE THAT MAN DIDN’T WASTE A SINGLE SECOND. His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you against his chest while you still clung to yourself.

And when he rested his chin on your head, rubbing gentle circles into your back?

Yeah.

That warmth spread through your whole body FAST, melting away whatever scraps of panic still lingered in your chest.

“You’re suffocating me,” you mumbled, cheek pressed to his chest, absolutely not minding.

Oh, to die between Rafe Cameron’s tiddies.

And he did, in fact, pull you even closer, biceps wrapped around your shoulders. “I don’t care.”

A muffled chuckle slipped from your lips, butterflies racing through your stomach. You managed to wiggle your arms free to wrap them around his torso, holding on tightly.

You stayed like that for a solid minute. Just holding each other. No one saying anything. No one letting go. Just soaking in the warmth.

And the way Rafe clung to you—like he hadn’t been held like this in forever—made you realize maybe he hadn’t.

Not by Topper. Not Kelce. Definitely not by Sarah. And not by Rose or his dad either—sad as that was. Maybe by Wheezie—but even that felt uncertain.

And honestly? You hadn’t been held like this in a long time, either. Not like this. Not this close. Not this warm or longingly.

"You feeling warmed up now?" he asked, still holding on tightly, rubbing your back.

You nodded with your face pressed against his chest, soaking in his addictive cologne. "Yeah, thank you."

"Feels like a bonding moment but vertically", he said, amused, making you chuckle.

It was cute how often he brought that term up since you'd introduced it.

"It definitely is", you said, chest warming at the thought. "Now only a diagonal one is missing."

"Oh, I know an occasion for that."

A laugh slipped past your lips, minions eyeing him deadpan at how he was even milking a sweet moment like this for a flirty comment.

And then, somehow, you also felt like thanking him for something else. "Rafe?"

"Yeah, shit, sorry, didn't wanna ruin this."

You chuckled. "You didn't. I wanted to say something else."

"That you're also turned on right now?"

UMMMMMMMM.

“I wanted to thank you not acting like a complete idiot earlier", you replied deadpan, hoping he was just kidding and his boner wasn't actually pressed against you right now.

“Shit, of course", he said, seriously. "Fuckers thinking they could run their mouths like that and—wait.” He pulled back slightly, his hands sliding down to rest at your waist, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You blinked, your hands resting on his chest now. “Huh?”

“That sounded like I did do something wrong.”

“What?”

He nodded. “‘Not like a complete idiot’? That kinda sounds like I was half an idiot.”

Uh.

“Well,” you started, smiling awkwardly.

Shock spread across his face. “Shit, what. You for real?”

You quickly shook your head. “No, I mean…” Okay. Honestly? “I really appreciated you stepping in for me. Like, seriously. I’m super thankful you had my back. But—”

“Was it my hand around your waist?” he asked, shaking his head, starting to pull away, scowling. “Shit, sorry, I thought—”

“No!” you quickly interrupted, feeling relief rush through you as his grip on your waist steadied again. “I liked that. I—I mean, y’know, it's on the green side of our list.”

He tilted his head, confused. “Then what?”

“It’s just…” You started fidgeting with a button on his polo. “I think maybe you could’ve phrased a few things differently, that’s all.”

“You mean me calling you 'Beautiful'?” He blinked. “Thought 'Baby' might be too much.”

Bro.

“Rafe, no,” you said, half-laughing. “It’s—okay, look. When you said you made a good catch with me, it sounded like you were bragging about reeling in a fish or something.”

He stared at you like you’d just told him you were an alien. “Shit, what? Which one of your fuckass minions put that bullshit idea in your head? That was literally meant to be a compliment.”

Um...

“Yeah, no,” you said, letting out a baffled chuckle. “I get what you were trying to say, but it would’ve been nicer if you’d said something like, ‘I’m lucky she’s my girl,’ or anything that makes me sound less like some animal you bagged and more like someone you value.”

“I do value you,” he said firmly, his thumbs softly rubbing circles into your sides. “A lot. I wasn’t comparing you to an animal, I just—”

“You did.”

“Huh?”

You nodded, more serious. “Yeah, when Peter called me a stupid puppy following you around, you laughed, and then said I was more like a stray cat, when you should’ve just shut that dehumanizing comment down. And even if you meant to correct him, it still played into his whole vibe.”

“What? No!” He shook his head, genuinely confused. “Shit, no. I laughed at him, not with him, alright? I knew damn well that fucker talked shit by claiming you were some braindead bitch, so I obviously corrected him with something that actually reminded me of you. That wasn’t meant to be negative.”

Oh, my sweet clueless boy.

“Look, I know what you meant,” you said, softening your tone because you knew he wasn’t trying to be an asshole. “But those guys? They don’t. They’re misogynistic assholes. And even if you corrected him, it still kinda fed into his degrading vibe.”

Rafe grimaced. “I’d never degrade you.”

“I know that okay," you said, buttoning his polo for no reason other than something to do with your hands. “But like I said, they don’t. I’m just trying to show you how some of the stuff you've said came across in that context.”

And when you saw his frown deepen, you quickly added, “I’m not saying you were being an asshole. In no way. I love that you stepped in as soon as you noticed I was uncomfortable and didn’t let their crap slide.”

“I would’ve smashed both of their faces in,” he muttered, brows drawn tight.

You chuckled. “I know—and I do appreciate it—but maybe don’t throw a punch every time someone pisses you off.”

“Nah. They would’ve deserved it.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, admitting that part at least.

He gave your waist a gentle squeeze and grinned. “See? You agree.”

“Maybe. But that’s not the point,” you replied, amused. “Do you get what I was trying to tell you?”

A crease formed between his brows as his fingers fidgeted with the fabric of your top. “I should’ve phrased things better because it hurt you.”

The way he was trying so hard made your heart squeeze painfully.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you said gently, opening the button on his polo again. “I was just pointing out that some things you said could have been interpreted as lowkey—emphasis on lowkey—misogynistic. By others,” you added quickly because the offense was written all over his face. “I know what you meant, but in the wrong context, it sounded like you kinda agreed with them.”

Rafe scowled. “I don’t.”

“Then why do you hang out with them?” you asked, brows furrowed. “They clearly carry this energy that objectifies women, reduces them to mere sex objects.”

He scoffed. “Only talked to them cause they asked about last Friday’s party. Got no business with these fuckers other than that.”

“Yeah, well, you kinda do,” you said, reluctant. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you chill with them more than once at parties.”

UMMMMM WHY DID YOU SAY THAT. Now it sounded like you were stalking him.

HELPPP—AND THE WAY HIS BROWS TWITCHED.

“You’ve watched me at parties?” His grin spread, and you wanted the ground to eat you alive.

WHAT WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO SAY? Yes, fun fact, I’ve been crushing on you since fifth grade and could spot you in a football stadium.

“I mean, I’m just saying this is something I've observed,” you mumbled, smiling awkwardly. “When the same people hang out together often, it’s noticeable.”

His stupid grin only grew, hands gently squeezing your waist. “Yeah, but that means you’ve watched me more than once.”

CAN WE PLEASE DROP THIS.

“Don’t derail the topic,” you said with a nervous chuckle. “Those guys—”

“No, no,” he cut you off, cocky as ever. “Now I wanna know what else you observed about me.”

DUUUDE.

You forced a frown, trying to be serious and get him to back off this topic. “Rafe. I’m serious. These guys are—”

“Losers. I know.” He nodded, still annoyingly smug. “And I won’t chill with them again. I don’t even like their asses anyway.”

You blinked, surprised how fast he gave in. “But I don’t want you to drop them just because I said something. You should feel it too.”

“I do. They only care about chasing bitches and acting like it’s a personality trait,” he said. “And they had the nerve to talk shit about you. Honestly, I should beat them up before cutting them off.”

Between texts and convos, this had to be like the tenth time he’d called girls “bitches” today. And also… Peter had only called you a “lonely bitch” after Rafe had used the term first.

“What?” he asked, seeing your scowl. “Those are facts.”

You pressed your lips together, not sure how much criticism he’d tolerate in one sitting.

“You should stop calling girls ‘bitches’,” you said firmly.

He grimaced deeply. Great. “Why? You also want me to stop calling other dudes 'fuckers'? That’s just how I—”

“No. It’s dehumanizing, distasteful, and gross,” you countered, softly tapping his chest. “And—”

“Shit, what?” He smiled, irritated. “Where’s that coming from now? You never had a problem with it before.”

Honestly, you just hadn’t truly noticed—or rather, you’d ignored it. But now that you thought about it, he said it more often than not.

“I know, it’s just…” You exhaled slowly. You didn’t want to fight right now. “Rafe, it’s a nasty word to use for girls. Do I really need to unpack the entire history of women being objectified and degraded for you to get why it’s not okay?”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t seem to want to fight either.

“Look,” you offered a soft yet firm smile, “I get that you curse like it’s punctuation and ‘bitches’ is just part of the package. I’m not telling you to stop cursing. I’m saying cut that word out when talking about women in a normal, non-hostile context."

He subtly shook his head, grimacing. “Makes no fucking sense. Why would I not be allowed to call 'girls' like Ruthie bitches, huh? She’s—”

“That’s... something different,” you said cautiously, still fiddling with the button of his polo. “She is a bitch for dragging you into that mess, playing games with everyone around her, and putting other girls down on her own.”

You lifted your gaze, meeting his eyes softly. “Context always matters. If someone is genuinely acting toxic or nasty? Sure, that person is an asshole, a bitch, a jerk, whatever you may call it. But when you use the word when it’s clearly interchangeable with ‘girl’—or ‘chick’, I don’t care—it stops being about behavior and starts sounding like you just don’t respect women in general.”

A small, shameful smile tugged at your lips. “And you’re right. I should’ve called you out on this the very first time. I just… I guess it only hit me when another guy threw your exact words back in my face. So that’s on me for letting it slide.”

The scowl on Rafe’s face didn’t exactly suggest your words had fully clicked, and you half expected him to push back, to get defensive again. But then something shifted. His sharp expression softened into something closer to quiet defiance.

He let out a breath and gave a small nod. “Alright.”

Um… he'd given in a little too fast again.

“Do you actually get it, or are you just agreeing so I shut up?” you asked, raising a skeptical brow.

For a second, his eyes flicked to your lips before locking back on your gaze, a smug smile curling his mouth. “Nah, if I wanted you to shut up, I’d use a different strategy.”

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. THIS GUY. NOT A SINGLE OUNCE OF RESTRAINT.

“I mean,” he said, his hands sliding just slightly lower on your hips, “this room is pretty far off from the others and—”

“I’m hungry,” you blurted out, cheeks going up in flames because his hands on your hips were a direct line to your brain’s short-circuit button. And worse, they were starting a wildfire in that very specific spot between your legs and—

NOPE. NOT LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY IN SOME PUBLIC CLASSROOM.

Rafe laughed, letting his hands slide away with an "Aight" (PUT THEM BACK), and grabbed his backpack off a nearby chair, slinging it over his shoulder. Then he held out your bag to you. “Then c’mon. Don’t want my girl to starve.”

YOU WOULD NEVER GET USED TO THIS.

You took the bag with heated cheeks and slung it over your shoulder, AND WHEN HE HELD HIS HAND OUT TO YOU, YOUR HEART SKIPPED SO HARD IT NEARLY TRIPPED.

You blinked, stunned, not wanting to misread the gesture.

“C’mon,” he said, nodding toward his hand with a crooked smile. “Don’t want you running off again like earlier. Plus, if I remember correctly, you did put this on the green side of our list.”

You had, but HOLDING HANDS WITH RAFE—LIKE THAT—AGAIN???

Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s just hand-holding.

Screw it ahahhahahahah.

You reached out, and that was all it took for him to take your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. The biggest grin spread across his face.

“See?” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Normal boyfriend and girlfriend behavior.”

Uh-huh.

You scoffed, amused, falling into step beside him. Your skin buzzed with awareness at the contact, your pulse loud in your ears. But then you stopped, a strange, sinking feeling pooling in your stomach.

Rafe immediately noticed. His smile faded. “What’s wrong? Shit, is it what I said earlier? I was just—”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head with a sheepish chuckle, though you still felt the ghost of his hands on your hips. “It’s just… I don’t really wanna go join the others right now. The interaction with—”

“Then we won’t,” he said instantly, thumb brushing gently over your skin. “We’ll grab something down the street. Sound good?”

You nodded, a relieved smile tugging at your lips, warmed by how quickly he always picked up on your discomfort. And for once, the heat rising in your cheeks didn’t feel terrible. “Yes.”

“Perfect.” He smiled back, nudging your shoulder lightly as you walked together. “What are you craving?”

THIS FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, HOLY SHIT.

Like? The feeling of his hand in yours? Nothing’s ever felt so right, so electric, so anxiety-inducing in the best way possible.

"Pizza, maybe?" you suggested, unable to stop grinning like an idiot.

Rafe squeezed your hand again, SENDING SHOCKWAVES UP YOUR ARM, as you rounded a corner. He nodded. "Whatever my girl wants, I’ll get her."

DUUUUUDE.

A sheepish chuckle left your lips, and you leaned playfully into his shoulder for a second. "You’re really thriving in this fake dating thing."

“Oh, you think we’re acting right now?” he said with that same cheeky grin, MAKING YOU QUESTION YOUR ENTIRE EXISTENCE BECAUSE WHAT PART OF DON’T THROW MIXED SIGNALS DID HE NOT UNDERSTAND.

Another nervous laugh bubbled out. Suddenly, you were very, very hot.

And then, panic—what if your hand got clammy and he felt it and immediately got grossed out and—

"Y’know," Rafe said, amused, gently brushing his thumb over yours again, pulling you out of your mental spiral. "I wasn’t kidding when I said you look just like that one bitch-ass ladybug when you space out."

A baffled laugh burst out of you. “So you are calling me a bitch.”

“Nah,” he scoffed. “Crazy and weird, sure. But not a bitch.”

“Wow. That’s what I get for getting dragged into a misogynistic interaction,” you teased, but his smile dropped, making your heart clench. “Just kidding.”

“No, you’re right.” He looked ahead as you stepped out into the courtyard, a serious scowl replacing the earlier grin. “You deserve a proper apology.”

You blinked, confused, your breath catching as you realized he meant it. Like, fully planned on paying for your food. “Rafe, no.”

He snorted, still dragging you along past the main entrance and toward Silver Spoon Avenue. “Just shut up and lemme take you out.”

You chuckled, stunned. But your feet faltered.

“What?” he asked, stopping as well and raising a brow when he pointed toward the glowing sign of Dolce Divino across the street—a literal high-end restaurant where pizza STARTED at sixty bucks. “You said pizza, so we’re getting pizza.”

You blinked. “Not there. I don’t— I mean, we’ve only got like thirty minutes. left”

AND A SINGLE PIZZA COSTS SIXTY FREAKING DOLLARS.

“Okay? That’s enough time unless you eat like a snail,” he said, trying to keep going, but you didn’t move.

“Rafe, this— For real, I don’t—”

“I put you in a situation that made you uncomfortable,” he cut in with a frown. “So let me make up for it by spoiling you.”

Probably something Ward had taught him. Not that Rafe had even made a huge mistake—other than humoring two douchebags in the first place.

Still, the fact that he was still trying to make it right warmed your chest.

You shook your head. “Seriously, I appreciate the gesture, but—”

“You’re only wasting time we could be using to eat,” he said with a roll of his eyes, gently tugging your hand again. “C’mon. Pick a pizza. Then you can scold me for whatever you were about to say.”

On the one hand, you really didn’t want him to blow sixty dollars on a pizza you’d have to inhale in under half an hour, while wearing an outfit that didn’t even fit the vibe of that place (would they even let you in?). Plus, you especially didn’t want him thinking it was all his fault that you felt uncomfortable.

But on the other hand…

A five-star pizza was literally the least you deserved after the stress and bullshit from earlier. And god, how much you enjoyed Rafe wanting to spoil you and treat you like a princess. Also, him demanding to take you out? SO FUCKING HOT. And, fuck, okay, eating lunch with Rafe in a fancy-ass restaurant like that??

HOW COULD YOU SAY NO, LET’S BE FOR REAL. AND EVEN IF THIS WAS THE FAKE BOYFRIEND TALKING OR JUST HIM TRYING TO FLEX THAT HE COULD AFFORD IT, WHO CARED.

SO.

“Fine.” You nodded, brows furrowed. “But I don’t want this linked to earlier. I don’t want you to think it was your fault I felt uncomfortable when it was clearly because of the other idiots.”

A huge grin spread across Rafe’s lips. “No problem. So this will be a date then.”

UMMMMMMMM.

“You know,” he added, squeezing your hand again, “post a story or whatever, make it look real and all that. Gotta keep the act believable, right?”

JESUS CHRIST, HE WAS COMMITTED TO THIS ACT LIKE IT WAS A FULL-TIME JOB. WHAT’S NEXT? HAVING SEX FOR THE SAKE OF REALISM AND POSTING A STORY IN BED AFTERWARD?

Shit, your heart was beating so fast at the thought of having an actual date with Rafe Cameron—LIKE YEAH IT WAS FAKE BUT STILL.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOK CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM—

“You’re freaking out.”

You blinked, smiling awkwardly. Yes. “Huh? What? No. No, I just—”

“You’ve never been taken out before?” he asked, raising a brow at you.

Actually…

A sheepish smile appeared on your lips. “I have been, in like ninth grade, but—”

“Then you’re one up on me.”

“Huh?”

He scoffed, amused, nodding. “Never had a date before.”

WHAT.

“You’re bullshitting,” you said with dry amusement.

Rafe raised a brow. "I mean, sure, if you wanna call my hookups 'sex dates' then, yeah, I guess that counts, but like a real date?" He shook his head. "None. Didn’t need some chick getting the wrong idea."

CNJDHNSFHVBSHVJKSVHJNLQAHVFERIHVNASEK.

OKAY NOPE. TOO MUCH.

RAFE CAMERON GOING ON HIS FIRST REAL DATE—AND WITH YOU?

YES, IT WAS FAKE BUT STILL. (Also, him not calling a past hookup ‘some bitch’? Improvement).

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips. “That’s…” You furrowed your brows. “I don’t want your first date to be fake.”

“Then cut the fake.”

SO CLOSE TO ANOTHER FUCKING PANIC ATTACK RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

LIKE YOUR HEART AND NERVES WERE THUNDERING AND BUZZING, EVEN YOUR BONES FELT LIKE SHAKING AND THE BUTTERFLIES IN YOUR STOMACH JUST FUCKING EXPLODED BECAUSE.

WHAT.

DID.

HE.

MEAN.

BY.

THAT.

“Rafe, I—” you started, your voice cracking into a tense laugh, because you were too overwhelmed.

He squeezed your hand softly, smiling crookedly at you. “I’m just saying, if it helps your worries about my first experience being fake, we could just pretend it’s not fake.”

You blinked at this brain chaos. “So you want to pretend to have a real date while we pretend to fake date?” A baffled laugh escaped your lips at the thought. “Wouldn’t that make it fake again? You know, because—”

“Shit, alright,” he cut in, voice somewhat on edge. “Let’s call this a chill-ass pizza hangout for two friends at some fancy-ass restaurant then. Cool? That work for your little fuckass minions?”

THIS JUST CONFUSED YOU EVEN MORE. But you were too hungry, too tired, and too overstimulated to argue.

So you just nodded. “Yeah.”

Rafe’s brows twitched like he’d expected you to argue (???), but in the end he nodded softly, tugging your hand again. “Then c’mon, don’t wanna chug my pizza just because we’re wasting more time here.”

How did he sound both gentle and pissed at the same time. Only Rafe Cameron could pull this off.

And as he held the door open to Dolce Divino, his hand sliding from yours to gently rest on the small of your back, you shot him a sideways glare. “You mad at me now or some shit?”

“No, baby,” he replied in the sweetest and most innocent voice ever, then cleared his throat in mock shame, moving his hand up your back. “Sorry, I meant, bro.”

PUT IT BACK, you almost begged, but not wanting to say dumb shit while hungry and barely surviving another almost panic attack, you just let yourself be guided into the restaurant, probably hallucinating these CRAZY mixed signals he’d thrown just seconds ago, AS WELL AS DURING AND AFTER YOUR FREAKING PANIC ATTACK, AND YOU STILL HADN’T PROCESSED THE FACT HE WAS DOWN TO KISS YOU.

HHAHHAHAHA

This fake act had been the best idea in a long time. Hahaha. Surely you wouldn’t get completely confused or have your feelings played by the end of it when day one already left you questioning if Rafe maybe saw more in this act than just pretense.

HAHAHAHAH

Yeah, totally not getting hurt before this is over.

Nah, fuck that. Honestly, fuck this stupid thought and for even believing Rafe would play you in any way when he was always at your side, making sure you felt safe and comfortable, always dragged you out of your head and spirals, and was even able to stop a fucking panic attack (in the worst way possible but STILL).

So, what if you just accepted the possibility that maybe Rafe freaking Cameron did indeed start getting more attached to you than you’d initially thought? What if you just allowed yourself to believe that someone else could fall for you, too?

Because somehow everyone else seemed to see it—except you. Maybe you just needed to open your eyes a little more and allow yourself to believe that his mixed signals weren’t mixed, but maybe clear as day.

Yeah…

Rafe falling for me.

Never did a combination of words sound so strange and ridiculous, yet so intoxicating and addictive at the same time—to the point you almost believed them.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @softiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

killing me softly | extra ☆

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boys’ group chat reacting to your soft launch + some written rafe pov

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 2 3 | C H . 2 4 ->

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ // explicit content marked through dividers so you can read safely lots of cursing, suggestive language & themes, rafe STILL IN DENIAL BRO C’MON, um kinda obsessive!rafe, non-smut part mentioning a boner and some nasty thoughts, hints at the intention of getting off

explicit content (mdni): male masturbation, frustrated!rafe, more lust-based and urgent this time, hints at praise kink, slight hints at soft dom!rafe, slight possessiveness, imagined scenarios [p in v, you in cowgirl position], post-nut clarity (boy atp it's your own fault)

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ smau + 4k written story

✿ A / N ✿ of course i had to include topper and kelce’s reactions as well to give some insight to what happens on this side, and also i couldn't hold myself back from writing another needy rafe (sorry) and i still feel like i'm ruining him w this but honestly he just needs his girl so bad ok (much shorter this time bc well...). guys, you'd tell me if i'm being a little cray cray w these, right???? hope you enjoy reading nonetheless, and pls lmk what you think <3 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

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CONTINUED AFTER YOU TWO SAID GOOD NIGHT TO EACH OTHER

For a good minute, Rafe just stared at the phone in his hand, eyes absentmindedly locked on your chat—the little red heart you’d sent, more specifically—before the screen went black and the room was swallowed in darkness again. The pale moonlight being the only light source shining in from behind through slits in the curtains.

But neither the darkness, nor the suffocating silence, nor the buzzing nerves under his skin from the lack of coke in his system could wipe the huge grin off his face, because the crazy feeling pulsing through his chest right now?

That was coke.

His whole body flooded with euphoria, warmth, electricity, and a rush of excitement.

Not only had you sent him a fucking heart as a good night message—one you’d even sent first—you’d also said he was handsome (holy fuck, just the fact he finally had confirmation that you found him attractive was enough to drive him insane), sent him suggestive pics back (which had nearly made him hard on the spot), didn’t say no when he called you baby (fuck, that word felt so right coming out of his mouth), and you were still wearing his hoodie.

His.

The one he’d brought to the pavilion because he might've forgotten to tell you that you’d be chilling outside. Partly because the surprise needed to stay a surprise, of course, but mostly because he just wanted to see you wearing something that belonged to him.

Okay, he knew damn well it got cold outside where you two had been.

And, sure, there'd been a fire pit and he’d even gifted you a shitty-ass horse blanket, but it wasn’t that thick. So, his hoodie just happened to come in handy later when you walked back to his car, and the breeze had picked up.

What a shame you'd needed to put it on then. And such a tragedy, Rafe was now one hoodie down. But his girl owning one of his clothes now? Just a perfect little addition to your act, right?

So, Rafe unlocked his phone again to glance at the pic you'd sent one last time. The one in which you wore that exact hoodie while fucking Taco was wrapped in your arm, being kissed by you.

Fucker looked so smug in that fucking pic as if he was mocking Rafe.

Yeah, you'll see. Tomorrow, he would be sleeping outside, and Rafe would take his place instead. Fucking idiot cat.

Rafe's eyes then landed on the pics you’d sent prior, apparently proving you didn’t regret your agreement. And the one captioned “me looking at my handsome bf” with another fuckass pussy made his heart skip a beat all over again. He'd actually frozen for two whole fucking minutes after seeing them because you’d caught him completely off guard.

Calling him handsome and your perfect boy, claiming you bagged him like he was the prize and not you with your sweet giggles and cute, awkward smiles, and fuck, telling him he’d done well today, that you were proud of the way he’d handled things with his dad.

That little praise did something to him. It filled his chest with gentle warmth and... also threatened to tighten his boxers.

Shit. Fuck that.

No way was he gonna let himself get a fucking boner over some written words and a couple pictures, what the fuck.

Rafe furrowed his brows and sank deeper into his pillow, scrolling further through the chat, trying to distract himself.

Shit.

But then there was that fuckass pic you’d sent—the one with the cheeky emoji chick tossing her pink panties away. Like, seriously, what the fuck, why did that instantly trigger a whole rush of images of you doing that—just ripping them off and—

Seriously, what the fuck was up with him these past few days? Why did he get bricked up so damn easily all of a sudden? Sure, he wanted to rip your clothes off and have the time of his life with you, but he'd never gotten this turned on this quickly with any other girl.

Then again, you weren’t just any other girl.

Other bitches were expendable, replaceable, uninteresting. But you? Rafe couldn’t even imagine letting go of you ever again.

Shit, it was crazy to admit, but he’d gotten so used to your presence—your laughter, your smiles, your dumb little minions and chaotic-ass spiraling within a couple of days—just thinking about you leaving felt like the deepest low after a coke high.

Fuck, honestly? Just the idea of going one day without you pissed him off so badly and twisted something so deep and ugly in his gut, he quickly had to force himself to think about something else before he got up to do a fucking line at that depressing thought.

Because with you, Rafe felt good. He felt warm, safe, and comfortable. And cuddling with you? Shit was like sinking into bed, totally stoned off a good joint, his whole body just relaxed as all the tension slipped away.

Just like earlier on the lounge bed at the pavilion. You two had played a few rounds of Mario Kart, your shoulder resting against each other and you cursing at the stupid characters on screen. And then the biggest smile had been printed on your face when your character crossed the finish line in your final game, all smug and excited about getting to do Rafe’s makeup tomorrow night because you’d won the majority of rounds.

