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Chapter 3: Don’t Tell Me You Missed Me

It had been three days since the beach party.

Three days since I heard Rafe call me “fun,” like I was something to do between cigarettes and secrets. Since I walked away, face hot with embarrassment, heart hurting like I’d tripped on a sidewalk in heels.

And for three days, I did what Madea would call “laying low and leveling up.”

I re-did my nails. White chrome tips.

I made new TikToks. One went viral.

I reorganized my closet by shade of pink.

I didn’t cry.

And I definitely didn’t text him back.

⸻

“You going to the bonfire tonight?” Tia asked, flopped across my bed, scrolling her For You Page. “Everybody’s gonna be there. Even Sarah’s messy ex.”

I rolled lip gloss across my bottom lip. “I’m not trying to see Rafe.”

Tia gave me a look. “You know avoiding him just makes him chase harder, right?”

“Good. Let him wear out his shoes.”

She laughed, full and bright. “Girl, he’s already asking about you.”

My stomach fluttered, but I kept my face straight. “He can ask all he wants. Doesn’t mean he gets answers.”

⸻

The bonfire was already blazing when we got there. Summer wind tangled with the smell of salt, smoke, and whatever cologne Kooks wore when they wanted to look effortless but rich.

I wore a cropped baby tee that said “Bite Me” in rhinestones and the tiniest pink jean shorts known to man. My butterfly anklet glittered with every step. My hoop earrings said Brielle in cursive. Rafe wouldn’t get the silent treatment. He’d get the full show.

Let him remember what he fumbled.

⸻

I wasn’t even halfway through a cherry Truly when I felt it—that stare.

Rafe stood near the fire, sipping a beer, wearing that same damn white tee like it was part of his personality. He looked like trouble and heartbreak in human form. His jaw clenched when he saw me laughing at something Tia said.

He made his way toward me, slow, confident, like he didn’t just get caught talking trash three nights ago.

“Hey,” he said, low.

I sipped my drink. “Hey.”

“You been dodging me?”

I smiled, sweet but sharp. “Didn’t know we were playing tag.”

His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Come walk with me?”

“No thanks.”

“Bri—”

“Nope.”

I turned back to Tia, ignoring the way his eyes burned on my back. I should’ve felt powerful. Instead, I felt… shaky. Like the way he said my name was trying to make a home in my spine.

⸻

An hour later, I slipped away to breathe. The party was too loud, too hot. I wandered down the beach, toes sinking into cool sand, my drink forgotten.

Of course, that’s when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Don’t tell me you missed me,” I said without turning.

“I didn’t say that,” Rafe answered, close enough that I could smell his cologne. “But I wouldn’t be mad if you did.”

I sighed, arms crossed. “Why are you here, Rafe?”

“Because I messed up.”

I turned then. Really turned. “You think? You said I was just fun. Spoiled. Loud.” I stared him down. “You embarrassed me.”

His face dropped the smirk. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“But you said it. So it’s what you meant.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I said it to get them off my back. You know how it is.”

“I don’t. Because I don’t lie about people I care about.”

Silence. Just the waves and the tension and the stupid pull between us.

“I do care about you,” he said finally.

I blinked. “Then why would you say something so—”

“Because they’d tear it apart. You don’t get it, Bri. You show up looking like a damn dream in pink glitter and confidence, and I—I don’t know how to protect that in a place like this.”

I swallowed. Hard.

“You think I need protection?” I whispered. “I’m Madea’s granddaughter. I don’t need saving.”

He stepped close enough that his chest brushed mine. “I know. That’s what scares me. You don’t need me.”

I looked up at him, caught in his stormy eyes. “Then why chase me?”

“Because I want you anyway.”

⸻

For a second, I didn’t breathe. Just looked at him. And for the first time, Rafe didn’t look cocky or smug. He looked… scared. Like he was saying too much and not enough at once.

“You hurt my feelings,” I said softly. “And that’s not easy to do.”

“I know.” He took my hand. “I won’t do it again. Not if I get another chance.”

