Summary:JJ plans to break John B out of prison, you’re determined to help him.
“Y/N, no way are you coming with us,” the tone in JJ’s voice was final, but you didn’t care.
There was no way in hell he was going to be able to stop you from helping him break John B out of prison. Sure, his plan was by no means a good one, but when was the last time JJ had a plan that wasn’t batshit crazy? You were just glad you’d convinced him that he could come up with something better than storming the prison solo and guns-blazing.
“Screw that J, if you’re really gonna go through with this dumbass plan I’m at least gonna go down with you,”
He pursed his lips together, “Ok first of all, it’s a good plan okay?” He defended himself, grabbing his snapback off the table and putting it on backwards, “Second off, no. You are not coming with. Your ankle is still sprained- if anything goes wrong I’m not gonna get caught because you can’t make a run for it,”
“JJ,” you groaned, tossing your head back in despair, “My ankle is fine. I can’t spend another second here. Pope and Kie are killing my mood and I don’t wanna sit around doing nothing while John B rots away in jail!” You followed him outside, refusing to take no for an answer.
“You don’t have to do “nothing”” JJ rose his brows at you. “Once I bust him out we’re gonna have to find somewhere for him to hide,” he assured. “I haven’t gotten that far with the plan yet, but he sure as hell can’t stay here at the chateau- it’s the first place the coppers will look,”
I rolled my eyes, “I already told you he can stay at my house, my parents are out of town until next month. See, I’m a great problem solver,” I forced a sarcastic smile, “ I’m coming with you- that’s final.”
JJ sighed, running a had down his face, “You’re stubborn as shit, you know that?”
You only grinned in response.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“No.” He deadpanned. Before you could even process what he was doing JJ, had whipped a set of handcuffs from his jacket pocket and was putting one cuff around your wrist and the other on one of the wood panels on the porch.
“JJ- what?!” you looked down in shock at the cuffs, sputtering in disbelief, “Why the hell do you have handcuffs??” you scoffed, “Why are you just carrying them around??” If you weren’t so pissed at him, you would’ve found the whole situation hilarious.
“You don’t?” He gave you a cheeky grin, “They’re hella useful,” he winked at you and made his way down the steps and to his dirt bike.
You tossed your head back in frustration, “JJ come back right now! Uncuff me!”
“No can do sweetheart!” He hopped on the bike, revving the engine, “I’m gonna go break my boy outta prison,” He threw you a wave as he drove up, sending up a cloud of dust behind him.
You gave him the finger even though he was too far gone to see you, “You better not get arrested, dumbass.”
I LOVE SEEING YOUR COMMENTS! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK❤️
SEQUEL COMING SOON
A foot in both worlds, that was the only way to describe Y/N. But attending the Kook Academy and being invited to benefits at the Golf Club wasn’t that appealing to a Pogue.
Y/N would much prefer to spend her days sun bathing with Kie, debating around the bonfire with Pope, driving the HMS Pogue through the Marsh with John B and doing just about anything with JJ.
But love is hard at the best of times, especially in the midst of a treasure hunt.
this was officially your 4th mother’s day now and your first mother’s day not alone (besides jake).
you hadn’t expected to wake up hearing jake’s giggles echo through the house. normally, you always joke up before jake as you had your alarm set.
you looked at the clock and saw it was nearly 10 am, way past when you usually got up at 7. there was a note beside you in bed where rafe normally was, on it was scribbled ’to mommy’
it said, ‘we turned off your alarm. come downstairs for breakfast when you’re ready. we love you. happy mother’s day! love, rafey and jakey’ you teared up and folded the note how it had been, taking it with you as you got up to put it with your sentimental things.
after you brushed your teeth and put on a comfy robe, you made your way downstairs where rafe and jake were in the kitchen. “mommy’s here!” jake announced proudly, “did you like our note?”
you walked over and lifted him up to hold him, “i loved it baby. you and daddy did great.” you smiled at rafe, your heart content, “did you make me breakfast as a present?”
“we made cimmamon rolls, got you your fancy ice coffee and scramby eggs! also there’s presents but you aren’t supposed to open them till later.” jake grinned and snuggled into your neck.
you looked at rafe, tears welled in your eyes, “you didn’t have to do presents.”
“why wouldn’t i? you’re the best mama i know.” rafe said, leaning over to give you a soft kiss. “besides you deserve it more than anyone.”
your hand went to his cheek and you smiled, “you deserve the world, rafe cameron.”
—
after eating breakfast, it was present time according to jake. he was very excited as he had helped pick some of the items.
you opened the presents first which you could not believe some of the items. there were things from a new purse, new perfume to a brand new phone.
rafe just shrugged and said, “gotta treat ya right mama. you treat us good. isn’t that right kiddo?”
jake grinned, “duh, mommy’s the coolest so she gets the coolest presents. now card time!!”
jake proudly handed you his card where he had scribbled mommy on it, the only word he knew how to write besides his name and inside was a picture of the three of you. rafe had also had written a translation of all the lines of scribbles, ‘to mommy, you’re the best mommy. i love you. love, jakey’
you kissed jake’s forehead, “thank you sweetheart.” then you looked at rafe who handed you his card.
when you opened it your heart fluttered, there was a whole paragraph of love, but at the end it said, ‘thank you for letting me love jake and you. my life wouldn’t be complete without either of you. i can’t wait to have more babies and give jake some pals so he doesn’t have to keep slummin it with me all the time.’
you jumped out of your seat and hugged him, kissing him all over which earned a few ‘ews’ from jake. “i want another baby.” you whispered.
rafe chuckled, “oh i’ll give ya one darlin, but let’s wait till kiddo is in bed.” rafe grinned and pulled you in his lap to hold you tight. “i love you, angel.”
“i love you rafe. thank you for giving me the best mother’s day.”
your head was pounding as you rolled over right into sarah. you opened your eyes and looked at your surroundings, you were at the chateau currently sandwiched in between sarah and kie.
what the fuck had happened last night?
the last you had remembered was taking pulls from the tequila bottle with jj and then chugging before grabbing your phone to do something.
after that, nothing.
you looked around the bedroom, john b sprawled out on the floor, but no sight of your phone. you frowned.
you carefully pushed yourself up and got out of bed, trying to let the others sleep. jj and pope were asleep in the living room, yet your phone wasn’t there either.
you decided to walk outside, figuring you might have gone out there to do whatever nonsense you were up to. you knew you did stupid shit when you were drunk. that’s why one of them were always in charge of your phone, but SOMEONE had given it back to you.
you didn’t know who but depending on the damage you’d done, you’d chew them out about not keeping it from you better even tho it was entirely your fault.
you shuffled around outside, looking for it to no aid. it wasn’t by the hot tub or by the fire pit, so you walked to the dock.
sure enough, there it was, right on the edge. you sighed to yourself and sat down, not wanting to face anyone before you figured out what you did.
if you had run all the way out here it had to be bad.
you clicked your phone on and saw a text from rafe. your stomach flipped. you must have had some BALLS last night to text rafe as you were so nervous around that man.
you didn’t want to open it, but you did anyway. it said, ‘oh yeah? who would’ve thought pretty miss sweetheart had those words in her vocabulary. i’ll see you at the party tomorrow night and we can see what we can do about that. stay safe tonight.’
you gasped, you hadn’t even seen what you texted yet. when you did, you were mortified. how would you be able to look sarah in the eyes again after saying those things to her brother?
you couldn’t stop staring at the conversation.
y/n-heyyyyy rafey, can i tell u somethbg
rafe-y/n, are you drunk? where are you? but yes of course.
y/n-i’m w/ sarah n evryone. ofc i’m safe u don’t hav to wrry ab me silly boy
rafe-what did you want to tell me, sweetheart?
y/n-i wish u were here so u could properly fuck me ljke tbag shithead never could
rafe-oh yeah? who would’ve thought pretty miss sweetheart had those words in her vocabulary. i’ll see you at the party tomorrow night and we can see what we can do about that. stay safe tonight.
you locked your phone. you wanted to throw it in the ocean. what the fuck was wrong with you? you had recently been cheated on by your ex blake, who happened to be rafe’s friend.
you didn’t even know if rafe knew blake cheated on you. this whole thing was fucked and now you’d have to see both of them tonight and sarah was going as she was your best friend. along with your whole group of friends.
the night hadn’t even begun and it was already a disaster.
authors note: i know easter is almost over but HERE
growing up, you didn’t get any of the fancy things for holidays and barely even celebrated them some years. so when you had jake you were determined to give him everything.
that became increasingly easier when rafe joined your family. if someone had thought you went over the top, you had no idea what they would think of what rafe did for jake.
he had organized an egg hunt around the island, making use of the pogues since they were your friends.
he was even making, forcing, jj into an easter bunny suit.
the basket that he had bought for jake was bigger than jake himself. and that was just the beginning of what he had planned, you really didn’t know.
you walked into the bedroom where rafe and jake were getting ready. your heart swelled as you saw them wearing matching button downs and khakis. you smiled widely, “look at my two handsome boys.”
you took a turn and kissed them each on their cheeks. jake was only 4 now.
“thanks mama. i got you somethin to wear too.” rafe said, grabbing a dress out of the closet. it had the same matching print as the boys’ button down.
“oh it’s perfect.” you grinned and kissed rafe on the lips. “what do you think, jakey? can i join the club and match you and daddy?”
jake nodded eagerly, already hyper off too much candy, “yeah! daddy said we’re gonna take a picture with the easter bunny and a real bunny!!”
you looked at rafe and he threw his hands up. you leaned down and kissed your son’s head, “go play. i’ll come get you when it’s time so see the bunnies.”
he ran out and you looked at rafe, “thank you. for making this special for him.”
“you don’t have to thank me darlin,” rafe pulled you into his arms, “just the standard with me, wait till you see what i do for christmas.”
you snorted when he said this and leaned up to kiss him, “i can’t fuckin imagine.”
growing up, you didn’t get any of the fancy things for holidays and barely even celebrated them some years. so when you had jake you were determined to give him everything.
that became increasingly easier when rafe joined your family. if someone had thought you went over the top, you had no idea what they would think of what rafe did for jake.
he had organized an egg hunt around the island, making use of the pogues since they were your friends.
he was even making, forcing, jj into an easter bunny suit.
the basket that he had bought for jake was bigger than jake himself. and that was just the beginning of what he had planned, you really didn’t know.
you walked into the bedroom where rafe and jake were getting ready. your heart swelled as you saw them wearing matching button downs and khakis. you smiled widely, “look at my two handsome boys.”
you took a turn and kissed them each on their cheeks. jake was only 4 now.
“thanks mama. i got you somethin to wear too.” rafe said, grabbing a dress out of the closet. it had the same matching print as the boys’ button down.
“oh it’s perfect.” you grinned and kissed rafe on the lips. “what do you think, jakey? can i join the club and match you and daddy?”
jake nodded eagerly, already hyper off too much candy, “yeah! daddy said we’re gonna take a picture with the easter bunny and a real bunny!!”
you looked at rafe and he threw his hands up. you leaned down and kissed your son’s head, “go play. i’ll come get you when it’s time so see the bunnies.”
he ran out and you looked at rafe, “thank you. for making this special for him.”
“you don’t have to thank me darlin,” rafe pulled you into his arms, “just the standard with me, wait till you see what i do for christmas.”
you snorted when he said this and leaned up to kiss him, “i can’t fuckin imagine.”
Author’s Note: This is the start of my new series! It features AJ Maybank, JJ’s twin sister. It is also on my Wattpad, here!
I tied it in with this request, hope you enjoy: hey love not sure if reqs are open or non but I love love your imagines and am dyinggggg for some more john b lol, maybe one where you’re jj’s sister and are sneaking around with jb but he finds out?
kinda want to take this character but instead of john b, make her like madly in love with rafe and rafe never giving her the time of day but she becomes close with sarah when sarah and john b become an item she starts going to the cameron’s and rafe starts to get to know her and
You wake before Rafe in the morning. The words you think you heard have been on repeat in your brain for exactly seven hours; so much so that you’re not even sure you actually ever drifted off. His arm is draped loosely around your body and his snores are soft, leading you to reach down and guide your hand on top of his from where it rests around you.
In a way, you consider how perfect it would be. You wouldn’t have to live in a house with two strangers – to you and each other – for the summer until you head off to grad school, and you could be with him all the time. The way you’ve been dying to be since you first met him.
Another part of you worries. Worries that Rafe might get sick of you, worries that he might regret offering to share his space with you. What if he’d just been too caught up in his post-sex high to even properly remember what he’d said?
You bite down on your bottom lip and decide not to say a word to him about it, given you don’t want to make him feel obligated to do or say anything.
You feel him stir after a few minutes; his grip tightening around you and pulling your back into his chest. His lips ghost over your cheek, and he peaks his eyes open just enough to see that yours already are.