You'd looked so sweet and triumphant, Rafe hadn’t even had the heart to tell you he’d let you win.

Why? Simple. It meant you’d be touching him.

Sure, if he’d won, he could’ve done your makeup—and yeah, he wouldn't have said no to touching you, doing your lashes or whatever shit you girls did—but you having to initiate the contact? Probably all flustered, sitting real close, brows furrowed while daring him to hold still?

Shit, that? Worth taking the hit to his masculinity.

So after the little Mario Kart session, you’d browsed through the rest of the games, face all focused while flipping through the different cases even though Rafe would’ve been fine just talking. But, okay, if his pretense girl wanted to keep playing some stupid shitty-ass games, he wouldn’t say no.

However, in that exact moment, Rafe had been so close to throwing that Switch off the bed (, risking Wheezie murdering him), grabbing you by the waist, pulling you close to shift you onto his lap, and just wrap his whole arms around you and feel your whole warmth engulfing him.

The urge had been right there, tingling in his fingers, pulling at his chest. This fucking desperate need to feel you as close as possible, shit, maybe even shower you with kisses. But of course, Rafe had held back because—

Yeah, because why, exactly? Why the fuck was he so scared to make the first move? Any other girl would’ve ended the night with her face pressed into the mattress, but with you it was just… different.

He didn’t wanna mess up that stupid little friendship pact of yours and betray your trust. Didn’t wanna scare you off. And let’s be real—no other girl would’ve even gotten a glimpse of the grove from the outside, let alone been spoiled with gifts and setups like you had.

And truthfully? Rafe liked where things stood between you two at the moment, as confusing as they were.

He liked being your friend. He liked hanging out with you, and he liked showering you with gifts. He'd even enjoyed crafting that fuckass FunkoPop miniature thing, though Wheezie would never let him live it down that she helped him track down the figures within twenty minutes in some fuckass nerd store.

But most importantly, Rafe liked knowing he was safe with you.

He could tell you anything, and you'd never go running your mouth. He could act a fool—shit, he'd even almost cried in front of you—and you wouldn’t laugh at him or go gossip to some bitches. On the contrary, you were the weirdest fucking chick he’d ever met, and you always jumped in on his jokes and pulled him right out of any deep hole he'd fallen into.

Shit, to be real, he felt more at home with you than he ever had at Tannyhill. And he felt more at ease and relaxed with you cozied up to him than he ever had in his own bed.

Just thinking about the way you eventually curled up against him again made his stomach flutter and his chest warm. The way you shifted down, molding your body to his side, resting your head on his chest, your hand finding that spot on his stomach again, your knee draped over his.

And every time you laughed when he talked shit about that dumbass Animal Crossing game, he felt your chest vibrate against him and decided—yeah, this shit might be one of the best feelings in the world.

And that’s exactly how you’d spend the rest of your night in the pavilion.

You, clinging to him while watching Rafe sell his soul to some greedy-ass 3D raccoon. And that little fucker pissed him off so bad, he was so close to throwing the Switch into the lake. And what pissed him off even more were the little fuckass sounds those freaky-ass animals made when they talked—blablabliblablub or whatever the fuck—like yeah you fuckass purple cat, go blablabliblablub your way off a cliff.

But he kinda enjoyed the game nonetheless because watching that little avatar version of you you’d made together running around, shaking trees, and spinning her tiny umbrella even made Rafe chuckle. (Shit, what the fuck, though.)

But the best feeling of all? The one that sent electricity crawling up his spine? The buzzing in his chest whenever you tilted your head up just slightly, just enough for your eyes to meet his. Then he could see the flecks and patterns in your eyes, your soft, inviting lips so damn close to his.

Rafe had fought the strongest fucking urge not to cup your cheek, lean down, and close the distance.

And again, he hadn't.

He was sure you’d get all startled and awkward, and also, for some fucked-up reason, Rafe was a total pussy with you, and he didn’t want to cross that invisible line that defined what you two were.

Friends.

Ha. Yeah, well, technically that term didn’t fit anymore, did it? You were dating now. That made you his girl, not his friend… right?

Sure, sure. It was all fake. Just for show, to get his dad to reconsider the deal and prove Rafe could handle a “long-term project.” But still...

What if he just took the chance under these circumstances and kissed you while he called it part of the act? Couples did that shit all the time, right? (Yeah, yeah, you’d reminded him a dozen times today you were just dating, but you were still his, so what the fuck did it matter what exact stage you were at in this act?)

And then another thought hit him.

What if, tomorrow night during your sleepover, he pulled you closer while you slept, buried his face in your neck, and started kissing you softly—just to hear you giggle—and said it was part of the act as well? What if his hand wandered a little, testing the waters, fingers hovering at the waistband of your pajama pants, and called it part of the act when you allowed him to venture further, letting him slip his fingers beneath your panties and earn some sweet little sounds from you?

What if he thanked you for sticking around by making you feel good in ways he'd never made any girl feel before?

What if he—

Fuck.

That thought finally did it. Shit.

Rafe let out an annoyed breath and shifted his hips slightly, spreading his legs a little to give that fuckass idiot in his boxers some space.

For a second, he debated whether he should just get rid of this sudden urge but somehow, the thought of getting off to you again after a cozy-ass night like this felt… filthy.

You’re disgusting. Funny enough, that had been your exact response when he joked about getting off while texting with you earlier.

Of course, Rafe hadn’t actually done it, though the thought had excited him in a way and—

FUCK THAT.

Shit. Eugh. Fucker in his pants was making him think all kinds of crazy-ass shit.

Rafe's face twisted into a grimace, trying to ignore the tightness in his boxers and the sudden flood of images of you.

Okay, he needed another distraction before he fell asleep.

He unlocked his phone again, opening his gallery to look at actual pictures of you while he added the one to his album you'd sent him a few minutes ago.

A smile tugged at his lips as his eyes landed on the photos he’d taken of you earlier that day when he stopped by your place. You two had taken a short walk down the street, and your dumbass taco cat had followed the whole way, circling Rafe and climbing up his legs like he didn’t hate these moody-ass creatures.

Sure, yours was a cute pussy and it hadn’t scratched or bitten him yet either, and it even knew a few tricks as you’d shown Rafe and—

Okay. Yeah. Shit. Fine. Your cat was cool.

But Rafe hadn’t made this whole damn album for your taco cat. He’d made it for you. No, he didn't have a ton of pictures in his gallery that made him lose overview; nah, he just wanted a little space on his phone just for you.

That’s what a good boyfriend would do, right?

Shit.

Just the thought of calling you his after tonight was almost enough to make him give in to the need to feel you close again like he had the night before. To let his hand slip into his boxers and just… get it over with.

Nah. Okay. Fuck this shit, alright.

This wasn’t normal.

Him getting hard—what, four or five times now?—because of you in the span of two fucking days, and like, two of those times you hadn’t even been present? That’s fucking insane.

Fuck that.

He opened Safari.

What the actual fuck.

That was it. Rafe was fucking done.

He scowled so deeply his face actually hurt, then shut off his stupid fucking phone, tossed it onto his stupid fucking nightstand, and shifted in his stupid fucking bed to lay flat on his stupid fucking back, staring up at the stupid fucking ceiling lit by the stupid fucking moon.

This was all so fucking stupid.

Rafe having a crush on someone? What the fuck.

Seriously, what the actual fuck.

First Kelce and Topper running their mouths earlier (“bro ur in love”, “you’re so fucking whipped,” shut the fuck up)—and now even fucking Google telling him the same fucking shit. If he didn’t know better, he’d think one of those assholes had hacked his search engine just to troll him.

Sure, okay, the “symptoms” Google listed sounded a little familiar, but of course he was thinking about you and wanted to spend time with you. You were his friend, right? That was normal. People thought about people they liked all the time.

And feeling restless? Obviously. He was always stressed when it came to your chaotic little minions and the fact you were constantly one sentence away from spiraling.

And yeah, he was excited about you (one part of him especially) because you were the only tolerable person in his life besides Wheezie and maybe Kelce.

Jealousy? Pah. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Rafe wasn’t jealous. It just pissed him the fuck off when other losers thought they had a shot with you. Like that sleazy asshole Robert Lewis being all over you at that party on Friday. The way you’d laughed with him, let him touch you, smiled at his dumb jokes, and fucking Barry having a nickname for you and--

See? Not jealousy. Rafe just gave a damn. He cared about you not getting harassed. That’s all.

And overanalyzing interactions? Nah, that was your thing. You did that. Rafe wasn’t some obsessive overthinker. He just examined situations from multiple perspectives and carefully weighed his responses to avoid triggering your minions.

And why wouldn’t he care how he came across? Making a good impression mattered. It was one of the first things his dad had drilled into him.

Even calling that shit “symptoms,” like he was sick or mentally ill? What the fuck.

He didn’t have a problem. He just… liked you more than others. That didn’t make him insane. Maybe Rafe had just finally found someone he could call his favorite person.

Ever thought of that, Google, huh?

Fucking shit. His fucking boner still very much present—that was a problem.

Shit, dude. All of this just added to the damn frustration boiling inside him.

The fact that he was lying here alone when you could’ve been curled up right next to him pissed him off. The whole situation with Ruthie and him dragging himself into some fuckass deal pissed him off. Topper and Kelce stirring the pot, calling him some lovesick loser, pissed him off. The sudden erection issue pissed him off even more. And Jesus fucking Christ, the fact that this whole relationship was just an act, and all the pictures you’d sent probably didn’t even mean anything—

Yeah. That pissed him off most of all.

Shit.

That was it.

With so much tension in his body, there was no way Rafe was falling asleep. Especially not with this problem still sitting in his boxers.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, he shifted upward again, heart already pounding from the built-up frustration and the quiet admission of what he was about to do. Again. Just one night after the last time.

Great.

But what else was he supposed to do, huh? He didn’t want some random bitch bouncing on him. The only girl he wanted to bend over was his fucking friend he couldn’t risk losing by making some dumbass, horny move.

Nah. Fuck that.

It wasn’t Rafe's fault. He was just a fucking guy, alright? It was a natural human desire, and you just happened to be the girl who got thrown into these scenarios.

No need to feel ashamed about that shit.

With that thought, he finally exhaled heavily, pushed his boxers down his ankles, and didn’t even try to fight the thoughts swallowing him whole.

EXPLICIT CONTENT STARTS HERE // MDNI // 18+ // chapter doesn't end here, scroll down to the next divider

This time, he didn’t even hesitate or second-guess himself.

No. This time, he was so fucking pissed off and frustrated, his hand immediately wrapped around his hardened length and started moving.

Eyes closed, face twisted in a scowl, his fist worked up and down—slow at first—tracing every inch of himself with a tense urgency. He didn’t want pleasure, not really. He just wanted to get rid of this fucking pressure, this fire burning under his skin, the need clawing at his gut.

And he tried—he really fucking tried, okay—to picture any other girl in those vivid scenes flooding his mind. But he couldn’t. He just… fuck, he just saw you.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to erase you from his mind, thinking of any other girl, but it was useless. You clung to his thoughts like a shadow. The way you laughed, the curve of your smile, the softness he didn’t even know he wanted this much—

Fuck that.

He didn’t have time for any sweet shit right now. Rafe was angry, frustrated, and fucking exhausted.

He needed to finish and knock the fuck out.

So he skipped the kissing and the giggles and went straight to the part where you were sitting on top of him, his whole length buried deep inside as you rocked your hips on his, sweet sounds slipping from your swollen lips while his hands gripped your thighs hard.

Rafe stifled a groan at how fucking real it felt in his mind—the way you'd bounce on his lap, all flushed and exposed, tits shaking in his face as he thrust up to meet you, matching your rhythm. Your hands wrapped around his neck, soft moans and breathy giggles filling the air.

“Fuuck.” And the way his bracelet around your wrist would jingle next to his ear? Fucking hell, that alone nearly sent him over the edge.

His fist moved faster now, slick sounds echoing through the silence of his room as he clenched his jaw, trying to stay quiet. But the urgency—the goddamn desperation—was too much. You riding him like that was the only thing his mind could cling to.

Shit. He felt sorry, okay? He didn’t want to use you like this. It just… fuck, he needed you so bad right now. And the fact that he couldn’t have you like that, that it wasn’t real, only added fuel to the fire burning inside him.

He just—

Fuck.

His whole face contorted in need as his hand worked faster, massaging the sensitive tip while imagining how gorgeous you'd look—flustered and breathless, still grinding against him, your own urgency kicking in as your pace quickened.

A sweet little chuckle slipping from your lips as his hands found your waist, gripping tight to guide your movements, anchoring your rhythm, and controlling your pace.

And when he imagined your fingers finding his cheeks, gently brushing his hair out of his face, soft voice whispering something only meant for him—

Rafe let out a quiet whimper.

Almost there. So fucking close.

“Shiiit.”

He needed you so fucking badly. All of you.

He just wanted to feel you. Wanted you to know you were his. Wanted to make you feel so fucking good for making him feel so fucking good. For making him feel safe. For making him feel warm. Wanted. Needed. Like he wasn’t the pathetic fuck-up his dad made him out to be.

Another groan slipped past his lips as his thoughts flickered back to the photos you’d sent earlier. Not even the suggestive ones, but those four dumb little ones.

The one calling him perfect. The one calling him handsome. And fuck—just the thought of you whispering those things while moving on him, leaning forward to shower his face with kisses, giggling into his neck, telling him how cute he looked, that he was your handsome, pretty boyfriend, the boy you were proud of—the boy you wanted, needed, loved—

His whole body tensed, back arching as the tension finally snapped. His hips jerked up with a sharp exhale as warmth spilled over his abs, his hand slowing to massage out the last waves of pleasure with shallow, uneven breaths.

Then he let his slick hand drop onto the sheets, his length softening against his stomach as the reality settled over him like a weight once more.

EXPLICIT CONTENT ENDS HERE

Fuck.

Rafe grimaced, running a hand down his face, more frustrated and angry than before.

Twice. In less than a day. He’d gotten off to you.

Fuck, this was so—shit.

This was so fucking wrong on so many levels. It didn’t matter how much he ached to feel you close—this felt dirty. Filthy. Nasty.

Fucked up.

This—ugh, fuck. He felt disgusted with himself.

You were sweet. Kind. A little fucked up, yeah, but still… using you like this just to satisfy his need?

Nah. He couldn’t keep doing this shit.

Either he needed to actually look for some side chick—shit, Gracie was even crazier than you, but he could use the chance to get her to delete the video from Ruthie's stash—or he just needed to be straight-up and ask you to fuck, not caring how his fucking intentions came across.

Or, worst-case scenario?

Rafe cut you off. Because if this was just three days into being friends and he’d already turned into some horny loser over you… how the fuck was he supposed to survive weeks, months, and years of this, huh?

Shit, never. No fucking way.

As if he’d ever let you go after you'd turned out to be the most precious thing in his life in just a few days.

Nah. He’d rather cut off that horny bastard in his pants than you.

Whatever. The pressure was gone now. No need to dwell on shit you didn’t even know about, right?

So maybe he could just keep this going, it wasn't like he was hurting you in any way, was he??? And if he got lucky, maybe you did fall in love with him during your act and actually let him hit.

Ha, yeah. Sure.

Rafe exhaled sharply and shifted upright, turning to the edge of his bed to go shower. Out of curiosity, he tapped his phone, just to see--

3 minutes.

Rafe had barely lasted three fucking minutes this time.

Shit. Maybe it was best you two never actually got down to it. He’d probably finish the second he slipped it inside out of sheer excitement.

Look at what you were doing to him. Turning him into a fucking pathetic loser.

Yeah, whatever. He was too tired to spiral over—

Spiral? Fucking SPIRAL?

NAH. FUCK THAT.

Shit. Rafe didn’t—

He was doing it again.

Okay. No.

He got up, scowl deepening as he stalked to the bathroom to wash this sickness off him. And everything else sticking to him, too.

Spiraling. Yeah. Rafe spiraling. That was the most fucked up thing he’d come up with all night.

Wait. No.

Calling his fondness for you infatuation—that was the craziest fucking part of tonight. He almost laughed out loud.

Rafe being 'in love'? Uh-huh. Sure.

The first thing he'd do tomorrow was beat the shit out of Topper and Kelce, and sue Google too, since all three of them spewed fucking bullshit.

With that thought, he finally stepped under the shower, letting the cold water wash the dirt off his mind and skin. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t rinse off the one thing that clung to him most.

You.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 2 3 | C H . 2 4 ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewstarkeyywife

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

·.✿ kms | side collection

please note: this collection is related to my killing me softly series. posts marked with ✿ can be read as standalones.

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ rafe cameron x kms!reader (f)

✿ A / N ✿ this is where i collect everything that doesn’t fall under the main storyline of killing me softly — headcanons, blurbs, what-ifs, possibly one-shots, and random emotional chaos. basically: all the extra rafe x reader moments living rent-free in my head.

✿ I D E A S & I N P U T ✿ asks for this side collection are open! feel free to send in headcanon ideas, requests, what-ifs or just random thoughts. i’ll definitely jot them down and might explore some of them here. can’t promise i’ll get to everything, but i’m always down to chat & discuss ♡

fics marked with… ✿ can be read as standalones ☆ indicate explicit content / 18+ / mdni ☁︎ indicate angst ✉︎ indicate smau

·.✿ unless clearly stated as an au or what-if, all pieces here are based on the kms! “canon” versions of rafe and reader. just set at different points in their relationship.

// H E A D C A N O N S

how rafe starts dressing when he feels safe ➥ bf!rafe x gf!reader ➥ ✿

R. C. M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewstarkeyywife @persiar9

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

killing me softly | 23

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, suggestive reaction pics, jealous!rafe, dramatic!rafe, the two of them adjusting to their fake dating act a little too quickly, BOLD!READER short-circuiting rafe’s brain like 2x (girl will be shy af next day lmao)

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿

after rafe’s cryptic call, you panicked a bit—his texts didn’t help and only made you horny.

in the car, he explained everything: he brought up the deal to his dad, offered to take it over to prove himself, and when ward accused him of being irresponsible and unable to keep a girl, rafe claimed you’d been secretly dating for a month. he suggested ward could sign the deal in his name for control, while rafe handled the business. ward agreed to consider it—after a dinner to get to know you. you were impressed but voiced your doubts. your little speech about his worth made rafe emotional.

at the grove (owned by kelce’s grandpa), he surprised you with a decorated pavilion, flowers, and gifts. he asked you out for the gloaming, and you said yes. later, you got cozy on the lounge bed, set up the nintendo switch, and after some back and forth about a bet, you agreed on a sleepover the next day and decided on keeping up the fake dating act for your friends to make things easier.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ smau chapter only

✿ A / N ✿ needed a break from writing after KMS 22 and also a smau part fit the current situation just perfectly, so yay. had lots of fun w this one, i hope the long pics are readable (you just gotta zoom in) but i liked this option better than putting two chat screenshots next to each other. hope you guys enjoy and PLEASE lmk what you think <3 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

this takes place directly after their little pavilion hangout (date)

W E E K T W O // M O N D A Y

1 2 : 3 3 A M

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewstarkeyywife @persiar9

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

kms | headcanons

rafe’s style in an established relationship

OR how rafe starts dressing when he feels safe

these are headcanons related to my killing me softly series but this post can still be read as a standalone (reader is warm-hearted but firm)

✿ P A I R I N G ✿

kms!bf!rafe cameron x kms!reader

✿ A / N ✿

i stumbled upon the pic of him in the very middle of the (not so aesthetically pleasing) moodboard i made (i’m bad at this shit ok, just trying to get my point across 🤣) and i immediately knew this is how i imagined him to look like w reader after they’ve been together for a while. not sure if this fits how you guys might imagine him in an established relationship w her but maybe you get my vision and i’d LOVE to hear your thoughts <33

ps: made this whole post on my phone that’s why the formatting is kinda off

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

// C A S U A L

✿ first things first: in an established relationship with you (early 20s), rafe would feel extremely comfortable and confident in his appearance. you never pressure him into fitting specific styles or aesthetics—no—you even encourage him to try out new hairstyles and fits.

✿ slowly, rafe would stop caring what his dad thinks because the only opinion that matters to him is yours. this means: he stops trying to fit into the perfect, well-mannered, polished kook ideals and standards, and redefines himself in a way that makes him feel good and comfortable.

✿ that doesn’t mean he stops caring about his appearance. of course, he still wears the most expensive cologne, stacks on designer rings and jewelry, and each of his clothing pieces still costs around 1k but he breaks free from expectations and cliches.

✿ he threw out most of his old polos—not because he hates polos in general, but because those ones always reminded him too much of his dad. stiff, classic, too tight around the arms (okay, maybe that part’s just because his biceps are bigger now 🫦). he doesn’t completely write off the look though. he’s started buying softer, more relaxed polos that actually fit his vibe—loose, comfortable, slightly oversized or with textured fabrics. more effortless, less 40-year-old country club member vibes.

✿ and then (!!!) this guy lets his hair grow out. not super long or wild, but long enough to fall into his eyes when he laughs, with some small curls peeking out behind his neck. sure, you thought his slick-back and curtain bangs looked cute but they were giving daddy’s lapdog and rafe wanted to remove anything from his appearance that reminded him of his dad.

✿ he was very uncertain and hesitant about this choice especially, because for a long time rafe’s mindset was like longer hair = more feminine = less masculine. but you helped him understand that men aren’t bound to any social norms and such, and expressing oneself through fashion and looks is extremely healthy and freeing (though, he still draws the line at earrings).

✿ he also stops shaving his face clean, stops grooming himself to perfection. not out of neglect but because it gives him a sense of freedom. most of the time, his face is covered in scruffy stubbles, and sometimes even some hints at a mustache, giving him a slightly soft-rugged edge.

✿ lots of jewelry. silver rings (and the golden one from his mom), always wearing chains, vintage (!!!) watches around his wrists and, of course, bracelets. all of them gifted by you, either handmade or picked out specifically by you.

✿ and his overall new style shifts into something that’s hard to label but feels a mix of urban chill and soft grunge, and it screams comfort, freedom, and i have a girlfriend that helped me heal.

✿ he starts layering. cargo vests over hoodies, longer shirts under tees, boxy short-sleeve button-ups over tank tops. sometimes it’s mismatched and makes no sense, but somehow he always ends up pulling it off. and when you say “you look cute like this,” he wears it again without hesitation.

✿ and his wardrobe now? lots of caps, oversized hoodies, slouchy crewnecks, loose denim & cargo pants, printed tees including graphics of games and franchises he enjoys, AND OF COURSE, simple tanks & muscle tees to show off his arms and biceps, because you’re obsessed with them and rafe loves catching you stare at them. no more tight and stiff collars. and belts are now a fashion statement, not clinching him in to fit some standards.

// S P E C I A L O C C A S I O N S / F O R M A L

✿ on special occasions or when it comes to formal events, rafe definitely switches back to a cleaner look. in everyday life he fully leans into his freedom and comfort, but he’s learned to separate that from his professional side.

✿ he puts a lot of value on leaving a solid, lasting impression, so he’ll either shave completely or keep a very light, well-groomed stubble. his hair gets trimmed too, shorter but in a way that it can still grow out nicely when he’s not in work mode.

✿ his suits never go full traditional. they’re still sharp and tailored, but never plain or boring. he’ll pick a black suit with subtle texture or wear a tie with a minimal pattern or slightly off-tone color. nothing too loud, just enough to stand out quietly.

✿ his dad thinks it’s unprofessional, obviously. but most people find it charming—you especially—rafe knows how to carry himself now, and whenever he gets compliments on his suits, he always refers to his gorgeous girlfriend that helped him pick it out.

✿ when it comes to jewelry, he tones it slightly down during formal events. except for his mom’s ring and that one special bracelet you gave him at the beginning of your relationship. he’s worn it every day since you gave it to him, no matter the setting.

✿ at more casual events, he lets more of his usual style bleed through—rings back on, shirt slightly undone, watch of your choice, all bracelets back on his wrists. and most of the time he makes sure he matches you, not in a cringe way, just enough to show you’re his. subtle, possessive, and very much intentional.

// B O N U S

✿ this hair? rafe bleached it on impulse one night after some fight with his dad while you were on a trip with cara. when you showed up the next morning, you stared at him for a moment like (●.●) ?! and when you started giggling, he got all scowling and pissed off and suddenly he regretted his choice, but let’s just say his mood immediately switched when you dragged him into the bedroom to show him just how much you loved this style (whole day and night were spent in bed with lots of giggles and kisses).

✿ why you loved it? it was loud, bold, kinda chaotic but it weirdly worked on him. he looked criminally hot with that hair—cropped and kinda messy. especially when he came home from the gym: a little scruff showing, him wearing a loose muscle tee that clung to his body just right and showed off every inch of his post-pump biceps (he’s built a strong, athletic frame by then—whole body more toned and mature—and you were obsessed).

✿ lowkey one of your fav styles he’s ever had. it led to you leaving more than a few parties early iykwim. but he eventually let it grow out again, said the constant bleaching was ruining his hair. rip platinum blond rafe. gone but never forgotten.

// A D D I T I O N A L T H O U G H T S

✿ he’ll steal your hair ties and keep them on his wrists next to your bracelets, and he even lets you tie his own hair occasionally (although he scowls dramatically during it). half of them have little charms or colors that don’t match his outfit at all, but he wears them anyway because they’re yours.

✿ he leaves his rings all over the house. nightstand, bathroom counter, couch cushions. somehow they always end up back where they belong—either because you collect them without saying a word, or he accidentally stumbles upon them in the most random moments.

✿ his cologne changes depending on mood. something aquatic and clean for daytime, darker and richer for nights out. but there’s one signature scent he always comes back to—yours.

✿ he rolls up his sleeves constantly. even if they’re already short. it’s a nervous habit at first, then it just becomes part of his look—forearms out, veins showing, rings flashing.

✿ he cares about how clothes feel now more than how they look. if it doesn’t move with him, feel soft on his skin, or smell like home (aka you), he’s not wearing it.

✿ if you compliment something specific—his watch, the way a chain falls against his collarbone, a certain shirt—he’ll start wearing it more and makes cocky comments about how you loved this look on him. it becomes part of his rotation, not because he’s vain, but because he likes being looked at by you.

