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oddlykilledghosts · 1 year

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I Want You To Like Me - Rafe Cameron x reader (Part Two)

Summary: You're a pogue by choice, kook from birth. The friendship that you have with the other pogues is undeniable, no one questions their loyalty for you or your loyalty to them. So when a certain King of the Kooks takes interest in you, it's only right to turn him down. Right?

Such a long part and so little Rafe…in the next parts I swear I will write more for just him, but it’s been so fun to be a part of the pogue friend group for now (but seriously next part will focus heavily on solely Rafe don’t worry) Very ‘domestic’ (loose way to use the word) view of the pogues this chapter, you get to see the ins and outs of their friendship a little more with reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x reader, John B x Sarah Cameron, platonic!Pogues x reader

The Chateau was quiet when you walked in. You hadn’t expected the other Pogues to be there, but a part of you hoped Kiara had left the party at Tannyhill and would be waiting for you on the couch on the screened-in porch with that look on her face that said she knew what you had been up to. You kind of wanted her to scold you for taking that ride home. For kissing the eldest Cameron. You wanted Kiara to kick your logic back into its rightful place where it had abandoned it’s station back at the party (and in Rafe’s car) and agree with her that even the thought of fraternizing with him was wrong. Even if it meant she would be angry with you.

The thought of your best friend lingered in your mind as you stood aimlessly in the front door of the Chateau. Frozen, you could picture her different reactions. Mostly the angry ones. And then the nicer ones. Your eyes flickered to the chairs in front of you as dreamy images of Kiara floated into your view. Her face changed as you imagined the various scenarios, none of them ending up well whether nice or angry. Desperately you wanted to confide in the girl, to have someone to talk this through with. But you knew that the anger that came with it would not help you work through what were beginning to be some very confusing feelings. For some reason you bargained with yourself, saying that the anger would be better. That it would give you a better sense of reality than this idea of Rafe could.

But then you looked around the screened-in porch and sighed, picking up a bandana that had been left on the chair nearest to the door. Of course you wouldn’t tell her. And you hated yourself for it. You wanted to hate yourself for liking Rafe as well. For liking the conversation you had with him in his car and for kissing him because you wanted to. But somehow you only hated how you didn’t hate yourself. You twirled the bandana between your fingers, thinking about how Rafe probably didn’t mean any of what he said. You figured he was bored and made it all up (although you doubted he would lie about Wheezie). You also doubted he was going to brag about a measly drunken kiss to any of his friends. It would be more likely he would never want to talk about fraternizing with a pogue ever again. If he did talk, he would say offhandedly that it was a mistake and that you were wrong about the whole situation. There was no worry this was going to escape Rafe’s lips and spread to the likes of the other Kooks of the Outer Banks. So really, the harm in telling Kie would have no benefit. It’s not like you were actually “in love” with Rafe Cameron now. It was a kiss. A crush from over a year ago. And it didn’t mean anything. Yes, you nodded to yourself as you held the bandana, wringing it in your hands. You were right, Rafe is an asshole, and pretending he’s not just for a night isn’t going to change his behavior. He’s going to keep being Rafe Cameron and wishing that he’d miraculously evolve into a better person won’t change that. There aren’t enough shooting stars in the world.

“Okay,” You breathed in, talking to yourself even though no one was around to hear (especially because no one was around to hear). “No Kie. Got it.” You looked down at the bandana in your hands and started smoothing it out against your thigh, and then folded and tied it into a headband. You figured it was JB’s and knew he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it. Maybe you just needed to borrow John B’s assuredness for a day or so. Just as you did with JJ’s hat. JJ was right, maybe the feelings can transfer. You reached up to your head ready to retrieve your friend’s accessory and patted the top of your head. Shit.

JJ’s hat was gone. Of course it was gone. By JJ’s logic, the hat held all the power. And all of his dumbassery. And you had been wearing it at the party. Then in the car. Where you kissed Rafe. Maybe the wrong trait was transferred? Is that possible? This is JJ logic that is being discussed here.

You needed to get that hat back.

Slipping the bandana over your head - because if there was anything to do when you need guidance was to follow JJ logic (please do not ever do this) - you pushed yourself into the kitchen hoping the bandana was leeching John B of all of his good qualities and in turn giving them to you. Sorry JB.