“Honey?” he questions softly, his voice raspy and hesitant.
You turn in his arms and give him a soft smile, urging the doubt and the uncertainty away. He relaxes a bit when he sees your sweet smile, but his eyebrows remain furrowed
“Hi,” you murmur.
“Hi,” he pulls you closer, eyes beading into yours, “You okay?”
Your smile is wider this time, “I’m great.”
Visibly, Rafe’s tenseness falls and he kisses your forehead. His hair is messy and his eyes seem extra blue somehow, a fact you study for far too long.
“Good. I was afraid you were regretful.”
“What?” you question, scooting closer to him without even realizing it.
He shrugs shyly, as if his suggestion seems ridiculous to him now. You reach up and press your palm against his cheek, stroking the skin there with the base of your thumb.
He hums under your movement, giving you a little smile as you do so.
“Rafe,” you say quietly, “I – no, I’m not regretful.”
You want to say more; to tell him how much you love him and reassure him of everything he could possibly be thinking right now. Instead, you just smile and keep stroking his skin, watching those motions reassure him in ways words never could.
“I’m glad,” he practically whispers, “Because last night meant a lot to me.”
“Me too.”
He grins, “Go brush.”
You bite your bottom lip to hide your growing smile, then turn and hurry from his bed and into his bathroom. Just as before, Rafe leisurely enters the bathroom after you, pressing himself a little too close and smiling a little too wide when you hand him his toothbrush.
You giggle, not even caring that you have a mouthful of toothpaste, unable to believe that you’re allowed to be this happy. Never in a million years would you have guessed you’d end up brushing your teeth and showering with Rafe Cameron, but something about it feels like a home that you’ve never had before. It’s easy, comforting, real, and raw. It’s honest; not some place you have to put a mask on and smile or pretend you don’t notice how your parents won’t look at each other.
Rafe pulls you back to bed after you both finish brushing, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling you into his lap.
“You don’t want to lay back down?” you ask him with a teasing smirk.
“Y/N,” he shakes his head, “If we lay back down, I’m going to end up inside you again, and I know you’re probably sore.”
You giggle, “You really think highly of yourself, huh?”
His eyebrows shoot up, as if daring you to continue, but a smile teases the ends of his lips. His hands innocently roam your body before stopping just above your hips, lightly pinching your side and grinning when you squeal.
“What was that?” Rafe asks.
“Nothing, nothing,” you backpedal, laugh on your lips, “Teasing you.”
“Mhm,” he hums, “Better be. You’re beautiful when you laugh.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss him.
He accepts your kiss with no hesitation; instead reaching up and guiding you down to him. He’s in no rush and he lets it show; letting his lips move slowly against yours and taking his time memorizing how you taste.
“Can I feed you now?” he asks against your lips, a part of you knowing he doesn’t want to get up from this position.
His hands remain on your body, tucking themselves under the tee shirt you’re wearing and feeling your skin on his own.
“If you must,” you smile.
His lips move down to your neck, starting a pursuit from the top down to your collar bones, nipping lightly at your skin.
“Don’t want you to go,” he mumbles, “Want you in my bed tonight.”
You squirm on his lap before you can help it, his words shooting straight to your lower stomach and causing you to bite down on your lower lip. Just the thought of being with him again is enough to have you drooling.
Before you can respond verbally, Rafe continues speaking, still against the skin on the opposite side of your neck.
“Every night,” he corrects, “Every single one.”
He pulls back then, his blue eyes staring into yours and giving you a small smile. You decide then, with him looking at you the way he is, to forget everything you’d told yourself this morning.
“Even after graduation?” you test it out, your voice high pitched and squeaky.
Rafe’s eyes widen for half a second before a bit of pink rises to his cheeks. You purse your lips to hide a smile at that, watching as he scrambles for something to say.
Um,” he stops and clears his throat, “You heard that?”
“Mhm,” you nod, “But if you just said it because–”
“Because I meant it,” he stops you, “Honey, I’d love for you to stay with me after you graduate.”
You bite down on your bottom lip, still unsure even with his convincing nature. He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from your face, his eyes never leaving yours as he does so.
“Are you sure?” you ask, “I’m messy, and I hate doing the dishes, and I can’t cook, I can bake, I guess, but I can’t fold shirts very well, you know, like how they do at department stores?”
Rafe laughs and shakes his head, stopping you from babbling on about everything you lack in. As if it’s possible, he pulls you closer , holding your gaze with intent.
“Well, lucky for you, I lovedoing the dishes, I can cook most foods, but I can’t bake, and I do my own laundry, anyway. We sound like the perfect fit.”
You grin then, unable to help yourself. The idea of this being your life everyday for longer than a weekend fills your mind, and no part of you doubts that you’ll dislike it.
“We do, don’t we?” you ask him quietly.
He nods, “Yeah. Let’s give it a try. Please?”
You suck in a deep breath and squirm on his lap before you can help it, watching as he swallows. Slowly, you nod, stroking the hair on the back of his neck with your nails.
“You promise you’ll tell me if I get on your nerves?”
He laughs, “I really don’t think that’s possible.”
“Rafe.”
“Okay,” he chuckles, “Yes, I promise.”
“Thank you.”
You give him a happy smile, one which he returns, then give him a quick kiss and lay your head on his shoulder. His hands stroke up and down your back, calming and comforting you more than he’s aware.
“Hungry?” he whispers in your ear, laughing when you nod.
“Pancakes?” you ask, as you rise from his lap.
He grins and takes your hand, letting you pull him off the bed. He taps your ass lightly with his other hand, letting you lead him out of his bedroom.
“Yes. I’ll put chocolate chips in yours if you make coffee.”
“Sold.”
Saying goodbye to Rafe seems harder this time than the others. You’d come here to fix things, and done just that, but the thought of sleeping alone, of reading alone in bed or watching TV by yourself only makes you sad.
You can tell he feels the same with the way he squeezes your hand once you stop on the dock, staring out at the ferry as if it might kill you upon approach.
“Maybe we could have that dinner with your dad next weekend,” Rafe volunteers, “Only if you don’t have any studying to do.”
You smile and look up at him, willing to agree to suffer through a dinner with your father if it means coming back to see him.
“Yes,” you reply.
“Okay,” Rafe grins, pulling you closer, “You could bring some of your stuff, if you want.”
You giggle before you can help it, “It’s March, Rafe.”
“So?”
You collapse into his chest, your hands clawing their way up his shirt to feel his bare skin. He shivers under your touch; your hands slightly cold against his warm skin.
“The semester doesn’t end until May.”
“I don’t care,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair, “Leave it anyway. It will reassure me that you have to come back every time you leave.”
Your eyes flutter closed, replaying those words over and over in your head. As usual, neither of you are in a hurry to separate, not caring about ferry schedules or the people around you.
When he squeezes, you know he’s about to tell you it’s time. Silently, you nuzzle deeper into his chest, your way of protesting.
“Honey,” he urges softly, “I’m sorry. You have to go.”
You swallow and suck in a deep breath, then pull back from his hug. His lips meet yours before either of you know it, moving sweetly and softly, showing you his love without saying a word.
“I love you,” you remind him when you pull back, your breath fanning his lips as you speak.
“I love you, too,” he promises.
Slowly, he removes your duffle bag from his shoulder and places it on your own, giving you one last kiss before he releases you completely.
You take a few steps away from him before you turn around, finding a cigarette already between his fingers and his eyes on you.
“My turn to write?” you ask.
He nods, “Yes. Soon, please.”
You grin and nod, telling him that you’ll do it. He waits for you to turn around again before he lights his cigarette, waiting there as he always does until the ferry is out of sight.
“Moving in?”
You purse your lips, not sure of what else to say. Emma stares back at you, her glasses resting on the tip of her nose as she gawks.
You’d made it into the apartment, having had to take an Uber home from the dock, and about twelve feet into the living room before you blurted out that Rafe asked you to stay with him after graduation. Her jaw had dropped instantly, and no words came out for a solid sixty seconds.
“Y/N, shit,” she mutters, “That’s big. I mean, you guys have only known each other for, like, what? Three months? Maybe?Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
You shrug innocently, “I mean, it’s only for the summer. He knows I don’t want to stay with my parents.”
“Oh, your parents,” Emma tosses her arms up in the air, “Who will probably go batshit crazy when they find out you’re bunking with the biggest party animal in the graduating class of–”
“Hey,” you snap, “He’s different now.”
“So are you,” she replies, “The Y/N I know would chain me to the couch if I tried to move in with Ethan after two months.”
Your jaw clenches a bit, defensiveness rising. You take a deep breath and try to see it from her point of view, which is the only reason why you see where she’s coming from. Before Rafe, these decisions would’ve been insane to you. Now that you’ve been in love, it just seems to be what’s right.
“You don’t love him,” you point out, “And,you’re not dating him. Officially.”
Emma shakes her head, “Not the point.”
“That’s exactly the point, Em. I feel at home with him. The only other person I’ve felt that with is—”
You stop when you feel the emotions swell in your chest, crossing your arms and unwilling to admit it when the two of you are on the verge of fighting. Her eyes widen when she realizes, taking a few steps closer.
“Me?” she asks.
You nod, “Yes, you. And I can’t live with you, so–”
“Oh, Y/N,” she groans, throwing her arms around you, “You know I just had to be the mom for a minute. Since you’ve always been the mom for me.”
You laugh and wrap your arms around her squeezing her closer. A few more months, and your best friend is going back to Virginia with her family, off to her next adventure. Without you. The fear of the friendship fading into social media updates and sporadic ‘It’s been too longI!’ text messages makes your heart ache, even as you cling to her.
“Does that mean I can move in with him?” you teasingly ask.
She laughs, “Yes. On one condition.”
“Which is?”
Emma pulls back, giving you a genuine smile.
“You have to call me everyday.”
You laugh and nod your head, pulling her in for one final hug before the two of you separate.
“I can and I will,” you agree.
“Good. Wanna watch Golden Girls?”
The week drags longer than any other week before it. Your classes get longer, your professors drone on more and more, and the hours pass by at a slower pace. You mailed Rafe a letter on Monday, reading:
Rafe,
I told Emma about moving in with you after we graduate. She was hesitant at first, but we have her blessing. Just thought you’d want to know that.
I’m in a class right now. I know I should be paying attention, but all I can think about is you. Can I send you a dirty letter? I’m afraid the guy who delivers your mail will read it.
Actually, I don’t care if he does.
All I can think about is the way you feel when you pull me close. The way your hands feel when they move down my back and slip under my shirt. The way your mouth felt on my chest that first night. The way you cover every inch of my body when you’re on top of me, touching me everywhere. I love the way your skin feels on mine. It’s one of my favorite things, actually. I can’t wait to feel you again. Every part of you. We’ll take our time this time. No anxiety, no rushing. I just want to memorize every piece of you.
Now, I’m thinking about hugging you and kissing you, and how much I want to do it for hours on end. To just feel safe with you and loved by you is the most incredible feeling in the world. I can’t stop thinking about how amazing it’s going to feel when I get to see you every single day.
Thank you for letting me stay with you. Honestly, I think I’d have gotten my own place if you hadn’t come up with the idea. I just can’t stand to live with my parents for another second. Not when I could be coming home to you every day.
Anyway, sorry my letter seems to be all over the place. That’s kind of been me the past few days, though. My mind is only calm when I’m with you.
I hope your week is going well. Call if you want to talk, otherwise write to me soon.
I love you.
Yours,
Y/N
When Tuesday evening rolls around, and you’re knee deep in homework, trying to knock it all out before you go back home, Rafe calls. You grin and slam your laptop shut, sitting back on your bed as you answer.
“Hello?”
He’s silent for a moment, but you can hear him exhale. You bite down on your bottom lip, waiting to hear his voice.
“You sent me a dirty letter?”
His voice is low, raspy, telling you just how much your words have gotten to him. You squirm on your bed, containing your laughter.
“Kinda,” you tease, “Did you like it?”
“Y/N,” he groans, “Yeah, honey, I fucking liked it. I had to take a shower after I read it.”
“Oh,” you laugh, then purse your lips when you realize what he means, “Oh.”
“You’re killing me,” he mumbles.
“Sorry.”
“It’s worth it. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” you say without missing a beat, “So, I get out of class at two on Thursday, and the last ferry leaves at–”
“Take it,” he tells you, “I’ll come get you when you get in.”
“Are you sure? It’s gonna be a bit late–”
“Don’t care, honey. I’ll come get you at three in the morning if it means I get one more night with you.”
You smile; feeling that familiar heat bloom all over your body. It pools in your stomach – evidence of your need for him.
“Thank you, Rafe,” you whisper.
You can practically feel his smirk through the phone, but you wait for his words anyway.