I stared at our fingers, his calloused grip around my pink acrylics. “You gonna tell your friends about me?”

“Already did,” he said. “Told them I was an idiot. That I like a girl who makes my stomach flip and my head spin.”

I rolled my eyes. “Smooth.”

He smiled. “I try.”

⸻

When he leaned in, I didn’t stop him. His lips brushed mine—soft, slow, like he was asking. When I kissed him back, it wasn’t fireworks. It was heat and salt and forgiveness. A little messy, a little magic.

“I hate that I like you,” I murmured.

“I know,” he said. “But I’m yours, Malibu.”

I shook my head, grinning. “You’re so annoying.”

“But you like it.”

“Whatever.”

He kissed me again.

⸻

Back at Madea’s house, I snuck in just past midnight. I was still smiling when she called from her room, “You better be back in this house before Jesus wakes up or I’m locking the damn doors.”

“Love you, Madea,” I whispered.

“Don’t get pregnant!” she shouted back.

I giggled. Laid back in bed. Looked at my phone.

Text from Rafe:

So are we official now or do I have to tattoo your name on my chest?

Me:

Be serious.

Rafe:

Deadass. I’ll do it. Pink ink and everything.

Me:

We’re official. But you’re not tattooing anything.

Rafe:

😏 You’re mine now, Malibu.

I held the phone to my chest.

Yeah. I think I was his.

⸻

End of Chapter 3

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Chapter 2: That Boy with the Wolf Eyes

You can always tell when something’s about to change. It’s in the air—the way the wind shifts just before a summer storm, or how the ocean goes quiet right before the tide pulls back. I didn’t know it yet, but everything was about to change the moment I saw him.

Not when I unpacked my pink duffel bags or when Madea threatened to throw my phone into the sound if I didn’t sit at the dinner table properly. Not even when she told me the house rule was “no crying over boys, especially white ones with family money and no damn sense.”

But it was the next day, at a Kook beach party, when I saw him. And that’s when the shift came.

⸻

It started that morning when Madea burst into my room like she was kicking down the door to a crime scene.

“Get up, Miss Thang! We got church in the morning and sand in the evening. Tia’s coming to pick you up.”

I groaned under the pink satin sheets. “Who is Tia again?”

“The girl who’s gonna keep you from acting like a fool on this island. Now get dressed—and for the love of Jesus, don’t wear nothing that shows your… extras.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching for a white lace two-piece set. “It’s just a beach party,” I mumbled.

Madea squinted. “A beach party that turns into a funeral if somebody catches feelings or liquor. I done seen too many of these.”

She left me alone, but her warning stuck like honey in the back of my mind.

I dressed anyway. A high-waisted pink bikini under a sheer mesh dress, little white jelly sandals with glitter bows, a butterfly anklet, and my gold nameplate necklace that read “Brielle.” Hair up in a curly half-pony with edges slicked. My skin glowed under the Carolina sun. Cute, but not doing too much.

Just enough to make them remember I’m not from around here.

⸻

Tia pulled up blasting Flo Milli. She had braids down to her waist, edges decorated with rhinestone cuffs, and her nails were long, French-tipped, and dangerous.

“You ready to shut this beach down, Malibu?” she grinned, chewing her gum like she owned the coast.

We rode down to the southern edge of Kildare’s shoreline, where all the rich Kooks partied away the summer like there was no world beyond their yachts and bonfires. I’d seen it on TikTok, but in real life? It felt louder, messier, hotter. Boys with sun-kissed hair, girls in designer bikinis and linen two-pieces, drinks in red cups, music bumping from a Bluetooth speaker bigger than my suitcase.

And then, there was him.

Rafe Cameron. Leaning against his truck in a loose white tee and khaki shorts, curls messy, jawline so sharp it could slice air. His eyes were cold, blue-gray, wild. Like a storm trapped behind glass. He was laughing about something, holding a beer bottle, and surrounded by boys who looked like they either ran Wall Street or would light a house on fire just to see what happens.

Tia leaned over and whispered, “That’s him. Rafe. Don’t stare too long or he’ll think you’re interested.”