✿ and most importantly, he’s still clearly rafe. his clothes are quality, he’s still wearing expensive brands, he carries himself with cockiness and passive-aggression, and anyone who looks at him wrong still gets barked at. but now he doesn’t wear labels to impress—he wears comfort, softness, and quiet confidence. to some, he might look more low-effort now, more casual. but really, it just shows where he’s at. he’s healing. because of you, he’s softer. his clothes are softer, comfier, because he finally allows himself to be. he lets himself be boyish—lets himself enjoy things. play games. wear dumb printed tees with star wars motives. be silly, be cozy, be real. and you love this version of him just as much as you loved the previous one.

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

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[7-deadly-cats-updates]

killing me softly | 22

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, kinda horny!reader lmfao, anxiety and overthinking, long-ass dialogue, kinda angsty, but your patience will be rewarded at the end

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ in the morning, you replayed yesterday's events and realized rafe actually liked you (shocking, honestly). on the ride to school, the convo shifted to family and relationships. rafe surprised you positively with his views. art class was canceled, so during the free period, you talked about the ruthie situation. rafe suggested hitting up gracie and asking her to delete the video, but you shut that down. instead, he helped you study for your math test. at lunch, your friend group talked about the gloaming. kelce had already asked molly out, and it was pretty clear they were trying to make rafe jealous or push him to ask you out too. topper even suggested you could go with rob since he was still in town. walking to english with kelce, you found out rafe briefly surfed in sixth grade just to beat topper, and that kelce was his first friend after he’d beat rafe up. during class, rafe tried asking you out to the gloaming via text, but you turned him down, asking for more effort (even though you were freaking out inside). after school, you hung out with cara. she didn’t get why you and rafe weren’t just dating. you said you needed time to adjust. later at home, rafe called and said he’d pick you up and when you pushed him about his convo with his dad, he finally hinted he needed you to act like molly aka all lovestruck.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 13.6k+ (not me saying this ch would be shorter help)

✿ A / N ✿ ok half of the ch. is the convo about ward and rafe's discussion but this convo was needed for you guys to understand what's going on so there really was no way to skip this. i also know they talked A LOT about A LOT of stuff so hope things make sense still (feel free to ask for clarity if sth's confusing), enjoy and pls lmk your thoughts <3 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

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REMINDER avoid the comment section till you're done reading

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"You still there?"

NO.

“Mhm,” you mumbled, letting out a tense little chuckle. Too overwhelmed to say anything else.

Because what. the. fuck. did he mean by I kinda need you to do the same?! WHAT.

After a short pause, Rafe let out a heavy exhale. “Shit, I told you I should tell you this in person. I can feel your little minions panicking through the phone.”

Your heart was racing so fast you couldn’t even—WHAT DID HE MEAN BY THAT.

Act like Molly? For what? And why? AND HOW DID HE COME TO THAT CONCLUSION? Like, what the actual fuck had him and his dad talked about? This was just—

“Y/n?”

Your heart skipped a beat hearing him say your name. So soft and gentle. That was…OH MY GOD. That was like the first time he’d ever addressed you like that in an actual conversation.

Oh great, ahahahhha, yeah, that only worsened your state of mind. Nerves were buzzing under your skin and your hands felt so clammy you had to fight the urge to rush to the bathroom and wash the panic right off.

Instead, you just sat there in your desk chair, phone held to your ear, staring blankly into the void, trying to drown out the flood of theories threatening to crash over you like a heavy, dark wave.

“Okay, fuck, listen,” he said after you didn’t respond, voice tight with frustration, yet laced with softness. “I’ll be there soon and I’ll explain everything, alright? Don’t spiral over this shit now, okay? It’s really not that deep.”

A second later, he added, “Sound good?”

You only registered about half of what he’d said and nodded absentmindedly. Your voice distant when you finally gave a quiet “Yeah,” mind still spinning around those eight little words he’d said a moment ago.

Another sigh from his end. Then: “Or do you want me to come over right away? It’s just” a light laugh escaped him, “I should really shower first. Just got home from a heavy workout and…it’s just twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be quick.”

Not even the image of Rafe in the shower could pull you out of the mental spiral your brain had sent you on.

“Okay,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips—an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Okay,” Rafe echoed, not sounding convinced at all. “Just chill out, alright? I’ll see you in a bit.”

You nodded (momentarily forgetting he couldn’t see you), and as soon as the call ended, you let your phone drop into your lap, gaze still fixed on a random spot ahead.

Chill out?

Yeah. Yeah! You were totally chill. Completely relaxed. Absolutely calm.

AT LEAST YOU HAD BEEN UNTIL RAFE HAD DROPPED THOSE EIGHT LITTLE WORDS THAT HINTED AT GOD KNOWS WHAT.

I kinda need you to do the same.

WHAT.

He mentioned Molly before that—talking about how she was acting like she’d chugged a love potion—and WHAT. So did that mean...?

DID HE WANT YOU TO ACT LIKE THAT TOO? AND WHY? LIKE WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED IN THE LAST FEW HOURS THAT MADE HIM THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?

That was—no way. No fucking way he meant it like that. Hah. Yeah, no.

Probably just him joking around again or...

OR WHAT EXACTLY. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

Your heart was fucking pounding, your adrenaline shot through the roof and your nerves? Felt like a thousand bees humming underneath your skin, all anxious and buzzing around with nowhere to go.

Okay, no. Calm down. Rafe said he’d be here soon and he’d explain. Everything would make sense then, right?

Yeah. Perfect. You just needed to survive twenty whole minutes—alone—with a brain that currently felt like it was trying to murder you.

I can handle this :)

NO THE FUCK I CAN’T HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

You got up from your chair, your phone slipping off your lap as you wiped your clammy hands on your clothes, desperately trying to shake off this panic.

WHY WERE YOU EVEN FREAKING OUT?

It’s Rafe. Whatever plan/idea/suggestion/whatfuckingever he had, he would never force you into something that made you uncomfortable. He always made sure you felt safe and relaxed around him.

Somehow, that thought helped you breathe a little easier.

Okay. Best thing to do now? Distract yourself. Get ready. Change into a new outfit and—

Bzzrt.

Your phone buzzed on the wooden floor and you already knew who it was.

Now would be a great time to actually jump off a cliff.

Why the hell had you accidentally clicked on the wrong fucking pic in the worst fucking moment ever? And why the fuck was Rafe texting you from the goddamn shower? AND WHY WAS HE ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT GETTING OFF—LIKE? OKAY. DO IT. BUT LEAVE ME OUT OF IT OMFG.

You let out a long exhale and placed your phone back on your desk.

Great.

Now the panic from earlier was replaced by very vivid mental images of Rafe in the shower.

Water running down his toned body; from his damp hair falling over his forehead, over his cute lashes and beautiful lips, to his neck and Adam’s apple; down his broad shoulders and collarbones, his chest and stomach—tiny droplets tracing the lines of his abs—and even lower, over HIS V-LINE AND THIGHS AND—

You gulped, feeling how your breath had quickened just a little, eyes wide and your face so flushed it felt like your entire body was on fire just from thinking about Rafe like that.

HIM TEXTING YOU LIKE THIS, THOUGH. MEANING HE HAD BEEN THINKING ABOUT YOU IN THAT MOMENT TOO AND OH MY GOD.

A tingling sensation bloomed in your stomach, a faint little desire stirring down there, and suddenly it was really hard to think about anything else.

SHITSHITSHITSHIT.

HELP I’M NO BETTER THAN HIM.

For a split second, your eyes flicked to your bed. You still had like fifteen minutes and the thoughts were already there, sooo—NO.

OH MY GOD, NO!

JESUS.

GET A GRIP, GIRL. HOLY SHIT.

Although…it could help ease the anxiety and distress you felt just right now.

BUT THE THOUGHT OF FACING RAFE AFTERWARD, KNOWING WHAT YOU'D DONE BEFORE MADE YOU SOBER UP REAL FUCKING FAST.

Embarrassment spread like wildfire through your entire body as you tried to shake the thoughts off. Something about doing that during the day just felt so weird anyway. Better just forget about this entirely HAHAHAHAH.

OKAY!

SO.

Getting ready it is :)

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“Fuck that, move that shit right back inside.” Rafe leaned over from the driver’s seat to look at you standing by the passenger door.

You were holding the box filled with stuff for your project you had taken home today.

“What? No,” you replied, clearly irritated, nerves still shaken, and a little thrown off by how good he looked with that damp hair falling into his forehead. “I thought we were going to the copy shop today.”

You needed to reprint your collage pieces in a larger format, otherwise, you weren't able to keep working on your project. And it had to be finished by Thursday.

Rafe grimaced. “Yeah, well, you thought wrong.” He made a shooing gesture. “We’ll do it tomorrow. We’ve got the whole afternoon for that.”

“What if I’m not free tomorrow?” you asked, raising a brow at him, even though you knew damn well you had nothing planned except maybe hanging out with Cara.

He nodded, brows shooting up in response. “You’re not free, because we’ll be working on the shitty-ass project then.” Another shooing gesture. “Seriously, I don’t have the fucking headspace for school shit right now. And judging by how you reacted earlier, neither do you.”

Okay, he kinda had a point but…

“I’d say we at least throw it in the back,” you said, nodding toward the back of his black Benz. “And if we get a sudden burst of motivation, we can still swing by a copy shop.”

Rafe frowned but nodded. “Aight. Toss it on the back seats, trunk’s full.”

Either a corpse or some dumb boy shit.

“Okay, how about you get out and help me then?” you said, voice a little too sharp-edged.

HELP. The panic was creeping back in.

Rafe scoffed, clearly amused as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “You don’t handle stress well.”

YOU’RE THE REASON I’M STRESSED, you wanted to scream, but instead, you just pressed your lips shut, waiting for him to finally get out and open one of the back doors for you.

“Give me that shit,” he said, grabbing the box from your hands and literally chucking it onto the backseat.

“What?” he asked, catching your deadpan expression. He nodded toward your (hopefully still intact) project. “It’s just paper and crap. It’s not like it’s gonna break.”

Your expression didn’t budge. “You don’t handle stress well either.”

Rafe raised a brow (GOD he smelled insane up close) and motioned toward the car. “Shut up and get in.”

For a moment, you held his gaze, sternly. But THIS FUCKER HAD THE AUDACITY TO LOOK AT YOUR LIPS for half a second before that stupid little smirk formed and he nudged you toward the passenger door. “C’mon.”

This guy had zero restraints.

As soon as you got in, he closed the door behind you with a soft thud. And instantly, your stomach twisted again at the looming conversation ahead.

Whatever he says… however he explains those earlier words… I will not panic.

HAHAHA TOO LATE.

You clutched your purse tightly, palms already sweaty again, and waited for him to settle into his seat.

As soon as the engine started, the silence was replaced by the low hum of the motor and some Future song that kicked in mid-track.

Rafe turned the volume down a little and pulled out of your driveway, driving way slower and more focused than usual. You chalked it up to nerves (drumming fingers usually meant he was agitated, stressed, or anxious—or honestly all three).

“So, had a nice evening with Cara?” he asked, voice a little too casual, eyes straight ahead.

You shot him a blank look.

Nope. You hadn’t waited 35 minutes just to watch him skirt around the topic.

“Good,” you said sharply, fingers fiddling with the charm on your bracelet. “So… what did you and your dad actually talk about?”

Rafe chuckled. “Straight to business then.”

“Well, yeah. I’m still waiting for an explanation,” you said, your voice already tenser than intended. “What did you mean by ‘I need to act like Molly’?”

He shook his head with another chuckle. “Not like Molly. I don’t need you to impersonate her or shit like that.”

“Then what?” you asked impatiently, already dreading the answer.

“Like I said, I was only referring to her—”

“Rafe, I swear, if you keep dancing around it,” you cut in, heart pounding in your ears, “I’m gonna lose it.”

AND THIS IDIOT LAUGHED AGAIN. YEAH, REAL FUNNY GETTING ME TO STRESS THE FUCK OUT.

“Okay, okay,” he said, lips twitching into a smirk as he glanced at you for a second. “But you gotta promise me you won’t freak out, alright? At least let me explain first.”

THEN DON'T KEEP ME ON EDGE, YOU ASSHOLE.

wow, girl, maybe ease up a bit, yeah?

You pressed your lips together and gave a reluctant nod. “I’ll try.”

Rafe slowed to a stop at a red light, the sun awkwardly glaring into your eyes.

You pulled down the sun visor and braced yourself for whatever was coming.

It’s fine. Probably nothing too crazy. Yeah, you definitely overreacted earlier. It’s probably—

“I kinda told my dad we’re dating.”

bye.

ciao.

sayonara.

auf wiedersehen.

FUCKING ADIOS.

WHAT?!???

You just blinked at him, completely stunned, because you had no clue how to react or what to say. Your heart sprinting in every direction, blood pressure skyrocketing.

Rafe smiled crookedly at your expression. “You good?”

You instinctively shook your head. “Yeah.”

“You’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you said, trying very hard to sound calm. You shook your head again, brows furrowed. “What—I mean, why would you say that?”

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, DID IT MEAN SOMETHING? DID THIS IMPLY ANYTHING?

Rafe’s brows twitched and his smile wavered slightly, like you’d unintentionally insulted him. He shrugged, eyes back on the still-red light. “He started talking some crap about responsibility and how I couldn’t even keep a girl and shit like that.”

His brow furrowed, fingers freezing on the steering wheel. He gestured to his chest, locking eyes with you again. “Look, I panicked, okay? I needed to win that argument and prove him wrong, so I said that shit.” Now his hand motioned toward you. “And you were the first one coming to mind, because… I mean, we get along and stuff, and we’ve been hanging out a lot lately, so I even had proof of our ‘relationship.’”

He let out a tight chuckle, shoulders rising. “I mean, even Sarah and Wheezie think we’ve got something going on, so it was the best thing I could come up with in that moment."

JESUS CHRIST.

This… explained literally nothing. If anything, it just worsened your panic.

The light turned green and the car started moving again, Rafe’s eyes back on the road.

“Trust me, I didn’t say that to drag you into anything. And definitely not to ruin our friendship just after three days,” he said, voice edging toward frustration now. “I just… I knew he was right about what he said and I had no other way to turn it around.” His eyes flicked to yours again. “This was my only shot at gaining some ground.”

You didn’t even want to imagine what Ward had said to corner him that badly. The thought of it alone—the words he must’ve thrown at his son—was enough to shrink your anxiety down a notch.

But those eight little words still lingered between you. Not quite fitting this situation yet.

You shoved them aside, focusing on the bigger issue here: the outcome of that conversation with his dad.

“So… did it work?” you asked. “Getting him to reconsider the deal I mean”

Rafe’s jaw clenched and somehow that was all you needed to know.

Shit.

It had been a lost cause anyway but still, this would’ve been the easiest route to pull him out of this shitshow of a situation.

“He won’t take it,” Rafe said flatly, staring ahead. “But I will.”

You blinked, completely stunned. “What?”

Rafe grimaced and nodded. “I offered to take the deal instead.” He let out a heavy breath. “Told him I finally wanted to follow in his footsteps, get into business and shit like that, show him I could handle responsibility.”

The fact that he even felt like he had to prove anything to his dad of all people—it just fueled this deep disgust and anger toward that man even further.

God, and now Rafe wanted to take the damn deal himself? Why hadn’t he talked to you about this? Why did he think this was a good idea? Selling more of himself to Ruthie’s grasp.

“C’mon, say something.”

You snapped your head away from the blank spot you’d been zoning out on, locking eyes with his.

There it was. He wanted your approval.

But you couldn’t give him that.

“I…” you began, struggling to word it without making him feel attacked. “Why didn’t you bring this up at school today? I thought we were handling this together.”

Shit. Why were you angry now? You shouldn’t be mad.

Rafe nodded with a frown, dragging a hand down his face. “Shit, I know, okay? Of course I would’ve talked it through with you if I didn’t just fucking blurt it out during that stupid conversation.”

Great. So he’d panicked and just dug himself deeper into this mess.

But no need to dwell on that now. He needed solutions, not someone to scold him for being impulsive. Especially since he already seemed to know it had been a stupid idea.

“And your dad?” you asked softly, eyeing his sharp profile. “What did he say?”

Rafe shook his head slightly, his scowl deepening as he shrugged. “He agreed.”

HUH.

You shook your head in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah, I dunno," he said just as clueless, scratching his chin. "It was a lot of back and forth, but in the end I managed to convince him to think about it."

You frowned. "So he didn’t actually agree?"

"Not yet," Rafe said. "He needs some time to think it through and—"

"Rafe, you do realize we only have until the Gloaming," you cut in, trying to suppress your frustration at yet another hurdle.

Instead of using the time to come up with a different approach, now you were stuck in... whatever this situation was supposed to be.

“Shit, I know that, alright?” Rafe snapped, letting out a sharp exhale. But the moment he met your eyes, his expression softened. “But this is the only real chance I’ve got to get out of this fucked-up situation, okay?”

Only he was forgetting the most important issue here.

"Ruthie wants your dad to take the deal," you reminded him calmly, lightly shaking your head. "Not you."

To your surprise, he only scoffed in amusement, the corners of his mouth turning into a lopsided smile. “Here’s the thing: my dad wants to sign the deal in his name.” His grin widened. “He even offered to take over seventy percent of the investment needed for the project and I take over the rest.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a trap. His dad refusing the deal only to sign it for Rafe in his name? That just seemed... off.

“Let’s assume he agrees—where’s the catch?” you asked, already feeling an uneasy knot twist in your stomach.

Rafe furrowed his brows. “There’s no fucking catch.”

“Obviously there’s a freaking catch if he suddenly decides to sign the deal under these circumstances.”

“Yeah, because I suggested it.”

You blinked. “And he just... agreed?”

He nodded, turning the car onto a side road toward some grove. “Told him if he’s so scared of me screwing this up, he should put his name on the deal but let me handle the business side.” One hand tapped his chest, the other stayed on the wheel. “Gives me all the more reason not to fuck it up. And if I prove myself, he can transfer his part of the agreement into my name. That way he gets to lean back while Cameron Development expands into an affiliated company.”

A scowl crossed his face as he made a dismissive gesture. “And I also told him this option lets him pass it on to Sarah if he decides she’s better suited for it.”

That was... actually really well thought out, especially for something he’d apparently freestyled on the spot. And even bringing up Sarah seemed smart, if what he always said was true and she was Ward’s favorite.

“And I told him best make the decision till the Gloaming,” Rafe continued, the car shifting down a gear on the uneven road. “Because that fuckass event is the perfect opportunity to announce something like this. Bring attention back to Cameron Development and make his stance on the whole shitty-ass deal clear before Whitmore does.”

He tapped his chest again, brows raised. “That we’re the investors. Without our money, this entire project wouldn’t even be possible. Whitmore’s just the guy offering the land, nothing more. Doesn’t fucking matter what’s stated on paper.”

Holy fucking shit, and he'd come up with all of that on the spot? Under that kind of pressure and in front of his dad, no less? And even got him to CONSIDER those terms?

Fuck, that was...

So fucking hot.

Like... you didn’t even know WHY. It was just the fact that he could use his brain for something good if he actually wanted to, stand up for himself in front of his dad, and take actual responsibility and—

I’M STARING AT HIS ARMS AGAIN HELP.

You quickly averted your gaze, and thank god he hadn’t caught you drooling over him again.

BACK TO THE TOPIC, GIRL.

“That actually sounds kinda promising,” you finally said, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you saw how Rafe’s features immediately softened.

Big blue eyes gazed at you for a second. “You think so?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean, although it’s kinda what Ruthie ultimately wanted, so it’s like letting her win, but right now this might actually be our best shot.”

A big smile spread across Rafe’s lips. “I know. And my dad actually sounded impressed by the idea.”

You hated Ward Cameron so much for the fact that his son was this happy about selling his soul to such a shitty deal just to finally gain his approval.

And your heart clenched at what you were about to say.

“But,” you started carefully, already watching his expression drop, “I’m not sure if you fully understand what you’re getting into if this deal actually happens. I mean, aside from the fact that it’s not just Ruthie’s dad who needs to agree that you—a boy barely finished with high school—are the one making this deal, Ruthie also has to accept these terms.”

You furrowed your brows, noticing how his jaw clenched. “This may be close to what she wanted, but it’s not truly what she demanded. She asked for your dad, not you.” You quickly shook your head as he scowled. “No, I’m not questioning whether you could run a project like this, okay? Actually, I’m pretty sure if given enough time, this could turn into a solid opportunity for you.”

Your gaze softened as the car came to a stop under the shadow of some oak trees. “But you’re still young, Rafe. Please don’t think I’m doubting you, it’s just... this isn’t some side hustle. Running a subsidiary company is not a hobby, it’s... I mean, what about your future? If you ever want to go to college, this could be a massive burden, and,” you raised your brows, voice laced with genuine concern, “what if Whitmore screws you over? If he’s anything like Ruthie, he might do everything he can to push you out of the company the moment the deal's sealed.”

Rafe just stared straight ahead, head resting back against the seat, hands still gripping the lower part of the steering wheel, even though the car was parked.

Your heart twisted painfully at his empty expression.

“I didn’t mean to—” you began, but he shook his head, making a dismissive motion with his hand.

“It’s my only chance,” he said, his voice laced with a gut-wrenching emptiness as he stared at a blank spot ahead. “I don’t have plans for after high school. So this might be my only opportunity to get into business. You know, build something, work alongside my dad, prove myself, and finally do something meaningful for once.”

This sounded way too much like ‘I’m not good enough, so now I have to settle for the next best option otherwise I will stay a disappointment,’ and your heart broke all over again at how exhausted he sounded.

You exhaled quietly through your nose and eyed his sharp profile. “But is that what you really want? You shouldn’t sell yourself short just to prove something. And if you think there’s no other way out of Ruthie’s blackmail—”

“I can’t back out now,” he said, turning to look at you, desperation and sadness glimmering in his eyes. “I already brought this up to my dad. If I puss out now,” he shook his head, face twisting into a bitter grimace, “he’ll write me off for good. This isn’t just my chance to get out of this fucked-up blackmail, it’s also my shot at proving my dad that I’m not just the loser he thinks I am.”

Your heart cracked again, aching for this broken boy whose only real goal seemed to be to finally feel accepted and wanted, like that was the only way he knew how to exist. Chasing approval like he needed someone else to tell him how much he was actually worth.

“You’re not a loser, Rafe,” you said firmly, holding his tired gaze. “And you don’t need your dad—or anyone else—to tell you that. You’re perfectly fine the way you are.”

Rafe shook his head weakly, tapping his chest with one hand. “Look at me? He’s right, I’m fucking fucked-up. Always causing him trouble and I barely even manage high school. How the fuck am I supposed to go to college?”

“You’re not an easy person, there’s no sugarcoating that”, you replied, gently, “but your grades don’t define who you are. There’s so much more about you.” You shook your head, smiling softly. “You’re smart, observant, adaptable, and quick-thinking. You pick up on things faster than anyone else I know. I mean, you always know when I start to spiral and you usually manage to defuse it almost immediately. It took Cara months to learn how to read me. You did it in a week.”

You chuckled softly, heart thumping a little faster at your next words. “And you have this weird skill... like, you know exactly how to brighten my day or make me laugh—even if it’s through your stupid, sexually charged pics—and you always make me feel like I...” you shook your head, smiling sheepishly, “like I’m special. And,” you laughed nervously, cheeks warming, “what I’m trying to say is, never let anyone define your worth. Not your dad, your teachers, your friends or anyone else. What someone thinks about you doesn’t reflect who you actually are.”

Your fingers traced the shape of your heart-shaped charm. “Though I do believe it’s true when I say you’re more than enough. As for me, I’m really grateful to get to call someone like you my friend.” A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “Even if it’s just day three of our friendship.”

Oh, god.

OH MY FUCKING GOD. That basically felt like a confession even though all you did was speak the truth about how much he meant and—

OH NO.

NONONONO.

He looked so shaken now. So deeply gutted and overwhelmed, it felt like last night all over again.

This broken boy in front of you, usually so full of anger and energy, now just looking exhausted and empty. And it felt like the wound in your heart was ripped open all over again, this time even deeper.

His pretty blue eyes stared at you with uncertainty and disbelief, like he couldn’t allow himself to trust your words, like all you were doing was feeding him lies.

And, oh my god, no.

There was a shimmer in his eyes that looked like he was desperately trying to hide from breaking loose.

OKAY NO. IF RAFE STARTED CRYING IN FRONT OF YOU, YOU’D CRY TOO AND JUST—NOPE.

And because you didn’t know what else to say, you just quickly shook your head, brows furrowing. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t—”

“Nah,” Rafe said, letting out a broken little chuckle as he shifted in his seat, brushing the back of his hand over his teary eyes and rubbed at his nose, masking a sniff. Then he leaned back again, fingers fidgeting with the golden ring on his left hand. “You’re good at saying the right shit at the right time. That’s a skill.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or breathe out in relief and somehow you did both. “I... yeah, I think I got that from my dad.”

Rafe nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at his hands. “Yeah, that’s... I appreciate it.”

Your pulse quickened, and when the smile faded from his face, replaced by a stern profile, you found yourself holding your breath for whatever he was about to say.

“And I also appreciate you sticking around even though you could’ve left,” he said, meeting your eyes again, something soft flashing through his gaze making your heart ache. “I mean not just last night. This whole,” he made a vague motion with his hand, shaking his head, “fucked-up situation Ruthie pushed me into. That— I mean, shit, none of that fucking concerns you and you still wanna help me.”

A strained chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at you with genuine confusion, eyes still shiny. “And I can’t even tell if it’s out of pity toward me or out of hatred for Ruthie.”

That alone made your heart crack again, ripping deeper with every second you had to see him in this state.

“Neither.” You smiled softly. “It’s what friends do. Help each other. It’s a mutual thing. You helped me sober up on Saturday, and now I help you get out of this mess.” You shrugged, a cheeky smile on your lips. “Although getting Ruthie to eat shit is also a huge motivator.”

At that, Rafe let out a boyish laugh, averting his gaze for a second. “Shit, yeah, guess that won’t happen, though, if the deal goes through. Then she gets what she wanted.”

“It will,” you said, and his head snapped up again. “Deal or not, she still has the video. You think she’s gonna delete it the second your dad signs the papers?” You shook your head, expression hardening. “Nah, that bitch will just come up with something new, and it’ll keep going like this until one of you loses. And we’re gonna make sure it’s her.”

A heavy sigh escaped Rafe’s lips as he sank deeper into his seat, grimacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. I didn’t even think of that.”

“That was literally the first thing I mentioned last night when you told me about this whole situation,” you replied, amused. “And we talked about the exact same thing again this morning.”

Rafe scoffed. “Yeah, fuck, I know. I meant—I didn’t think about it during the conversation with my dad.” He closed his eyes, rubbing his palms over them. “Fuck, I should’ve held off on my suggestion until we were out of options. Now I might have to go through with the deal even if we manage to get rid of the video.”