“Yeah, well, we’re going to need the extra night to give you even more to write about in your next dirty letter,” he teases.
You laugh, “I guess we will, huh?”
“Hmm,” he hums, “Make sure you check your mailbox tomorrow. I don’t want your mailman reading my letter, either.”
“You wrote me a dirty letter back?” you gasp.
He chuckles. You shift on your bed, laying on your side instead of your back, sitting up with intrigue.
“I did, honey. All of my excitement for Thursday is in there.”
“I can’t wait to see you,” you tell him, “I’m doing all my homework now so I don’t have to worry about it when I’m there.”
“Good idea. I’ll let you get back to it, okay?”
You frown, but you know that’s probably for the best.
“Okay.”
“I love you,” he says quietly, “All mine.”
“All yours. I love you, too.”
“Bye, honey.”
“Bye, Rafe.”
Y/N,
First, I’m glad Emma approves of you living with me over the summer. Don’t forget about my extra bedroom, Emma can always come and stay with us if she wants to visit. Ethan can come too, if they’re still a thing by then. He’s a cool guy, so I wouldn’t mind.
Now, let’s talk about how riled up you got me with just a few words. I mean, really? You of all people want to talk about how good skin to skin contact feels? Do you even understand how much I love feeling you? Because I do.
That first night you let me see you, I was putty in your hands, honey. I would’ve given you absolutely anything, right then and there. Touching you, feeling you, it was everything. And when you let me put my mouth on you? I thought I was going to cum in my pants like a fucking fourteen year-old. You taste amazing, and it strokes my ego a lot knowing I’m the only person who knows that. I can’t wait until you’re here. I’m gonna lay you down and memorize every goddamn inch of you. I’m gonna take my time, just like you said, and make you feel good over and over again. I’m counting down the seconds until I can get you back in my bed. Can’t wait until summer, when I can just keep you there. I might have to quit my job just so I can stay home and love on you all day. I’ll put some thought into it.
So soon, beautiful. See you so soon.
I love you so much.
Yours,
Rafe
After numerous hugs from Emma and promising her over and over that you will, in fact, come back on Sunday, you’re on the ferry. Rafe’s latest letter sits in your hands, the promise of reading it once more making you giddy. You relax in your seat and open it, careful of any lingering eyes before you dive in.
You watch the sunset just before the ferry docks, taking a few pictures to show Rafe and send to Emma. Just like it had a week ago, your duffle bag strap meets your shoulder and you hurry off the ferry, desperate to lay eyes on him once again.
It’s like a breath of fresh air, seeing him in front of you. His hair is a bit messy, and you can tell he’d come straight from work with his outfit. His tie is pulled out from his neck, hanging loose. His blue button down has you practically drooling, his letter now heavy in your bag as you think of all the things you want him to do to you.
He tosses his half-consumed cigarette on the ground and crushes it before he starts down the dock, easy smile gracing his features.
“There she is,” he says through his grin, throwing his arms around you once you’re close enough.
“You look handsome,” you tell him, unable to contain that thought any longer.
He chuckles in your ear, “Thank you, honey.”
His face nuzzles into your neck, his lips pressing quick, wet kisses there. You scratch up and down his back through his button down, listening to him hum contently into your skin. After a minute, his hands rise and cup your cheeks, pulling you back so he can get a good look at your face.
“Hi,” he whispers through a smile.
“Sorry, I forgot to say hi,” you giggle sheepishly, “Hi.”
He laughs easily, “The compliment was appreciated just as much. I missed you.”
“I missed you,” you tell him, pulling him closer by his collar, “I was reading your letter on the trip.”
Rafe smirks proudly, removing your duffle from your shoulder and placing it on his own before he takes your hand. He tugs you into him, then starts walking – rather quickly, you think – toward the parking lot.
“You’re gonna sleep well tonight, honey,” he murmurs, leading you right up to his truck.
Every single word in Rafe’s letter comes true that evening. You’re sure it’s well into the two a.m. hour when he finally collapses beside you, his lips swollen and pink, every inch of your body burning up under the feeling of his mouth trailing over the skin. He’d coaxed a solid three orgasms from you before coming undone himself, disposing of the condom before he climbs back into bed and pulls you into his chest.
Every part of you feels content, happy, loved. If it weren’t for the sleep clawing at your eyes, you’re sure you would turn around and kiss him for a few more hours.
Instead, you feel Rafe press a kiss to your flaming cheek, both of you remaining naked, giving you as much access to his skin as possible.
“Rafe?” you mumble.
“Yeah?”
You keep your eyes closed as you ask your question, hoping your body doesn’t burn any hotter than it already is.
“Can I take care of you tomorrow night?”
He swallows audibly, “Honey–”
“Please,” you whine, “You take such good care of me and I want to do the same with you. I might not be any good, but–”
“Stop,” he demands, “You’ll be great. I’ll guide you through it.”
You smile to yourself, “So, that’s a yes?”
“Fuck. Yes. It’s a yes.”
You grin victoriously, leaning your head to the side to kiss his forearm where it rests around you.He squeezes you tighter in response, letting you drift off to sleep without a thought in your head.
You wake up in Rafe’s bed alone, tangled in his sheets and his scent, but not him.You can tell it’s early based on the minimal sunlight coming through his blinds, so you pull the blanket over your chest and sit up.
Right then, he steps back into his bedroom, fully dressed for work with his tie hanging around his neck. He’d showered, you can tell by his hair, and you wonder how he did all of this without waking you.
“Goodmorning, honey. Sorry if I woke you,” he says quietly, stepping over to the bed to give you a quick kiss.
You oblige, pecking his lips before you pull back to rub the sleep from your eyes. Your heart sinks at the thought of him having to leave, but the last thing you want to do is make a fuss when he’s being kind enough to let you stay.
“You didn’t,” you inform him, “But I’m afraid you were going to leave without saying goodbye.”
He shakes his head, leaning down for another kiss.
“I was going to leave a letter.”
You smile at that, which has him giving you one right back. He steps over to his dresser and pulls out one of his tee shirts, walking over to the bed and gesturing for you to raise your arms. You do, letting him pull his shirt over your head.
Once it’s on, he leans down and kisses the top of your head, then reaches for your hand and tugs on it.
“Let me show you something,” he requests.
You nod and stand up, letting him guide you back over to his dresser. He pulls out each drawer one by one, letting you observe the fact that each one is only half-full, clothes all folded and pressed to the right side of the drawer.
“Why are you showing me this?” you ask him.
He smiles, “I made room for your stuff. So, your shirts can go with mine, and your pants can go with mine, and your underwear–”
“Rafe,” you stop him with a giggle, “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies, beaming, “Maybe while I’m gone, you can put some stuff away.”
“I will,” you promise him.
“Good. Now, I have to go. I made you some coffee and left it in the pot. If you need anything, call me.”
“Okay,” you nod weakly, not wanting him to go.
He squeezes your hand, showing you he feels the same way. He leans down then, his forehead pressed against yours.
“Give me a kiss,” he demands softly.
You do just that; grabbing ahold of the back of his neck and pulling him closer while you kiss him. His arm wraps around your back, causing him to groan when he realizes you’re kissing him in onlyhis shirt, and he’s still supposed to leave you.
“Have a good day,” you tell him when you pull back.
“Mmm,” he hums, “I’ll just be thinking of you. Here. In my shirt. In my bed. In my shower–”
“You’re going to be late,” you laugh.
“All right, I’m going,” he promises, “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“Okay,” you nod, loving the way those words sound from him.
“Love you, honey,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.
“Love you, too.”
You follow him out to the living room, where he picks up his stuff, then strides right back over and presses one last kiss to your lips.
“Bye,” he murmurs.
“Bye, Rafe,” you smile.
He escapes out the front door with one last smile and wave, locking it behind him. You collapse on his couch the second he’s gone, a daze washing over you at the thought of this being your life for the entire summer.
You’d get to kiss him goodbye every morning, eat dinner with him, show him how much you love him every night, and weekends would be your own, as they are now. It just wouldn’t feel so rushed, so vital to soak up every second of him.
You pour out a cup of coffee and lounge in the living room for a while before deciding to take a shower. Afterward, you dress and put the items you brought to leave here – just to please Rafe – away in his dresser. You’d brought a few shirts, a pair of shorts and a pair of leggings, and just to tease him, a few pairs of your favorite underwear. The idea of him seeing them every day when he dresses gets you a little too excited, especially paired with the fact that you love the way your clothes look tucked next to his.
Once your clothes are away, and the boredom starts to set in, you make your way over to his nightstand to look at the books he has there. Then, without thinking much of it, you open the drawer. It’s mostly random items, and you tell yourself you’re not snooping, even though you know you are. He has a spare charger, a box of condoms, aspirin, and other random little things. Just before you close it, your eye catches a photograph at the bottom. All you can see from the exposed piece is Rafe; smiling widely. You grin and pull it out without hesitance, fully not expecting what you find.
It’s Rafe in high school, holding up a bottle of Patron in his right hand. His left arm is tucked around Ava, who you instantly recognize, and who is smiling widely. She stands in between Rafe and Kelce, who you also recognize, but her body language shows how she leans in just a little bit closer to Rafe.
He looks happy, young, and carefree. So does Kelce, and so does Ava. You search the picture for a date but can’t find one, deciding eventually that it doesn’t matter.
The image you paint of Rafe sitting in bed staring at this picture and wallowing in guilt makes your heart ache. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s done that, if he does it often or if he’s forgotten the photo is even in his nightstand. It looks well kept, like he’d taken good care of it over the years. No creases or bends, no fingerprints, either.
You tuck it back away just as you found it, then leave his bedroom quietly. More than anything, you wish you could take his pain away. To help him recognize that it wasn’t his fault, that he can’t continue beating himself up over this.
Instead, you decide to do what you did for him when you first met him. You bake.
You’re knee deep in snickerdoodle dough when Rafe comes strolling through the front door, grinning widely when he sees what you’re doing.
“Wow,” he breathes.
You laugh but continue your work, letting him set down his things before he steps over to you. His arms tuck themselves around your waist and his lips come in contact with your cheek, making you smile.
“How was your day?” you ask him.
“Don’t even remember it,” he confesses, “This, right here, is all I was thinking about.”
You smile and turn in his arms, forgetting momentarily about the dough. He grips your waist firmly, holding you in place.
“I missed you,” you tell him, your emotions still present, making your heart heavy.
He smiles, “I missed you, too, honey. Is that why you’re baking for me?”
You shake your head, wanting more than anything to reach out for him but your hands are covered in flour and dough mixture, so you opt not to.
“I’m taking care of you tonight, remember?”
He bites down on his bottom lip to hide a smile, which is enough for you to swoon silently.
“I didn’t know that meant food, too,” he teases.
“Well, it only kind of does. I was hoping we could do takeout for dinner.”
He laughs, “Of course.”
He leans in, and when you’re sure he’s going to kiss you, he presses his lips to your nose instead.
He laughs lightly when you pout, chasing his mouth with your own.
“You had flour on your nose, beautiful,” he tells you.
“Thank you,” you whisper, body heating up under his proximity.
“Want me to order now?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He laughs lightly, “Finish up your cookies. I’ll get you a menu.”
Your cookies come out of the oven just as the takeout arrives at the front door. Rafe unpacks the food and plates it for both of you, then guides you into the living room to eat. He turns on Seinfeld, his new favorite even though he won’t admit it, laughing through the entire thing. Rafe looks at you expectantly once you both finish dinner, and when you laugh and nod, he hops up and carries both of your plates to the kitchen.
He returns a few minutes later with a small plate full of snickerdoodles, a smile teasing his lips.
“These are just for me,” he jokes as he collapses on the couch beside you.
“Ha ha,” you sneer, stealing one of the cookies from the plate.
Rafe lets another episode play through while he raves about the cookies, holding you close once the plate is empty. You cuddle into him, ready more than ever to feel him close again. It’s only been less than twenty-four hours, but all you want, all you can focus on, is him.
“What’s on your mind, honey?”
You chew on your bottom lip, your head resting on his shoulder. The show seems quieter somehow, even though you missed Rafe turning it down.
“Just thinking about what I want,” you reply weakly.
You know you don’t sound confident, and you’re sure that’s not sexy to him at all, but his voice remains steady nonetheless.
“What’s that?” he asks.
You turn and look up at him, your eyes wide and innocent, “I want to go in your room.”
He swallows, “Yeah?”
You nod and move to stand, taking his hand and pulling him up with you. His eyes never leave yours as you start to tug him toward his bedroom. He leaves the TV on and the plate on his coffee table, forgetting about everything that isn’t you.