Too late. I was already staring.

And then—he looked up. Eyes locking with mine like he felt it, too.

Something in my stomach flipped. He gave me a once-over, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world to undress me with his eyes. But then he smirked. That crooked, cocky smirk. And turned away.

Oh, so he’s one of those.

⸻

The party was chaos wrapped in sunshine. We played volleyball, swam, and danced to music that bounced off the waves. I tried not to watch Rafe too much, but he was everywhere. Moving through the crowd like he owned it, laughing too loud, touching too much. He was magnetic and messy.

Then, out of nowhere, he came over.

“You’re new,” he said, standing so close I could smell the mix of sea salt, beer, and expensive cologne.

“You’re observant.” I popped the straw in my coconut water and sipped it slow.

Rafe laughed. “Cute. Where you from, princess?”

“Atlanta. But now I’m with Madea.”

That got his attention. “Wait… You’re Madea’s granddaughter?”

“Unfortunately for you, yeah. She said not to talk to you.”

His smirk grew. “Smart woman.”

I tilted my head. “Then why are you here?”

He shrugged. “I like trouble.”

And just like that, I was hooked—and I hated it.

⸻

We talked the rest of the afternoon. Not deep conversations—just teasing, flirting, challenging each other. He made fun of my pink phone case. I made fun of his bare feet. He told me I looked like I came from a dollhouse. I told him he looked like he fell out of a frat basement.

And somehow, it was fun.

Until it wasn’t.

⸻

Later that night, when the fire was burning low and most people were already drunk or passed out on towels, I went looking for Tia. Instead, I found Rafe leaning against his truck, laughing with two of his boys.

I started to call out to him, but then I heard my name.

“Bro, what’s up with the pink chick?” one of them asked.

“Brielle?” Rafe scoffed. “She’s just fun. Ain’t nothing serious.”

My stomach dropped.

“She’s kinda into me, though,” he added. “You know how girls like her get. Spoiled. Loud. I let her hang around. Madea would kill me if I actually tried anything.”

They all laughed. Rafe clinked his bottle against theirs. “Cute, though. Real cute.”

I felt the tears sting before I even moved. But I didn’t cry. Not in front of them. I just turned, heels digging into the sand, and walked back toward the water.

He didn’t see me. Or maybe he didn’t care.

⸻

Tia found me an hour later, sitting by the shore with my arms wrapped around my knees, sand sticking to my legs, and makeup smudged just enough to piss me off.

“I heard,” she said softly.

I didn’t answer.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“You want to go home?”

“Yes.”

And that’s what we did. No more cute comebacks. No more games. I went home, took off my makeup, peeled out of my pink dress, and curled up in bed wearing one of Madea’s oversized T-shirts.

The text from Rafe came around midnight.

Rafe: You good?

Rafe: You disappeared.

I left it on read.

⸻

The next morning, Madea didn’t even ask. She just handed me a plate of waffles and said, “You look like you learned something.”

“I did,” I mumbled.

“Good. Learning hurts. That’s how you know it’s working.”

I stared at my waffles, my nameplate necklace resting just above my collarbone, and wondered why it hurt so much when I knew he was trouble.

But I also knew this wasn’t the end. Not with Rafe. Trouble might not last forever… but it never really goes away either.

⸻

End of Chapter 2

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Master list

Pretty In Pink, Wild in Obx

1.Pink Luggage,Southern Heat

2. That boy with the wolf eyes

3. Don’t tell me you missed me

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Chapter 1: Pink Luggage, Southern Heat

The sun was just starting to kiss the Atlantic horizon as I stepped off the Greyhound bus, my little pink suitcase wheels clicking on the cracked pavement of the Outer Banks. My heart fluttered like a hummingbird on a sugar rush, equal parts excitement and nerves buzzing through my veins. Five foot tall, curves in all the right places—my stomach soft and real, my boobs big and unapologetic, and my little chubby butt tucked neatly into my high-waisted pink shorts—I looked like a Malibu Barbie dropped straight into this wild, salty world.