OBVIOUSLY.

“No,” you said anyway, trying to offer a genuine smile. “I mean, yeah, you reacted impulsively, but chances are high we won’t be able to delete the video before the Gloaming. Your offer buys us time to stall Ruthie a little longer.”

Rafe scowled. “Buys us time? You do realize if my dad agrees and I take this deal, there’s no backing out.”

You tilted your head, giving him a crooked smile. “Maybe you can’t back out. But what if Ruthie’s dad did?”

“What?”

You nodded. “Yeah, just imagine what a blow it would be to the Whitmores if the deal gets announced at the Gloaming on big stage in front of everyone, and then shortly after, it falls apart because Mr. Whitmore chickened out.”

“You wanna blackmail him or what?” Rafe asked, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “That bastard cheated on his wife and didn’t even blink. I doubt—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I mean, I don’t know. Ruthie’s family is full of shit like that. There’s gotta be something we could use against them.”

A sweet chuckle slipped from his lips, making your heart skip a beat. “Shit, you wanna blackmail a grown man? You’re fucking insane.”

“I’m just saying, best case scenario,” you started, amused, lifting your brows as you counted off on your fingers, “we destroy Ruthie’s leverage by deleting the video, announce your family’s big role at the Gloaming with this deal and bring some attention on Cameron Development with it, humiliate the Whitmores when Mr. Whitmore pussed out, which means you’re free from whatever the deal actually entails, and”, you frowned, “this shouldn’t even be a bullet point—your dad can’t blame you because someone else crashed the deal.”

He just looked at you for a moment, like he was trying to believe this mess could actually work out in his favor.

Then that blank look morphed into a smug grin. “You forgot the best part of this scenario.”

Oh, you already knew you weren’t gonna like this answer, but you still raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“You falling head over heels for me during our fake dating act and letting me bend you over by the end of the week.”

DUDE.

HOW BLUNT DID YOU WANNA BE? YES.

You had no idea how to respond, feeling called out on your crush, for no reason whatsoever, so you tried to hide your flustered mess of a brain by laughing in disbelief.

“What’s so funny?” he said, grinning, EYES DROPPING TO YOUR LIPS FOR A SECOND, OKAY SIR. “I can be pretty charming if I want to be. And a convincing boyfriend, too.”

KFKSNFKACJ CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN.

You smiled nervously, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. “Uh-huh. I’m sure.”

“What? You don’t believe me?”

BOY, MY WHOLE LIFE I’VE BEEN DREAMING ABOUT YOU BEING MY BOYFRIEND.

Your whole body seemed to heat up in the car and all you could do was chuckle again in response because you were too overwhelmed with this topic.

Rafe studied you for a second with that cocky smile of his, then leaned back, letting out a heavy exhale.

“Okay, but for real,” he said, suddenly switching tones. “I wasn’t joking when I said I needed you to play a little part.” He fidgeted with the ring on his finger, a crease forming between his brows. “Because my dad thinks we’re dating now, he wants to get to know you better. At a dinner on Wednesday, to be exact. And the way he phrased it... it kinda sounded like his decision about the deal depends on how that dinner goes.”

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

So it wasn’t just about acting like his date—you also had to impress his dad?!

I meaaaan, there was no need for you to pull an act BECAUSE HAHAHAHAHAH but still, this was A LOT of events within two weeks. Sure, this would be just pretense but this still felt like you two were moving way too fast.

“Look,” he went on, holding your gaze with a calm seriousness as he gestured to himself, “I’m not asking you to get all PDA-shit with me. No kissing or sitting on my lap or any of that shit, okay? Just…” He let out a tense breath, waving his hand in the air. “Shit, I don’t know. Whatever it is couples do. Smile and hold hands and stuff like that, you know. Molly-Kelce type shit but like lowkey.”

SOMEONE RUSH ME TO THE ER. PLEASE HELP.

“I get that this is probably like a meteor crashing into the minions in your brain,” he added with a chuckle, “but I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” A strained smile appeared on his lips as he gestured toward himself, shaking his head. “I won’t even touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You scoffed, amused. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

OH SHIT.

You chuckled awkwardly, feeling your face heat up at his surprised expression. “I mean, I can handle a little physical contact.”

AT THIS POINT JUST TELL HIM YOU WANT HIS HANDS ALL OVER YOU.

Rafe raised his brows in genuine surprise. “So you’d be down to do that?”

You fidgeted with your bracelet, staring at one of the heart charms. “I just…” A nervous breath escaped your lips. “How long are you planning to keep this up?”

Silence.

Great.

You raised your gaze again, meeting his soft expression. He looked a little thrown off by the question, or maybe by the fact you were actually agreeing to FUCKING FAKE DATE HIM.

Then he blinked, shaking his head lightly. “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, it’d be kinda suspicious if we broke up right after the dinner or the Gloaming, right?”

“I thought we were just dating,” you said with a shaky breath. "You know, a breakup implies an actual relationship."

Rafe’s brows twitched but he nodded quickly. “Oh. Yeah, yeah. Right.” He laughed awkwardly. “Same thing, though.”

IT’S NOT, BUT OKAY.

He motioned toward you casually. “I don’t know, what do you suggest?”

ME???

Heat crawled up your neck because, for no damn reason at all, this felt like whatever you answered would be a confession. WHICH WAS SO STUPID. BUT STILL.

BUT GIRL THIS IS YOUR CHANCE. FAKE DATING RAFE, HELLO???

Okay, if it were up to me, we could keep this going forever hahahahahah.

PLEASE. HE’S LITERALLY WAITING FOR AN ANSWER.

You smiled awkwardly. “Um… I guess that depends on how long we’ve supposedly been dating already, right? Or maybe you tell me first what exactly you told your dad about us in the first place.”

“Uh, yeah.” Rafe nodded. “So I basically said we started dating like a month ago, and I didn’t tell anyone because you wanted to keep it lowkey. And—”

“Me?” You raised your brows, amused.

Rafe chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, it only makes sense that way because I sure as hell wouldn’t be hiding you.”

JESUS CHRIST. WHATEVER THAT MEANT.

“And I didn’t wanna pressure you,” he went on, still smiling. “Because you’re important to me and shit, so obviously I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable and scare you off.”

OKAY, NOPE. SOMEBODY CALL 911.

You had no time to spiral over that right now, so you just nodded, suddenly feeling like the awkward girl from earlier last week. “Okay… and then?”

“Yeah well, I also mentioned the project,” he said with a chuckle. “You know, to add some truth to the story.”

Oh.

So the part about you being important to him and all that wasn’t true?

“What?”

Shit, your face had given you away.

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing, I just— is that all?”

Rafe furrowed his brows. “No, I mean, yeah, but… what’s bothering you?”

That this will all be pretend and eventually it’s going to end and that is what’ll break me.

“I just…” you exhaled quietly, tracing your finger over the texture of your purse. “If we’re doing this, I need you to be super clear about what’s part of the act and what’s not. I’m already struggling to keep up with your… flirting, and stuff, but I learned to accept it.”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “But you know how my brain works by now. I don’t do well with mixed signals. So if something you say or do is just part of the act, I need you to clarify it as such.”

For a moment, he just looked at you with this innocent expression, like a boy soaking up info about a brand-new topic.

Then he nodded. “I will… if you do the same.”

OH!

Rafe needing clarity like that? That—wait.

DID THAT MEAN HE THOUGHT YOU WERE GIVING HIM MIXED SIGNALS TOO?? AND WHAT DID THAT MEAN?

OKAY OKAY OKAY CALM DOWN.

He probably just wanted to keep things clear. That wasn’t weird.

“I will,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “But what are you gonna tell your dad when the whole fake thing’s over? I mean,” a way too tense laugh escaped your lips, “we’re not like… parting ways or something, right?”

“What?” Rafe shook his head fast, a deep crease between his brows. “Shit, of course not.” He motioned between you two. “We’ll just say it didn’t work out but we stayed friends or shit like that. Easy.”

A huge wave of relief washed over you.

Sure, you hadn’t really thought he’d cut you off afterward, but hearing him say it out loud had probably just saved you from spiraling.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, anticipation flickering in his expression. “So you’re okay with this?”

I’M SCREAMING INTERNALLY, WHAT DO YOU THINK?

“I think so,” you replied with a soft smile. “So, this act… it’s basically just for the dinner and the Gloaming and maybe a little bit after to keep things realistic?”

Rafe scratched his chin. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you should probably tell your parents too, in case they end up talking with my dad or Rose.”

UGHHH. That was going to be the most awkward and uncomfortable conversation of your life, filled with a million questions and a dramatic “WE KNEW IT.”

But you nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. And for the same reason, we should probably let our friends in on it too.” You paused for a second, hesitating. “And Sarah and Wheezie as well.”

And because Rafe’s face immediately twisted into a deep scowl, you quickly added, “I mean, I can take care of Sarah and you can talk to Wheezie, but I assume they’re going to be present at the dinner too, so better tell them beforehand before they accidentally blow our cover.”

Please don’t get mad, please don’t get mad.

Rafe exhaled and ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, shit, I guess you’re right.”

Oh. That was easier than expected.

“Let’s talk about the rest of this crap tomorrow, okay? I’ve had enough of this damn deal and Ruthie for one day,” he said, his expression turning smug. “And I think that was enough food for your little minions today too.”

You laughed. “True that.”

Then you suddenly became aware of where you actually were. Your mind had been so focused on the conversation, you hadn’t even noticed Rafe had driven you to some secluded grove at the far end of Figure 8. (If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was planning to kill you and bury your body here ahahahaha.)

Outside the car, sunlight filtered through the oak trees, casting golden patterns across the grass below. Everything looked still, calm, and just a little unreal in the warm afternoon light. The branches swayed slightly in the breeze, but it was quiet behind the glass.

It felt like the day was finally beginning to slow down.

“Where are we?” you asked in awe, eyes fixed on the scene outside. You didn’t recognize the place at all and hadn’t been paying attention on the way here either.

The sound of Rafe unbuckling his seatbelt made you turn your head.

“You’ll see,” he said with a grin, snatching his keys and phone from the center console, then got out of the car.

A rush of adrenaline shot through your body, and for a moment you just sat there, stunned—nerves buzzing at the fact that Rafe had brought you somewhere this beautiful.

“C’mon,” he said as he opened your door, grinning like an idiot. “Or does the lady need to be carried?”

CARRIED WHERE, THOUGH?

Your cheeks flushed and you quickly shook your head with a baffled little laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt too. With a soft thud, Rafe shut the door behind you.

The grove looked even more magical from outside the car—like you’d just stepped into one of those vivid landscape paintings in a museum. In the distance, you could hear seagulls calling, and above you the whisper of treetops rustling. The breeze carried the scent of the ocean and salt, and the warm air was thick with the smell of pine, oak, and damp earth.

It all felt almost fairylike.

So how the fuck did Rafe even know about this place?

“Where are we?” you asked again, turning to meet his eyes.

“You’ll see,” he repeated, smiling as he walked to the back of his car and opened the trunk. He slung a huge gym bag over his shoulder and you couldn’t help but admire the way his arms flexed as he lifted it.

AND THEN YOU DIED.

When he reached up to close the trunk with his other hand, his polo shirt rode up slightly, giving you a glimpse of his FUCKING V-LINE. BYE.

And of course, his cocky little chuckle told you he’d definitely caught you looking, which made your entire face heat the fuck up.

I’M SERIOUSLY DONE FOR TODAY.

With two quick clicks, he locked the car and gently nudged you forward with a “C’mon,” stepping beside you again.

Your heart pounded like it was training for a marathon, but you fell into step beside him anyway, shoulders brushing lightly as you walked.

A wooden path stretched through the grove, seemingly guiding the way. Birds chirped in the canopy above, and the leaves rustling of leaves filled the silence between the two of you.

“Does this place belong to your family?” you asked, slightly alarmed by the signs of ownership.

“No,” Rafe said a little too casually, and a flicker of unease crept into your chest at the idea that you might be trespassing on someone’s private land. You weren’t exactly planning to get shot today.

You frowned, letting out a nervous laugh. “Okay… so whose is it then?”

“Relax, alright?” he said, casting you a slightly amused look. “We’re allowed to be here.”

AND WHO ALLOWED THAT?

Jesus, this guy was the reason you were going to need a pacemaker someday. The number of mini-heart attacks he’d already given you was concerning.

You just nodded, unconvinced, and tried not to bump into him too often as you continued down the wooden path.

Soon, the scent of freshwater started to mix with the earthy air, and shortly after, you stepped into a clearing.

And the sight was breathtaking.

A small lake stretched out before you, reflecting the brilliant blue sky like a shimmering mirror, framed by a stunning wall of oaks and pines.

And in the center of it all: a white pavilion, accessible by a wooden pier just a few meters ahead.

The warm touch of Rafe’s hand on your lower back snapped you out of your trance.

“Move your ass,” he said with a grin. “Didn’t bring you here just to play fucking tree.”

Still overwhelmed by the view, you managed a quiet laugh and let him guide you toward the pier. His hand never left your back, all the way to the pavilion it rested on the place just inches from your butt—and you didn’t even notice when it dropped, or when he set the bag down, because you were completely floored.

Sand-colored curtains wrapped the pavilion in a golden shimmer, and a beautifully carved wooden railing gave the whole space a feeling of calm and safety. In the center, a round firepit filled with fresh coal and wood. On one side, a wide lounge bed. On the other, a cute little table with two chairs.

But that wasn’t what had you completely speechless.

No, it was the little things in between—the details that made your heart skip in a way it never had before.

The upper beams were strung with dozens of star-shaped fairy lights, wrapped like ivy around the posts. The lounge bed was covered in a fluffy Fluttershy-themed blanket, and tucked between the soft beige cushions were two plushies—one Psyduck and one that looked like a cursed Minion. And on the side table, surrounded by glowing fake candles and perfectly arranged decor, was a massive bouquet of flowers—the scent of sweet peas, forget-me-nots, anemones, peonies, and astrantias already filling the air.

Everything was just...

Perfect.

“Do you like it?” Rafe’s quiet voice pulled you out of another daze.

When you turned to look at him, your heart dropped. Blue eyes stared back at you—uncertain, a little nervous, and maybe even afraid.

“At first, I had been thinking I could just take you out for dinner,” he said, letting out a shaky chuckle, “but I figured that's kinda lame and… someone like you deserves something a little more special, so I wanted to do something else instead.” He pressed his lips together for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much time to set it up, though. You know, because of the convo with my dad and our hangout awaiting, I only had like two hours.”

He exhaled through his nose, brows pulling together. “But I really wanted to do this today before another fucker decides to give it a shot, and I...” Another shaky breath. “I know it’s not much. Not sure what you had in mind when you asked for more effort, and your friend was absolutely no help, so I...” He frowned. “Okay, fuck that — will you be my date for the shitty-ass Gloaming?”

Completely overwhelmed by the setup, by the fact that he’d actually put in this much effort despite being so busy, that he’d even reached out to Cara for help, and then the way he asked—awkward and nervous and just a little passive-aggressive—and the fact he was worried someone else might ask you even though you only wanted to go with him...

The butterflies in your stomach went feral. The little minions in your head were full-on losing their minds, rushing around, screaming, jumping up and down. And your heart? Beating all the right kinds of fast.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brows drawing tighter, and the anxiety in his voice was impossible to miss. “You look disappointed.”

You quickly shook your head, laughing in disbelief. “What? Oh my god, no! No. Not at all, that’s...” You took in the whole setup again before turning back to him, a wide smile on your face. “It’s perfect, Rafe. I... I don’t even know what to say, I totally wasn’t expecting this.”

“Yeah, well, you could say ‘Yes’ for example,” he muttered impatiently, clearly tensed.

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused.

“What?” he said, nearly panicking. “No way you already said yes to some other fucking loser.”

You laughed softly and smiled, shaking your head. “No.”

Now he raised his brows, anticipation written all over his face.

Alright. You should probably put him out of his misery before he had a full breakdown.

“Yes,” you said with a soft laugh. “I’d love to be your date for the Gloaming.”

And just like that, the biggest grin broke across his face and all that tension left his body. “So the 10k I spent renting this place was worth it.”

“WHAT?!” Your heart dropped straight to the floor.

NO WAY HE’D ACTUALLY SPENT THAT MUCH ON YOU.

That bastard laughed. “Just kidding. Place belongs to Kelce’s grandpa. So I only paid half.”

You blinked at him, completely shocked.

“Alright, calm down, it was free,” he said, giggling as you lightly smacked him with the back of your hand. “Hey, not sure I wanna date an abusive girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the word date before you remembered—hahah yeah, right, you were fake dating now. Kind of.

YOU’D NEED AT LEAST A WEEK TO LET THAT FACT SINK IN. HOLY SHIT.

Anyway.

No freaking out now. Not after Rafe went through all this trouble just to make you feel special.

You just shot him an amused side-eye at his comment, then turned away to inspect the flowers on the table.

Their scent so sweet and lovely, and each individual bloom looked so beautiful on its own. The whole arrangement of soft pinks and blues with little green fillers in between—just perfect.

And the fact that these weren’t just random flowers or boring roses, no, the bouquet felt like Rafe’s way of showing you that he’d actually thought this through, that he’d really put effort into it.

Your fingers gently brushed over the petals, a smile tugging at your lips. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re probably thinking the same about you.”

You hadn’t even noticed him walking up behind you, now standing just slightly behind your shoulder, his warm breath ghosting over the skin of your neck, sending a shiver running down your spine.

You turned around, a baffled laugh slipping out at both his comment and the close proximity. Your heart was already screaming so loudly, you were sure Rafe could hear it.

And then you saw it.

A weirdly shaped present in his hands, about the size of a football. Horribly wrapped—like a 5-year-old had been handed wrapping paper and scissors.

“And that’s also for you,” he said, face slightly sheepish.

You blinked, completely startled. Two gifts in three days, and on top of that, this whole beautifully arranged setup?

More than feeling excited, you felt guilty for not having anything to give in return. Something to show him how much you appreciated all this, and—

“Shit, take the fucking thing,” he said, pressing the gift into your hands. “Didn’t spend an hour on this shit just for you to stare at the shitty-ass wrapping.”

WHAT.

DID THAT MEAN HE MADE SOMETHING HIMSELF?

Okay, bye—you were either going to pass out or cry in the next five minutes.

“Go on,” he said, nudging your shoulder, sounding like an impatient schoolboy, “open that shit already.”

Ignoring the anxious buzzing under your skin, you set the present down on the table and tugged at the ribbon. As you carefully tore open the wrapping paper, you could feel Rafe standing right behind you, leaning in to look over your shoulder like he was the one receiving the gift.

And as soon as the present was revealed—

—you immediately burst out laughing.

You didn’t even get a full look at what it was. The first glimpse alone was so unexpected you had to turn away and giggle like a total idiot. Your stomach hurting, and you even had to wipe away tears from how hard it hit you.

“What?” he asked, voice sounding both amused and offended. “It’s that bad?”

You shook your head, trying to stop laughing, your face flushed from surprise.

“No, it’s...” you began, but almost broke into laughter again as your eyes landed on the gift once more. “I love it, but,” You gestured toward the little miniature scene in front of you, trying to keep your grin under control. “What the fuck is that?”

A chuckle slipped from his lips. “You want me to explain?”

“Yes, please elaborate,” you said, still catching your breath, wiping away the last of your laugh-tears.

“Okay, so right here,” he said with a crooked smile, pointing to a bloody FunkoPop that looked like it had originally been Levi Ackerman from Attack On Titan, two blades in hand, black curtain bangs painted over with a sort of dirty-blonde shade. “That’s me, alright?”

You nodded, lifting a hand to your mouth to stop you from breaking out into a laughing fit again.

“And that fucker,” he continued, brows raised as if this part was important, pointing at a Minion FunkoPop laid out on some cardboard-style ground, bruises and blood drawn on the poor thing, “that’s one of your fuckass minions. I killed him.”

You stifled another laugh. “But his eye is open.”

“Yeah, well,” he said deadpan, gesturing to his chest with both hands, “I forced him to keep it open, okay? So my face is the last thing he sees.”

You nodded slowly, barely holding it together. “Of course.”

“Yeah, and that one is you,” he said, pointing to a smiling female FunkoPop you couldn’t quite connect to a franchise, but she resembled you a lot—though some color adjustments had clearly been made. “Any questions?”

Why was he acting like he was presenting a science project? Help.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, leaning in to inspect your figure more closely. “Why does she have blood on her chest? Did you stab her too?”

Rafe frowned dramatically. “What? No.” He pointed between your figure and the dead Minion. “You see how close you were standing when he was killed? Realistically, some blood would’ve splattered onto you.”

Wow. He really thought this through. Attention to detail.

You chuckled, nodding. “Okay, so you didn’t care that I was standing right next to you swinging those blades? You could’ve hit me too, you know.”

“Maybe I should have,” Rafe muttered, scowling. “If I’d known you were gonna mock my masterpiece like this.”

“I’m not mocking it,” you said, trying to sound serious but failing miserably. “I’m actually really impressed. Like…” You gestured to the entire setup, smile softening. “It’s genuinely impressive and… so much thought behind it too.”

Rafe scoffed. “Yeah, okay, real funny. You know if—”

“I mean it, Rafe,” you interrupted, turning to face him completely, meeting his eyes with real sincerity. “This whole setup—the flowers, the lights, this whole place—everything is just perfect. So… thank you, this means a lot to me.” A crease formed between your brows. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put that much thought and effort into something for me.”

“Into asking you out?” Rafe asked, almost disbelieving.

You shook your head, a somewhat sad smile tugging at your lips as you gazed at the blue patterns in his eyes. “No. I mean ever.”

Rafe’s brows twitched, like he couldn’t quite follow. And then, a jolt went through you as his hand gently reached out for your bracelet, lightly playing with one of the charms.

“Yeah, well, gotta have some proof we’re dating,” he said with a soft chuckle, eyes still fixed on your bracelet.

Your smile faded, and you instinctively pulled your hand away just a little.

Rafe looked up immediately, a frown forming as the bracelet slipped from his fingers. “What’s wrong?” His expression softened instantly when his eyes met yours. “Shit, I was joking. I—I didn’t do all this because of that.” He tapped his chest. “I planned this before even talking to my dad, okay? Spent all of English class thinking about how I could use this second chance.”

He nodded toward the little gift with a crooked grin. “I mean, seriously, you think I’d put in that much effort just for show?” His brows furrowed. “Which, by the way—you are not telling anyone about this fuckass gift, alright. If word gets out, you're switching places with the Minion.”

A chuckle escaped you at that. “Embarrassed about your little masterpiece?”

“Nah,” he said, mouth turning downward. “It’s a limited edition. Don’t need anyone else requesting the same shit.”

Yeah. He was so embarrassed.

You nodded smugly. “Uh-huh, sure.”

“Alright, enough talking now,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he nodded behind you. “Get your ass on the bed.”

UM.

Somehow, instead, your eyes drifted toward the massive gym bag he'd brought, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the actual fuck was in there.

Rafe followed your gaze and turned back around with a nasty little grin. You quickly shook your head, frowning as you pushed him lightly in the chest. “Ew.”

“What?” He chuckled, boyishly. “You’re the one always turning everything sexual.”

You eyed him, deadpan. “Okay, but seriously, what’s in there? Because right now it looks like you’re either getting rid of someone or doing some other sketchy shit.”

“Okay, you know what,” he said, frowning, making a hushing motion with his hand, “how about you move your cheeky ass to the couch and shut the fuck up.”

Always so gentle.

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “And you? You gonna—”

You stopped mid-sentence as he suddenly stepped toward you, determination in his eyes, and you shook your head with a baffled smile just as—

A startled squeak left your lips as he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you up. Instinctively, your hands flew around his neck, holding onto him for dear life, your brain barely keeping up with what was happening.

“What are you doing?” you asked with a breathless laugh, heart hammering wildly, half-expecting him to just throw you into the lake.

Rafe scowled as he walked over to the lounge bed, one hand under your knees, the other supporting your back. "What does it look like?"

WELL THE WAY HIS BICEPS WERE FLEXING DEFINITELY LOOKED A LITTLE TOO DELICIOUS.

OKAY GIRL, THAT'S WHAT YOU’RE FOCUSING ON RIGHT NOW?? RAFE JUST FUCKING CARRIED YOU IN HIS ARMS BRIDAL STYLE???

But before you could even freak out, he had already set you down on the lounge bed—carefully and gently.

And when he straightened back up and looked down at you with that stern expression of his... uh, let's just say it wasn’t just your heart that started screaming.

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” he said—soft and firm and OH MY FUCKING GOD, SUDDENLY YOU WISHED YOU'D TAKEN CARE OF THAT PRESSURE EARLIER. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

OKAY SIR.

Trying to ignore HOW CRAZILY FAST YOUR HEART WAS BEATING, you snuggled into the lounge bed, kicked your shoes off, and slipped under the fluffy Fluttershy blanket (WHICH, OH MY FUCKING GOD). You chuckled to yourself as you inspected the Psyduck plush and the cursed Minion plush, arranging them neatly beside you on the right, silently wondering if he had bought them or already owned them.

“Okay,” he said, placing the gym bag on the lounge bed as he came back, his eyes flicking to the two plushies for a second (literal death glare) before unzipping the bag and reaching in. “Hall said these are your favorite snacks.” He tossed four packs of your actual favorite snacks your way.

“You know her name is Cara, right?” you said, amused, gathering the snacks in front of the plushies.

Rafe ignored you and pulled out a hoodie, tossing it onto the empty spot next to the plushies. “Mine,” he said, then threw another one your way. “And yours.”

UM EXCUSE ME WHATTTTTTTTTTT.

You blinked, baffled, staring down at the dark gray hoodie now lying in your lap.

“What?” he said, confused (BOY I AM IN CONFUSION HERE), gesturing toward you. “It gets cold real quick out here, and you didn’t bring a fucking jacket.”

SO HE RANDOMLY PACKED TWO HOODIES???

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell me we’d be hanging out outside,” you replied, an awkward smile tugging at your lips.

Rafe held your gaze for a second like you were talking gibberish, then turned back to the bag, pulling out a smaller, black, square-shaped case. “Wheezie’s Switch. So take fucking care, alright.”

Okay, first of all, how much fit into this fucking bag? Was he Hermione Granger or something? Second, the way he always looked out for Wheezie was literally the sweetest thing ever. And third—CAN WE NOT JUST BREEZE PAST HIM BRINGING YOU A FUCKING HOODIE???