Once you reach his room, you guide Rafe to the bed and let him sit, then crawl into his lap. Without wasting another second, you lean down and kiss him, deepening it immediately. His hands fall under your shirt, pulling it off of you without hesitation. His eyes widen when he sees that you have no bra on, and you watch his lips purse to hide his smirk.
“Rafe,” you mumble, watching his eyes move from your chest to you, “I want you to tell me if I do something wrong–”
“Stop doubting yourself,” he says, “You’re perfect. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
You nod, but stand from his lap and sit on your knees on the floor anyway. His eyes widen as you do this, jaw falling slightly when your hands meet his belt.
“I want to,” you tell him.
He nods slowly, “Okay. I’m all yours.”
He helps you by lifting his hips so you can remove his work pants completely, ridding him of his underwear as well. He’s already hard, and that fact skyrockets your confidence.
He shakes his head at your expression, scoffing slightly but saying nothing. Instead, he groans when you wrap your hand around him, which is another boost to your confidence.
Without hesitation, every thought leaving your mind, you lap up the small beads resting on his tip, which has Rafe hissing.
“Shit,” he grunts, “You’re worried about doing something wrong?”
You give him an innocent smile, “I mean, yeah.”
“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, “This isn’t going to take long if you keep looking at me like that.” You giggle and stroke him up and down a few times in your hand, your eyes meeting his just before your mouth wraps around him.
His hips buck toward you immediately, but you draw back before he can push further into your mouth.
“It’s okay,” you tell him, pressing a gentle kiss to his inner thigh, “Just relax.”
He lets out a shaky exhale, “Hard to do that with your mouth on me.”
You chuckle, your body heating up slightly. You take another look at him, then focus on what you’re doing once more, and take him back in your mouth.
You go slow, having heard horror stories from Emma about gagging and not wanting to embarrass yourself like that now, and stop when you feel him near the back of your mouth. He’s staring up at the ceiling, inhaling and exhaling slowly, and you take that as a good sign.
When you pull back and then forward again, your mouth never leaving him, he groans loudly. Your hand works what your mouth can’t reach, but after a few more pumps, you stop and drop your hand lower. You hollow your cheeks around him at the same moment your hand brushes just underneath him, causing him to swear.
“Fuck, fuck, f–”
He yanks himself from you, ignoring your pout that he didn’t finish. His eyes squeeze shut as he takes a minute to gather control of himself, and when he opens them again, seeing you shirtless and on your knees, he groans.
“Rafe, you–”
“Honey, you did amazing,” he promises, “But I’d like to last long enough to fuck you.”
You swallow and nod, holding out your hands for him to help you up. He picks you up once you’re standing and places you on the bed, pulling off your shorts and panties before climbing on top of you.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you remind him breathlessly, gasping when he nips at the skin on your neck.
He smiles against your skin and then rolls over, pulling you on top of him. Your legs fall on either side of his body and he grins when he sees you perched perfectly on top of him.
“Take care of me, then,” he smirks.
You just nod, leaning down to kiss him. His hand flies to hsi nightstand, opening the drawer and fishing around for a condom blindly as he moves to deepen the kiss.
“You’ll help me?” you ask him when he pulls back, tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth.
“Of course I will.”
You watch him as he reaches around you to roll the condom on, then grabs ahold of your hips and places you right where he wants you. Without him having to direct you, you sit up on your knees and let him reach between your legs to position himself just right. He smirks when you do so, but you sink down on him before he can tease you any more.
You gasp, stopping when you need to, given that being on top feels different to you than when Rafe is. He inhales sharply, still grasping your hips as if his life depends on it.
“That’s my girl,” he grunts, “Take your time.”
“Feels good,” you tell him.
He sits up, leaning his back against the wall, so he has easier access to kiss you. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he moves, even though he tries his best to be gentle.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, “So good for me. Give me a kiss.”
You oblige, letting his lips distract you while you sink down further, taking even more of him. He groans into your mouth, which only urges you to continue.
You start to move after a minute, hiding your face in his neck as he guides your hips up and down. The new angle of him being under you only increases your pleasure, as if you can feel every single bit of him inside you.
“Rafe, I–” you stop, whimpering when his hips buck up into yours, “I love you.”
He kisses you quickly, “I love you, too. Always.”
You release around him not long after that, and he follows quickly behind. You collapse on his chest, his hand rubbing your back up and down as you recover. He remains inside you, knowing you like being that close to him even after both of you are through.
“Did I do okay?” you ask him after a few minutes.
He laughs incredulously, “Are you fucking kidding? You’re perfect.”
You press a kiss to his chest, remaining on top of him until he quietly reminds you that he needs to take care of the condom.
When he returns from the bathroom, he moves over to his dresser to grab a fresh pair of boxers. He freezes when he sees your panties in there beside his underwear, and when he spins, your favorite lacy black thong hangs from his pointer finger.
“So, you’re just going to act like this isn’t going to drive me fucking crazy every morning?” He raises an eyebrow.
You giggle, “Oops.”
He groans, muttering fuck under his breath before returning them to the drawer and pulling out boxers. When he returns to bed, he pulls you right into him, kissing you slowly.
“Glad you unpacked, though,” he whispers, “Feels like it’s your home now, too.”
You grin and press another kiss to his lips, not rushing anything.
As Friday grows nearer, you become even more anxious to attend class for two reasons. One, if you had somehow been caught cheating on the exam, it could be the day you get in trouble. Two, you have to see Rafe Cameron. You have to see his handsome smirk and his raging blue eyes, all the while pretending to be unaffected by him.
He’s kind and good, you decide. He is all the things you are not. He studies, you don’t. He’s generous, you’re not. He’s thoughtful, you’re not. He thinks of others. You do not.
You decide on your walk to class, after considering all of this, that you will say two things to Rafe Cameron. You will politely thank him for helping you out and offer him a free drink at the bar, then you will excuse yourself from his life and sit somewhere else completely. He will just be a guy who helped you out in a pinch, one that you see every so often on campus and maybewave to or smile at.
What Rafe Cameron will not become, you think, is a liability.
You run through what you might expect from him as you walk into the building; you imagine he’ll probably just flash you his smile and those baby blues and expect you to melt, but you know you’re stronger than that. You hope,anyway.
What you don’t expect, however, walking into the room with your rehearsed words on the tip of your tongue, is to find Rafe already seated where the two of you have been, with a girl at his side. They’re both laughing, and you can tell by the way the blonde is beaming at him that he is charming the shit out of her.
You inhale and then puff out your cheeks, moving to find a seat all the way across the room. As you sit, you can hear the girl giggle, making you roll your eyes. You catch your mind dwelling on it after a moment, and you have to consciously remind yourself that this is good.It’s exactly what you wanted, what you planned on telling Rafe anyway. You’re just strangers with an act of kindness between the two of you.
With one last, long exhale, and the feeling of those blue eyes burning into your side, you pull out a notebook from your bag. Given that Rafe won’t be there for the next exam, you figure you’re going to have to start paying attention.
You take one page of notes and give up twenty-seven minutes in. The content is too boring, the presentation lacks any sort of thing that would excite students, and you swear you could take a nap if it weren’t for the way your skin was being seared under his gaze.
You tell yourself it has to be your imagination; that he’s not looking at you. You’re not even sure why he would be, given who he’s sitting beside.
The second class ends, you shove your notebook into your bag and make way for the door. Before you can help yourself, you steal a glance his way as you leave. He’s already watching you, and when you meet his eyes, he looks like he’s about to call out to you. That is, until the blond wraps her hand around his forearm to get his attention, and she is successful. You scoff lowly and exit the room, wasting no time hurrying out to the parking lot.
Black Boar is in full swing, and for once, you appreciate the business. It keeps your mind from wandering anywhere, and all you have to do is focus and pump out drink orders. Bryn stands beside you at the bar, and you can’t help but notice how she’s in a lower top than she’d worn last week.
“What?” she asks when she catches you looking at her with raised eyebrows.
You shrug, pouring your drink into a glass, “Nice top.”
She scoffs, waiting for you to hand off your drink to your customer before she responds.
“If it gets me twenty dollar tips, I’m fine with it,” she shrugs, “Speaking of, where is the mystery man?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” you reply, trying your best to keep your tone even.
“Hmm,” she hums, giving you a smirk, “Something tells me he’s around here somewhere.”
You just roll your eyes and get back to it, taking absolutely nothing to heart and doing the best you can to get those blue eyes out of your mind forever.
You almost manage to do it. Just as he slips your mind completely, just as you get in a groove of making drinks and handing them out, you see him.
Leaning up against your bar with his backwards cap and that fuckingsmile, you curse. He turns his head just so, as if sensing your distress, and grins even wider. You just shake your head, dropping your eyes from his so that he doesn’t draw you in. If he wants a drink, you decide, he’s going to have to do better than that.
Standing beside him, you notice, is the friend that approached Rafe while the two of you were talking last week. They’re talking back and forth, laughing every so often, and all you can see when you steal a glance is him sitting with that blonde girl in class.
Groaning, you walk over to Bryn. She’s pumping out drinks and really working for her tips, but she stops when she senses your need.
“Can you please serve him?” you grumble.
She frowns, “Serve who– Oh, my.”
You watch as she admires Rafe over your shoulder, grinning and giving him a flirty wave when she presumably meets his eye.
“Stop,” you swat her hand down, “Just make him go away.”
“Y/N,” she laughs, “Is this about the exam thing? He did you a favor, so what? You have nothing to be embarrassed about–”
“I’m not embarrassed,” you snap.
“Ashamed?”
“No.”
“Lesser?”
“Bryn, please,” you beg, “I just don’t want to deal with it right now.”
She raises her eyebrows, as if she doesn’t believe you somehow, but eventually shrugs and nods her head.
“Even though it will be tough for me to serve the guy who tips twenty bucks on one drink, I’ll do it for you,” she promises.
“Thank you.”
You exhale and get back to your drinks, not even bothering to spare Rafe one glance. As much as you tell yourself it’s not about the blonde and more about just keeping your distance in general, you still can’t get the sight out of your head.
In the middle of making yet another drink, you see Bryn make her way past you and down to Rafe. You can’t hear them due to the proximity and the volume of the bar, but out of the corner of your eye, you watch Bryn lean forward, then Rafe points over at you. Clearing your throat, you hand the drink off and move further away, hoping that might solve the issue.
It doesn’t. Rafe excuses himself – ever so politely, you’re sure – from Bryn and makes his way down the bar, stopping directly in front of you with a slight smirk on his lips.
“Let me guess,” he calls out, “You aren’t happy with your exam grade.”
You narrow your eyes at him, “What?”
“Well,” he laughs lightly, “I’ve been racking my brain all day trying to figure out why you didn’t, y’know, sit with me in class today. That’s all I can come up with.”
“Really?” you hike up a brow, amused, “You can’t think of any other reason?”
You can tell by the way his eyes flicker that it clicks in his brain, and the second it does, you watch his face transform. He relaxes immediately, grins wider than you’ve ever seen him before, and laughs.
“What,Lindsay?” he practically scoffs, “Come on, Y/N–”
“Do you want a drink or not?” you stop him, “Because I’m busy and you’re holding me up.”
“Does it help that I’m a good tipper?” he retorts.
You take a deep breath, exhaling out with a sigh and then shaking your head at him. Without saying another word, you make him the drink he ordered last time. He watches you as you move, and when you slide it across the counter, his face falls halfway.
“I appreciate what you did,” you say, “But, I’m good. The drink’s on me. See you around, Rafe.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but you turn and walk away, leaving him with nothing but the resignation to accept the drink and watch you leave his life just as quickly as you’d found yourself in it.
The week passes by in a blur of homework, shifts, and not thinking about a particular backwards hat. Thankfully, you make it through the week without seeing him on campus, and try to push down the anticipation of Friday coming around. You continue to tell yourself that you put him in his place, he knows what you expect, and he’s not going to push you.
A guy like him wouldn’t even think twice about someone like you, you think.
When Friday rolls around, you’ve trained yourself to not think about it. You walk to class and dread it again, knowing it’s going to be soboring, such a waste of time, and you’ll give up on taking notes after half an hour because you can’t focus.
You’ll sit on the opposite side of the room as before. You won’t glance his way. You’ll keep your eyes up front and when class is dismissed, you’ll bolt.
As you walk into the classroom, the first thing you notice is that you beat him here. That hasn’t happened since the first time you met him, and you tell yourself that if you cared,you would find it weird.
You make yourself comfortable on the other side of the room, pulling out your notebook even though it will be another unsuccessful day of paying attention. Glancing at the clock, you sigh when you realize there’s still eight minutes before this shit even starts. With a sigh, you bury your head in your phone, texting Bryn, who is already at work.
You’re still closing with me tonight, right??
She replies almost instantly with two separate messages.
Yes!!
Campbell just came by. Asking for you. I told him you took your tips and moved to Hawaii.