Honestly, the ocean breeze smelled like freedom, but also like challenge. I wasn’t just any girl moving in with her grandma—no, I was Madea’s granddaughter. And Madea was a whole mood. A hurricane wrapped in a Southern drawl, who didn’t do fuss, nonsense, or untied shoelaces. Living here meant I had to blend the Malibu pink with the Outer Banks grit, and that wasn’t gonna be easy.

My phone buzzed with a new text: “You here yet, Princess? Madea’s porch swing is waiting. Don’t keep an old lady waiting.”

I smiled and replied, “Pulling up now. Hope she’s ready for Barbie with a little bit of soul.”

The neighborhood sparkled like it was plucked from a coastal magazine—painted beach houses with white railings, palm trees bending in the salty wind, and lawn flamingos that somehow fit perfectly in this southern-meets-california vibe. But the charm was raw, not polished.

I reached the house, a two-story pastel blue beauty with pink shutters and a porch wide enough for three swing sets. Madea was sitting on the front porch, rocking in her chair with a stern look that softened the moment she saw me. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her eyes sharp but welcoming.

“Well, if it ain’t my Malibu Barbie,” she said, standing to meet me with arms wide open. “You better not come in here looking like no city slicker trying to play dress up.”

I laughed, shaking out my curly ponytail. “Madea, you know I’m realer than real. And I brought my whole vibe.”

She shook her head, grinning. “You got enough pink for the whole beach, baby girl. But let’s see if you got the grit.”

The door creaked open, and the scent of warm cornbread and cinnamon filled the air. The house was a blend of Southern charm and a splash of Malibu pink accents—rose gold picture frames, fluffy cushions with sequined flamingos, and a massive basket of handmade quilts on the couch.

After setting down my suitcase, I peeked into what would be my room. It was like a Malibu Barbie dream come to life—soft bubblegum pink walls, a plush white shag rug, a vanity decked out with every shade of pink lipstick and nail polish, and fairy lights twinkling above the bed.

My closet was a whole vibe: rows of pastel dresses, high-waisted skirts, cropped tops in every shade of pink and lavender, racks of delicate jewelry sparkling under the light, and a corner dedicated to bikinis and silky robes. I ran my hand over the satin sheets and smiled.

“This is going to be alright,” I whispered to myself.

But just as I started unpacking, my phone pinged again. It was a message from a local Kook girl named Tia, who I’d met through Madea’s friends at church: “Welcome to the OBX. You ready for your first beach party? Rafe Cameron will be there. Heard you’re Madea’s granddaughter. Watch out—he’s trouble, but he’s cute.”

My heart skipped. Rafe Cameron was infamous—a wild Cameron with a reputation as hot and dangerous as the ocean during a storm. I knew I shouldn’t care, but I did.

Madea walked in, her eyes narrowing when she saw the message. “You listening, baby? Those Kooks can look pretty on the outside, but inside, it’s all claws and teeth. Don’t get caught up in their games.”

I nodded but felt a flicker of excitement. Maybe this wild new world had a place for a Malibu Barbie with roots deeper than the pink gloss on her lips.

That night, I lay on my bed, scrolling through my Malibu-inspired playlist—Nicki, SZA, Chloe x Halle—letting the beats drown out the distant sound of ocean waves. Outside, the stars shimmered like the glitter on my nails, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Madea’s voice drifted through the house, calling out, “Barbie, you better get some rest. Tomorrow, the OBX is gonna test you.”

And I was ready.

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“Pretty in Pink, Wild in OBX”

✨ Description:

When a 5’0” petite Black girl with curves, confidence, and a full-on Malibu Barbie aesthetic is sent to live with her no-nonsense grandma Madea in the Outer Banks, she expects sun, peace, and cute bikinis. What she doesn’t expect? The messy drama of Kook life, bonfire parties that feel like warzones, and a certain dangerous golden boy named Rafe Cameron who can’t seem to stay out of her orbit.

With her bubblegum-pink wardrobe, diamond nameplate, and a heart too big for her own good, she turns heads everywhere she goes—but being different in the OBX isn’t easy. When sparks fly between her and Rafe, she finds herself caught between fairy tale romance and real-world chaos.