I’m cool :) I’m fine :)

And lastly, he pulled out two 1-liter water bottles, tossing them onto the couch—one almost crashing into your knee. Then he let the bag drop to the floor and turned quietly to the fireplace.

While he tried to light it, you (still very much overwhelmed) turned toward the stuff he’d brought, gathering the bottles in front of the snacks, folding his hoodie neatly and placing it beside you, and grabbed the Switch case.

A smile tugged at your lips when you saw the Animal Crossing-themed console. You left it in the case for now and started looking through the games. Everything was there—from Zelda to Animal Crossing (duh), a bunch of Mario games, even FIFA.

“No.”

That was the first thing Rafe said when he came back over to the lounge bed.

You looked up from the games, catching him dramatically frowning at the spot right beside you. He gestured to the plushies and snacks. “What the fuck is this? You building a wall between us or some shit?”

A baffled laugh escaped you. “I just figured that way we both have easy access.”

“Fuck that,” he said and climbed onto the bed, grabbing both plushies and tossing them toward your feet, muttering something like, “Fuckers” under his breath. Then he placed the snacks and drinks onto the wooden shelf behind the backrest of the bed, which you hadn’t even noticed before.

Then he kicked off his shoes aggressively, slipped under the blanket, and scooted closer so that his shoulder and legs were brushing against yours (mind you, this lounge bed was bigger than the one at the open-air event).

But you just chuckled, not moving an inch as a warm feeling spread in your chest when he finally exhaled a deep, tired breath (boy acting like he just invented fire).

“Putting these fuckers between us like they were the ones who set all this up,” he muttered, glaring at the plushies by your feet like they’d committed ten felonies.

Okay, getting angry/jealous/possessive (?) over stuffed animals—did that fall into a gray area or what? HAHAHAH

You know what? I don’t even care.

You laughed and leaned forward to grab both the Psyduck and the Minion, setting them in your lap. “Then why’d you bring them?”

“Because I saw these fuckers in the store and they reminded me of us,” he said, not breaking eye contact with the plushies.

“Us?” Another baffled chuckle slipped past your lips, your stomach doing somersaults at the thought of him buying something that made him think of the two of you.

Rafe nodded and gestured to the Minion. “Yeah, that fucker's your loud-ass, annoying asshole minion.” His hand drifted to the Psyduck. “And this guy? He’s the one getting harassed by him. Like me.”

“What?” you laughed, disbelieving.

“Yeah, that’s the Pokémon with the headaches and stuff, right?”

You nodded, trying to hold in another laugh. “Psyduck, yes.”

“Yeah, whatever. And where do you think those headaches come from?”

“Well, it’s tied to his—”

“Yeah, because of that fucker,” Rafe interrupted, pointing right back at the Minion.

You chuckled and raised a brow at him. “So if they represent us, I guess that means I’m giving you headaches too.”

Rafe nodded, blinked, then quickly shook his head and gestured toward his temples with both hands. “Your minions piss me off. Not you.”

This felt like a kindergartener trying to explain his emotions with stuffed animals. Lord help.

“But they are me,” you said, amused.

Rafe grimaced and snatched the Minion from your lap, glaring at the poor guy with pure disdain. “He’s fucking ugly and you’re not, so yeah, nah, definitely not you.”

A weird way of saying you’re pretty BUT I’LL TAKE WHAT I CAN GET.

“Alright,” you said with a chuckle, holding the Psyduck up next to Rafe’s face. “But this one’s pretty accurate though. Same pissed-off face.”

Rafe pushed your hand with the plush aside and placed the Minion somewhere next to him, his expression nearly offended. “I thought you’d like him.”

“I do,” you said, still chuckling at how the Psyduck was holding its head with a pained expression. “He’s cute.”

“See? Him and me have so much in common,” Rafe said, voice back to cocky, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his smug grin.

You set the Psyduck down on your left and leaned against Rafe’s shoulder, looking up at him with a smile. “He’s a little too quiet for my taste, though.”

A soft chuckle escaped Rafe’s lips as he raised a brow. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I much prefer your annoyed, passive-aggressive yapping.”

“I’m not aggressive,” Rafe said with a frown.

“Passive-aggressive,” you corrected him with a smile.

Rafe nodded, lips curling. “You know what? I’m gonna beat your ass passive-aggressively in Mario Kart.”

That made you sit upright again, raising a brow at him. “Not sure you know who you’re sitting next to.”

You and Cara had been playing Mario Kart since you were kids—on the DS, Wii, Switch, you name it. You’d be dragging Rafe’s ass through the fucking mud.

“Yeah,” he said, a crooked smile forming on his lips. “The soon-to-be loser.”

Excuse me?

“Bold words for someone who’s about to act like a grumpy toddler,” you replied, blinking at him unimpressed.

Rafe scoffed. “Wanna bet?”

“On what?”

For a moment, you nearly lost composure as his eyes dropped to your lips, but he quickly looked back up. “If I win, you’re staying over at my place after the dinner on Wednesday.” A smug grin tugged at his lips as he added, “You know, to support the act.”

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT.

“And if you win, I get to stay over at yours.” He didn’t even blink when he said it.

WHAT KIND OF TERMS WERE THOSE.

Your face heated up instantly at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Rafe, but you somehow managed to raise a brow. “How is that fair?”

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY—WHY THOSE CONDITIONS.

Rafe chuckled. “You got a problem with that?”

You nodded, a crease forming between your brows. “Well, yeah. We’ve got school the next day.”

AND I’M ALREADY PANICKING AND THE BET ISN’T EVEN SEALED YET.

“And?” Rafe raised a smug eyebrow. “You think we’ll be busy the whole night or what?”

THIS MOTHERFUCKER. BYEEE.

You chuckled nervously and shook your head, cheeks basically on fire. “I just…”

But you had no clue how to finish that sentence. Your brain had officially short-circuited.

“You think I’d try something?” Rafe asked, suddenly on the defensive again.

“Of course not,” you replied, a little annoyed he kept bringing this up. “Stop assuming that. I know you’re not a creep.”

Rafe didn’t look convinced.

He pulled a face and threw his hands up. “Then what’s the issue? You sleep on your side, I sleep on mine. It’s not that different from what we’re doing right now.” His voice softened a little. “And I genuinely think this could prove my dad that I'm serious about you. I usually never let a girl sleep over with all my family knowing."

Of course, you’d love nothing more than to sleep beside him, like OH MY FUCKING GOD—being wrapped in his blanket, sharing his warmth, breathing in the scent of his room and him and just... AJKDCMSKFEJ.

BUT.

“Rafe, I don’t know if this isn’t moving a little too fast for me,” you said quietly. “I mean… I know it’s just for the act, and I know you’d make sure I’m comfortable. It’s just…” You fidgeted with your bracelet. “My brain is already struggling to catch up with this right here. I barely processed us being friends and now three days later, you’re asking me to act like your fake girlfriend and sleep in your bed. That’s just…” A shaky breath slipped out. “It’s a lot.”

He needed to understand that. Whether he liked it or not.

Also… whether this was actually for the act or maybe correlated to his clinginess or attachment, you needed to slow things down a bit.

LIKE SLEEPING NEXT TO HIM IN BED???

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH.

You probably wouldn’t even be able to sleep. You’d just lie there, staring into the dark, heart thundering in your chest, trying to make sense of the fact that you were actually sharing a bed with Rafe.

“I don’t get it,” Rafe said, clearly hurt. “I thought this wouldn’t be an issue for you. I mean, you do the same with your girl friends, right? How is this different?”

You let out a baffled laugh. “Because those are sleepovers and...uh...”

Shit. You had no valid argument. Other than the fact that he was a guy—the guy you were badly in love with.

“And?” There was something almost sad in his expression. He turned his body toward you fully, gesturing to himself. “If I were a girl, would you still say no?”

Okay. Fair. This wasn’t about him being a guy. THIS WAS ABOUT HIM BEING RAFE FUCKING CAMERON, YOUR CRUSH.

You chuckled softly. “I think you’d say no. Girl sleepovers involve things you probably wouldn’t do.”

“Says who?”

“What?”

“That I’d say no.”

OH. MY. GOD.

Your eyebrows shot up. “So you’re telling me you’d be down for pajamas, gossip, giggling about guys, doing face masks and makeup and all that stuff?”

“Cut the giggling and the makeup and I’m good with the rest,” he said, way too casually.

You laughed. “Rafe, that’s—”

“I’m serious,” he cut in, frowning. “You said you wanted to be friends, so why can’t we do friend shit? Sarah and Kie always left me out of that shit too. Like, is that some fuckass girl code or shit like that?”

Okay, new theory: maybe this wasn’t just about the act or his clinginess. Maybe he never actually had a real sleepover growing up and felt excluded his entire life.

And somehow, that… shifted your entire perspective on this situation.

You smiled softly. “So you wanna have a sleepover like that?”

He paused for a moment, arms crossed. Then shrugged. “Shit, I guess.”

AJSKFKSMFEK.

“Okay.”

His eyes widened like a starving medieval peasant getting tossed a piece of bread. “For real?”

You nodded, stifling a laugh. “But I don’t think the dinner night is the right time for that.” His frown was already returning, so you added quickly, “Because sleepovers like that take preparation, you know? You go shopping together, pick out snacks and stuff—that’s part of the whole experience.”

Rafe shook his head lightly, brows furrowed. “But the dinner night would be—”

“You need to understand, the whole act is already a lot for me,” you interrupted gently. “And not because of you. It’s just… a ton of pressure. Playing pretend in front of your dad and Rose, convincing them it’s real, and I also wanna make a good impression independent from the act, because I’m gonna be around even after this whole fake thing ends. Then coming home with you on the same night, Sarah will probably pull me aside and talk to me about it, and then it’d also be my first time sleeping over at a guy’s place and—”

“Alright, alright,” Rafe said, smile tight (great, now your panic was rubbing off on him too). “You need to chill the fuck out. It was just an idea to support the whole thing, okay?” His expression softened. “You’re gonna do just fine. Just be yourself, that’s enough. My dad already thinks you’re the perfect catch anyway.”

Your face twisted. “But he doesn’t even know me.”

“He knows your parents, and he respects them a lot,” Rafe explained, letting out a half-laugh. “And there’s never been any drama with you or them. Plus, you’re polite, kind, and pretty on top of that. He already thinks I've won the jackpot with you.” A small smile curled on his lips. “And he’s probably right.”

OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD.

How did he keep on casually dropping comments like that?? He probably thought they’d calm you down, but they were only making you freak out more, HELLOOOO???

“So just the dinner on Wednesday then. No sleeping over,” he said. “That cool with you?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Aight.” Rafe exhaled quietly, visibly relaxing. He shifted back next to you, his shoulder resting against yours. Then he reached for the Switch. “Now let’s drop this shit till tomorrow. I wanna crush your ass in Mario Kart now.”

A chuckle escaped your lips and you sank deeper into the seat, grabbing the controller he handed you.

"What about the bet?", you asked, gazing up at him.

Rafe’s brows twitched, and he shifted his gaze from the Switch to you. “Yeah, well, that shit doesn’t really make sense anymore, does it?”

“We could come up with a new one,” you offered, absentmindedly tracing the joystick’s curve with your thumb—until you noticed the crooked grin forming on Rafe’s face. Clearly, he thought that motion implied what would be part of the bet.

You stopped immediately and frowned at him. “Seriously.”

A cheeky chuckle escaped his lips. “Didn’t say a thing.” He made a poor attempt at looking serious. “Alright then—what did you have in mind?”

You pressed your lips together, hesitation bubbling in your chest, but--no. Screw it. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

Rafe blinked. The surprise washed over his whole face as he stared at you for a second before nodding. “Like... the whole night or just the evening?”

“The whole night.”

He tilted his chin, raising his eyebrows. “To do what exactly?”

HORNY-ASS BOY.

“Having a sleepover. We literally just agreed on planning one,” you clarified, deadpan. “And my mom’s yacht is docked not far from our house and it’s basically a small apartment. Fully furnished lounge with a TV and everything. Perfect for spending the night.”

Rafe raised a brow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me to hook up with you.”

You gave him a blank stare.

“What?” he said, laughing. “I’m just wondering why you'd choose a private setting like that over one of our places.” He pointed at himself, wearing a teasing smile. “Just being cautious about your intentions here, okay.”

This fucker was mocking you. Wow.

A frown appeared on your face. “I literally just told you I'd feel pressured about sleeping over with one of our families around. And I know my parents would be checking in every ten minutes, asking if we needed anything and whatever.”

You grimaced. “They’d make the whole thing so awkward just because a boy is sleeping over, and then they’d start poking around about us dating and stuff and just… ugh, no thanks.”

Rafe chuckled and picked up the Mario Kart game case. “Alright, alright, I get it.” With a soft click, he pulled out the game card. “So what are the new bet terms?”

“If I win, you pay for snacks and everything,” you said, eyes following his hands. “And if you win, I will.”

Rafe scoffed and paused, looking up. “That’s lame as hell.”

“What? Why?”

“I was gonna pay for that shit anyway,” he said, sounding borderline offended.

NOT HIM WANTING TO PAY AGAIN, OMFG.

Your cheeks flushed but you didn’t dare argue. “Okay, what then?”

He slid the game card into the Switch slot and closed it, shifting his gaze back to you with that crooked little grin again. “What if we get a little fun out of this fake-dating thing?”

UM. WHERE EXACTLY WAS THIS GOING NOW.

You let out a nervous laugh. “What do you mean?”

His face could mean literally anything from let’s do it right now to let’s tell our parents you’re accidentally pregnant.

“Nothing wild. Not tryna make you uncomfortable,” he said, still grinning. “But I think we should use this opportunity to our advantage. So” he raised his brows, “if you win, we stick to the original plan. Just pretend for our parents and that’s it.”

UH-HUH.

“But if I win,” he went on, grin turning cockier, “we do the same thing in front of our friends—without telling them it’s fake.”

WHAT.

You kind of saw that coming but it still hit you like a truck.

"Think about it. It just makes sense," he said with a casual shrug. "What’s the first thing they're gonna ask when we tell them we randomly decided to start fake-dating?"

You just shook your head, too stunned to think.

“Why we’re doing it all of a sudden,” he said, brows drawing together. “And if we say it’s to influence my dad’s decision on the deal, they’ll start digging. Asking questions. About Ruthie and all that shit. And Kelce will throw a tantrum over why I didn’t tell him and your friend will probably do the same.”

He raised his chin, voice dropping. “Or does she already know?”

You shook your head. “No. I promised not to tell anyone.”

“See? So not telling them just makes things simpler.” He shrugged. “Avoids unnecessary drama, and we can completely focus on the Ruthie shit and the deal—without anyone else trying to get involved.”

This was insane.

Pretending not just in front of your families, but also your friends? Lying them like that didn’t just feel wrong, it was also a ton of pressure.

“Or,” you said with a sheepish smile, “we could just tell them half the truth. Say you accidentally dropped the dating thing during an argument with your dad and that’s it. Same outcome and no one needs to know about Ruthie or the deal.”

Rafe frowned. “Shit, don't you get it? They’ll still start bothering us. Annoy us by trying to help us or some shit, I don't even wanna know. Doesn’t matter what excuse we’ll give them.”

“Then we tell them not to.”

“You know damn well that's not gonna stop their nosy asses from meddling.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to respond.

Shit. He was right. But still...

“Look,” he said, voice softening, but the strained edge still very much there. “Like I said, I’m not asking you to throw yourself at me or anything like that. We’ll keep it lowkey, and I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay?” He raised his brows slightly, almost pleading. “It’s just for a few days, okay? Once all the Ruthie shit is over, we can tell them everything. I just… I don’t have the energy to deal with their bullshit and this whole mess at the same time.”

Oh. So this poor boy was just overwhelmed and trying to lighten the load.

You got that. Like, how many times had you nearly had a meltdown juggling two big problems at once?

And… you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. They would throw lots of questions at you two. And considering your friends had been rooting for you and Rafe anyway, maybe it really was easier to not tell them it was fake.

Just today, Cara had suggested you two should just put the friendship aside and start dating, so it would even be believable that you two suddenly did. And since Kelce already knew about the little setup Rafe created here as well, it wouldn’t be a stretch to claim you two talked, got closer, and boom—now you’re dating.

HELPPPPPP.

Everything in you wanted to say no, to keep it limited to your parents, keep it managed and under control, so you wouldn’t fall any deeper and get hurt and—

“Okay,” you said, cutting off your spiral before it could consume you.

The tension fell from Rafe’s face immediately. “You sure?”

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Guess you were right when you said I make simple things complicated. Maybe I should try the easy path for once.”

Rafe let out a relieved breath and sank back down beside you, turning his head your way again. “I promise I won’t do anything—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got that just fine,” you cut him off with a chuckle, picking up the controller from your lap. “Now let’s play before I change my mind.”

A big grin spread across his face as he reached for his controller too. “Aight, but I guess the bet’s useless again now, huh?”

Uh. Yeah. You had basically just agreed to his idea. No need to use it for a bet.

OH! WAIT.

You grinned at him.

“What?” Rafe’s lips twisted into a curious smirk.

“If I win, I get to do your makeup and nails tomorrow night,” you said, watching the color and life drain from his face. “And if you win, you get to do mine.”

And just like that, the light came back into his eyes.

Although, the grin that stretched across his face—a huge winner expression—made you question just how many hours Rafe actually spent on gaming, and whether you were doomed to lose since the beginning.

“You're on”, he said, and started the game.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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[7-deadly-cats-updates]

killing me softly | 21

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, mildly jealous!reader, possessive!rafe, silly!rafe, reader having a heart attack at the end (not literal, tho... maybe), cliffhanger bc i wanna keep things open for how i'm gonna handle the situation

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ molly got added to the girls' group chat, and while you and rafe stayed curled up watching transformers, she kept the others updated about the two of you. the girls also ended up talking about rafe leaving earlier, and pretty quickly decided it probably had something to do with ruthie. you and rafe stayed cuddled the whole movie. you suggested filling topper and kelce in on everything but you weren’t gonna tell anyone anything he didn’t want shared. he also apologized for grabbing your wrist earlier, clearly feeling bad about how he handled it. you both added each other on TrackerBuddies, the little friendship tracker app. after the movie, you rejoined the others (minus the pogues). rafe openly admitted he regretted punching topper. when cara brought up ruthie, rafe shut her down fast. not long after, sarah called cara, asking to come join you guys. you asked rafe to dip with you. as you took an uber to your place, he grabbed your dad’s corvette, and the two of you headed out for another one of those sweet late-night drives. (18+ extra summarized) rafe missed you a lot back at home and tried feeling close to you by having a little solo session. afterward, he regretted it and also came to the realization this pull toward you was more than just a sexual need.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 10k+

✿ A / N ✿ probably one of my weakest chapters yet in comparison to the previous bangers. i also feel like it's 80% dialogue but i just have way too much fun w it and yeah. PLUS not sure if i’m jumping around too much but i really wanted to squeeze all the important scenes in. hope you guys enjoy anyway and pls lmk your thoughts <3 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

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for those who skipped the extra including the aftermath of the open-air event, please go back and read it as i've decided to promote it to a main chapter as it contains way too essential info and changes in dynamics. -> Chapter 20 (former extra)

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W E E K T W O // M O N D A Y 6 : 4 2 A M

One week ago, your whole life had been turned upside down.

Because exactly one week ago, on a seemingly uneventful Monday, your art teacher had decided to put you and Rafe Cameron together into a group for a two-week-long project.

And exactly one week ago, you'd thought this would be the end of you.

You remembered how he’d approached you after class, that unbothered expression on his face, not even properly looking at you, as he asked you to "just get this project over with" during lunch.

God, you remembered how you'd panicked afterward, how clammy your hands had gotten at the mere thought of working—no, TALKING—to Rafe. How Molly had found you pale as hell in the girls' restroom, how you'd freaked out while waiting for him in front of the gym.

You two had been classmates, project partners, no, actually, total strangers thrown together by some twisted coincidence named Arthur Smith, who wore washed-out art smocks and hair like a bomb had exploded in his face.

And now, exactly one week later, on yet another seemingly uneventful Monday, you could call yourself Rafe’s friend.

You couldn't even begin to describe how crazy, insane, downright batshit surreal that felt. Especially considering he’d been your crush for the past few years and now, within just one week, you’d gotten so close that you EVEN FUCKING CUDDLED LAST NIGHT LIKE WHAT.

HOW.

WHAT. HOW WAS THAT EVEN—like, you didn’t know what parallel universe you’d entered last Monday but LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO.

GOOOOSH, JUST THINKING ABOUT LAST NIGHT MADE YOUR HEART THUNDER LIKE CRAZY IN YOUR CHEST.

Starting from him being such a sweet gentleman, paying for your stuff, to you first sitting on the lounge bed and then scooting closer to warm each other up (after he’d had a boner but let’s never think about that again), and how sweet and relaxed he’d seemed, just for Ruthie to ruin your little cozy bonding moment with her fucked up bullshit game.

Oh, how badly you’d wanted to find that bitch after your argument with Rafe in the parking lot and slap that stupid grin right off her face. Sure, violence was never the answer, but this bitch? She could catch hands for playing him like that.

Really quite a weird coincidence though, that she’d been nowhere to be found at the event site after she’d talked to Rafe.

You’d found out through the girlies' group chat that she’d left in the middle of Barbie and had never come back. Gracie and Samantha had followed her shortly after.

As soon as Rafe had dropped you off at home, you’d gone straight to bed and scrolled through the dozens of messages in the girlies' group chat, aka them commenting on you and Rafe while trying to solve the mystery of why he’d left you behind.

And funny enough, they’d actually kinda solved it. But you hadn’t commented on anything because Rafe had made it very clear he didn’t want anyone getting involved.

Also, not them playing fucking Sherlock Holmes and talking about you and Rafe as if you weren’t in the group chat. Like, girls, come on, at least make a secret chat for that, geez.

You’d giggled nonetheless. Happy that Molly was now in the group too and also touched by how much they were cheering you and Rafe on.

Anyway, Ruthie being the reason two poor souls had to spend half the night alone? Fucking bitch.

And that just made you feel even worse about being annoyed with Topper last night. He’d probably felt just as awful as you had ughhhh.

Though, you had absolutely zero energy to spiral over how he might’ve felt because—BECAUSE—

Because Rafe.

YEAH RAFE.

Rafe who’d placed his fucking hand just inches away from your butt when he'd nudged you forward, both when leading you back inside the venue AND when you'd left. Like, okay, it was still just your lower back but from a different angle, that was just inches from your butt.

HAHAHAHAH the butterflies in your stomach had been already screaming like crazy and ripping each other’s wings off from panic and excitement, but no, this guy had taken it one step further.

Him. Always by your side. Like. The whole night.

Always close to you in some kind of way.

Not pushy, not clingy, or in any way uncomfortable. No, it felt more like he wanted to be near you, to feel the comfort of your presence, to reassure himself that you really weren’t leaving. Maybe grounding himself after being so shaken earlier.

So, when you two had settled back in on the lounge bed (ignoring Kelce’s and Molly’s surprised, smiley glances), he’d pulled you right back under the blanket. Held it open for you to scoot closer, and when you’d hesitated to cozy back up to him, he gave you this look with his big blue eyes—equal parts amusement and confusion—and said, “Don’t you dare be shy with me now.”

Yeah.

You kinda died in that moment. He'd looked genuinely afraid you might be scared of cuddling with him again, when in reality you just didn’t want to overstimulate him or crowd him after his crashout, especially considering he’d still been a bit jittery from the coke in his system.

Somehow, that restlessness faded fast once you cozied back up to him, his arm instantly wrapping around your waist as you settled back on his chest, your hand resting on his stomach. He even picked up where he’d left off, playing with the charms dangling from your bracelet—a gesture that somehow grounded both of you.

And in that very moment, you let yourself accept the fact that Rafe liked you.

He liked being around you, liked hanging out with you, and he also seemed to like the way you handled him and his little crashout moments. Because if he didn’t, he would’ve dipped after your argument. He wouldn’t have begged you to stay and apologized. And he definitely wouldn’t have spent the rest of the night by your side AND LEFT TOGETHER WITH YOU.

Of course, deep down, in some very dark and twisted corner of your brain, there was still that fear that he only liked the feeling you gave him. That he just liked that you stuck around. That he enjoyed the idea of having some girl around. Or worse—that he was doing all this for the project. That he was only keeping you around so you’d carry him through it, boost his GPA, and then drop you the second he got what he wanted.

But those thoughts felt so absurd, so ridiculous, you were ashamed to even think them, ashamed they even surfaced for a second. Especially after Rafe had opened up to you like that, gotten emotional and vulnerable, showing a side of himself you didn’t even think Topper or Kelce had ever seen.

Nah, fuck those thoughts.

Fuck that little asshole minion in your head that even dared to speak them out loud. Yeah, mentally, you kicked that little guy’s ass.

Better.

AHDHEKJEKW you couldn’t stop grinning to yourself as you packed your bag for school, thinking about how sweet he’d been after the movie.

Sliding right next to you on the bench at the bar, KNEES TOUCHING AND HIM FUCKING PLAYING WITH THE FABRIC OF YOUR DRESS AT YOUR SHOULDER LIKE JESUS YOU HAD LITERAL GOOSEBUMPS FROM THAT.

And oh my god—him helping you into your jacket in the parking lot after you'd left the venue, complimenting your dress again followed by a dumbass comment (“You sure you not into hookups? Shit, aight, sorry, don’t look at me like that”), which you THANKFULLY hadn’t spiraled over because somehow you’d accepted that flirty, suggestive comments were just part of the Rafe Cameron starter pack.

And also, YOU KINDA LIKED HEARING HIM SAY STUFF LIKE THAT HIHIHIHHI.

Because the fact that he found you attractive, even being down to sleep with you, and showered you with comments like that... yeah, that DID something to you. Huge ego and confidence boost and let’s just say it stirred another part of you as well.

While lying on Rafe, you felt that tingling sensation surging through your whole body, a buzzing warmth low in your stomach. That desire for his hand on your waist to slide a little further down to your butt, or maybe even higher… to rest on your boobs. Or how you wondered what his abs felt like under that stupidly well-fitting polo, or what his lips might feel like on yours. How those same lips would taste, how they’d feel on your neck, shoulders, stomach, thighs, and—

HE HAD!!! HE’D LET HIS HAND WANDER FOR JUST A TINY SECOND, JUST A TINY INCH TOWARD YOUR HIP AND… then he’d pulled back.