You roll your eyes at that. Campbell, your ex and second least favorite person in the world – beaten only by Jamie – sniffs around the bar when he’s bored, wanting a quick fuck or to brag about his new girl. Or his new car. Or his new house–
“Excuse me,” a voice pulls you out of your phone, “Is that seat taken?”
Of course, you think. Of course he wouldn’t have given up.
You know not to look at those baby blue eyes. You know, and yet, you do it anyway. Your throat constricts at the sight of him, no hat today, but a smile just as wide as ever.
“What are you doing?” you ask sharply.
He raises a teasing brow, “Well, when you enroll in a class, you have to come in and take a seat–”
“Don’t patronize me,” you snap.
He snickers and points to the seat beside you, silently asking again if he can sit.
“Lindsay’s in my seat,” he expounds, “And, given your ragingjealousy–”
“Excuse me?”
“Y/N, you never even let me explain,” he sighs, “She’s in my Economics class. She was asking for advice on her presentation, and I told her I was saving that seat, so she promised to get up when you got to class. Problem is, you barely even looked my way when you came in.”
You clench your jaw, “You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s not like I was expecting you to save me a seat, anyway–”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he teases, “You seemed pretty offended at Black Boar last week.”
“In order to be offended, I’d have to care,” you snap back.
He smirks then, running a hand through his hair. You’re vastly aware of the fact that the room is filling up, and as the seconds tick by, you know it’s more and more likely he’s going to end up sitting beside you. This fact, as much as it should bother you, doesn’t seem to, because he knowswhere Lindsay is sitting, yet isn’t concerned about going over to her.
“Please?” he murmurs, his blue eyes beading into yours and working you exactly where he wants you.
Breaking eye contact with him, you sigh and give in, tucking your knees into your chest and motioning with your hand for him to enter the row. He grins and passes you quickly, settling himself into the seat without wasting a second.
“No talking,” you decide, “And no smiling. Or looking at me.”
Rafe laughs, but is quick to drop it when you narrow your eyes. He clears his throat and sits up straight, unpacking his laptop and his notebook. You unlock your phone and revel in the silence, almost in disbelief that he’s actually listening to you. When your text chain with Bryn fills your screen, you type your reply.
Did he buy it?
She replies, No. Sitting at the bar, waiting on you. Guess he knows you never miss a Friday night.
You groan internally, trying to think of a good enough excuse to call out of your shift tonight. With Jamie, you know he won’t take anything less than you being in a coma, and even then, it’s still a fifty-fifty shot he won’t fire you.
You barely register Rafe tear out a page from his notebook, putting the boy out of your mind completely as the professor starts to speak. Just his voice seems to be enough to put you to sleep at this point. That is, until a certain boy slides a certain piece of paper onto your desk, distracting you completely.
You glare at him out of the corner of your eye, unfolding it with hesitance.
Hi. This is me not talking. Or looking at you. Or smiling – which is a weird rule. I’ll follow it, though. Who’s Campbell?
Your jaw drops at the idea of him looking at your phone over your shoulder. When you look at him, your disdain prominent, he keeps his eyes forward. However, you can’t help but notice his lips twitching upward, threatening to break one of your rules.
You scribble down on his notebook paper with your pen, making your words big and bold.
No looking at my phone. And NO passing notes.
He chuckles at the note when he reads it, and against your better judgment, your lips tip upward at the sound. You try your best to focus on what is being taught, but a fire ignites in your stomach when that same piece of folded up paper slides onto your desk.
Do I get to make any rules? Since you now have five?
You get one, you reply.
He grins and quickly writes down whatever he’s thinking, and when you read it, you practically choke on your own spit.
You have to tell me who Campbell is.
That’s not a rule – that’s a demand, you write.
He replies, Deflecting. Do you enjoy leaving me in suspense or what?
You snort at that, listening to him laugh softly beside you. The girl in front of you turns her head and glares at the two of you, which only makes Rafe laugh more. He nudges your elbow with his and nods his head at her when you look at him, as if asking ‘did you see that?’. You just roll your eyes in response, then look back down at the note.
New rule: no asking questions about my life. I need to focus. Stop.
You know it’s harsh, but the way your stomach is starting to swirl with every response has you knowing it’s time to pull away. You slide the piece of paper back to him and watch as he opens it with a smile, which immediately falls when he reads it. You straighten your glance out after that, wholeheartedly focusing on what is being said and taking careful notes as you do. After a few minutes, Rafe does the same, typing quietly on his laptop beside you.
Class remains that way; the two of you working in silence, you pretending Rafe isn’t there, and avoiding looking at him every time he looks over at you.
Your professor dismisses class two minutes early, and you’re quick to shove all of your belongings into your bag and stand.
“Whoa, hang on, Y/N–” Rafe tries, but you walk off before he can object any further.
Your pace is fast, but not fast enough, because you just make it out of the building when he catches up to you.
“Y/N,” he calls, “Just give me one minute–”
“What?” you groan, turning around to face him, “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” he blurts, then backpedals, “I mean – I just thought, y’know, after the whole exam thing–”
“What?” you laugh sarcastically, watching his face fall, “You thought you could buy a friend just because you did me a favor? I’ve told you I appreciated what you did for me, and I do, but if you think for one second that making me owe you one could make us friends, you’re way past wrong.”
He holds his hands up in defense, shaking his head rapidly. You just sigh, glancing anywhere but him.
“That’s not at all what I was saying,” he defends, “Or trying to do when I helped you out. I just thought that after that, maybe we could at least be civil. You know, you wouldn’t hate me, we could exchange notes, I could come to the bar without getting a death glare when I order.”
You furrow your brows, “I served you before this class?”
He nods slowly, “I thought you were going to poison my drink, that’s how mad you looked when I ordered. When you sat beside me a few weeks ago, I thought maybe I could win you over. But, clearly, all I’m doing is fucking bothering you, so, I’m just gonna take off. If you ever want to study or anything, my number’s in the class group chat. Otherwise, you win. I’ll stay out of your bar, out of your way. See you around, Y/N.”
Your eyes fall the second he finishes speaking, lips parting but no words left in you to say. He turns then, walking away without glancing back even once.
You draw back after a moment, then turn and walk the opposite direction, feeling nothing but guilt and a sense of sadness you just can’t seem to place.
The bar is relatively empty by the time you arrive at work; a few early college students who will be on the ground by eleven tonight, a few older adults who are trying to miss the crowd, and Campbell.
His lips turn up into a wicked grin when he sees you round the bar. He really does look good, but you would never admit that to anyone but yourself. Campbell’s good looks and charm are what drove you to him in the first place, but the relationship itself lasted two months. Campbell had been cheating on you for half of it, but hiding it behind expensive gifts, dinners, and two trips out of the country. He’d taken you to Italy after two weeks or dating (where he proceeded to fuck six different models in the five days you spent there), and then Greece just a week before the two of you broke up (he slept with multiple women there, too).
To say the man lives and thrives off of his money would be an understatement. He’s the same as Jamie – sleazy, spineless, and willing to throw money at anything that will solve his current problem.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he greets you, smug smirk on his face, “I kind of figured you weren’t in Hawaii.”
You roll your eyes, “What do you want, Campbell?”
“Same thing I always want,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his whiskey.
“Meaningless sex and cocaine?” you guess sarcastically.
“Clever,” he laughs, “No. I want you. I’ll wait for you to finish your little shift here, then we can–”
“Fuck off,” you stop him, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He lets out another laugh, but you can tell by the way he clenches his jaw that you’re pissing him off.
“Let’s not make any irrational decisions,” he lectures you, “Especially when I’m willing to sit here and watch you flash these motherfuckers your tits all night just to make a few bucks–”
“Campbell, I swear to God,” you interrupt, “I am not in the fucking mood today. Finish your drink and get out.”
Bryn walks up behind you, back from her break, which stops Campbell from whatever he was about to say. Clearly, it wasn’t fit for two different sets of ears.
“You’re still here?” she questions Campbell with the raise of her brow.
“I’m not leaving without Y/N,” he tells her.
She snorts, “You’re leaving in handcuffs, then. Walk away, why don’t you?”
Campbell just shakes his head, draining his glass of the whiskey inside.
“Get me another, sweetheart. You know I’ll tip you big.”
When he winks at you, your stomach twists. Not in the same way it does with Rafe; this is more sickening.
Rafe.As you make Campbell’s drink, you replay the argument in your head. How you’d accused him of trying to buy you when all he did was help you out – already crucifying him before getting to know one thing about him. As you look back up at Campbell, finding his snake eyes already on you, you realize that heis why you did it. Your fear of being used, being bought, being someone’s plaything, came out when Rafe has given you absolutely zero reason to believe that’s what he’s after.
“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.
Bryn steps closer to you, trying to get you to look her in the eye. She’s checking on you, you know she is.
“Y/N,” she says quietly, “Please don’t–”
“I’m not leaving with him,” you tell her.
“Good. Then what has your face looking like that?”
You can’t help but laugh at her bluntness, keeping your eyes on her while you slide Campbell’s drink to him.
“I kind of messed up with–”
“Sweetheart,” Campbell calls, “This isn’t how I like it.”
Your hands ball up at your sides as you slowly turn around, your eyes narrowing at him once you see his smirk.
“What?”
He slides the drink back to you, “You knowhow I like it.”
His eyebrows raise suggestively, making Bryn gag behind you.
“That’s fucking sick,” she mutters to you, “I’m going to get Jamie.”
She escapes before you can protest, but you dump Campbell’s drink and make him a new one anyway. You’re sure it will get busy soon, and then he’ll get bored and find some poor girl to prey on. Or, Jamie will have suddenly grown a heart and will kick him out.
Campbell opens his mouth to speak just as Jamie and Bryn round the corner.
“Just make him leave,” Bryn mumbles to Jamie, pointing at Campbell.
“Oh, shit,” Jamie laughs, “Should’ve known it was youjust by the complaint.”
You frown as they shake hands and catch up like old friends, and when Campbell winks at you, some part of you feels helpless. You’d known since you first met Campbell that Jamie would never have your back when it comes to his harassment, but it still seems to disappoint you every time.
Bryn takes the opportunity to snag you away by the elbow, pulling you out of an earshot from the men.
“Are you gonna be okay dealing with him?” she asks.
You nod, “I have no choice. It’s fine, okay?”
“Okay,” she says quietly, “Is Rafe coming by tonight?”
You’d told Bryn his name after she begged you, and you’d laughed when she said it suited him perfectly. You shake your head at her question, watching her face fall.
“No. I kind of yelled at him today.”
“You did what?” she gasps, “I swear, Y/N, your ability to self-sabotage is astounding. That’s why I’m keeping a close eye on you later and making sure you go home alone.”
“Shut up,” you groan, “I’m going to make it right.”
“You better. He’s our best customer,” she teases.
The night improves, only because it gets busy and you lose sight of Campbell for a while. You can still feel his dark, looming presence in the room, but as long as he stays out of your way, you really couldn’t care less.
Around midnight, your mood seems to improve. Tips are flowing in and the level of busy is just where you like it. You’re hopeful that you’ll be able to escape around two, but with the tips you’re making, you’d be happy if it stayed this busy.
Suddenly, as if you can sense those blue eyes on you, you look up from the shots you’re pouring.
In all his glory, Rafe Cameron leans against the bar, shot in hand, and darts his eyes away from you the second you catch him staring. You suck in a deep breath and hand out your shots, then step toward him. You watch as Rafe throws his shot back, his eyes meeting yours the second he brings his head back down.
You notice his dilated pupils first. Then his slacked jaw. Although, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. That is, until he speaks.
“Shit, y’know, ‘m not stalking you,” he slurs, “M’friends wanted to come’n here, and who am I t’ruin the party?”
“Rafe,” you say calmly, “You’re drunk.”
“M’not drunk,” he argues, shaking his head, “You’re drunk.”
You laugh before you can help it, which makes him smile; the one you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about no matter how much you tried.
“You’resodrunk,” you tease him.
“Am not,” he pouts, leaning on the bar, and by default, closer to you.
“Are so. It’s okay. At least you’re not a sloppy drunk.”
He lets out a laugh, “Nah. I make it look good.”
“You do,” you blurt, freezing for half a second before brushing the comment off completely.
Rafe breaks out into a grin, one you swear stops your heart in your chest for a moment.
“Are you flirting with me?” he asks.
“No,” you stand up straight, “You’ve been overserved. Back off my bar.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” he groans, “Don’t push me back right as I make progress. I’m trying here, Y/N–”
“What seems to be going on here, sweetheart?”
Your eyes squeeze shut at the image of Campbell planting himself on the bar beside Rafe. The absolute polar opposites of each other; Campbell’s drunk and seemingly territorial, while Rafe is drunk and has absolutely no idea what is happening at this moment.