She’s soft, sweet, and stylish—but don’t get it twisted. She’s Madea’s granddaughter. And if the Outer Banks tries her, she’s ready to fight back in heels.

⸻

A 10-chapter Outer Banks x Madea AU love story full of pink lip gloss, Southern auntie wisdom, Kook chaos, and the unexpected softness of a boy who might be broken… but never bored around her.

⸻

“She came to the OBX with pink luggage and a sharp tongue. Rafe Cameron never stood a chance.”

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

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❝ sweet like cinnamon ❞

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•~ Your TWD man, your LDR album! ~•

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Rick Grimes - Born To Die

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The Governor - Norman Fucking Rockwell!

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Daryl Dixon - Blue banisters

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Negan Smith - Ultraviolence

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Shane Walsh - Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd

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Carl Grimes - Chemtrails over the country club

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Pictures from haya.orouq on TikTok

My wonderful friend Haya is only 18 years old and trying to get her sick mother (a kidney failure patient) and the rest of her family evacuated from Gaza to Egypt. They barely survived an airstrike that blasted all the windows out of the house they were in when Israel attacked Deir al-Balah a couple days ago, and the situation is extremely desperate. Please if you can spare even the smallest amount to help them, it would mean the world to us!! ❤️🇵🇸❤️🇵🇸❤️🇵🇸❤️

GOFUNDME

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Disney Wintertime ⋆ ｡⋆୨୧❄️˚ | ✧˖°.🎀 | ₊˚⊹ ♡

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How to be like Barbie:

Inspired by Greta Gerwig’s “Barbie”

How to be your very own doll 🎀 :

Start each day with a positive attitude. Barbie wakes up in Barbieland feeling thankful for yet another perfect day tomorrow, so be grateful for what you have.

Wear… PINK - Pink everything, always include pink in your outfits. If you hate the colour pink your going to have a hard time with this list…

Dress to impress - Even if your staying at home, going to the grocery store or just feeling rubbish in general, doll yourself up to make yourself feel better. You don’t have to do a “head-to-toe” evening look, just something that’s cute and comfy works!

Be spontaneous- Barbie does what her heart tells her is right, but she also makes spontaneous decisions. Have fun and don’t take life too seriously!

Collect pink accessories - Start replacing your everyday items with pink ones, it’s easy! Pink hairbrush, pink bedsheets, pink toaster, pink toothbrush etc

Be yourself - Barbie is unapologetically herself, always. Be the best version of you and don’t be afraid to come out of your shell!

Be kind - To yourself and other Barbie’s around you. It’s important to think of other doll’s feelings and emotions as well as your own. Always treat other doll’s with kindness

Practice self-care - Have a pamper/movie night, make a new purchase for yourself, cook a delicious meal, journal, practice yoga. REAL dolls take care of themselves properly

Never have “flat feet” - Be optimistic and never keep your feet on the ground. You only get one life. So be imaginative, have dreams and aspirations and have fun!

Some more ways to be like Barbie:

Have a pink bedroom

Plan out your outfits the night before

Make “To-Do” lists

Educate yourself on things your interested in. Barbie has beauty & brains

Pamper yourself with makeup

Collect pink makeup

Don’t spend time crying over another Ken or Barbie. Focus on you doll!

Wear heels

Have a signature scent

Glitter EVERYTHING

Layer pink, on pink, on pink

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Avatar What I’m Reading Masterlist/Recommendations

December-January

Febuary masterlist coming soon!

Feel free to send me recommendations<3

Please read the warning for each fic some may be nsfw

Completed

Neteyam

Like the Ocean

Not so small now?

Inches 1-3

The Bet

You—What?

Lost and found

Enough

One of us Series Master list

Keep reading

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i luv the color black…and the color pink...and coffins...and valentines day..and strawberries and horror movies and Halloween and bunnies and cherries and sparkles and glitter and perfume that smells super sweet and skulls and chocolate shaped like hearts and bats and