Had you been absolutely overwhelmed in that moment? Yes. Were you still disappointed he didn’t leave his hand there? YES. But did the fact that he did pull back—because he cared about not making you uncomfortable—make you want him to touch you even more BECAUSE HIM CARING ABOUT YOUR COMFORT WAS SO FUCKING HOT?

ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY.

You’d always found Rafe attractive (I mean, duh, even fifth-grade you had good taste), but now? This didn’t feel like just a crush anymore, like some cute guy you liked looking at. No, this was… different. Like there was this magnetic pull toward him and— okay, let’s be real, it felt like you wanted him to rip your clothes off and rock your world.

And the wild part was, Rafe apparently wanted to do exactly that, as he’d stated two days ago, and WHAT'S STOPPING YOU THEN HHAHAHAHHAHAHA.

Oh right.

Probably the crippling fear of rejection, the fact that you're a virgin with zero real-life experience outside of chaotic fanfiction, and also the sheer vulnerability of baring your entire soul and body in front of a guy while handing him the key to the most fragile little drawer of your being.

Hah. Yeah. Nope. Sex definitely wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Besides… didn’t you technically just become friends two days ago? And that only because you basically forced him into it during that horrible spiral over his intentions. And if you suddenly told him (not that you even had the balls to do that) that you’d maybe potentially be down for… something, he’d probably smash your head against the wall for being so damn indecisive and for driving him to the brink of insanity during that conversation.

HAHAHAHAHA. Yeah not happening.

Anyway.

School.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and were just about to text Rafe when your phone buzzed at that exact moment, nearly giving you a heart attack.

Seriously, this freaking guy.

How was he one of the “cool” guys at school when he didn’t even know how to use the basic features on his phone? Like, excuse me? -100 aura.

Also, him saying he hated cats for being moody when HE acted like a moody stray cat himself? The irony was almost poetic.

AND NOT HIM CALLING YOU ‘BABY’. WHAT.

Okay, yeah, he very professionally crossed the word out, but like, he could have drawn over it completely.

But he hadn’t.

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN OMFG.

Not a single day went by without him completely messing with your head with those weird, mixed (but also not mixed at all) signals. I meaaaan, he’d made it pretty clear that he wanted to bend you over, but was also totally fine being friends who flirted for fun???

Okay, the more you thought about that, the more ridiculous it sounded soooo, let’s push that thought away before you spiraled again and Rafe ended up actually smashing your head into a wall hahaha.

So you just—

Bzzrt.

You grabbed your phone again and chuckled.

You never would’ve guessed Rafe was such a drama queen and kind of needy. Not sexually (okay, maybe a little), but more like emotionally needy?

Like, the way he'd called you out for needing reassurance during your argument, and, look at him, the very same night clinging to you like a second shadow, blowing up your phone at every opportunity like you were the only friend he had.

And honestly? It kind of made you feel… wanted. Because he did it in this passive-aggressive, caring kind of way that made your chest warm up in all the right ways.

Shit, Rafe = Doberman confirmed (again).

Also, it was really sweet how comfortable he seemed with you. The way he let his guard down, showed vulnerability and affection, let himself be attached like that. He definitely didn’t act like that with Topper and Kelce.

Well, to be fair, they also hadn’t been cuddled up to him with their boobs pressed against his chest last night sooo… yeah.

Okay, you really needed to head downstairs now before Rafe showed up and gave you some kind of speech about making him wait 0.3 seconds.

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"Your mom loves me," he said as he pulled his Benz out of your driveway, grinning so wide he looked like the Cheshire Cat.

And, well, yeah, your mom had stood at the front door waving at him with a smile when she said goodbye. Actually, she was still standing there, her grin mirroring Rafe’s.

Ughhh, why was this so embarrassing.

"I think she’s just relieved I’m not taking her car again," you said with a small laugh. You’d kinda scratched the side mirror that one time trying to park in some hellishly narrow underground lot, oops.

Rafe shook his head, still grinning, and waved back to her before driving off. "Nah. Looks more like she just found the perfect son-in-law."

A baffled laugh escaped your lips at the absurdity. "Don’t know about that."

"Yeah? And why’s that?" He raised a brow, smirking at you as he glanced over. "Seemed like your mom and your dad pretty much threw themselves at me on Saturday."

You exhaled through your nose, amused. "Well, yeah. You looked wrecked with that bruise. Still do," you said, eyeing the purple blotch on his cheek. "Plus, my dad’s a doctor. It’s literally his job to care about people."

If only he knew how deeply your parents actually cared about him. How concerned they were after speaking to him once.

Rafe scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Next time I see them, they’ll probably start planning a wedding."

"And I’m pretty sure they’d ask for my consent first," you chuckled, though your heart did a little jump at him even mentioning marriage.

And your pulse spiked even more when Rafe gave you this weirdly serious look, almost more confused than amused. "What? Am I not living up to the princess’ standards?"

OH. WHAT.

Boy, if you only knew. You were the standard.

ALSO WHY WAS THIS THROWING YOU OFF SO BADLY, WHAT THE HELL.

Oh god, how were you supposed to respond without offending him but still giving an answer that satisfied him enough to let it go, without completely exposing your feelings but maybe still dropping some kind of hint AHHHHH???

Cheeks heating up, you let out an awkward laugh, fiddling with your bracelet. "Well, I mean… you don’t exactly strike me as the relationship type."

OH GIRL.

Rafe scoffed, amused. "Shit, what? So you’re saying I’m never settling down or what?"

UMMMMM.

Heart racing like crazy in your chest, you let out a strained chuckle, shaking your head. "No! No, of course not. I didn’t mean it like that, I just… I meant right now, you know?" You fidgeted with the little key charm on your bracelet. "I’m just not sure how to say it without you taking it the wrong way."

"It's that hookup topic again, huh?" Rafe asked, not entirely clear whether he was annoyed or entertained.

You shook your head. "Yes—I mean, no! Not that exactly. I just…" You sighed, feeling your neck heat up as well. "I only meant to say it doesn’t seem like you’re interested in anything serious right now. You brought up marriage and all, but that kinda needs a relationship as a foundation, right? Not that anyone our age is actually thinking about marriage." You grimaced, cringing at yourself. "Okay, please ignore everything I've said. I'm talking nonsense."

Rafe let out a chuckle and glanced sideways at you. "You know, I can have fun now and still settle down later."

UGHHHH PLEASE DROP IT.

"Yes, of course," you said, nodding like a lunatic. "I’m not judging. I was just objectively describing how you come across to me. That’s all."

He gave a tight-lipped smile, scratching his jaw, like he was letting your words settle. "I guess."

Oh no. Oh god. You’d offended him.

SHIT.

QUICK, FIX IT.

"I didn’t mean anything bad by it," you said quietly, watching his jaw clench.

The car stopped at a red light.

Rafe nodded, lips pressed together, and squinted out the windshield as he let out a strained laugh. "I dunno. You kinda made it sound like I’m incapable of committing."

WHY WAS HE TWISTING YOUR WORDS.

You shook your head, eyes wide. "Rafe, no, that’s absolutely not—"

"I mean, family’s important, right?" he cut in, his tone softer now, meeting your gaze for a split second. You nodded and opened your mouth but he kept going: "It’s about blood, loyalty, and all that shit. That’s what you build your life around." His brows twitched. "Just actually finding someone worth sharing this shit with, that’s the part that sucks."

He scoffed, raising his shoulders. "I mean, shit, there’s not a single girl at school I could tolerate for longer than a class period. Either they’re the most exhausting person alive or the most basic, boring chick ever."

Alriiiiiight.

Okay, first of all: him having this view on family and commitment? Wow. Unexpected. But then again, okay, not that surprising considering Ward Cameron was known to value family above everything else and Rafe practically worshipped his dad. So, okay, yeah, it made sense he shared that belief.

And second: wow… what were those last words supposed to mean? Did that mean he couldn’t actually tolerate you either? Which made no sense because he clearly—

“Don’t,” he scoffed, amused.

You blinked. “What?”

“Can hear your fuckass brain minion preaching some bullshit again.”

Uh…

“Obviously I wasn’t talking about you,” he said and pulled the car back into motion as the light turned green.

OH. WHAT.

WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO— WHAT. OKAY NO, THIS JUST SENT YOUR SPIRAL INTO OVERDRIVE BECAUSE WHAT DID HE MEAN BY THAT.

A baffled little laugh left your lips. “Not sure how I’m supposed to take that.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, brows furrowed as he stared straight ahead, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Then he shrugged. “You’re fucking weird, so you’re not basic shit. And yeah, you are fucking exhausting, but not in a ‘buy me this, why didn’t you call me’ kinda way, blah blah,” a crooked smile tugged at his lips, “more like ‘I make easy things complicated’ exhausting.”

Uh-huh. Should’ve never asked.

You nodded slowly, raising your eyebrows. “Right.”

“Right,” Rafe mocked you with a scoff. “Just told you for like the hundredth time I fuck with you. Dunno what’s so hard to understand about that.”

Man, this guy and his attempts at expressing himself. You two really needed to work on that.

You raised a brow at him, lips tugging into a small grin. “Did you just mock me?”

“Did you just mock me,” he mimicked again, only to get smacked (more or less gently) on the arm for it.

A boyish laugh escaped him as he raised his brows at you. “Shit, nearly dislocated my shoulder.”

Idiot.

“Keep it up and Cacty’s gonna be raised by a single parent,” you said flatly, your expression amused.

Yes, during your Uber ride yesterday you’d both heavily debated what kind of plant to choose for your TrackerBuddies plant and, even more importantly, what to name it.

In the end, you’d compromised (okay, Rafe had given in because you threatened to kill the seed off). He got to pick the plant (“cactus are tough as fuck, aight”) and you picked the name (“fuckass name, plant’s gonna be a loser”).

Yeah, well, and now Cacty was already on level 3 because via notifications you’d seen how Rafe had been grinding that app since 5am this morning (not him paying for in-game coins and farming XP).

Rafe shot you the most dramatic scowl alive. “Shit, I already am a single parent. You only watered that fucker once since yesterday.”

“I didn’t have time this morning,” you replied with a chuckle.

“It’s literally one tap of a button.” Rafe raised a brow at you. “Fingers busy with something else or what?”

DUDE.

Immediate heat rushed to your face as you let out a very strained laugh. “You’re nasty.”

“Imma take that as a yes.”

HELP OH MY GOD. WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT.

Wait, no—fuck that. Last night you hadn’t been shy at all, why were you acting all flustered now? He’d literally had a boner lying next to you, like????? That hadn’t bothered you but this did?

Nah.

Time to throw that shit right back.

You gathered your courage and gave him a deadpan look. “Maybe you should use yours more often. Might help keep your libido in check.”

He only scoffed in amusement but ha! You caught that tiny furrow between his brows, the way his jaw tightened as he rubbed it.

Making Rafe uncomfortable? Shouldn’t feel as satisfying as it did.

He was just about to throw a smart-ass reply back when both your phones buzzed at the same time. His in the center console, yours in your bag.

Immediately your stomach tightened with unease. You couldn’t help but think of Ruthie. Was she trying to play real-life Gossip Girl now?

Before you could reach for your phone, Rafe grabbed his and tossed it into your lap. “0510. Who’s being annoying?”

ALRIGHT. TRUSTING YOU WITH HIS PHONE AGAIN AND EVEN GIVING YOU HIS PASSCODE. I MEAN. OKAY.

Heart beating a little faster, you unlocked it and tapped on the notification, leading you straight into his email app.

You blinked. “Mr. Smith.”

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“I think we should use the free period to work on the project,” Rafe said as he crossed his arms on the stone table, biceps flexing while he did.

Mr. Smith had very kindly announced ahead of time (10 min prior the lesson) that he wouldn’t be in today because he was going to an art exhibition out of town. But he’d left the art room unlocked for anyone who wanted to continue working on their project.

You pulled your iPad from your bag, eyes scanning the display as you skimmed through your school notes. Shit, maybe sitting in the courtyard hadn’t been the best idea. The screen was reflecting.

Ugh, whatever.

“Again, I’ve got a math test afterward and I really don’t wanna fail,” you said, glancing up for a second. “I mean, you could already head to the copy shop and we can do the rest after school.”

PROPS TO YOU FOR INDIRECTLY ASKING TO HANG OUT LATER HIHIHI.

Rafe grimaced and leaned back, scratching his jaw. “Nah, I’ve got no clue about that crap. Besides, I’ve got no time this afternoon. Need to talk to my dad.”

Your heart sank. You’d really hoped to see him again later and spend more time together, but he was right. The Ruthie situation took priority. He only had six more days till the Gloaming to convince his dad to accept the deal and get the video deleted from Ruthie’s stash.

So you just nodded, opening your math folder. “Do you already know what you wanna say to him?”

You’d offered to talk about it last night during your late-night drive around, but Rafe insisted on saving that for today.

Rafe furrowed his brows, rubbing at one. “Shit, I don’t know. I mean, I gotta make him reconsider the deal.” He exhaled and shrugged. “But it’s fucked. The terms are shit, and agreeing to it would be like submitting to a guy way below him. No way he’ll even listen to me.”

Yeah, the whole thing would’ve been way easier if Rafe had to propose a new deal. But trying to make his dad rethink one he’d already dismissed? Practically impossible.

You nodded. And good thing you’d given this some thought before falling asleep. “Okay, three options,” you said. “First, you present the deal in such a way that he has to reconsider and say yes but even I think that’s the hardest route.” You pointed your Apple Pencil at him. “Second, we get Ruthie’s dad to rethink his terms. Maybe he’s open to talk. Or, I dunno, if we’re lucky maybe Ruthie is.”

Even as the words left your mouth you knew it was stupid. Ruthie never gave in. That’d just drag Rafe deeper into the shit.

“Fuck that,” Rafe said, crossing his arms on the table again AND GOD THEY LOOKED DELICIOUS DMKNCJKNCJKDS. “This bitch can’t be trusted and I sure as hell won't give her the satisfaction of handing her even more control over the situation.”

You chuckled. “I’m just laying out all the options, okay.”

Rafe exhaled and nodded, flicking his hand. “Aight. Option three?”

The juicy one.

“We play Ruthie’s own game,” you said, snapping your Apple Pencil back into its case with a soft click. “Either we hit her with an uno reverse and blackmail her so she has to delete the video.” You tilted your head. “Or we take care of it ourselves.”

An amused scoff escaped Rafe. “Yeah sure, let’s just ask her for her phone. I’m sure she’ll gladly hand it over.”

You frowned. “Rafe, I’m just trying to help you.”

He nodded, brows furrowed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know, I just…” He exhaled hard and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Shit’s pissing me off so bad, I can’t even put it into words.”

It's not like you’re capable of putting anything into words but yeah.

Still, how badly you wanted to see Ruthie burn for distressing this already distressed boy so badly. At least—and that was the only comforting thought at the moment—he didn’t seem to be falling deeper into his addiction (at least for now). His pupils looked normal, and by Rafe’s standards, he was acting pretty normal too.

“I know,” you said softly, giving him a small smile. “But again, you’re not alone in this shit, okay? And I still think it’s a good idea to let Topper and Kelce in on it. I mean, they’ve pieced most of it together by now anyway, might as well tell them the whole truth.”

Rafe grimaced, eyes fixed on the golden ring he kept fidgeting with.

“I know you’re kinda suspicious of Topper,” you went on, “but maybe we could use his closeness to Ruthie to our advantage. You know, get him to somehow delete the video or something, I don’t know.”

Then he looked up at you, eyes holding a weird glimmer, and said the last thing you expected to hear: “Or Gracie could.”

Your smile faded instantly.

Somehow that made your heart sink right away, a sick and ugly feeling twisting in your gut, and you could physically feel some butterflies die in your stomach.

“I mean that bitch follows her around everywhere,” Rafe continued, brows furrowed. “She’s basically glued to Ruthie. If anyone could actually get to her phone, it’s her.”

Sure, he always talked shit about Gracie whenever she was brought up, and yet… she was still some kind of ex-girlie of his and—UGH GIRL PLEASE.

"Yeah," you said, your voice a little too detached. "You said it yourself: she’s glued to Ruthie. And even if you somehow convinced her to betray her best friend, how are you even planning to talk to her without Ruthie getting suspicious?"

Rafe shrugged, leaning back again. “Getting her to talk isn’t the problem. I could just hit her up, say I wanna hook up again. Should be easy enough.”

...

A few more butterflies lost their wings in that moment and your stomach practically turned inside out.

You just stared at him, genuinely overwhelmed and not knowing what to even say to that.

Shit, on one hand, that wasn’t even a bad idea. Out of everyone, Gracie did have the best shot at getting Ruthie’s phone. And Ruthie being betrayed by her own best friend? That was poetic justice.

But on the other hand...

The idea of Rafe and Gracie working together when this was supposed to be you and him, and worse—what if they rediscovered their thing again and actually went through with it?! AHHHHHHH.

No. Just no. Please don’t.

“What?” Rafe asked, clearly confused, pulling you out of your downward spiral.

You shook your head, brows furrowed. “Nothing, I… I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Rafe raised his brows, waiting for more.

“Well, like I said, I don’t think Gracie is that easily convinced to betray her best friend,” you said, the distant edge creeping back into your voice. “And let’s say she does agree to... talk. There's a high chance she runs straight to Ruthie the moment you even bring it up. You’d just be shooting yourself in the foot.”

That THANKFULLY made him pause.

Please say I'm right. PLEASE SAY I'M FUCKING RIGHT.

“Shit, what else am I supposed to do?” Rafe said, clearly frustrated. “It’s my only chance at getting rid of that fuckass video. Like, how the fuck am I supposed to blackmail Ruthie, huh?” He gestured to himself, shoulders raised. “Her nudes already leaked and no one cared, her dad fucking their housekeeper—no one gave a shit for whatever reason, and I bet anything else we could dig up on her, she’d just talk her way out of. This is fucked.”

He rubbed his eye and motioned with his other hand. “Might as well just go ahead and show my dad the fucking video myself.”

NO!

Your expression softened. “There’s gotta be another option. But I really feel like using sex as a last-ditch effort to get what you want is—”

“Shit, no,” Rafe cut you off quickly, shaking his head, face twisted in disgust. “I wouldn’t actually hook up with her.” He tapped both sides of his temple, eyes intense. “Bitch is fucking crazy. And I’m not talking ‘got some dumbass minions in her head’ crazy, I mean like, ‘asks to roleplay as Ruthie during sex’ crazy.”

ALRIIIIGHT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

As much as this was the biggest relief ever, more than anything it absolutely horrified you. Then again… Gracie did seem to worship Ruthie a little too much, so this actually sounded kinda legit.

UGHHH. EW.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “I really could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Rafe scoffed. “What do you think it felt like for me? Right in the middle of bending her over, she turns around and—”

“OKAY! I believe you! No need for details,” you cut him off with a strained chuckle and—SHIT! Only twenty minutes left until math class. “So, how about we continue this after school? Or uh, after your convo with your dad?” You smiled sheepishly. “I really gotta study now.”

Rafe’s brows twitched, but he nodded. “4pm? I don’t think that talk’s gonna take long. If my dad’s even open to listening.”

Slowly, the butterflies in your stomach began to piece themselves back together. A warm smile tugged at your lips at the thought of hanging out with him again later. “Sounds good. Hoping things go well.”

And just like that, a smile appeared on Rafe’s face too.

“Aight,” he said, getting up and walking around the table to your side, practically bumping into your hip as he sat down next to you. “Now lemme see how we can save your math grade from sucking ass.”

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"There you two cuties are," Cara said as you and Rafe arrived at the table, holding your lunch trays in hand.

Funny, haha. You both just happened to arrive at the dining hall at the same time and just happened to get your food together hihihi (they were serving wraps and you could choose your own fillings).

The other three (+ Cara, obviously) eyed you with the biggest grins ever. Molly was seated between Kelce (obviously again) and Topper, and Cara sat across from them (which, kind of weird they were seated 3 + 1 instead of 2 + 2 but um… yeahhh).

You slipped in next to Cara and Rafe moved in beside you, immediately manspreading so his knee touched yours again.

THIS JUST MADE YOUR NERVES BUZZ A TINY LITTLE BIT BUT YOU LEFT IT THERE (ANOTHER OBVIOUSLY HIHIHI).

"How was last night?" Molly was the second to speak, and you could feel how badly Rafe wanted to throw a scowl her way.

So you beat him to it with a sheepish smile: "It was nice."

"Yo, we want details," Kelce said, grinning like an idiot.

UGHHHHH THIS SOUNDED WAY TOO MUCH LIKE “DID YOU GUYS DO IT?”

"Took her dad’s Corvette and we drove around," Rafe answered, a cocky smile tugging at his lips (him not crashing out? a first).

Kelce’s eyes widened. "Shiiiii, for real? Bet it felt like sliding down clouds."

"Better," Rafe answered, still grinning, and Kelce squinted like he’d just tasted something absolutely delicious.

"Your dad allowed that?" Topper asked, directing the question to you, swallowing a bite of his wrap. His bruise somehow looked worse than Rafe’s after one day.

Cara rolled her eyes. "Duh. He’s not your mom."

The table chuckled. Only Topper frowned, but you quickly said, "Well, I figured he’d allow it if someone capable was driving."

And that actually drew a genuine smile from Rafe as he looked down at his wrap, kinda struggling to hold it together (good thing you hadn’t told him to ask for it wrapped in a paper bag, but sure, what did you know).

"So, what happened after?" Cara asked, her face way too smug.

GIRL PLEASE.

"You always this fucking nosy?" Rafe lifted his gaze from his tragic wrap to meet Cara’s eyes with an irritated smile.

EXCUSE ME SIR, that’s my bestie!

You kicked him under the table but that idiot kept holding Cara’s gaze with a straight-up challenge in his eyes.

Help. They were both stubborn as hell. This could go downhill fast.

"We got some food and that’s basically it," you said with a tense smile, hoping those idiots would get the cue. And to quickly change the topic you asked, "And what about you guys?"

WAIT NO. SARAH AND THE POGUES HAD BEEN COME OVER AFTER YOU AND RAFE HAD LEFT.

OH MY GOD. SOMEONE SHOOT ME.

"I asked out Molly for the Gloaming," Kelce said (OMG MASTER OF READING SOCIAL CUES, THANK YOU).

You smiled genuinely and turned to Molly. "I assume you said yes."

"He dragged me to the beach and gifted me a necklace," she said, giggling, cheeks pink. "So yes."

OMDNJKSCHNSDKHNCKVDSHCNKVSHVSDK.

CUTEST COUPLE IN THE UNIVERSE FR OMG (let’s ignore Rafe brooding next to you).

And now you spotted it. A silver sun-shaped necklace resting against her freckled collarbone.

I LITERALLY CANNOT.

Cara nodded. "I want at least that and a fancy dinner and the biggest bouquet of roses possible."

Lmfao, the way Topper immediately looked up from his food, probably taking mental notes. Also not Cara very obviously saying that out loud.

So she was done with JJ. After one day.

Wow. Got her cheeks clapped and dipped. Queen.

"And you?" Kelce asked, turning to you with that gleaming white grin.

You smiled sheepishly, feeling your cheeks flush. "What?"

"Well, what’s your dream ‘getting asked out’ scenario?"

OH HELL NO. YOU KNEW EXACTLY WHAT HE WAS DOING, SAYING THAT IN FRONT OF RAFE, AND THAT JUST MADE EVERYTHING. SO. FREAKING. AWKWARD. BYEEEEEE.

"Or someone already done that?" he added, eyes flicking over to Rafe for a second who was very focused on not letting his wrap fall apart (you were this close to snatching it and wrapping it properly for him).

Ummmmmmm. Literally though, if Rafe asked you out?

Dead. Instantly. Because holy shit, that? That’s what little you had always dreamed of, always hoping that the impossible would happen and Rafe freaking Cameron asking you out to Midsummers or the Gloaming.

You just let out a nervous chuckle and shrugged. "Um… no."

AND THEN THE WORST THING HAPPENED.

Kelce’s gaze shifted to Rafe again. AND YOU COULD ALREADY HEAR HIM GEARING UP TO ASK RAFE IF HE’D BE THE ONE TO ASK YOU OUT OR SOME SHIT BUT—

"Rob’s still in town until Sunday," Topper cut in, and you could feel the gust of wind from how fast Rafe’s head snapped up beside you. "He’s been asking about you."

Oh… um.

A baffled smile tugged at your lips because you honestly didn’t know how to feel about this fact.

Flattered? Uncomfortable? Annoyed that Rafe hadn't asked you out for the Gloaming just after two days of befriending each other hahahahha ???

"Why the fuck is that fucker still hanging around?" Rafe asked, scowling so deep it was like you could see the minus friends symbol appear above his head like he was a Sim.

Topper eyed him for a second, clearly still bitter about the punch, and shrugged. "High school doesn’t start for him until next week, so he’s sticking around at his aunt’s place a little longer."

Um, the tension at this table was basically tangible now. Rafe was glaring at Topper like he was more pissed at him than Rob being in town.

"And I thought if Y/n wanted a date to the Gloaming," Topper continued, "they could go together."

Cara nodded in agreement (HUH?) and turned to you. "Yeah, oh my god, you vibed so well and you’d look so cute together."

Oh, you knew what she was doing. What all of them were trying to accomplish here. And it just made you want to crawl under the table and disappear.

You knew they meant well, but trying to get Rafe to ask you out by making him jealous or competitive or whatever? Absolutely and definitely the wrong move.

And Rafe thought so too. His smile twisted with irritation, and--

OKAY GIRL LET’S DE-ESCALATE THIS.

You very politely shook your head with a smile, trying to ignore the way your palms got clammy. "That’s a nice thought, Topper, thanks, but I feel like that would just give him the wrong idea."

Topper’s brows twitched but he nodded. "Still, you could keep it in mind."

MY MIND IS FULL ALREADY, THANKS.

"Yes, thanks," you replied anyway, relaxing a little when Rafe seemed to shift his attention back to his food, finally grabbing a fork and eating his disaster of a wrap like that.

Wait.

Oh no.

You saw it. Everyone (except Rafe, who was fully focused on stabbing his wrap) looked at Molly with this quiet, knowing anticipation.

COULD THEY PLEASE DROP IT. THIS WAS GETTING OUT OF HAND.

Molly let out a small breath and gave Rafe one of her signature sweet smiles. "What about you, Rafe?"

"Huh?" He looked up, mouth full of wrap.

"You planning to ask someone out, or are you going solo?" Molly asked, and wow, instead of snapping at her, Rafe just furrowed his brows.

Molly really was an angel.

And holy shit, everyone at the table seemed to hold their breath. YOU INCLUDED BECAUSE JCDKWLSJSDHJFUJDFLS.