“Sweetheart?” Rafe repeats.
“No,” you shake your head at Rafe, then turn to Campbell, “I’m not serving you. Fuck off.”
Campbell smirks, “That’s no way to talk to a customer, is it? Maybe I should run that attitude of yours by Jamie.”
“Campbell–” you sigh, but Rafe is quick to interrupt.
“Oh, shit,” he explodes, smiling, “You’reCampbell. Nice to meet you, bro. I’m Rafe. Cameron. I’m in one of Y/N’s classes. Let me ask you something, is she always so–”
“Rafe,” you snap, “Please don’t.”
“Pleasedo,” Campbell urges, smirking at you.
Rafe looks over at you and catches on something in your expression, making him stop. His eyebrows furrow and slowly, he looks back over to Campbell.
“Who are you, exactly?” he asks.
“I’m the guy taking her home tonight. Take a walk,” Campbell grunts at Rafe, nodding his head away from the bar.
Rafe stumbles back, as if Campbell’s words have physically struck him. When he looks at you, the expression on his face is unreadable.
“He’s not,” you explain weakly.
“Water,” Rafe demands hoarsely.
It takes you a second to process it, finding that to be a strange response for the situation. However, you do as asked, sliding the water over the bar to him. Rafe thanks you quietly, then takes down about half the bottle in one second. When he straightens his head out again, somehow, he looks entirely more sober than he had before.
“Oh, Y/N,” Campbell chuckles, “It’s not even one in the morning and your little college boy is throwing in the flag. How cute.”
You shake your head, “Something tells me he’s a better man than you ever will be.”
Rafe smiles at that, keeping eye contact with you and ignoring Campbell completely, whose jaw is clenched tight.
Out of the corner of your eye, Jamie’s waving at you to try and get your attention. When you glance over, he aggressively points at customers who have yet to be served, then narrows his eyes at the smiling blonde boy in front of you. You step in front of Rafe instinctually, nodding to Jamie to tell him you’ll get back to work.
You begin to step away without a word, but Rafe’s voice draws you right back.
“Y/N,” he calls, watching you turn, “Let me know when your shift’s over. I’ll walk you to your car.”
Campbell’s jaw wounds tighter at that, and you can’t help but smile. He grins at the sight, giving you a small head tip.
word count - 6.0k warnings - mentions of abuse, mentions of vomiting, swearing synopsis - You begin the treacherous journey of your dad’s trial, meeting your lawyer, a man by the name of Brandon Millerton. Some words from your friends reassure you that you aren’t in this game alone. a/n - we’re back baby!! I’m so excited to work with El again I can’t even describe it. I’ve been thinking about this storyline since I ended Ocean and Alcohol and have been plotting and brainstorming since season two came out! I really hope you guys enjoy it. Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay groovy folks!
***
The night was dark. Darker than usual. It was a new moon, so the only light shining down on you was that of the stars. A bitter breeze blew past you, making you shiver in your loose, thin pajamas. But you stayed where you were, rooted to the wicker chair on Ms. Lana’s front porch as if it was the only thing keeping you afloat.
Your bed wasn’t right. It wasn’t too soft and it wasn’t really too hard either. It just wasn’t…right. You’d never been picky about where you slept; the back of your truck, John B’s fold out, Kie’s couch, Pope’s front lawn. But the bed in Ms. Lana’s spare room wasn’t right. You could barely close your eyes before shifting position again.
So, you had given up, grabbed a glass of water, and walked onto the porch, where you sat in the wicker chair. Your knees were pressed up against your chest, arms wrapped around your legs in hopes of keeping some of your warmth inside.
Ms. Lana had a wonderful view of the swamp. You had always been so sheltered on your part of the island. There was just manicured grass and a tall tree and a house that was too large for three people to live in. A ghost house.
The home Ms. Lana lived in was nothing more than an old fishing shack. It was small, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a space for the kitchen and living room. The colorful paint that covered the outside of the house was chipping and peeled. Thinking of it reminded you of the story that JJ told you about the square groupers and the paint that was in his hair.
Another bone chilling breeze past by you and goose bumps scattered over your legs and arms, the hair on the back of your neck standing on edge.
The front door creaked open and you turned to find Kid standing there. His eyes were rimmed red and drooping. He hadn’t been sleeping.
“What are you doing up?” You asked anyway, opening an arm out to him.
Kid shuffled over to you and dropped himself into the chair next to you, dropping his head onto your shoulder. You placed your hand onto his head, brushing your fingers through his hair gently.
“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked him. Kid shook his head. You kissed his temple. “Me neither.”
The two of you sat there, watching the dark horizon. It was warmer with him there, curled up against you. It was silent, save for the rustling of the leaves in the wind and the soft chirp of cicadas. But it wasn’t so much of a lonely silence as before.
“El?” Kid asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah?”
“What’s going to happen now?”
It was a heavy question. You breathed out a heavy, cold breath, feeling your chest tighten. Kid shifted so he could lift his head and look at you, waiting for an answer. You could feel his little eyes on you, expectant. You couldn’t lie to him, not after everything. He had been through too much for lies.
“I don’t know,” you said to him, not sure if you could look him in the eye. “A lot.”
“When will we get to go home?” He rested his head against your shoulder again.
“I don’t know that either, Kid.”
He sighed.
“I’m tired,” he told you. “But I can’t sleep.”
“Why don’t you come sleep in the bed with me?” you suggested. “We’ll get some water and then go to bed.”
Kid nodded his head and the two of you clambered out of the chair that was too small for the both of you to fit in comfortably. Taking his hand in yours, the two of you walked back inside. Once your glasses were filled with water, you both tiptoed back to the spare room and flopped onto the bed. It was still too hot to be wearing a heavy blanket, so Kid just crawled under the sheet. Before you followed suit, you pulled JJ’s sweater over your head.
When you were finally under the sheet, Kid scooted as close to you as he could. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed the back of his head.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” you whispered to him. “But whatever happens, it’s you and me against the world.”
“You and me,” he murmured, seeming to already fall into a deep sleep.
“You and me.”
It was a promise. It didn’t matter what storms blew your way. You would do anything to keep your brother safe. No matter the cost. Steeling your resolve, you forced your eyes to shut. Tomorrow was a big day and you had a lot to do before then.
And you weren’t going to let Kid down.
****
You shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair, tapping your feet against the ugly carpet below you. You couldn’t feel your heart pounding in your chest, fluttering at about the same speed as a hummingbird’s wings. Pope had told you how fast hummingbirds beat their wings, but the rate was escaping you.
It wasn’t important. The paper in your hands. That was important.
Ms. Lana was in the chair next to you, the epitome of calmness, save for her hands that were wrapped around her purse so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
“Everything is going to be okay,” she said to you.
All you could do was nod and turn to look at the other empty chair next to you. You weren’t sure who was going to show up first, your mom or Shoupe. You weren’t sure your heart could take the ache of waiting anymore. Your heart was going to beat right out of your chest if something didn’t happen soon.
When the door finally opened, you nearly jumped out of your seat. Ms. Lana seemed to have the same reaction as you both turned toward the door. Shoupe was standing there, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’m sorry, Elma,” he said and your beating heart deflated.
You tried not to get your hopes up about your mom. You didn’t really expect her to stay once she was told she couldn’t take Kid. But with you still being a minor, you didn’t have access to any of your father’s money. He would be using all of it to buy himself a good defense attorney and you were left with nothing. Maybe it was naive to think she would stay and help you through all of this, maybe find you a good therapist or counselor or something. But she wasn’t here. Of course she wasn’t.
Still, you found it hard to breathe.
“It’s okay,” you said, throat thick. Ms. Lana reached out to take your arm and even though you didn’t really want to be touched, you let her. It made her feel better.
“What are our options moving forward?” Ms. Lana asked when it was clear you wouldn’t be able to.
Shoupe settled behind his desk, which still held Peterkin’s desk tag, and he sighed. He leaned forward and his eyes landed on the bandage wrapped around your arm. Heat flushed through your face. You had wanted to cover up the bandages, but it was way too hot out to wear anything long sleeved. So you shifted, pressing your wounded arm against your stomach and Shoupe’s eyes flicked back up toward your face before looking over at Ms. Lana.
He cleared his throat before talking.
“Your father is pleading not guilty to the charges of domestic abuse, so it will be going to court,” Shoupe said and you swallowed hard. “That means there will be a prosecutor presenting your case. I’m not sure how much either of you know about our system, but the prosecutor won’t be defending you and Kid, per say, but the law. The two of you will just be witnesses.”
All you could do was nod. You thought you’d been ready for all of this law and justice talk, but you weren’t sure if you were retaining any of it.
“Because you’re still a minor, your mom would be your adult attendant, but until she shows up, you can find another legal adult to be your attendant.”
All you could do was look over at Ms. Lana, your eyes wide.
“I’ll do it,” Ms. Lana said in a heartbeat, without even looking at you. When she moved to take your hand, you were welcoming of it. Ms. Lana nodded her head, affirming. “I’ll be their adult attendant.”
Shoupe nodded his head.
“Okay. The prosecutor for Kildare county is Brandon Millerton. You and Kid are our prime witnesses, so you will be spending most of your time with him-”
“I don’t want Kid to testify,” you said, your eyes turning to the name tag on Shoupe’s desk.
Ms. Lana turned to look at you and Shoupe scowled.
“Elma-”
“Please don’t call me that,” you said, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want Kid to sit up in that witness chair and have to tell a courtroom of his friends and their families what happened to us. I don’t want him in the courtroom at all. Ever.”
“Are you sure?” Ms. Lana asked gently.
“I will tell you and the attorney everything as long as Kid doesn’t testify.” With every word, your voice got stronger. You needed him to know you were serious. After staring at you for a few more moments, Shoupe nodded his head.
“Okay.”
“Promise me Kid doesn’t step foot in that courtroom until the sentencing.”
“I promise.”
You let out a slow breath and leaned back in your chair, your muscles relaxing. Shoupe stretched his neck to look out of his window, looking for someone.
“The prosecutor is here,” he said and your pulse skyrocketed again. “I have a few things to talk to him about and then you will have your chance.”
You nodded your head, mouth once again too dry to speak. Ms. Lana stood and let her hand fall away from yours. You followed after her.
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Ms. Lana said.
“I’m not technically Sheriff yet, Lana,” Shoupe said with an almost sheepish smile.
“You will be.”
Her affirmation turned his cheeks red and you almost rolled your eyes. The name on the desk still said Peterkin, yet he was sitting there. There was no one else who could possibly fill her spot. As many issues as you had with Shoupe in the past, especially surrounding John B and JJ, you were grateful for his help. Still, you wished it was Peterkin who was there to walk you through this. You hated being so vulnerable to a man.
And that sentiment carried over to the lawyer. As you and Ms. Lana left Shoupe’s office, Brandon Millerton entered it.
He was a young man, probably still new at being a lawyer, which didn’t give you much confidence. But his suit was well pressed, his dark hair gelled to the side neatly. He didn’t look skittish, frightened, or intimidated. He walked with his head tall, his steely eyes focused forward. As he passed by you, he glanced in your direction and you turned your gaze away as quickly as you could.
“Let’s go outside for a bit, yeah?” Ms. Lana suggested, a hand on your elbow.
You turned back to look at the lawyer just as he shut the door to Shoupe’s office. You nodded your head and Ms. Lana led you outside. You knew she was talking to you as you stood out in the sun, but you weren’t really listening to what she was saying. All of your thoughts were on the notebook in your hands where your testimony had been written.
There were very few people who knew the dirty details about what happened underneath your roof. JJ being the one who knew the most. The thought of sharing it to a strange man with Ms. Lana sitting right next to you, who knew barely anything at all, made you sick to your stomach.
Everything, your entire life, was written in this book. Except one part. The one part you refused to testify to. No one needed to know the real reason your mother left. There would be enough to throw your dad in prison until he rotted without the entire island knowing the full extent of what he did to you. You would keep that between you, JJ, and God.
Still, the thought of sharing all of that other stuff pushed bile into your throat, but you shoved it down. Ms. Lana had quieted down, realizing that you weren’t responding because you weren’t listening, but she kept a strong hand on your shoulder.
Kid was with JJ and Kie today, probably at the beach or the Wreck. He was older than you gave him credit for sometimes. He knew exactly what was going on, but he was young enough that you hoped spending time with two of his favorite people would keep his mind off of what you were doing and why he wasn’t there with you.
The door the station opened, causing you and Ms. Lana to spin around.
“He’s ready for you,” one of the deputy’s said.
You nodded your head and took your first step toward him before you could second guess yourself.
