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[ag-writes-stuff]

I Would Have Followed You

Summary: This was never meant to be anything, was never actually anything if you asked Rafe Cameron. This is the story of the almost-relationship between him and you. Was it love?

Click below for the beginning of this story. If not, continue on! Thank you.

Chapter One.

The first time you ever locked eyes with Rafe Cameron was in a passing moment. It took you years to realize that life is just a succession of these so-called passing moments. If it’s a painful moment, it will pass. If it’s a perfect moment, it will also pass.

     That particular moment occurred on one of the hottest days of summer. Even with the coastal breeze the heat in North Carolina was brutal.

Unfortunately for you, it was also senior year move-in day which meant carrying boxes up two flights of stairs for hours. Usually, one of your parents would be in tow, but your mom was called into work last minute and your dad wasn’t always the most reliable. So, you had to do it all yourself. Your mom was a pediatric surgeon. When you were growing up, she transferred hospitals every few years until she finally landed a position at Duke. Your dad’s career as a writer was flexible, so you were able to move wherever your mom needed you to. Quickly after publishing his first novel your dad became a New York Times Best Selling Author. Little did you know, that would be the first and last book he ever wrote. His agent dropped him after he missed his deadline four times. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't write. He started drinking a lot, mostly while your mom was at work. Eventually she had enough of it and asked him to move out.

     When you were younger, you used to admire your parents’ relationship. Things you used to consider “gross”, You now realize were beautiful. Kisses in the car, holding hands in restaurants, cuddling on the couch. How can two people go from not being able to get enough of each other to never wanting to speak again? You'd never been in love, so you guessed you'd wouldn't know... The wood creaked under your feet as you started down the stairs for what would be your last trip from the car to apartment. You noticed that the parking lot was now full of students with their parents, unloading cars, breaking down boxes and saying their goodbyes. You also couldn’t help but miss yours.

     Ascent Student Living was no different than any other off-campus apartment complex. It was new and made up of eight buildings, all different shades of blues and greens. One of your favorite parts of living at the beach was that everything was prettier. The architecture of most buildings and shopping centers mimicked the aesthetic of a small beach town and even though we were a good twenty minutes from the ocean, the bright colors and palm trees made it feel closer. When you were applying to colleges, you were so excited to finally get to decide where you lived instead of following your mom up and down the east coast. The options were endless, but decided to stay in North Carolina a little while longer. You settled on Wilmington College where you’d major in English and minor in journalism. Then after you graduated, maybe you’d move to New York City and become a writer. A girl could dream...

     After the weight of choosing a school was lifted, you finally started to enjoy what you had left of senior year— that’s when you met Carter. Carter was the first crush you had since middle school. He had brown hair and and these piercing hazel eyes that made you uneasy. Some of your friends said he looked like Christian Bale. You never told him you thought so because you didn’t need to feed his ego any more than you already had.

     Carter was, in ways, a breath of fresh air. He made you both excited and nervous at the same time. The nights you spent with him were adrenaline-pumping because you never knew what came next. He asked you to senior prom and showed up at your house with his mom and a corsage that didn’t match the dress, but of course you wore it anyway. You lost your virginity that night. You thought it would be so much more different. You were expecting this grand, romantic gesture and instead it was just a few minutes in a spare bedroom at your friend’s house that resulted in a broken condom.

     A few weeks later, your parents sat you down and told you they were getting a divorce. You were angry with them for ruining the summer before you went away to college. You had finally made it to your semi-adult life, and they were ripping the rug right out from under you at the time you needed stability the most. For the rest of the summer, you had sex with Carter whenever you could, while both of your parents were at work, in cars in parking lots, at parties, after parties. You were willing to do it whenever and wherever because you thought it would make him love you and you were desperate not to be alone.

Spoiler alert: sex never makes someone love you.

     You spent the next year hoping you’d become more than a hook-up and the year after that trying to meet someone who compared to him. Fast forward to the middle of sophomore year when you decided to swear off dating until you graduated college, life got so much better when you stopped looking for love in every guy you met. You started to enjoy school, meet new friends and finally make peace with your parents’ divorce.