__________________

The search for your phone was the first thing on your agenda. You liked to think that your friend, JJ, would remember to tell the other pogues that you had left the party. However, in his state, you doubted that he would be able to relay the message to your other friends. This would cause a problem if you weren’t able to reassure the worried pogues (once you found your phone) that you had not in fact been murdered on your way home and that you were as fine as you had ever been (leaving out the parts that weren’t convenient to your case). The hope was to find the phone before they even realized you were gone. The second, more inconvenient hope, was that you would be able to contact Rafe before anyone else found a certain Pogue’s infamous red and gray hat on the floor of his passenger seat.

You tried your hand between cushions and between spaces on the bookshelves. Then you even dared to look through some places in the messy kitchen, which no one had thought to clean up since the last misadventure in cooking. While you looked, you tried to clean up as best you could - being a good house guest and all - but it was mostly a lost cause (and technically some kind of torture).

You usually tended to leave your phone in odd and awkward places, especially when hanging out with the Pogues…but this was crossing a line. You truly wanted to believe that it was somewhere obvious and you were just being stupid. For all you knew, it had fallen into the marsh from earlier in the day.

Walking across the kitchen, you were finally ready to call it quits and sink yourself back onto the pull out couch in the next room when you heard it. You were hoping it had been your phone. But then more noise. Shuffling feet. What seemed like some very loud attempts at whispers. Sinking into the wall, blending in with the old wood as best you could, as if you were an intruder in the house, your hand instinctively went out to the table where misplaced cutlery were scattered and dirty (from what you assumed had been an attempt to make mac and cheese that had gone wrong). Pulling your hand back to your chest after successfully snatching one of the items, you felt a little calmer with a makeshift weapon. To fend off an intruder or drunk teenagers? Maybe both? You were easily on edge anyways.

So maybe you were drunker than you thought. You kept checking back in your head, how many drinks did you have? You couldn’t have thought it was that many, could you? Partier or not, drinking with JJ always loosened you up a bit. There was that game you two always played. What was it? Something about keeping track of drinks while betting to do more…you shook your head in defiance, he had made that up ages ago, it wasn’t an actual game set with actual rules. No way to be sure. But this did mean, if you were drunk, that you could blame the Rafe of it all on the alcohol.

“What are you doing?”

“AHHHHHHHhhhhh!” A scream jolted through your veins and through your mouth as you were disrupted from your scheme of blaming your “affliction” on your inability to hold your alcohol. Your weapon, now jutted out from your body towards the direction of the voice, suddenly looked weak as you realized it was a spatula. You looked up at where the sound came from and your eyes fell upon a familiar face. “Oh.” You said, suddenly disappointed you weren’t going to save The Chateau from uncertain death. “Hi, John B.”

Another face rounded the corner and entered the room, wiping at her hands with one of those souvenir towels JJ had stolen from the country club (don’t tell anyone). “Who was screaming?” Her face first found John B and then just as easily landed on you, with your spatula and her boyfriend’s bandana in your hair. You just hoped you didn’t look as suspicious as you felt you looked.

The girl, who you hadn’t seen at Tannyhill, had her signature gold necklaces on and they gleamed softly even in the overhead lights of the kitchen. Her presence shook you a bit, as unexpected as it was to see an old friend you barely talk to arrive in the house of your new friend. It also surprised you to find she was wearing a shirt the two of you had picked out a couple years before. Yellow always looked so good on her, and you could tell she had barely been drinking as her skin faintly glowed with that morning’s tan.

It was a clear contrast to John B, who was in his signature pogue attire. His gray bandana hung loosely around his next and a button up hung on his shoulders with most of the top buttons undone. He looked so familiar and so comforting and so different than how the girl now felt to you. Which was foreign.

“And Sarah. Hey.” You looked between them wondering whether to be angry or glad they skipped the rest of the party and ended up at The Chateau with you. It crept into your mind that Kie would want you to be mad. Inviting Sarah into the pogues’ space, whether it be John B’s house or not, was almost sacrilege. It was making it real. But then, like a pang in your lower rib cage, Rafe entered your mind. That kiss. You weren’t allowed to be angry. You were doing the same, if not worse, to the pogues by getting in that car with Rafe. This was the time to be understanding. Maybe Kie wouldn’t understand at first, but you had to. You put down your spatula and leaned against the table where it had first been. “I was looking for my phone.” When the couple looked confused, you continued, “To answer your question, JB.”