Prosecutor Millerton was sitting in one of the only interrogation rooms in the station, which was where Shoupe led you and Ms. Lana. You refused to let any amount of nerves stop you for even a second because you knew that if you hesitated at all, you would run all the way back to Ms. Lana’s house and never look back.
Shoupe opened the door for you and Ms. Lana. The interrogation room was cold, grey, emotionless. You appreciated the maturity of it, you supposed. Part of you had imagined a child’s room with toys and books and plushy chairs to make you feel more ‘comfortable’. You were glad they weren’t treating you like a child.
But in a room like this, you couldn’t help but feel like you were the one going on trial.
“Ah, Miss Elma,” Millerton said, looking up from his papers with a smile.
“Please call me El,” you told him as you lowered yourself into one of the cold metal chairs.
“Right. El. And you must be Ms. Lana.” He stood and shook Ms. Lana’s hand before they both settled into chairs. “My name is Brandon Millerton and I would really like for us to start off with removing some of the formality. Just call me Brandon.”
You nodded, unable to say much else.
“So, El,” he said and flipped open a file. “Do you know what this trial is going to look like?”
You shook your head, unable to tell him that you didn’t really care, that you just wanted to get to the part where you told him your testimony and made him also promise to never let Kid testify.
He started to walk you through the arraignment and the trial and what would happen and what evidence they would use aside from your testimony and how he would coach you through the witness seat and cross examination. Your lips trembled as you struggled to retain all of the information while still attempting to keep yourself from vomiting.
“I want to be honest with you,” he said after he finished. “In a lot of cases like these, the defense team will try to turn the tables on you and make you out to be the villain instead of the victim.”
That word hung in the air and made your nose twitch. You hated it. You weren’t a victim. At least, you had never seen yourself as such.
“What does that mean?” Ms. Lana asked, not as hung up on the wording as you were.
“It means that if you sit in the witness bench, during cross examination, the defense attorney will try to turn everything onto you. So, I need to know everything about your personal life. I know it seems unfair, but we have to get in front of anything they might be able to throw our way. Drug use, alcohol use, boyfriends, everything, do you understand?”
You swallowed but nodded your head.
“We have the burden of proof, El,” he said with a sigh, looking down at the case file. “And in your case, I’d like to say that it would be easy. But depending on the jury, I know these rich folks like to stick together quite a lot. We can’t have any surprises.”
You nodded again.
“If you’d like, today we can just start with what you’ve prepared. Moving forward, we’ll get into deeper detail and I’ll begin coaching you through everything, but that probably won’t be until after the arraignment, which isn’t until next Monday. Will your brother be here later to give me his testimony?”
“I…I don’t want my brother testifying,” you said, shifting forward in your seat. A chill ran through you as a sliver of your bare thigh brushed the cold chair.
Brandon looked up at you from underneath his eyebrows, shocked by your request.
“And why is that?”
“He’s a kid,” you said, searching for that strength you had before when talking to Shoupe. “I don’t want him to have to go through any of it.”
Brandon sighed and you felt a pang in your chest. Your request would only make his already difficult job harder. Even with your throat dry and your legs shaking, you would hold firm on this.
“Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it. As long as Kid doesn’t have to sit in that room and listen to his dad spread lies about us,” you said, finding your eyes stinging with tears.
Brandon dipped his head.
“That will make our job a little bit harder, but if that’s what the both of you want-”
“It is.”
You actually hadn’t talked to Kid about it. He would have done it if you asked. You would tell him that they just needed your testimony, that he could stay with Dex during the trial. That would satisfy him.
“Then Bradford won’t testify.”
“Thank you.”
“Anymore questions before we begin?” You shook your head. “Then whenever you’re ready.”
Your hands shook as you flipped open your notebook. Ms. Lana kept her hands to herself, but you could feel her eyes on you like a blanket. It was comforting in some strange way. Once you finally found the pages where your chicken scratch handwriting had scrawled out all of your chaotic thoughts, you set the notebook in your lap and breathed in deeply.
“Take your time,” Brandon told you. “And take breaks if you need. I understand that this can be very difficult.”
But you didn’t want to take your time. You needed to get it out. All of it. Let the words come flowing out of you before the vomit did.
Again, you knew that hesitation would be the death of you so as soon as the words were in front of you, you started reading them. It was nearly incoherent and not chronological. It was an info dump of screaming and beatings and the silent treatment and cleaning your own blood off the floor and scrubbing dirt out of crevasses before your dad got home and learning the perfect combination of concealer colors to cover up bruises. You lifted your hand to show the scar that ran across your palm as you told Brandon the story of how you got it, the same story you told JJ that night all those months ago.
And Brandon listened. He scribbled things on his yellow notepad, but you barely paid any attention to him as he wrote, unable to tear your own eyes from the pages in front of you.
You told him about dropping out of school and getting a job and making sure that if Kid ever did anything you knew would set off your dad, that you would do something worse to keep Kid safe. You talked until your throat was scratchy and then talked even more until you finished everything that you had written down.
By the end of it, Brandon was still writing and you were breathing heavily. You had barely heard yourself, so you had no idea how quickly you were talking or how little you were breathing between sentences.
You glanced over at Ms. Lana and found her misty eyed, tears on her cheeks and a hand over her mouth.
“Is that all?” Brandon asked, finally looking up from his notepad.
You wanted more?
“There’s this,” you said, lifting your arm to show him the bandages.
“Will you tell me about it?”
You pressed your lips together, unsure of how to even begin to explain what it was or what had happened, especially without revealing what had happened to you when you were younger.
“He…” You choked on the words. “He carved something into my arm with a steak knife on our dinner table.”
Brandon looked up at you then, his first real sign of surprise since you started talking. You couldn’t imagine how many cases he had covered that involved child abuse, but it was clear that you took the medeal when it came to this arena. Which you weren’t really sure was an accomplishment.
Once he collected himself, he looked back down at his paper.
“What did he carve?”
“Whore,” you said, the word coming out bitter. “I think you can imagine why.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.” You believed him.
“And before you ask about photographing it,” you added quickly. “You won’t be able to.”
“Why?”
“Because last week, I took a knife of my own and tried to erase it.” Again, Brandon looked up at you in surprise. All you could do was shrug. “It’s currently a scabbed, ugly mess.”
“We can talk more about that later,” he said. “Let’s get you some water.”
“I actually…I can just get water back at the house,” you said, not wanting to be in that room for any longer than you needed to be.
“Sure. I think we should stop there for today. I know how hard it is to share something like this with a total stranger, so I wanted to thank you for your courage and your strength,” he said.
You weren’t really sure you wanted his gratitude. You didn’t really have a choice in the matter, so you gave him a thin lipped smile in response.
“The two of you are free to go,” he said. “I would like to talk to you tomorrow, Sunday, so we can talk about the arraignment on Monday.”
“Will do,” Ms. Lana said.
“We’ll be in touch.”
You had nothing left to say, so you didn’t even offer a goodbye when Brandon did, you simply stood and walked out of the room. You managed to keep yourself together all the way through the police station, passing by cops who watched your every movement.
You didn’t trust a single one of them. Just days ago, they were hunting one of your best friends like a criminal. Now they were whispering behind your back like you were a common skank in for solicitation. You held your head as high as you could, Ms. Lana walking right behind you.
As soon as the police station doors closed behind you, you were vomiting up what very little was in your stomach into the flower beds. It was like acid burning it’s way up your throat, rotting your mouth, but it was better than keeping it in for a second longer. Bending over the wall, you heaved out water and not much else.
Ms. Lana held your hair out of the way and rubbed a hand over your back. She hummed quietly to you and the scene was almost familiar. You had a vague memory of being fourteen and hurling into the toilet at 7 in the morning while your mother hummed a quiet song, her hand rubbing a similar pattern as Ms. Lana.
“You ready to go home?” Ms. Lana asked once you were finished.
You spat the remaining taste out of your mouth and nodded your head. Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you followed Ms. Lana to her car, the sun beating down on you from high above.
The drive back to Ms. Lana’s house was quiet. She let you know that if you needed to throw up again, she was more than willing to pull over. But you had nothing left to hurl out of your stomach. As soon as Ms. Lana pulled out of the driveway, you pulled out your phone and texted JJ, letting him know that you were on the way home.
Your legs bounced as you waited for a reply. It came quickly, which soothed your uneasiness.
K. Bringing ice cream.
You almost smiled. You and Ms. Lana made it back home before JJ, Kie, and Kid did. At first, you wished that Kid was there as soon as you were, but his absence gave you time to brush your teeth and find something salty to eat. You were eating Saltines at the dinner table across from Ms. Lana when Kid ran in through the front door.
“El!” He ran over and threw his arms around you.
“Hey, Kid. What’ve you been up to?” you asked, brushing dirt off of his chin.
“JJ and Kiara took me on a hike,” he said. “Walked up and around some of the trails.”
“Sounds like fun,” you said. “You leave them up there?”
Kid rolled his eyes.
“No,” he said. “They’re just slow.”
“I see.”
“We brought ice cream!”
With that announcement, Kid ran off to your room to change out of his muddy clothes. Not long afterward, Kie and JJ walked into the house. Kie had a tub of ice cream in her hands and a smile on her face.
“Hey!” you said, trying your best to give them a smile.
“Ice cream!” Kie said in response as she lifted the tub into the air. “I’ll start serving.”
“Hi,” you whispered.
JJ walked over to you and pressed a short kiss against the top of your head. He walked around to the other side of the table and did the same to Ms. Lana, whose eyes widened at you. You shrugged at her, now trying to hide a smile that you couldn’t resist.
“We got chocolate. I hope that works,” JJ said, following Kie to the counter.
“Wonderful,” Ms. Lana said. “Thank you guys for watching Kid today.”
“He’s the sweetest thing in the entire world,” Kie mused.
“I thought about drop kicking him off a cliff a few times,” JJ said, swiping two of the bowls off of the counter.
He set one of the bowls next to you and you stuck your tongue out at him.
“You’re off babysitting duty,” you told him.
“Thank God,” JJ huffed before shoving some of the ice cream in his mouth.
Kie sat at the table, handing a bowl off to Ms. Lana and left one out for Kid whenever he was ready.
“How did it go?” Kie asked after leaving a few moments for silence.
You breathed in deeply, leaving the cold spoon in your mouth for a few moments.
“I went okay,” you said with a sigh. “Mom didn’t show up.”
“El, I’m sorry,” Kie said, but you shook your head.
“I didn’t expect her to come,” you told her quickly. “Besides, I’d rather have Ms. Lana with me.”
Ms. Lana’s cheeks tinged red as she took a bite of ice cream to hide her smile.
“When’s the arraignment?” Kie asked.
“Monday.”
“What’s that?” JJ asked, pushing his already empty bowl away from him. As Kie started to explain, you pushed your bowl closer to him, which he gladly accepted.
“It’s where Gerald’s defense team pleads guilty or not,” Kie said.
“How could he be anything but guilty?” JJ asked and you cringed as he flickered chocolate ice cream off of his spoon onto the table.
“If they think they have a good defense,” Kie said slowly, glancing at you.
“That’s bullshit,” JJ said.
“Watch your mouth under my roof, Maybank,” Ms. Lana said sharply.
“Sorry, Ms. Lana.”
“It is bullshit,” said Kid, shuffling over to the table and his half melted ice cream.
“Kid,” you hissed at him but he shrugged you off.
“But it is!” he said loudly. “It’s not fair! After everything…they should just lock him away.”
Ms. Lana sighed and so did you, leaning your jaw against a propped up hand and put a hand on his shoulder.
“This is the way our system works, Kid,” you told him as gently as you could. “He has rights like you and me, rights to a trial by jury of his peers.”
“I hate it,” he muttered.
“It is the same system that will keep John B from going to prison,” Kie said.
“Maybe,” JJ said under his breath.
“Hey, Kid, we can talk about this later,” you said, sending a sharp look JJ’s way. “I’ll answer all of your questions, okay?”
Kid nodded solemnly.
“Good. Eat your ice cream.”
As Ms. Lana and Kid finished their food, you, Kie, and JJ stepped outside.
“You’ve got a strong brother in there,” JJ said, settling onto the beat up porch.
“He shouldn’t have to be,” you said with a heavy sigh as you dropped yourself into the wicker chair. Kie found another chair to sit in and did so with a smile and a sigh.
“Did it go okay?” Kie asked you, obviously referring to the meeting with the lawyer.
“It sucked ass,” you said with a heavy sigh. “But that’s got to be the hardest part, right? Until I have to say the same thing again in front of an entire jury and courthouse full of people that I know.”
“Is your lawyer nice?”
“Ah, Brandon Millerton,” you said, leaning your head back against the wall.
“Your lawyer’s a dude?” JJ asked, his tone a little bit harsher than you expected.
“Not like I had a choice in the matter. But yes, my lawyer’s a dude.”
“A cute dude?”