You lifted the last box out of your car, closed the trunk and headed up the stairs to the second-floor apartment. Every few seconds you alternated looking down at your feet and then straight ahead to make sure you didn’t miss a step and trip.

     As you turned your gaze, your eyes landed on him, and you couldn't help but notice his impressive stature. He stood tall and upright, exuding confidence with his broad and muscular build. His blond hair was tucked neatly under a backward cap, accentuating his chiseled facial features. He wore a grey t-shirt, which seemed to have been washed and dried numerous times, but still clung to his form in a flattering way. The casual attire and relaxed demeanor only added to his allure, making him seem approachable yet intriguing.

     “Need some help with that?” he asked.

     “No, I’m okay.”

     You finally made eye contact with him. His blue eyes were familiar, like you’d looked into them before.

     “That’s me right there.” You managed to stick your elbow out and point in the direction of the door that said 3221.

     “See you around then, neighbor.”

     You didn’t know his name, but you really wish you did. You wish you knew everything about him.

     You walked inside of your apartments to your roommates, Lauren and Jordan, blasting music and laughing in the kitchen together. Before you joined them, you set the last box down in your bedroom. The rest of the unpacking could wait until tomorrow.

     “Did you see all the hot guys in the parking lot? I’m so glad we got into Ascent. I heard so many people were waitlisted.” Lauren said.

     “Waitlisted for a college apartment complex?” Jordan asked. “That’s insane. It’s not Harvard.”

     You met Lauren Ellis and Jordan Coleman when you all got assigned the worst freshman dorm, Moore Hall. It was the only high rise on campus that hadn’t been torn down and rebuilt yet. Luckily you all were among the last people to live there. And you'd like to think your experience that was Moore Hell, as you called it, made you closer. The three of you were so different yet fit together so perfectly.

Moving around so much when you were younger prevented you from forming long-lasting friendships. You found it easier to avoid getting emotionally invested in people that you knew you’d have to say goodbye to eventually. Lauren and Jordan provided you with a new perspective on friendship. They were a source of comfort and support during both the happy and trying times, and they made you realize you were missing out on such an important bond.

     “I call dibs on the super tanned one with the longboard!” Lauren laughed.

     “You act like that’s not a description of basically every guy on campus,” Jordan replied.

“Just wait until you see who I’m talking about,” Lauren opened the refrigerator and tossed us each a Twisted Tea. “Courtesy of my parents, our congratulatory move-in present was a fully-stocked bar.”

     “Can they just adopt me already?” you laughed, even though you weren't joking. “Tell us more about the longboard guy.”

     “Okay, so you’ll never believe this, but he was trying to get into our apartment this morning. He lives in the unit above us and for a solid ten minutes was banging on the door and yelling that his key fob wasn’t working. When I finally opened it, he realized he got the unit numbers mixed up and was so embarrassed. He did ask for my number though and already texted me, so I’d call that a win.”

     “I hope his roommates are hot!” Jordan shouted from her room.

     “What’re you doing in there?” you replied. “It’s pregame time, unpacking can wait.”

     “Well, our summer writing assignment can’t.”

     “Shit.”

     You grabbed your Twisted Tea and headed to your room, shutting the door behind you. You looked around at the progress you made today, everything was pretty much in its place besides a few pieces of wall art you still needed to hang. You sat down at the cheap IKEA desk that Ascent provided each bedroom with, opened your laptop and pulled up the assignment. You chose English as your major because you'd always loved to write. Since you hadn't grown up with siblings, you write fictional stories and kept journals to occupy yourself.

You finished the assignment in record time and then made your way into the bathroom to get yourself ready for your first night out as seniors. In the mirror, you stared at the girl looking back at you. She had never been super confident in herself, but she was beautiful. She just hadn't heard that from anyone but her own parents of course.

     After you finished your makeup, you scanned the closet for an outfit to wear. You wanted to look good but not draw too much attention to yourself and settled on a pair of denim shorts, a white crop top with a lettuce hem and your go-to shoe Converse.