John B held back a little laugh, slowly realizing that you weren’t going to pummel him for having Sarah Cameron with him, “With a spatula?”

“I thought you were an intruder!”

“Yeah you were really gonna get me.” He let out a light laugh. He had been drinking too, but not enough to get shit-faced. He was in his happy little buzzed bubble and it definitely had something to do with the other girl in the room.

You could tell Sarah eased at her boyfriend’s laughter and the tension in the air shifted into something more comfortable as she spoke, “Why are none of the lights on? We thought no one was home.”

“I was conserving electricity! The kitchen light is on. Don’t act like your electricity bill it’s a worry of yours, Routledge.” You paused and then added, “I’m drunk, don’t expect me to have clear logic.”

John B stepped forward and made a show of feeling your forehead with the back of his hand, as if this would show definite proof, and said after he made a big shrug, “Results inconclusive. Drunk? Maybe. Stupid? Definitely.” You eyed him suspiciously, you knew John B well enough to know when his words were laced with something more. He was smart enough to keep whatever it was to himself with Sarah in the room, pogue business and all. That was a line you wouldn’t be able to let him cross. At least seeing as you didn’t cross it first.

Absentmindedly, you pulled at your crop top as an anxious tick and then you poked an eye at Sarah quickly and changed the subject back to your phone, “Can you guys help me look while you’re here? I need to find it.”

John B muttered under his breath a short laugh that sounded like, “I’m sure you do.” While Sarah spoke up again, pulling out your phone from her back pocket, “We already did. Although, it is dead. I would think to be suspicious of you and John B, seeing we found this in his backpack but-”

You cut the girl off, practically leaping into her arms, but you stopped yourself a few feet short and accepted the phone back like a normal person. You don’t usually leap into the arms of ex-friends unprompted. “Thanks, Sarah. Seriously.”

Sarah smiled but said, “Don’t thank me, JB totally saved the day. He grabbed your phone by mistake. It was in something called a ‘Twinkie’?”

You silently cursed JJ for doubting you. Of course you had dropped it in the Twinkie; who goes anywhere without their phone these days?

“Well…” Sarah and John B started at the same time. And then it hit you. They left the party to come here thinking no one was home. Crap. You couldn’t just leave. Sure, you had your phone now but you also had at least some lecturing to do on Kie’s behalf. But your house on Figure Eight was far away on the other side of the island. You wouldn’t make it without being maimed.

“Seems like I totally foiled your devious plans. That’s too bad.” You looked around awkwardly, trying to signal to John B that either he find somewhere else to snuggle up with Sarah or she hit the road. “Wait, how did you get here?” If they took the Twinkie, they’d have to circle back for the other pogues anyway. Win-win.

“I drove.” Sarah answered. You internally groaned.

Sarah looked between you and the pogue leader. When she locked eyes with the boy there seemed to pass over them quickly, a silent understanding only a pogue would be able to pick up from watching the back of John B’s head. “But I have to get back anyway, Ward is going to be home tomorrow and I don’t want Wheezie to be the only one left cleaning up at Tannyhill.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and wished you could give Sarah a hug. She was being too kind to you, but you’re sure John B had already prepped her on all of his friends (and to be kind to all of them - overtly so). She was being a good girlfriend, and a part of you wished you had been a better friend.

She hesitated before kissing John B lightly on the cheek and then she was gone. Her presence in The Chateau, only lingering by the smell of citrus and floral perfume.

Which left you alone with John B. Who didn’t look happy now that your buffer and his girlfriend had left the premises. And yet, you had only found out they were dating hours ago. Very normal, Y/N. Act cool.

________________________

John B spoke first after running his fingers through his hair. Not once. Twice. His voice was stern as he spoke, but it came out more as a whisper than actual words. “Your phone isn’t dead, by the way.” His words sounded heavy, more tired than mad.

You looked at the glass brick in your hands, turning it over and holding the power button until the light on the screen flashed white and stayed that way. Heart beating in your chest, you chose to stay silent.

“When I found it,” John B started again, “We were already on the way home and it was going off like crazy.” You looked at him quizzically as he put his weight against the wall opposite you, leaning against the frame casually with his arms now crossed. “A lot were from JJ, just trying to make sure you had found your phone and that you had gotten home safe.” He paused and looked past you onto the ground where there was an old beer stain on the floor boards. “But another-”

“Was from Rafe.” You finished for him.