Rafe swallowed his bite, a deep crease between his brows, and said: "If every girl keeps being this fucking annoying—"

“Yo, dude,” Kelce cut him off firmly, and oh. My. God. The way he actually looked intimidating when he wanted to, voice soft but with just the right amount of warning. Um… kinda hot, BYE.

Molly just chuckled softly, AND THANK YOU QUEEN for not taking Rafe’s moody ass to heart.

“What?” Rafe said, gesturing to his food. “Just trying to fucking eat here and y’all keep pissing me off with annoying-ass questions. If I wanted to giggle about the fucking Gloaming, I’d have sat with a bunch of 6th graders.”

Cara snorted. “Then maybe let them show you how to eat properly too.”

All of you chuckled. Except Rafe, whose face turned into a full-on scowl (keep it up and it’ll stick like that forever). He aggressively stabbed his fork into a slice of avocado (and when it slipped off, you nearly lost it).

Then he raised the now-empty fork and pointed it at everyone, a crooked smile on his face. “You know what. You’re all fucking lucky I let yesterday’s bullshit slide.”

Duuude.

Was he seriously still salty about everyone spending a few hours with Sarah and the Pogues? Pleaseee, this weird class war in his head needed to be eradicated immediately.

The funniest part was how everyone just stared at him with the most deadpan looks ever (even Kelce and Molly BAHAHAHA) over the way this boy was acting up, and how he'd behaved yesterday.

Like, stupid idiot not realizing he was lucky they let his bullshit slide, But alright, go off, king of dramatic tantrums.

For a good ten seconds, the table was dead silent—just muffled voices from the other tables and the faint sound of the dining hall’s radio—until Molly finally spoke, her kind eyes and soft smile doing the absolute most.

“Did you guys know there’s a new museum opening in town?”

And just like that, the others jumped straight back into the convo like Rafe hadn’t said a damn thing.

You barely managed to stifle your laugh as he turned his head to meet your eyes, giving you such a fucking deadpan look like he was in The Office. “Next time we’ll fucking eat alone.”

AJSDFJKDFJKS OKAY.

The fact he kept including you in everything like it was the most natural thing in the world since Saturday? MADE YOU FEEL ALL KINDS OF SPECIAL.

Cheeks on fire, you chuckled and nodded toward his plate (which honestly looked like a bomb had gone off on it). “First, you gotta learn how to eat alone.”

Instead of snapping back, he just snorted, lips twisting into the cutest smile ever.

The rest of the lunch break actually went pretty smoothly. Luckily, the others mostly avoided any topic that might trigger Rafe (which was like, a solid two in total), and they even stayed away from talking about their night with Sarah and the Pogues.

Topper brought up the upcoming surf tournament again—the one he’d already mentioned last week at Kelce’s—and got kinda grumpy about the fact that the bruise on his face might still show up in the photos if it didn’t disappear by next week.

To which Cara simply said: “Don’t be such a baby. Just make sure they only shoot your other side. That one’s better anyway.”

“See,” Rafe added, looking at Topper. “Did you a favor.”

As soon as the bell rang, everyone got up to head to class.

Molly gave Kelce a kiss (they claimed they were only dating but yeah, wedding bells were ringing loud and clear), and headed off with Cara. You didn’t even get a real chance to say goodbye to Rafe and Topper because Kelce already started dragging you away, way too excited about the fact that Rafe was using TrackerBuddies again.

“He still hasn’t added me back, though,” he said with a slight frown as you walked down the hallway.

You chuckled, remembering they’d already had a plant together before but Rafe hadn’t watered it. “I’m sure he will. He’s probably still mourning the loss of your first plant.”

“Nah,” Kelce said, waving a hand with a grin. “He’s too busy with yours.” He nodded, impressed. “Level three already after just one day.”

Um, if he only knew Rafe kinda farmed the XP using real money. You definitely needed to tell him to stop doing that.

“Yeah, I think the only reason he re-joined that app was to beat your level with me,” you said, amused.

Kelce snorted. “Not surprised. If ‘competitive’ was a person, it’d be him.” He let out a laugh as you rounded the corner. “Back in 6th grade, he started surfing just to beat Topper.”

WAIT. RAFE COULD SURF??? OMFG.

The mental image of a wet, sunburnt Rafe in perfectly fitting shorts, riding waves and jogging back to shore with a surfboard under his arm, breathing heavy and—GIRL.

“And did he?” you asked, trying to chase away those unholy thoughts.

Kelce nodded, eyes wide. “Totally did. Dude devoured Topper with every wave. If he hadn’t quit after a month because he got bored of the sport, he probably could’ve gone pro.” His voice turned a bit more serious. “That’s the thing about him. He’s got so much potential, picks up on stuff so damn fast if he actually wants to. He could do so much more with himself but he just… doesn’t.”

Yeah, you’d noticed that too.

He crushed science and economics classes and even adapted quickly in art. Like when you were working on your collage? You only had to show him a few examples and he picked exactly the snippets you would’ve chosen. Not to mention his driving skills.

He already handled his Benz like he’d been born behind the wheel, but your dad’s Corvette? He adapted to that thing like it was second nature. Which, hot as hell.

Watching him drive in general? HOLY SHIT. That was one of the few times he got that concentrated, that focused and… ughhh you needed to chill.

“You and him are closer than he makes it seem, right?” you dared to ask, voice and expression full of genuine curiosity.

Kelce laughed. “I was his first friend in elementary school. He almost beat me up after I accidentally bumped into him.” A big grin spread across his face. “But I beat him up first and I guess that tamed him. He's still salty about it to this day.”

That made you laugh too, just as you came to a stop in front of your classroom. “I’m guessing that’s where the love-hate relationship between you two comes from.”

“Nah, that's his perspective,” Kelce replied with a soft smile, tapping his chest. “I love that guy, even if he acts like a rabid dog sometimes.”

You didn’t even get the chance to respond because Mrs. Richman was already calling the two of you into class.

Yay. Two hours of English with the way-too-enthusiastic teacher in her twenties who was already married and had two kids like OKAY.

And not even ten minutes into the lesson, your phone buzzed in your bag. Richman usually didn’t care, as long as you delivered during class.

So you fished your phone out of your bag and were immediately greeted by this absolute bomb:

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

What a fucking rollercoaster of emotions that conversation had been. Like, the literal heart spike that first picture alone had given you should’ve been enough to get you rushed to the ER.

AND THEN HE HAD THE AUDACITY NOT TO STRAIGHT-UP SAY HE WAS ASKING YOU OUT AS A DATE FOR THE GLOAMING, HELP OMG. 

For one tiny fucking second, you’d actually thought he was asking you out to be his girlfriend (the delusions were truly getting out of hand). OH MY GOD, YOU COULD STILL FEEL YOUR CHEEKS BURNING AND THAT TINGLY FEELING UNDER YOUR SKIN JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.

Okay no. This was too much.

And here you thought you’d mastered the art of being chill around Rafe and just being yourself, which—this nonchalant persona you’d projected during the chat? Yeah, that was just you gaslighting yourself into staying calm BUT OH. MY. GOD.

Rafe Cameron. Wanted. You. To. Be. His. Date. To. The. Gloaming.

That was.

Crazy.

Insane.

Absolutely batshit impossible.

LIKE HAD THE OTHERS MANIFESTED THIS JUST EARLIER??? OR HAD RAFE ACTUALLY FALLEN FOR THEIR 'LET'S MAKE HIM JEALOUS' TACTIC????

I’m fine :) Totally fine :)

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP PASSING OUT AHHHHH.

And god, AGAIN, how freaking clingy that guy was. It was kinda sweet and sad at the same time. He seemed genuinely excited about you, but also? The way he clung to you so tightly probably meant he was scared you’d slip through his fingers or whatever angsty stuff was going on in that boy’s brain.

The broken sound of his voice as he called after you last night, begging you to stay, still echoed in your head, making your chest clench whenever you thought about it.

However, you needed to set some boundaries. As much as you loved his attention, this couldn’t spiral out of control. Clingy was just a short step away from possessive and controlling. And since Rafe only did extremes and already had a tendency to slip into that kind of stuff real quick, you needed to be careful.

Not cold or distant, just a little more mindful.

Like when he mentioned having a claim on you for the Gloaming... Sure, yeah, he was the first to ask you out, and yeah, he technically had dibs since he wanted to give it another shot (and also he was your crush...so) but calling it a claim?

Hmm. Definitely a grey area.

HAHAHAHA. FUNNY.

From not even speaking to Rafe for literal years to friendship, cuddling, and (almost) being each other's dates for the Gloaming in just one week? Yeah.

The fact that your brain had kept up with all of that without combusting or exploding? Impressive.

“Miss Y/l/n?”

Startled, you looked up from whatever void you’d been staring into.

Shit.

Mrs. Richman was eyeing you with one brow raised and that well-known face that screamed I knew you weren’t listening.

Ughhhh.

Your face immediately flushed as the whole class turned to look at you, Kelce included, who gave you a huge shit-eating grin from the side.

Okay. No other choice.

You plastered on your friendliest teacher-face, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you said: “Sorry, could you repeat the question please?”

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“Why don’t you two just get it over with already and fuck?”

You let out a baffled laugh at Cara’s deadpan expression.

After school, you’d met up and decided to grab some smoothies at the beach. And well, obviously you’d filled her in on everything since last night after you and Rafe dipped.

Oh, and kinda everything before that too. Your little heated conversation, how you ended up cuddling again etc. etc. (you did skip the boner incident because... yeah).

AND. You respected Rafe’s wish not to tell anyone about Ruthie’s blackmailing. As much as your whole body was itching to tell Cara—because SHE would definitely know how to beat that bitch at her own game, and also she was your bestie, you usually told her everything—you kept quiet.

Luckily, she was solely focused on the fact that Rafe had asked you out for the Gloaming anyway.

“I’m serious, Y/n,” she said, blinking dramatically at you. “Like...” she gestured randomly through the air, “you like him, he likes you. You’re obviously into him, and he’s so down bad for you, too. And god, don’t even get me started on that tension between you two.” She shook her head, pointing both hands at you. “I don’t even get why you two agreed on this whole friendship thing when you could’ve just started dating.”

UM.

Another surprised laugh escaped your lips, and Cara frowned. “I mean, you basically went on three dates already, sooo.”

“C, what are you even talking about?” you asked with a chuckle, sipping your iced smoothie.

“He took you out on Saturday,” she replied, raising her brows. “Twice, actually. And last night? That was pretty much a date.” She started counting on her fingers. “Paid for your ticket and snacks, sat down with you on one of those couple lounge beds—”

“That was just a regular lounge bed.”

“For couples, yes. Anyway,” she went on, “you fucking cuddled! I’m genuinely shocked you two haven’t kissed yet. But whatever.” She held up four fingers. “And then you dipped together afterward. Tell me that wasn’t a date.”

Okay. She had a point. But.

“Rafe’s straightforward,” you said, playing with your straw. “If he wanted it to be a date, he would’ve said so.”

Cara shook her head with a smug uh-uh expression.

“What?” you asked, raising your brows.

“He’s nervous,” she said, and you almost laughed out loud. “He’s only ever had short little things with girls. But with you? You’re not into hookups or meaningless stuff, so he knows it’s either all or nothing.” She tilted her head, smiling crookedly. “Plus, it’d be his first real relationship as well, and he’s never actually dated anyone before.”

“C, please.”

Cara blinked. “What?”

“I get what you’re saying,” you said with a small smile, “but like I already said yesterday, I don’t wanna ruin this thing with him by jumping ten steps ahead.” You let out a slightly overwhelmed laugh. “I mean, I gotta adjust to this situation at first. And I wanna get to know him properly before I even start thinking about that kind of stuff.”

Cara nodded like a maniac, motioning at you. “Exactly. That’s what dating is for. Getting to know each other, spending time together, seeing who the other person really is.”

“So basically what we’re already doing,” you said, amused.

She slapped her hand on the table. “Girl, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. Just make it official already. Talk to him, say the obvious out loud, and tell him nothing needs to change but instead of calling it your little meetings hangouts, you’d like to call them dates.”

Why was she so good at being convincing? Oh right, there was a reason she was in the debate club.

And honestly? If you brought that up at the right moment and made it sound like a little joke, you could test the waters and see how he reacted and then actually talk about it.

AGAIN: With Rafe, you never had to be afraid of doing dumb shit or embarrassing yourself.

He literally didn’t care. He might joke about it for like a second, and then drop it.

And didn’t he just say earlier during the ride to school that he’d be open to something serious with the right person? And didn’t Kie say just yesterday that you could be that person? And didn’t she also say he was probably into you (which, hello, you still hadn’t fully spiraled over)? 

AND APPARENTLY EVERYONE ELSE THOUGHT YOU TWO WOULD BE PERFECT TOGETHER TOO??????

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH. THIS WAS TOO MUCH FOR YOUR BRAIN TO PROCESS AND DIGEST.

“Just think about it,” Cara said, her tone soft this time. “I honestly think just the fact you’d have the guts to bring it up would make him submit instantly.”

You laughed. “I don’t want him to submit. Both sides should want it."

Cara shrugged, lips tugging down. “Couldn’t be me.”

“Yeah, speaking of,” you said, a huge grin spreading across your face. “How’s it going with Topper?”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the afternoon—chatting, giggling, and sipping on delicious smoothies on the wooden deck of Harry’s Smoothie Bar, overlooking the sea.

Cara told you all about how last night had gone for her. 

AKA how she cuddled with JJ during Barbie, how she later found out he shared a blanket with Pope during Transformers (jjpope confirmed?), how extremely whiny Topper had been in the first aid tent and how much he’d complained and sulked, ranting about Rafe the whole time.

How Cara had told him to shut the fuck up if he didn’t want her to leave, and how they were the only ones left after Kelce and Molly had dipped too, along with Sarah and the Pogues right after, because they wanted to go skinny dipping or something.

“God, I would've loved to join, but drama queen Topper obviously didn’t wanna come along,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So I stayed with his pitiful ass.”

Then she told you how impressed she was with Topper’s knowledge of politics and his take on the whole system, and how she’d almost considered blowing him in the toilet stalls for that but held herself back because she wanted to keep him on edge a little longer.

“He’s gotta work a little harder than just pulling this pathetic act,” she said.

You chuckled. “Don’t think it’s an act.”

“Yeah, no, me neither. Anyway…”

Eventually, you decided to head out—Cara had a hangout planned with Topper later (why was she allowed to call it a hangout??? whatever), and obviously, you were meeting up with Rafe.

Right on time, at 4 PM, you got home, said hi to your parents, and went straight to your room. HEART ALREADY RACING WITH EXCITEMENT AT SEEING HIM AGAIN (help I'm falling way too deep).

But when you pulled out your phone and sat down in your desk chair, a weird feeling started creeping into your chest.

Zero messages from Rafe.

You’d expected more weird or suggestive reaction pics he found on Pinterest, or maybe an update about how the conversation with his dad had gone but nothing?

Weird.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if it had gone that bad. Like bad enough for him to fall back into a coke-fueled high to drown his emotions like yesterday.

You'd kinda been ignoring his addiction and little criminal side hustle because just a boy doing dumb shit HAHAHAHA RIGHT, but if he was already—

The buzzing of your phone in your hand snapped you out of your near-spiral.

RAFE!

But he wasn’t texting you. NO THIS GUY WAS CALLING YOU.

HELP.

Okay okay everything’s chill, it’s not like this is the first time he’s calling me. GIRL YOU CUDDLED LAST NIGHT WITH HIM BFFR OMFG.

“Hey,” you answered, your voice pitched higher than it should be.

“Hey,” he said, chuckling. “You good?”

You nodded—AND THEN REALIZED HE COULDN’T SEE YOU—so you quickly said, “Yeah, Cara just dropped me off and I was getting ready.”

Another chuckle, though this one sounded… slightly off? “Aight. Just wanted to check if you're already home and let you know I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick, then I’ll head over. So I’ll be there in like 20.”

You very quickly pushed away the rush of images of RAFE IN THE FREAKING SHOWER and asked, totally normally: “Perfect. How’d things go with your dad?”

Oh no.

That pause said everything.

“Uh, yeah… maybe better if I tell you in person,” he replied awkwardly (?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!).

Um, no. He couldn't give you a teaser like that and just leave you hanging… for like a few minutes BUT STILL.

You let out a strained chuckle. “Short version?”

“Trust me, it’s better if I tell you—”

“Just tell me if it went well or not.”

Another pause. Then: “For you or me?”

UM WHAT.

Heart rate skyrocketed. Immediate panic rushed through your nerves. And you couldn’t help but wonder if this had something to do with Gracie.

“Uh, what?” you asked, forcing a smile into your voice.

ANOTHER FREAKING PAUSE.

“I mean… for me, it could be real good,” he said, sounding way too excited for some reason. “But that depends on you.”

THIS WAS GETTING WORSE BY THE SECOND.

You frowned. “Am I supposed to convince my dad to take the deal or what?”

Rafe chuckled. “Shit, no, don’t think that’s something he’d be into.”

DUDE.

“Then what? Just spit it out please.” Your nerves were about to snap if he kept dragging this out.

A cute laugh escaped his lips. “Alright, alright.”

AND THEN ANOTHER STUPID PAUSE, I’M ABOUT TO LOSE IT.

“Okay, uh,” he started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “You know the stuff Molly does around Kelce?”

Ummmmmmmmmmmmm.

“Being herself” you stated, completely tensed.

WHERE THE FUCK WAS THIS HEADING?

“Yeah, no,” Rafe said, letting out a nervous breath (HIM BEING NERVOUS ALWAYS MADE YOU 200% MORE NERVOUS). “That whole acting like she just chugged a love potion thing. Heart eyes, giggles, and shit like that, you know.”

UH-HUH.

“I don’t think she’s acting,” you said, smiling nervously, feeling your hands grow clammy. "Pretty sure that's called being in love."

Rafe let out a breath that was somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “Yeah, whatever.”

PAUSE.

And then he dropped the biggest bomb yet:

“I kinda need you to do the same.”

w h a t .

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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[7-deadly-cats-updates]

// IMPORTANT (KMS) ANNOUNCEMENT

for a shortened version, just read the bold paragraphs

hey guys <3

i’ve been thinking a lot about this lately and i think i’ve made the decision to stop using a scheduled upload day for KMS.

don’t worry, this isn’t a break or anything like that. chapters will still come, but just when they’re ready. maybe still every week, maybe every two weeks, maybe a little sooner, maybe a bit later – depending on how i feel.

i’ll still kinda aim for sundays, just because i like having that soft goal in mind, but if it ends up being earlier or later, so be it. i just wanna give myself that freedom.

and just fyi, i DON'T feel pressured by anyone. i actually love sharing this story weekly with you. it’s just that i’ve noticed how much time i spend during the week making sure a new chapter is done by sunday, and I end up putting a lot of pressure on myself.

i know i’ve said before that i kind of need that pressure to properly sit down and write but right now, i just really wanna give myself a bit more room.

and the main reason for this decision is also that i have other wips i’d love to work on too, and it’s been bothering me that i’ve been neglecting them because i’ve been so focused on KMS.

so yeah. this is just me letting you know that i'm changing my posting rhythm, NOT ending KMS or stuff like that.

i totally understand if some of you might feel a little disappointed about this. i do know that many of you have been looking forward to new chapters every sunday, and honestly that means the world to me. maybe it’ll still end up being weekly updates, who knows. but as some of you have probably noticed, the last few chapters have already been delayed by a couple days here and there.

so thank you. for sticking around, for being kind, for supporting me and this series. it really means everything and i hope you guys can understand <3

with that being said, i kindly ask everyone to be patient and please avoid asking when new updates will be dropping. i completely get the curiosity and excitement but stuff like that just stresses me out a little <3 i’ll try to give a heads-up whenever i have a post planned, though i can’t always promise it.

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

// KMS ANNOUNCEMENT

ok guyss, KMS 21 will drop tomorrow.

it's mostly finished but it's almost 11 pm here and i don't wanna finish and edit when i'm half-asleep hahahahah. sry for the double-delay oops.

see you tmrw (probably around 6 pm CEST / 12 pm EST +- some hours) <3

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

// KMS ANNOUNCEMENT

okkkk so the new chapter will definitely not drop today. so either tomorrow or tuesday!

thx for your patience & understanding <3

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

// KMS ANNOUNCEMENT

this weekend some relatives came over and there’s a high possibility i won’t be able to finish KMS 21 till tomorrow (+ paused writing for the new bartender!reader fic, go check it out 🥹👉🏼👈🏼)

just wanted to give everyone a little heads up. maybe monday or tuesday then 🫡

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

[7-deadly-cats-updates]

the bastard & the clown

★ P A I R I N G ★ boxer!rafe cameron x witty!barkeeper!reader + some platonic barry x reader

★ S U M M A R Y ★ you’re working a regular shift at the bar you run when rafe and barry drop by for a chill night out. but when a pair of men at the counter start running their mouths, rafe puts one specific bastard politely in his place.

★ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ★ rafe's pov, cursing / strong language, mild suggestive language and themes, (verbal) themes of toxic masculinity/sexism/misogyny/domestic violence/tradwife, semi jealous!rafe, also flustered!rafe hihihi, physical violence (a punch) & mentions of blood

★ W O R D C O U N T ★ 6.4k+ (it was supposed to be 3k help)

★ A / N ★ been wanting to introduce this duo in a while now and thought they could fit @zyafics campaign. also, thought it'd be ironic if rafe got to put some asshole in his place who basically represents all these twisted versions of him. a lot longer than intended but i got a little carried away. also only proofread twice so pls don't mind any context mistakes. anyway, hope you guys enjoy and lmk what you think <3

ps: idk if it gets clear throughout the fic (or the title hahahah) but each man at the counter is assigned a term. so don't get confused, 'clown' always refers to one guy and 'bastard' to the other.

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

R. C. M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

"Ahhh, now I get why you insisted on coming here, Country Club," Barry said with a fuckass grin as the bar’s wooden entrance door swung shut behind them.

The two of them just came back from a boxing session, freshly showered, and now in need of some time out.

Rafe followed that idiot's gaze, a scowl already forming on his face.

The Bastard’s Lighter was packed with a mixed crowd of shitty people, the air thick with smoke and the sharp bite of cheap whiskey. Round tables glowed under soft golden lighting, casting gentle shadows over laughing assholes and clusters of sweet girls beneath them.

Some of those girls had even turned their heads when the two of them walked in, flashing Rafe pretty smiles and giggles in their cute little summer dresses (god, how he loved this season for exactly that). They were probably hoping he’d come over and talk to one of them.

But he didn't give a shit about them.

Why should he? Because at the far end of the room, the bar awaited—a silver-lit, crescent-shaped counter with high stools offering a place with the view on the best part of this entire place.

You.

The hot bartender with the cheeky laugh and teasing smiles, the one who could outdrink any bastard who dared challenge you.

Or better: the girl Rafe had come here for tonight.

That scowl threatening to creep onto his face quickly disappeared, replaced by a faint smile and softened gaze.

"Come on, loverboy," Barry chuckled, clapping a hand on Rafe’s shoulder and nudging him forward. "Don’t wanna keep your lady waiting. Might be some other slick bastard trying his luck.”

And the scowl was right back.

Rafe turned around with a tilt of his head, eyes squinted, a crooked smile playing on his lips as he tapped Barry’s chest. “You fucker behave tonight, alright?”

“Me?” Barry raised his brows in mock innocence, shaking his head with an amused snort. “Dunno what you’re trynna tell me here, big boy, but I’m just here to drink and enjoy your delightful company. I ain’t ever—“

“Just keep count of your fucking drinks, yeah?”, Rafe said, brows furrowed as he held Barry's stupid grin. “You falling from the stool tonight, I’ll leave you there. I'm not dealing with the same shit as last time.”

Shit, Rafe had been so close to getting your number—hell, you’d already pulled out your cute little notepad and pen, that teasing glint in your eyes, the first two digits already written down—and then swamp rat Barry ruined this one-in-a-million chance by almost throwing up on the counter.

Idiot hadn't just embarrassed himself, trying to drink a dockworker the size of a bear under the table, but Rafe as well. And right in front of you on top of that.

Barry was lucky Rafe had even let him tag along tonight. He would’ve preferred bringing Kelce this time—that idiot at least knew how to be a decent wingman—but he was on some kind of detox bullshit and wouldn’t go near fast food or booze right now.

Barry let out a lazy chuckle. “Not my fault for—“

“I don’t give a shit”, Rafe cut him off, passive-aggressively fixing the crease he’d caused on Barry's tank top with a one-sided smile. “Don’t act like a clown, and I won’t treat you like one. Can’t be that hard, right?”

For a moment Barry just eyed him, mouth tugged into a downward smile, then he raised his hands in surrender. “A’right, a’right, Country Club. Relax your balls.” He nodded toward the bar. “Now get ya fancy ass movin', ya girl's been eyeing the wrong guy the past five minutes.”

Shit, what.

Rafe’s head snapped around.

Aw, hell no, fuck that.

There you were, a few meters down, chatting with some greasy fucker in his late forties, dressed in a cheap-ass Suitsupply suit (yeah, Rafe could smell that offense from across the room). And it wasn’t just one bastard you were serving with that practiced little smile—knowing full well they were disgusting pricks but also well aware you could squeeze some good profit out of them—but another one of this breed sat right beside him.

Rafe only saw the backs of their heads in those terrible excuses for suits, but he could still make out the balding patches from over here (not to mention the probably receding hairlines). He didn’t need to see their faces to know exactly how they were looking at you—lecherous grins and eyes creeping over places they had no business looking.

He knew their type. He'd seen men like these at business events of his dad.

Middle-class managers leading some irrelevant departments at some irrelevant company selling irrelevant shit. And when they weren’t sitting in their sad little three-square-meter offices, drinking bad coffee and pretending their phone calls were presidential briefings, they hit up country clubs and bars, puffing cigars and sipping whiskey, trying to make up for their miserable little lives by gathering in their self-proclaimed alpha circles.

And the worst part? They probably had a sweet wife and kids waiting at home, but instead chose to sit at a bar ogling the boobs and butt of a bartender in her twenties.

Pathetic losers.

Rafe's fingers were already twitching as he followed after Barry. And of course, as lucky as he was, only three stools left at the bar. Right next to those wannabe CEOs.

Fucking great.

Barry plopped down next to some sweet girl while Rafe had no choice but to sit down beside one of the pricks—at least one stool of space between them.

He would’ve loved nothing more than to just chase them off, but he didn’t wanna cause a scene in front of you. And, judging by the stack of glasses in front of them, you were at least making decent money off these pricks.