     On Thursday, it was tradition that every student made their way over the bridge to Wrightsville’s favorite sports bar, Jerry’s. So, you took a few shots, piled into an Uber and made your way to kick off what you hoped would be an amazing senior year.

     “Can I get you a drink?” are six words every 21-year-old wants to hear. You spun around and was suddenly face-to-face with the guy from the stairwell.

     “Sure.” You played it cool.

     “Two Mich Ultras.” he said, sliding the bartender cash.

     “Bold of you to assume I’m a beer girl.” You tried to flirt.

     “Well, you’re holding an empty bottle and it’s dollar beer night, so it wasn’t really much of a stretch.” He laughed a little before chugging the rest of his beer and placed it on the sticky bar. You could feel your face go flush.

     “I know, I was just testing you,” You raised an eyebrow. “Observant, I like it.”

     “I was surprised to see you’re drinking beer though, most girls still opt for a vodka cran even on dollar beer night.”

“If I drink liquor the night usually looks a lot different for me. I want to at least remember the first night of senior year you know?”

     “So, a senior huh? I would’ve guessed younger. What’re you studying?”

     “English and journalism. You?”

“I’m in the business program but I really want to get into sports broadcasting, so I considered journalism. I might pick up a minor this year if I can fit it in before graduation.”

     “Oh, you’re a senior? I would’ve guessed younger.” You threw his own joke back at him.      “Touché. Are you not into younger guys?” The corner of his mouth curled slightly into a smirk. It was at that moment you knew you were in trouble.

“Thanks for the drink,” You smiled. “I better go find my friends though.”

     “Rafe Cameron,” he stuck out his hand. “Most people call me Cameron.”

     “Y/N Y/L/N. Most people call me Y/N.” you turned around and began to walk away.