“Yeah.” He said, his lips in a straight line of disapproval. “I turned it off and told Sarah it had died before-”

“She could see.” You let out a little hum of defiance and turned your gaze as well to the beer stain near your feet. It looked like when Plankton from Spongebob got squished, eye and everything, and you wished you could smile at it. But here you were, caught and guilty before your only friend who would probably understand. And yet, the air felt stiff. As if the words that were being said hung in the air and made no room for anything else. You spoke again, feeling even worse at your choice of selfish words, “What did it say?”

John B let out his own huff and took in a deep breath, “What did you want it to say, Y/N?”

When you had looked up both your eyes met. His were lost and confused and yours were so similar. And yet the intention behind the feelings were so much different. You threw your hands up in defeat, “I don’t know John B. I don’t. I think I left JJ’s hat in his car so maybe-”

“You did what?” His eyes bulged, obviously surprised at your confession, then he shook his head slowly, “Let me backup. You were in his car?”

“You were in Sarah’s car.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Sarah doesn’t torment pogues.”

You skipped over his statement and asked, “How did you think I got here?”

“By being responsible?” This time he was the one that held up his hands in defeat. “But clearly I was wrong.” He retorted, letting out a small and angry scoff. You didn’t drink and drive. You didn’t walk. You had been responsible. Heat boiled in your cheeks, and your arms shook a bit as you stood there so mad, no, angry, that he could break the rules and you couldn’t. That he could be angry with you, when you had shown understanding just minutes before. When you had agreed they would go to Tannyhill for him.

“I’m not allowed to kiss kooks but you are?!” Your hand went up to your mouth as John B’s eyes glared at you, burning tiny little holes into your own retinas. His scowl spoke more than enough words as you let out a soft, and sad, sentence, “What did the message say, John B?’

Your phone was heavy in your hand, but you wanted to hear the words come from the mouth of the pogue in front of you. You wanted to hear him say whatever made him despise your actions so much.

Then it rang. High School Lover by Cayucas started bleating from your phone, playing mindlessly as the silence rang out between you and your friend, signaling that someone was calling you.

Despite John B’s heavy protesting look, you picked it up and answered, “Hello?” You sighed and then smiled at the receiver. JJ. He had somewhat recovered from his moldy bread fiasco and was checking up on you. “Yes, J, I’m fine. I’m with JB. I got home safe. No stay as long as you want. Seriously. We’re good. How’s Kie? Okay, good. Bye.” At least, that’s all that John B could hear of the conversation. You hung up the phone and looked at him pointedly, “What? Thought it was going to be Rafe?”

He held back a relieved smile with leftover crumbs of anger and said, “Yeah. A little.” Then as if he was lifting a weight from the room, John B stood up straight and walked over to the fridge, grabbing a case of beers and motioning you to the living room.

The call from JJ had changed the atmosphere. It had changed John B’s mind. Maybe it reminded him of something. Of what, you didn’t know, and clearly weren’t willing to ask and disrupt the soft and fragile balance of things. But something in him switched, and decided to possibly side with you. Did he sense the same shift in you when he arrived with Sarah? When you didn’t mention to JJ that Sarah had been here, as you would’ve if she was any other girl?

JJ had sent an unknowing olive branch between you and John B, and the world screamed at you to take it.

You stood still for a moment, watching him walk away with the peace offering. For a second you wanted to just drift off to sleep and to steep in your feelings as long as possible before having to actually deal with them. But then you thought better of yourself, you knew something deep down was dragging towards making a bad decision. A decision that would lead you towards the ‘King of the Kooks’, Rafe Cameron. And it was better to have an ally if life was going to go down that road. And some part of you already knew (deep deep deeeeep down) what you were going to choose. So you followed him into the living room, ready to sit down and have a ‘peace offering’ beer.

When you plopped yourself next to John B on the worn out couch, you smiled (a bit as your own peace offering) and chided him about the beers, “I don’t think drinking more will help us solve this.” The couch already smelled heavily of weed and had a few beer stains of its own. And yet it felt so much like home you wanted to wrap yourself in it. You were a pogue through and through. You could live on this couch, and you had in the past. It was something you had to get to know to love.