Besides, he knew you could handle yourself if you needed to. No reason to question that.

“Be right with you, boys,” you said with a cheeky grin, not even looking up as you mixed one of the losers a Jack & Coke (a pathetic drink for a pathetic clown).

God, but the way you worked the bottles so smoothly, not spilling a single drop. Rafe could watch you behind the bar for hours, soaking up your energy and that laugh.

“No worries, Boss,” Barry called back, matching your grin and already reaching for a peanut bowl next to him. “Got allll the time in the world.”

That stupid-ass nickname of his even made you laugh, making a soft smile creep onto Rafe’s face too.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” the clown next to Rafe slurred, voice already half gone, as you slid the glass toward him (Rafe could feel his blood pressure spike the second that fucker tried sneaking a look down your top).

You let out a light breath, pulling the drink back with a raised brow. “Aww, didn’t you see? ‘Sweetheart’ isn’t on the menu. Unless you’re cool with paying ten bucks for it every time.”

The clown had the audacity to gasp. “What? No way. Not happening.”

“Shame,” you said, pretending to pout. “You looked like a guy who could afford it.” You shrugged and started pulling the drink back again. “But I guess I was wrong—”

“I am!” the guy cut in, nodding like a maniac. “CEO of Bulk & Bloom. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Rafe almost burst out laughing. That fuckass health/gym/whatever store Kelce swore by? That's what he was CEO of? Most embarrassing shit Rafe had heard all month.

You tilted your head with a pondering expression, face all scrunched up like you were desperately trying to remember the sad little company he worked at (god, the way you played that clown, milking him for cash—shit was so fucking hot).

"Oh, yeah, I remember now," you finally said, fluttering your lashes at the stupid fucker (Rafe knew it was all an act, but that little gesture still stirred something vile in him). "Then I’m all the more confident that a man in such an important position won't mind coughing up a few extra bucks, right?" Without waiting for that pathetic clown's response, you slid the drink across the counter toward him, your voice slipping back into your true tone. "Just leave it on the bill later, sweetheart."

As soon as you turned to face Rafe and Barry, Rafe straightened up, unable to hide a smile as your pretty eyes landed on him for a second—

—before your gaze fell on swamp rat Barry.

“B!” A wide grin spread across your face as you leaned against the lower bar with one hand, the other resting on your hip. “Good to see you. You recovered from last time? Looked pretty rough.”

Acting as if Rafe wasn't here. Ha. Funny. Fucking hilarious.

Barry nodded, swallowing a handful of peanuts. “Sure as hell did, Boss. Shouldn’t have mixed my drinks so heavy.”

You chuckled, a sweet sound Rafe wished had been directed at him. "Nah, you shouldn't have participated in a drinking game with Big Ol' Hank."

“Could’ve warned me about the guy’s skills. Man’s a bear,” Barry said, shaking his head with a lopsided smile.

You turned and pointed toward a portrait on the wall behind you—a big, grumpy-looking dude. Below him, a golden plaque read: Keeper of the Lighter since 1977. His fire never died, and neither did his thirst.

“I’m pretty sure that should've been warning enough,” you replied, amused, as you turned back to them, nodding toward Rafe. “Lucky your boyfriend walked you home that night. Would’ve been a real shame to find you washed up dead on the shore the next morning.”

"Fucker's not my boyfriend", Rafe said.

With a raised brow, you finally spared him a glance, that cheeky smile playing on your lips. “You sure? You two come in here every week, giggling like schoolgirls over god-knows-what, drinking the same kind of beer, and now you even got matching buzzcuts.” A chuckle escaped you. “Surprised you’re not wearing each other’s names around your wrists.”

Fuck that.

Rafe had the buzzcut first and a week later fucking Barry decided to chop off his hair too, for whatever fucking reason.

The worst part? You might actually believe Rafe was taken now.

“Boy’s lips probably taste like shit from kissing his daddy’s ass,” Barry said before Rafe could reply, and the fucker was lucky Rafe didn’t deck him right then and there. "Ain't wanna get involved with that mess."

Not a wingman. A fucking clipman, cutting off any chance Rafe might’ve had with you.

“I’m not—” Rafe started with a deep frown, but shut his mouth when some girl at the far end of the bar called your name.

“Coming!” you called back, then turned to Rafe with a teasing little smile in your eyes. “Sorry, Ralph, no time for—”

"Rafe."

“Right. Anyway,” you said, grabbing your notepad and pen from your waist. “The usual, I assume? Two Modelos?”

Barry nodded and motioned to the empty peanut bowl. “And refill this, would you?”

“For you, always,” you said grinning, scribbling something down, then looked up at Rafe with an expectant expression. “And you, handsome?”

Rafe blinked.

Wait, what.

Shit, why the fuck did he feel his cheeks heat up and why the fuck did you eye him like that? Like you were staring straight into his damn soul.

Rafe let out a baffled chuckle, scratching his jaw with furrowed brows. "Uh, PBR this time."

“Oh, feeling adventurous today, I see,” you teased with a grin, jotting it down. You quickly refilled Barry’s snack bowl and left with a “Be right back.”

Rafe’s eyes trailed after you, drinking up the way your hips swayed as you walked—sweet yet confident. That whole attitude of yours… shit was driving him absolutely crazy.

After Wheezie, you were probably the coolest girl Rafe had ever met. Always so unbothered, quick-witted, cheeky, and with the perfect flirt-to-roast ratio.

And Rafe still hadn't bagged you. Shit was starting to get embarrassing.

"Boy's in love."

Rafe’s gaze snapped to Barry, who was watching him with a way too shit-eating grin for someone who’d just narrowly avoided a punch to the face.

“You know if you’re trying to get your ass beat tonight, you’re on the right track,” Rafe said, tilting his head with a crooked smile.

Barry just chuckled and reached for another peanut, but Rafe grabbed the shitty-ass bowl and moved it out of reach.

“I’m serious, dude,” he said, gesturing to his chest with both hands. “Told you not to clown around tonight, and you go spouting bullshit like I’m not right here.”

Like, what the fuck was that ass-kissing comment about? Seriously.

“What?” Barry raised a brow, grinning as he leaned on the counter. “Don’t tell me Country Club’s scared I’ll shoo away his girl.”

More like cockblocking Rafe but yeah, same fucking thing.

“All I’m fucking saying is—” Rafe started, but Barry waved him off before he could finish.

"You’ve already almost won the race, bro, a’right," he said with that fuckass smile, jerking his thumb back toward where you were chatting with some other chick. "You think Little Miss Bar Queen would bother exchanging more than just your order with you if she didn’t already consider you rocking her world, at least a little?"

For a second, Rafe just stared at the idiot.

Could that be true? Were you actually interested in Rafe? Sure, you’d been cool enough to (almost) give him your number last time, but not even remembering his fucking name now… that shit felt like a punch straight to the gut.

Okay, shit, yeah, of course, you served all kinds of people every day, some shittier than others, and of course, there were guys in the mix who liked you just as much as Rafe did. A blind man could see how fucking gorgeous you were.

And of fucking course you'd flirt back. That’s just how you were. And as much as it gnawed at Rafe’s chest, as much as it stirred something deep and ugly in his gut, it wasn’t all that unlikely that you gave your number out to other guys too.

But swamp rat Barry claiming Rafe actually had a shot with you? That shit lit something in him. A wave of energy crashing through him, almost feeling as good as snorting a line (yeah yeah, Rafe was clean now, but the comparison still fit).

Shit, okay, so maybe he needed a new approach. Maybe he just had to—

"--beat up my wife if she'd dared talk to me like that", the bastard beside the clown said loud enough for Rafe to hear.

Shit, what the fuck?

"I'm serious," the bastard continued his bullshit, talking to the clown. "You let every woman talk to you like that, and pretty soon they start thinking they own you. When in reality, it's the other way around, ain't it?"

The clown nodded, letting out a sigh. “Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right, Tommy, I just—“

“What’s with the scowl, bro?” Barry said, ripping Rafe out of the retarded convo next to him. “Tried cheering your sulky ass up and here you are—“

Rafe shushed him with a wave, brows deeply furrowed. “Shut the fuck up for one second.”

"Man, am I glad I'm not your boyfriend," Barry muttered, reaching over to pull his snack bowl back and skimming the menu.

Fuckass.

“—that’s why it’s important to put them in their place, alright?”, the bastard continued preaching. “Women want someone they can follow. It’s natural they seek a man who protects them and cares for them.” He tapped the counter aggressively. “Wonder why there are no female presidents yet? Exactly! We are born leaders.”

Oh, Rafe was this close to getting up and smashing that fucker in the face, knocking a few teeth out, and giving him a pretty little black eye to match. His knuckles were still warm from earlier, would be a shame not to put that last burst of energy to use.

But nah.

He held himself back. Now he was curious. Let that asshole keep talking. Maybe he was witnessing the dumbest fucker in world history present himself right here, and Rafe wasn’t about to miss that celebration.

"Guess that makes sense," the clown slurred, swirling his half-empty Jack & Coke. "Harris is always bitching about me getting home late and not helping with the chores. I think I just gotta remind her of her role in this family, right?"

The bastard knocked on the wooden counter, a filthy chuckle escaping his lips. "You get it, man! She's working remote, right? So what's she complaining about? Got all the time in the world to prep the house for when you get home."

Rafe's blood boiled just beneath the surface. He hadn't heard this level of fucked-up nonsense in a LONG time. Last time, some cocky little shit at the boxing club thought he had a chance against Rafe. Like, was there something in the air lately making people extra fucking stupid?

The clown sighed, staring into his drink. "I just don't know how to—"

"Okay, beautifuls, sorry it took so long." The sweet sound of your voice yanked Rafe out of this retard bubble. "Former high school friend decided to say hi."

With a soft thud, you placed two bottles of beer in front of the guys. The Modelo you slid over to Barry. "Here you go, B." And the PBR to Rafe, a bolt of lightning surging through him as you winked at him. "And this one for his cute boyfriend." You leaned back, drying your hands on the rag at your hip. "Anything else?"

Rafe blinked.

Cute!

Shit, why did that make the funniest feeling arise in his chest? He felt like some schoolgirl going insane over her crush.

Get a fucking grip, dude. Jesus.

"Get his fancy ass some ice," Barry mumbled, mouth full of peanuts, thumbing toward Rafe. "Boy decided to go gloveless at training today. Now he's hurting but too proud to admit it."

Rafe was gonna kill Barry the moment they stepped outside. Sure, his knuckles were still throbbing, but he wasn't hurt. What the fuck was that swamp rat even on?

Your soft chuckle melted Rafe's scowl, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah? Wanna let me take a closer look when I'm done here? I'm sure you could use someone to tape that up after such a session."

Oh?

A breathy laugh escaped Rafe as he raised a brow, nerves buzzing under his skin. "What, you some kind of part-time sports therapist or some shit?"

"No, but my aunt is," you said with a grin, tilting your head. "Picked up a few things from her. And I'm guessing it's real tough to reach your back on your own."

Fuck yeah. Now Rafe had officially been allowed in the ring.

"Alright," he said, smiling crookedly, fingers picking at the beer label. "When's your shift over?"

"As soon as the place closes down," you replied, grinning. "Guess you'll have to stick around for a few more hours."

Oh, you could bet your sweet little ass he would.

Rafe shrugged, corners of his mouth tugging down as he shook his head lightly. "I'm free." Then mirrored your grin. "Seats here are kinda shit, but I guess the view makes up for it."

And the genuine laugh that escaped your usually bold mouth felt like snorting three lines in a row (nah, fr, Rafe was clean, alright).

"Okay, then," you said, nodding at the beers. "If you need anything else, just holler. Got other customers to tend to."

With that, you spun your cheeky ass around and walked down to the other side of the bar where some old ladies were sitting.

"Shiiit, dude," Barry said with the biggest grin ever, gulping down a sip of his shitty-ass Modelo. "I think I just third-wheeled some telepathic sex right here. Might as well thank me for giving ya the nudge."

Rafe scoffed with a shake of his head, taking a sip of his PBR and immediately regretting his choice of beer. "You can thank me for not beating the shit out of you later."

A giggle left Barry's lips and whatever smart-ass reply he threw back, Rafe didn't register, because right next to him, three seats down, he caught the bastard tossing another comment to his clown friend.

"See, Frank, and that girl right there?" Oh, that fucker meant you, huh. "Pitiful. Probably no man at home to teach her not to swing her ass around other men in public. Sad what girls are turning into."

"Say that again." Rafe had now fully turned toward the two sorry-ass losers, head leaning forward, eyes locked on the bastard behind the clown.

Both looked up. The clown blinked, confused. The bastard raised a brow like he couldn’t believe someone had just interrupted their little alpha circle jerk.

"Sorry?" the bastard said, eyeing Rafe up and down like he was sizing up if the boy in a polo and shorts deserved to be taken seriously.

Rafe nodded, letting out a sharp scoff. "Yeah, you're gonna be sorry if you open that fucking mouth of yours one more time."

The bastard's face scrunched up and in that moment he seemed to decide Rafe was beneath him. "Boy, best not get involved in things that don't concern you."

That’s when Rafe knew for sure: this asshole was getting punched tonight. Just a matter of when.

"Bullshit’s spilling out of you like this place is a fucking stable," Rafe replied with a crooked smile. "So yeah, it does concern me when your shit's reeking all the way to my seat."

The clown was already sinking into his stool, but the bastard apparently thought Rafe was the joke here. He let out a disbelieving breath, not even looking at Rafe anymore as he turned to the clown, gesturing in Rafe’s direction. “See that, Frank? That’s what happens when a father doesn’t raise his son right. His mother was probably—”

“Finish that sentence, and your loser friend can go ahead and reserve you a hospital bed.” Rafe’s voice had dropped to a low edge, his expression far too calm for how close he was to dragging that fucker’s face across the counter.

The fucking audacity—not just dragging you and his dad through the mud, but now even throwing Rafe’s dead mother in too?

“Rafe, bro, come on,” Barry said from behind. “Idiots like him ain’t worth it.”

But Rafe spared him no mind, gaze fixed on the bastard three seats down.

The clown of the duo just looked between them, then down at his sad little Jack & Coke like he hadn’t just sat in the middle of all this shit, like he hadn’t co-signed every word his bastard friend had said. (Don’t worry—Rafe would deal with his sorry ass later.)

“I know your type, boy,” the bastard went on, eyeing Rafe’s clothes again (if only he knew Rafe owned socks that cost more than his entire outfit). “Dropped out of school, probably had some rebellious phase, and of course no real man around to beat you into shape. What a shame. Society’s raised nothing but soft little men these days.”

Rafe tilted his head slightly, brows raised in mock confusion. “Funny hearing that from a pathetic loser like you. Talking about ‘real men’ like you even qualify.”

As soon as the bastard started laughing, Rafe was on his feet, brushing off Barry's hand as he stepped around the clown. He let out an amused breath and rubbed his jaw with a shake of his head as he came to a stop in front of the bastard. "Not sure what's so funny about that."

The drunk clown nearly tripped over himself pushing himself off the stool, mumbling something about needing to piss as he staggered away. The bastard only furrowed his brow, watching his loser friend stumble off.

“What do you know about being a man?” he spat, turning back to Rafe, the wrinkles in his face bunching up like worn-out leather. He nodded toward Barry. “Your friend’s a pogue by the looks of it, and you...” His eyes dropped to Rafe’s sneakers. “Either the same breed or some kook who lost his crown.”

What the actual fuck was even going on in this fucker's brain? Fucking apes had more relevant shit to say than him.

"Yeah, talking reaal big for a guy with a knockoff Armani suit two sizes too big for a small fucker like you," Rafe snorted, eyeing the bastard down for a second. "Suit's fake, Rolex fake, shoes look like you got 'em from TKMinimum, and what's that?"

Rafe let out a disbelieving scoff, raising his brows as he gestured toward the fucker's feet. "Socks matching the color of your cheap-ass suit. Lemme guess: trying to appear taller to compensate for your poor little ego and tiny cock. I mean, shit", Rafe ran a hand over his buzzed hair, grinning crookedly as his gaze zeroed in on the guy’s forehead, "Even your fucking hairline’s running away from the bullshit coming out of your mouth."

Sure, Rafe could've given him some preaching about how to treat women and how fucking stupid his fuckass worldview was but that idiot was too far gone already and the only way to put him in his place was to question his entire appearance.

That's what guys like him actually cared about. Not morals, not decency, just how they appeared in public and whether everyone saw just how glorious and wealthy they were.

And the way that pathetic loser looked at Rafe now? Worth more than all the silver, gold, or diamonds in the entire damn world.

And then the cherry on top: your chuckle from behind the bastard—light and effortless, like the ring of a bell announcing Rafe's victory after a boxing match.

Rafe hadn't even noticed you coming up but now he felt like a fucking winner getting to put a fucker like that in his place in front of you AND getting that sweet sound out of you for the second time tonight.

And then, that bastard made the biggest fucking mistake of his entire pitiful life.

He turned his head back, eyes daring to look you over as he let out a disdainful scoff. When he made a hushing motion with his hand, he said "Do me a favor, woman, and--"

Rafe’s fist collided with the asshole’s face, a sickening crack echoing through the air—nearly as satisfying as your chuckle just right now.

The guy let out a sharp gasp as he stumbled back from his stool, hands flying up to his broken nose just in time to catch the blood now spilling over his fingers and lips. He crashed chest-first onto the seat next to him, bleeding all over the supposedly precious leather cushion.

The area around the bar went dead silent, except for a group of girls giggling about something in the back and fucking Nickelback playing on the speakers.

Rafe quietly met your gaze as he rubbed at his throbbing knuckles, while the bastard on the floor dramatically moaned like he’d been shot instead of just having his nose broken.

And you cheeky little thing only raised your eyebrows at Rafe, the faintest smile playing on your lips. “I’m pretty sure the house rules say no fights.”

Oh, how much Rafe loved that glimmer in your eyes.

"And I'm pretty sure it needs two for a fight", Rafe replied with a scoff and gestured to the sorry-ass loser clutching onto the stool. "Bastard's nowhere near to even be considered a walking vendor for a match, let alone a contestant."

“Shit, Country Club, this ain’t no damn boxing ring,” Barry chimed in with a chuckle, tossing the bleeding bastard a wad of tissues onto the stool beside him. “Bro, you’re staining the seats.”

The groaning bastard finally pushed himself up and knocked the tissues off the stool, one hand clutched to his nose, blood running through his fingers and dripping onto his knockoff suit and cheap-ass shoes.

Aww, and even a bloodshot eye—how unfortunate.

Now that was a picture worthy of being framed behind the bar. Gold plaque underneath: Biggest Retard in the Universe (since birth probably).

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, you little shit,” the bastard groaned, eyes watery from the punch, glaring at Rafe with a face so twisted, he looked like he was mid-way through busting the world’s saddest nut.

Rafe almost let out a giggle. Instead, he just nodded, lips curled. “Looking forward to it. Be so kind and address it straight to Thornton LLP, yeah?” And on the bastard’s delightfully baffled expression, Rafe piled on: “A very busy man, but if he sees my name on the envelope, I’m sure you’ll get priority.”

The bastard’s jaw clenched, and he let out another theatrical groan. “And that would be?”

“Rafe Cameron.”

Boom.

That was when it finally clicked in that baboon brain of his. Face pale, eyes wide as he realized just how far beneath Rafe he actually was in this little imaginary hierarchy of his. Fucker looked close to either pissing himself or throwing up just thinking about how expensive his own lawyer would be if he actually pulled through with his complaint.

A crooked smile played on Rafe’s lips as he raised his brows. “Need me to write it down for you?”

The bastard just stared blankly at him, and shit, even had the nerve to look over Rafe’s clothes again, like he couldn’t believe some dude in a basic polo and shorts was the CEO of Cameron Estates and Ward Cameron’s son.

“A'right, my guy,” Barry said, pushing off from his stool and grabbing the bastard’s shoulder. “Guess that was ya cue to leave. Pretty sure ya got plenty of paperwork waiting back at home now.”

“Get your filthy hands off me,” the bastard spat, shoving Barry’s hand away—and that alone nearly made Rafe punch him again, give him a matching bruise on the other side. “Fucking pogue. Thinks he has any say around here.”

“No, but I do.” Your voice rang out from behind the bar, hands braced on the lower ledge, an amused smile on your face. “Looks like you should call it a night, mister.” Grin deepening. “Not before you pay, though. For you and your sweetheart of a husband, of course.”

Barry said something like “I’ll get him, Boss,” and strolled off toward the restrooms.

The bastard’s chest rose and fell, face as red as the blood on it. “Back in my day, a bitch like you—”

“Shiiit, man,” Rafe chuckled low, grabbing the fucker by the shoulder and patting his chest. “You’re really asking for it right now, huh?”

Oh, and Rafe drank in that anger and fear in the guy’s eyes up like liquid coke, too scared to shove Rafe off.

Rafe nodded toward you with a crooked grin. “You’re gonna apologize to the nice lady now, pay for the drinks you and your loser buddy have downed, and then get your pathetic asses outta here.” He raised his brows with a smile. “Sound good?”

Bastard already opened his mouth but Rafe shook his head, tapping his chest with a finger, grip on his shoulder getting just a little firmer. “You’re lucky if all that bullshit earlier was just talk. Otherwise, I’m sure the cops would love a chat with that wife you bragged about beating.”

That silenced that fucker very quickly.

Rafe raised his eyebrows, waiting. “I mean, unless you need a second reminder—”

“I-I’m sorry”, the bastard blurted out.

“Nah,” Rafe said with a shake of his head, gesturing from himself to you. “Don’t tell me that shit. Apologize to her.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as the bastard finally met your gaze, brows scrunched into a pained grimace. “I’m sorry.”

Rafe let out an amused breath, clapping the bastard’s chest. “Shit, see? Easy. Now you do the same shit at home and question your morals and maybe hell’s promoting your room just a level.”

And the fact that that was apparently the scariest idea to this asshole? Not surprising. Guys like him always preached about God and then used it as an excuse for all the shit they did.

“There ya go,” Barry said as he came back in, dragging the drunk clown from earlier along. By the looks and stench of him, he’d just thrown up. “Now go over there and give the lady a generous tip, a’right?”

He did. Both of these fuckers, as a matter of fact.

Rafe and Barry both watched over their shoulders as each of the two reluctantly pulled out a $200 bill (surprised they even had those—then again, probably received them at some sad little business anniversary).

You flashed a big smile as you accepted that 60% tip. “Thanks, dearies. Hope you had a fun night.”

Rafe didn’t even let them respond, just politely kicked the bastard toward the door while Barry dragged the clown along after him.

Outside, the same clown stumbled forward and hit the pavement, landing on hands and knees in a puddle after Barry gave him a friendly shove. “Shit, bro, nobody told you the South Side ain’t no place for suits?”

“Don't think those cheap-ass knockoffs even deserve that term,” Rafe scoffed, then nodded at Barry to head back in. He didn’t want to spend another second around these losers.

Shit felt like a stain on Rafe’s evening.

Back at the bar, they were greeted by a bucket of soapy water, a pair of old gloves, and a sponge. The vibe in the place? Completely back to normal.

“You made the mess, you clean it,” you said firmly with your arms crossed—very clearly talking to Rafe only. Then, with that familiar amusement back in your voice, you added, “Want me to grab you an apron too?”

Rafe chuckled, mouth twitching into a downward grin. “You’d love that, huh?”

Oh, and that cheeky little laugh you let out? Priceless.

You tossed the rag in your hand over your shoulder, shrugging. “Nothing hotter than watching a man do chores.”

Honestly? For you, he’d probably even get on his knees and scrub the floor in an apron if you asked for it.

Fucking shit. What.

Alright, Barry had definitely hit Rafe too hard in today’s training. Now it was catching up to him, frying his brain into thinking shit like that.

“Yeah, nah,” Rafe said with a strained chuckle, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “I got this.”

A laugh slipped from your lips, nodding. “Alright. You two enjoy the rest of your night. I’ve got guests to take care of.”

“Wait!” Rafe called after you just as you were turning to leave. “Your offer—it still stands, right?”

Geez, what the fuck was up with his voice? Suddenly almost desperate. Even fucking Barry chuckled beside him.

And you? You just shot Rafe that signature teasing smile of yours, flashing your white teeth as a chuckle escaped you that made Rafe’s stomach tingle in all the right ways.

“The stool won’t clean itself, boxer boy,” you said, then turned that sweet ass of yours around and walked over to some new guests at a table in the back.

Was that a yes?

Shit, that had to be a yes. Otherwise, you’d have said No, right? Right???

"A'right bro, you have fun cleaning that shit up", Barry said as he patted Rafe's shoulder. "I'll go have a chit chat with the lady that's been eyeing me the whole night."

Rafe grimaced. "That just some bullshit excuse to dip?"

As much as Barry pissed him off, he did fuck with his ass. And now he wanted to bail after Rafe had allowed him to come along? The fuck was that.

Barry chuckled. “Ain’t goin’ far, Country Club. See,” he pointed toward a smiley redhead near the entrance—one of the girls who had turned around earlier. “I’ll be just around the corner. No need to panic about being orphaned." He smiled lazily. "Besides, I’ve had enough of third-wheeling ya and Little Miss Bar Queen eye-fucking each other.”

Fuckass.

Fine. Let him dip.

Rafe furrowed his brows and waved Barry off with a flick of his hand. “Aight. Go do your thing, then.”

After the swamp rat called Barry had strutted off, Rafe eyed the cleaning supplies on the bar with a deep frown. Never in his life had he cleaned up after anyone, let alone himself. Probably would’ve been easier to just buy a brand new damn barstool and maybe some new floor panels than to stand here looking like a damn idiot.

He could already picture the headlines if anyone actually cared enough to report it:

Rafe Cameron, CEO of Cameron Estates and local boxing champ, ready to start a new career path as cleaning lady? Inquiries welcome.

Yeah, whatever.

A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

And right now? That meant cleaning up the mess he’d made in your bar.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he walked up to the counter, stepping around the small crusted pool of blood on the floor (the bastard had bled like a goddamn pig for someone with just a broken nose).

And when Rafe stretched his fingers out to pull the gloves on, his heart skipped a beat as he spotted a little note. Torn straight from your notepad, by the looks of it.

He expected to find some numbers written on them but this was even better.

Rafe stared at the note for a solid minute, eyes locked on your pretty handwriting, lingering on the way you’d written his name.

Then, carefully, he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

And just like that, the biggest motherfucking grin spread across his lips, feeling like he’d won the second round tonight.

If he played the cards right, the third was just right around the corner—set on a private stage reserved for just the two of you.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒕 ᨐฅ 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

R. C. M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

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