     “See you around, Y/L/N!” he called after you.

~~~

“Maybe I should text longboard guy and see if they want to come down to post-game.” Lauren slurred as you walked into your shared apartment.

     “Why don’t we save it, it’s only the first night.”

“Too late. He replied! He and his roommates are coming down.” She interrupted you before you could finish.

     “Ooh, I’m manifesting that the other two roommates are just as hot so there’s one for each of us!” Jordan laughed.

     Lauren pulled out a bottle of tequila, limes and poured each of us a shot. Even though you desperately wanted to go to bed, you knew you couldn’t say no.

     “Here’s to the father, the son, and the tequila chilled. Hope to God this doesn’t get us killed. Remember that if he won’t, his best friend will. Always remember to take your pill. Now let’s go get fucking drilled.”

     We raised our shot glasses, downed the tequila, and quickly followed them up with limes. Seconds later, the front door opened and in walked three tall guys wearing almost identical outfits. You watched as the last of them shut the door behind him. As soon as he turned around, you locked eyes again.

     Rafe Cameron.

     “Guys! This is Topper, Kelce and Rafe. They live right above us.” Lauren introduced them. Jordan and you awkwardly waved from the kitchen as you grabbed two drinks from the fridge.

     Topper looked like he was plucked out of a Billabong campaign. He had blonde hair, blue eyes and a tan that probably lasted year-round. You could tell he grew up at the beach and had no intention of ever leaving. Kelce was the opposite, his dark complexion sported a buzz cut and a little bit of facial hair and he screamed of elegance with every movement.

  Lauren insisted on making the guys drinks, even though they came with a full case of Miller Lite. While she did that, Jordan and you got comfortable on the couch and set up a game of Circle of Death.

     “Oh, I’m in,” Topper joined us.

     Everyone made their way to the couch and Jordan reminded everyone of the rules. Halfway through the first round you excused yourself and went to the bathroom. As you walked back down the hall that connected your bedroom to the kitchen, you were stopped by Rafe. His body shifted so that it was blocking you from finding a way out of the hallway and the situation.

“Are you just going to pretend like you don’t know me?” he asked.

     “I mean, I don’t really.” You reminded him.

     “So that moment back at the bar never happened?”

     “If you consider a beer and a two-minute-long conversation a moment then you probably think this is our first date.”

     “Good one, but I don’t date.”

     “They never do.”

     “What’s in here?” he brushed past you and let himself into your room.

     “My bedroom, obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

He looked around the room, picking up picture frames and examining them one by one. You couldn’t believe Rafe Cameron was in your bedroom. You felt your heart rate increasing by the second and with a newfound drunk confidence, you closed the bedroom door behind you. He looked up and his big blue eyes felt like they could see right through you. Taking the hint, he made his way closer to you and placed one hand on your lower back and the other on your face. Gently, his thumb stroked your cheek, and you could feel the rest of his hand grasp the back of your neck. Goosebumps.

     When your lips finally touched it was like they had met before.

First kisses can be two things: terrible or incredible. Your first kiss was terrible. You were 15 and it was New Year’s Eve. You remember tasting toothpaste on his tongue and thinking he’d brushed his teeth to be courteous. It turns out he was wasted and had been throwing up in the bathroom right before the ball dropped.

     Then, there was your first good kiss. It was like a scene out of any coming-of-age movie or book made in the past ten years. One Saturday night your senior year of high school you stayed out past curfew. “Crazy Rap” by Afroman was playing on the Bluetooth speaker while we passed around whiskey and a bottle of Dr. Pepper as a chaser. You knew it was wrong to let Carter drive you home after he drank but you were 17 and didn't always make the best decisions. He parked his car at the top of your driveway so your parents wouldn't hear the engine, then he kissed you. You can still remember the way your entire body lit up, like you had been going through life on auto-pilot until that very moment.

     That’s not what this first kiss with Rafe felt like. Kissing him felt familiar, like your lips were puzzle pieces that fit together just right. He didn’t make you nervous in the way Carter used to. He made you feel comfortable. He made you feel at home.

[ag-writes-stuff]

I Would Have Followed You

Summary: This was never meant to be anything, was never actually anything if you asked Rafe Cameron. This is the story of the almost-relationship between him and you. Was it love?

This beautiful song inspired this so I hope you enjoy it as you read along. This will be a series.

THE BEGINNING:

The sun pours through the small window in the bedroom as you roll over and snooze the 6 a.m. alarm. Most early risers are already wide awake, grabbing their oat milk lattes and gluten-free bagels, while your head is pounding from a bottle of wine and three hours of sleep. In an instant, the memory of last night's events floods back and you feel the agony coursing through your veins all over again. The pain still lingers. You remember that looking at him hurt. He’s always been the one to make you feel safe, but last night was different. It was as though he’d taken a knife and repeatedly plunged it into your chest. Each time you looked at him, the wound was reopened, the pain as fresh and raw as the first time. It was like death by a thousand cuts.

     “I can’t do this anymore,” he cuts you off mid-sentence. “I think this, us, needs to end.”

     You're holding a glass full of your favorite Cabernet and within seconds it’s out of your hand and on the floor. Almost as if it's instinct, you bend down to pick up the pieces. You hate messes and honestly you'd rather focus on anything BUT this conversation right now. You look down at your hands to see that your right palm is gushing blood. Why can’t you feel it? Why can’t you feel anything? You watch as he pulls out his phone to call an Uber. He’s moving so quickly, but in your world it’s like time has stopped. You stare at him as he frantically moves around the kitchen, grabbing anything we might need for the emergency room, and you wonder where the guy you met in college went, the guy with the soft smile and beautiful ocean eyes. You never thought you could hate him, and yet... You can’t even look at him. You never want to see him again, but at the same time, you don’t want him to leave. Ever. You’ve loved him for over two years. How could he end two years with four words?

     I can’t do this.

     The words are on replay in your head as if they’re a new Taylor Swift song that you're trying to memorize every line of. You think the worst part is realizing that somewhere, deep down, you knew it the entire time. You knew he wouldn’t be able to get where you wanted him to. You just hoped that you were wrong.

     No, you didn’t date. Technically, he’s not an ex-boyfriend. He’s an ex-something. An ex-maybe. An ex-almost.

Maybe that's all you'll ever be... an incomplete sentence or a book that someone put down halfway through and never picked back up. Finished without an ending.