“I didn’t think you wanted to solve this.” He laughed a bit with a hint of sharpness to it, although the tension in his shoulders from earlier dissipating as he took a sip from the bottle.With ease, he relaxed into the couch and knit his eyebrows with his next comment, “What do you even see in him?”

Sighing, you fiddled with John B’s bandana which had remained on your head, “Ugh. Maybe nothing? Who knows. I don’t want to be one of those people that is all gushy over how ‘he’s really nice to me’ even if he’s a dick to everyone else.”

The boy reached over to the top of your head, pushed your fidgeting hands away and put the bandana back in its place. Instead of looking gentle, as the small gesture would have implied, he looked cocky with a small grin eating away at the corners of his mouth. “But that’s true, so…”

You punched John B hard on the arm, hoping it would knock some sensitivity into him for this conversation. “Yeah, okay? He’s attractive, that helps. But he’s also so, I don’t know…protective-”

“You mean possessive-” John B stopped you as you held up your fist again in a silent warning. “Hey, that first one hurt.”

“There’s a lot of things. He’s not easy. But maybe I don’t want ‘easy’. It’s not like we’re getting married. It was one kiss-” You didn’t want to confide too much in the boy. Especially not that you had thought about kissing Rafe many times before. You’d thought about how he needs someone to listen to him. Someone to care. You knew what that felt like.

The brunette across from you was now practically choking on his beverage while laughing, a pathetic excuse for karma. When he regained his wits, he said, “One? Here you had me thinking you guys had been hooking up for awhile-”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. Now that John B didn’t seem so openly vexed it was easier to be clear about your feelings. “What made you think that?”

“His message?” John B looked your clear confusion in the face and then grabbed your phone from your lap as if in a big show of victory. Unfortunately, he knew your password (all the pogues did at one point or another) and let himself into your phone. Then, as he turned the screen to show you there it was. Plain and simple.

Rafe:

Can we meet tomorrow? Need to see you

Then below it:

I liked talking to you tonight

You snatched the phone from the boy’s hand and closed it in an act of simple humiliation. The first message clearly did sound like a hook up text, and yet you protested aloud, “That could mean anything.” The second message however, seemed foreign coming from its messenger. Too vulnerable. It seemed like something he thought you wanted to hear rather than something he would actually say. But the last few hours had warped your view of him somehow, and it felt more genuine than you would’ve liked to believe. You could feel yourself putting hope into this (whatever it was), and even you (pogue opinions aside) could tell that that wouldn’t be good. Guilt surged over you, for the fact that John B had read it when it was just meant for you. There was one thing you knew for a fact and that was that Rafe wouldn’t have said that if he knew he had an audience.

“Not when I know for a fact you don’t text Rafe Cameron. Ever.”

“You didn’t even know it was reciprocated.”

John B smiled smugly, “I do now.”

You hit him again (just for good measure) and grabbed yourself a beer.

______________________

Waking up the next morning was not what you had expected. You didn’t remember much after finally coming to a standstill with John B the night before but you did know you had one hell of a hangover. Your head pounded as if hammers lived excitedly in your brain. The first thing you noticed was that your futile attempts of covering the room with sweet perfumes had already been overtaken by the smell of weed. When you finally got up the energy to look around the room you found Pope was in bed with you, still clothed and probably as hungover as you were, snoring noisily. It looked like he had crashed here without thinking and still had an empty solo cup duct-taped to his left hand. Smiling, you watched as he slept for a moment watching his chest go up and down with his breath. He looked so peaceful sleeping there, totally passed out from drinking. This guy was going to change the academic world. You knew it.

Then you groaned loudly as you tried to sit up, the bed creaky wildly underneath you (which led you wondering how JJ had gotten away with so many discreet hook-ups in this room), and still made an effort to not wake your sleeping friend.

When you got to the doorway, and it too creaked deeply as you opened it, you stole one last glance at the peaceful Pope. “Sleep tight.” You whispered, and closed the door. “Don’t let the admissions office bite.” Ha ha. Scholarship joke.

“What are you doing?” A voice sounded behind you.

Kie.

Turning around swiftly, you flew into the arms of your best friend and hugged her tightly both as a term of endearment and second to keep you from plummeting immediately to the floor after such a quick movement. Muffled into your hair, you heard her mumble, “Someone’s friendly today?” close to your ear.

While still keeping your hands on your friend’s shoulders, you pulled yourself away from the girl and steadied yourself from becoming woozy. The bathroom was too far to make it in time. “Just missed you. A lot happened.” Kie was wearing another one of her signature chokers and looked ready for the day. Her hair was put up into a messy bun and you could tell she had already been up for hours, which made you envious but mostly just because you felt so awful and already wanted to go back to sleep.

Her eyebrows raised, “Did it? I heard you left early. Get lucky? Score some free weed from a kook?”

Almost like a match being lit, you felt your eyes widen at your mistake. “No. I meant not a lot happened. It was very boring. All too much of the same. Little of this. Little of that.”

Kiara chuckled good-naturedly and pushed what was in her hands to your eyeline, ignoring your blubbering words. “Drink, Y/N/N.” She held up a very green mason jar you figured she had whipped up that morning. You liked green smoothies. You liked kale juice. All very good for you, and while it depended on the other ingredients, it usually tasted alright. This was not alright. And it was not a green smoothie or kale juice. When Kie opened the lid, the smell attacked your nostrils as if it were on a mission. Is this what Kie makes the boys drink after a party? Apparently you had never been drunk enough to need to go through with her little concoction. You were always very happy to let them drink their magic juice after downing too many plastic cups the night before and get on with the day’s activities.

You could tell Kie had noticed your disgusted look because she added, “Seriously, drink up. It’s not as bad as it smells.”

She lied.

However, Kie was kind enough to help you change out of last night’s clothes and get ready for the day before JJ got back from early morning surfing. The sad thing was, she was actually able to make you look cute and presentable. You kept on the choker you had borrowed from her the day before and played with it on your neck as you struggled to keep down breakfast. “I think I’m dying.” You managed to croak out in between bites of cereal. You felt guilty just sitting there, letting her help you. Hopefully to Kie, it was just another day of picking up after the pogues, and she wouldn’t notice your additional Rafe induced moping.

At this moment, John B walked in freshly showered but still somehow smelling of beer, and said, “You look like it.” He still worked for the Cameron’s in the mornings and was already dressed and ready to make his way over there, Kiara hadn’t said anything about this arrangement, though she was probably thinking of something snarky.

You stuck your tongue at him and feigned shock, “And you don’t, surprisingly.” You were about to mention how maybe Sarah Cameron had this effect on him, but kept your mouth shut as Kie closed the fridge.

“Neither of you do, my magic is working.” Kie retorted.

“And yet, the feeling has yet to go away.” Another groan from you.

This time, Kie and John B answered at the same time, “It will.”

John B made his way over to you while Kie was busy making another magic drink for Pope, when he finally awakened. “So, Y/N, are you going to pick up that important package today?” He coughed at the end as if to hide the words that had escaped his lips. Convincing John B, very convincing.

At first, you were foggy, with sleep and the hangover you thought John B was being stupid. If you sent a package anywhere, it would be to your house in Figure Eight. The pogues would just rip it apart here, and to go pick it up someplace would just be a lot of work in the long run. “What are you talking about?” You spat back at the boy, still carelessly eating your cereal.

“The hat.” John B spoke through his clenched jaw and teeth.

“Oh.” You said plainly, thinking back and shifting through your hazy memories of the night before.

“So are you?”

The magic juice suddenly did seem to be working as you shrugged and said, “I didn’t really think about it.” And yet your heart raced under your ribs as you silently panicked. See Rafe? Today? After a hangover like that? You scooped another dollop of cereal into your mouth before you could say more.

“It’s important to-” He stole a glance at Kie who was still busy, “get it back before he notices. And he’ll notice when he’s done surfing.”

He was right. That was JJ’s lucky hat. It went everywhere. It had been on his head for years. It couldn’t just be claimed to be lost. It was important. JJ wouldn’t just let it be tossed aside. He would be crushed. That hat held JJ logic, JJ confidence, and JJ magic. You had to get it back.

Unfortunately, Rafe probably already torched it as a way to rid his car of anything ‘pogue’ that lingered.

“Clear my dishes, Routledge, I’ve got a call to make.” Just to be sure, you took one last bite of cereal before rushing off to the backyard where you could at least have the wind from the harbor offer you some privacy.

“This isn’t a movie, Y/N/N, stop with trying to be cool.”

“Shut up.”

You heard Kiara ask where you were going as you exited, but John B backed you up with some bullshit story. It wasn’t good to lie, but it felt good to be a team. Anyway, it wasn’t unusual for the pogues to be bouncing around The Chateau like ping pong balls.

_____________________

John B’s backyard always felt more like home to you than your own home on Figure Eight. The wind always blew just right through your air, bringing with it the smell of the ocean. And now, as you stood outside fumbling with your phone the air sobered you while still throwing your hair a bit wildly around your head. Your favorite spot, in what was probably the whole world, was that old striped hammock. You watched it sway in the wind, left to right, as you dialed up Rafe’s contact.

Ring. Ring.

Your phone pressed against your ear, you waited for Rafe to pick up the phone. Doubt stirred within you about whether he would actually answer your call (depended on whether last night was a fluke), but you had loose threads of hope. After getting outside, you had checked your phone and been reminded immediately of the texts Rafe had sent you the next before. He wanted to see you today, right? That meant answering his phone would likely be in the cards.

He picked up on the fifth ring, right before it went to voicemail.

“Yeah?” The voice on the other end sounded preoccupied, and the thought of hanging up and fleeing back to Kiara and John B in The Chateau flit through your mind. Voices could be heard, muffled, in the background and the familiar gust of wind you were experiencing was also hitting his phone.

“Hey, it’s Y/N.”

Cautiously you waited for Rafe’s response on his side. You could hear he was saying something to someone on his side while covering the receiver of his phone, but it sounded a lot like, “Give me a minute, okay?” Then after a couple quick seconds he put the phone back up to his ear and did the best at showing emotion as the boy could with a plain, “Hey.”

Holding back an instinct to apologize, you simply asked instead, “Are you busy?” Feelings of vulnerability felt much more real and much more easily felt as the sun beat down on you in the open air.

“No,” He answered quickly. And then, “I’m at the range with Top and Kelce.” A pause. “You never texted me back.” You could tell he felt it too. The vulnerability in the daylight. Although probably less so than you. But it was there in the way he talked. Gentle, and foreign to him. Last night had changed something between the two of you. Less angry and more…wanting.

“I wanted to talk about that actually.” This time you paused. An uncertainty surrounded the both of you, connected through a phone on different sides of the island. “Plus, I left something important in your car and I definitely need it back.”

Rafe scoffed, “You mean Maybank’s hat? That’s important?”

Suddenly, a wave of protective instinct flooded over you and you held your ground, “So you know what I’m talking about. Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“And what about the date?” Rafe’s voice was quieter when he said this, hoarse and a little bit of harshness hid his sensitivity.

“What date?”

“The one I texted you about.”

A laugh naturally came out of your mouth as he said this, “Is that what that was?”

A stern, “Yes.” He was now holding his ground.

“I didn’t realize you were so bad at this, Cameron.”

“And I didn’t realize you were so annoying, Y/L/N.”

“No no keep going, this is really giving you points.” You meant to sound at least half as menacing as he did, but it came out with a laugh. A giggle. Anyone else listening could’ve sworn you were twirling your hair on the other end of the phone.

You heard him shake his head through the phone and held back another smile. “I can’t just ask you out in those plain words, don’t forget who our friends are, Y/N.” Your smile loosened. He was right. John B had already seen the texts. Now imagine Topper. Or Kelce. Or Kie. JB had just assumed the two of you were hooking up, which was one thing altogether. But dating. It’s too intimate, no matter how far it’s gone.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You made sure to let out a laugh with the question to keep it light-hearted, but you genuinely wanted to know his answer. Although, you doubted he would tell you the truth. This could all be a well thought out ruse for all you knew. You pictured the kooks laughing at you. The fact that you thought Rafe was genuinely interested.

“A little.” Rafe held back a smile at this. “You?”

“Oh, ashamed of you? Definitely.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“Rafe-”

“Yeah.” Not a question.

“This isn’t a good idea.” There was a part of you that needed to say this. That needed to scream from the rooftops. That needed to get the sense knocked into your head because here you were having a playful conversation with Rafe Cameron.

He let a laugh out of his nose, careful not to alert his friends. “Yeah, okay. Meet me at Tannyhill at noon.” Then, before you could say anything. “Don’t worry, Sarah won’t be home so she won’t be able to tell anyone.”

Then he hung up.

Shit.

Major shit.

Were you going to go? Of course you were.

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