“Not cuter than you,” you said and poked JJ in the nose. He scrunched up his nose in a mocking way. “He seems like an okay guy. Hopefully he does his job well.”
“Will you be at the arraignment on Monday?” You nodded your head slowly. “Then we will, too.”
“Yeah, us, and Pope and John B and Sarah. We’ll all be there,” JJ told you.
“No, no, you guys don’t have to do that.” You shook your head. “Especially not John B and Sarah. They have their own trials they have to deal with eventually. I don’t want them to have to-”
“We’re all going to be there, El,” Kie said. “No matter what. Right, JJ?”
“Ehhhh, I dunno,” he said, stretching. “On second thought, I have a lot of catching up to do before school starts and-”
Kie shut him up by punching him in the shoulder, but it actually made you laugh. The thought of JJ doing school work was a funny enough image in your head.
“We’re with you in this to the end, Ellie,” JJ said, putting a hand on your knee.
“Careful there, Maybank,” you teased. “You’re doing the emotional shit again.”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“Okay, nope, no, none of that,” Kie said, waving her hands through the air. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you two flirt. No way.”
“Then close your eyes,” JJ said.
Kie looked like she was going to tackle him and pummel him with her fists when her phone rang.
“Damn, the parents are calling,” she said with a sigh. “Gotta head home. I’ll see you Monday?”
“See you Monday,” you said. Kie waved goodbye and skipped back to her car. You and JJ watched her go before turning back to look at each other.
“Will you stay tonight?” you asked him before he could say anything.
“I have nowhere else to be,” he told you.
You nodded your head and stood, beckoning for him to come back inside. Ms. Lana and Kid were still there with their empty bowls of ice cream. They were laughing about something, but quieted down when you and JJ walked back inside.
“Is it okay if JJ stays over?” You asked Ms. Lana, who nodded.
“Of course. I’ll get started on dinner,” she said, standing. She took the empty bowls from the table. “JJ, will you help me?”
JJ looked over at Lana and then glanced at you. You dipped your head at him, putting a hand on Kid’s shoulder.
“Sure.”
“C’mere,” you said to Kid, nodding your head toward the back room.
Kid pushed himself out of the chair and followed you into the room. You sat cross legged onto the bed and patted the blankets next to you, motioning for him to sit beside you. He did so, his head hanging.
“There are just a few things I wanted to talk to you about before tomorrow,” you said to him, fiddling with your fingers.
“It’s about Dad,” he said, his words so quiet you could barely hear him.
Your throat tightened and you nodded his head.
“Yeah, it is. The very first step of the trial is on Monday,” you told him slowly. “I’ve talked to the lawyer, his name is Brandon Millerton, and we have agreed that you won’t take the stand, okay? You don’t have to talk to anyone ever. I’ll do all of the talking.”
Kid let out a heavy breath, still looking at his hands. His shoulders sagged with what you thought might be relief.
“I also want to make sure you never have to see Dad again,” you continued. “So, during the trial, you will be staying with Dex and his family.”
Kid lifted his head suddenly, eyes wide.
“What? No!”
“Kid, please-”
“El, I’m not going to hide while you’re in there in front of all those people.”
“I’m just trying to protect you, alright? The only way I know how to do that is make sure that you’re not in the courtroom during the trial. No matter what happens, I don’t want you to have to even see Dad or him to see you. It’ll only hurt you.”
“I’m not scared of him!”
“I know, I know. And I know you’re a strong kid. I’m not trying to keep you in the dark. I will come back every day and tell you what’s happened.”
“But, El-”
“Listen, Kid, please. Trust that I am trying to do what is best for you.” Kid still looked confused, his eyebrows pinched together. You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. “Dad’s team, if they plead not guilty at the arraignment, will try to pin everything on someone else and that person will likely be me.”
“So I should be there to tell them that it isn’t you!”
“No, Kid!” You raised your voice louder than you had meant to and he flinched. “They will tell the jury things about me that you do not know. I don’t want any of that getting into your head. I can take whatever they throw at me, okay? I can take it. But what I won’t survive is if you look at me any differently because of what happens in that courtroom. Do you understand? I have to protect you from that and I have to protect myself, too.”
“I don’t care what they say,” he said quietly after a while.
“I know that it doesn’t seem like it, but the best way for you to help me is to stay with Dex during the trial,” you told him. Slowly, Kid nodded his head.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay?” You finally felt like you could breathe, a weight lifting off of your chest. “Okay, good.”
Kid leaned forward, indicating to you that he wanted a hug. Wrapping your arms around him, you were glad that he wasn’t angry with you. You knew that this was the best thing for him, but you had been worried that he would hate you for this decision. You kissed the top of his head before clambering off of the bed.
“Let’s go help Lana and JJ with dinner,” you said, offering your hand to him.
(if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know! If you were already added to the taglist but changed your url, please also let me know so that I can update it. Thank you!!)
JJ doesn’t even mean to let it slip. One second he and Pope are macking as they do and the next his back is on the bed with Pope above him doing ungodly things with his body and it just…comes right out.
And Pope freezes, takes his lips off JJ’s neck which causes the blonde boy to a release a particularly embarassing whine as he looks at him but Pope is just staring at him. Head cocked to the side, eyebrows quirked and JJ wonders how Pope could go from the human personification of sin to a little confused angel in the span of two seconds but he doesn’t comment.
“What?”
“JJ…did you just call me golden boy?”
And JJ is like, completely confused because….did he just call him golden boy?
“No.” Which is a lie that Pope laughs at. JJ is mortified because why the fuck would he call him that? Yeah, Pope is kind of a talker whenever things get heated between them and JJ usually just makes whatever noise he can in appreciation because it’s by far one of the hottest and most surprising things about his boyfriend.
“Yeah, yeah you did. You literally said, “so good, feels so good golden boy”” Pope says, repeating exactly what JJ had said word for word and frankly, it makes JJ want to die.
Pope catches it, how JJ begins to freeze up and invert back into himself because despite the confidence he exudes into the world, he’s ridiculously insecure.
“I’m sorry, I didn’-”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t into it.” Pope corrects, moving to close the distance between them. JJ’s lips form a surprised O before Pope kisses him quickly. He pulls away all too soon and JJ’s frustration is painfully present at the action.
“Pope I-please.” He doesn’t even open his eyes. Just reaches out blindly to grasp Pope’s exposed skin and he hears his boyfriend laugh.
“Say it again.” He says and JJ’s feels himself gulp a little because there’s no reason that should’ve sounded as sexy as it did. He opens his eyes to see Pope leaning over him and fuck, how could he not do anything this literal god asked of him.
“You uh-you want me to say it again?” Pope nods, moving to peck his lips one more time. JJ caves because Pope could ask JJ to do almost anything and he would within a heartbeat.
“Golden Boy.” JJ whispers and Pope smiles.
“Again.” He moves to kiss JJ’s neck and the blonde’s eyes flutter close.
“Golden B-Boy.”
Pope makes him say it again. And again and again and again and-well, no further explanation needed.
send requests if you want, this just popped into my head while writing the pet name heacanons. <3
A/n: I did about an hour and a half of excessive research just to find out what day and time Rafe could have been born to have the Big Three I headcanon him having so y'all better show some love. (October 30th, 2001 at 1:00am)
~~
Rafe doesn’t understand poetry. It doesn’t make him feel things. It isn’t special to him.
He’s the kind of guy to say “that’s homophobic” to things he doesn’t like.
“No, I won’t get you a beer, get one for yourself” “that’s homophobic”
my favourite pass time is reading angst fics when i’m about to get my period so i can cry like a little bitch so if anyone has good jj or rafe angst recs please let me know
authors note: hello lovely friends! back from the dead with some actual writing this time. warning this hasn’t been proof read or anything fancy just my silly little thoughts <3
warnings:one small nightmare but no detail at all
“you are the most infuriating person i’ve ever interacted with” you whisper under your breath.
the low chuckle behind you made you want to stab someone’s eye balls out. his eyeballs out to be more specific.
“aw cmon you know i’m just playing around. i’m sure you’re fully capable of opening a door. but who knows, maybe you’re only book smart. not door smart”
that infuriating prick. you were going to whirl around and give that cheeky motherfucker a peice of your mind. wipe that silly beautiful smirk-
click!
the handle under your palm suddenly jerked downwards and the door of the hotel room flew open. you let out a small sigh of relief, hoping the pouge behind you would stop making his comments now.
unfortunately that wasn’t the case as he opened his mouth and said, “look at that. people can learn new tricks.”
you scowled to yourself, choosing to ignore his dig, and walked into the stingy hotel room. it smelled like all the other humid and frankly gross hotel rooms the school had bought for you in your years on the decathlon team. the smell was almost comforting, or at least familiar.
pope though, who’d only recently joined the decathlon team, scrunched his nose in disgust. “what in the world is that smell?” he asked.
you shrugged your shoulders and placed your suitcase on the twin bed you wanted to claim.
pope chuckled again, amused. “so what? now i’m getting the silent treatment?”
you simply ignored him and made a big show of unpacking your smaller bag. slowly, you pulled our your toriletry bag, phone charger, and the crazy amount of flash cards you’d spent hours making in the previous weeks. the one you knew pope wanted but was too proud to ask for.
“oh wow very mature of you. look i’m not all that thrilled to be sharing a room with you either but at least i’m not being a bitch about it” he scoffed and began to mimic your actions, pulling out his far more inferior flash cards.
you whirled at him, mouth downturned in anger. “i am not being a bitch,” you answered. “i’m simply trying to make sure you and i don’t kill each other before the weekend is over and keeping my distance. rooming with you wasn’t in my plan either, trust me. why would i want to room with my natural enemy.”
you turned away from him in your own dramatic fashion and made a point not to continue looking at him. as good as he looked in that burnt red shirt which hugged his arms in just the right way and - what?
shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you kept unpacking. this was just nerves. you were frankly a little freaked about tomorrows competition. going up against some of the greatest schools in the state was no small thing. what if you weren’t good enough?
you didn’t notice the only other body in the room come up behind you. close. dangerously close.
“oh i’m you’re enemy now, am i? you do realize we’re on the same team right? so technically we are partners.” he paused and leaned in close to your ear, “equals.”
you straightened at the word, and at his proximity to your face. “we are most definitely not equals. i have way more extracurriculars than you”
he scoffed. “well i have more letter of recommendation than you. and i’m debate team captain .”
the proud tone in his voice almost made you smile before you squashed it back down. without even turning to look at him you answered, “well i have a much higher gpa than you.”
he hummed under his breath, like he was enjoying the banter between the two of you. “not after this semester you won’t. don’t think i don’t know about that c minus in biology. that’ll push me right back up to valedictorian.”
you stiffened. that silly c minus. stupid biology. stupid miss david who hasn’t rounded your grade and couldn’t teach for the life of her. pope was going to hold that stupid grade over your head the entire weekend. he’d win. you’d fail.
you couldn’t turn to face him. knowing you’d be met with that smug smirk of his. the one you sometimes, occasionally, pretty frequently, enjoyed seeing. enjoyed being the cause of.
so you simply let out a huff in response and shimmied to the bathroom before he could say anything else. in doing so, you slammed the door in his face.
god you were so not good with guys.
by the time you were done in the bathroom, you’d only let a couple of tears slip and pope was under the covers in his own twin bed.
when you emerged he looked at you with concern, but as quickly as it was there it disappeared and he said to you, “good glad you’re finally out of there. i was starting to think i might have to take your questions at the completion tomorrow. on second thought that wouldn’t be so bad, go back in there.”
you gave him the slightest most pathetic smile in the world, in no mood to join in the back and forth the two of you always had with each other. instead you silently got into bed and twisted so you weren’t facing him.
as you fell asleep you thought about the boy in the bed a couple feet away from you. the flash cards that had been on his night stand. the color of his eyes. the smirk he only ever sent your way during decathlon meetings. how every time you got nervous he seemed to start up some petty little fight which distracted you from your anxieties. in some ways, he was a lot better than you.
the thought sent you into restless sleep.
you woke up gasping. sweating and scared. you sat up, holding your chest. you were disoriented, not sure where you were. a moment ago you’d been on a stage in front of millions of people incapable of remembering the enzyme involved in digestion and now you were in a dim humid room.
before you could get your bearings a voice to your right asked “are you okay?”
you gasped again, turning towards the source of the question.
pope. beautiful pope who was still awake and had his flash cards on his lap, the lamp next to him still turned on. but at that moment, pope was looking at you. with a look so concerned he might jump over to your bed.
checking the clock on your nightstand and seeing it read three am, you turned back to the boy. “what the hell are you doing up? we have to be awake in five hours.”
at your snippy, and reflective, response pope’s shoulders loosened slightly. as if he was happy to have you participating with him. he motioned towards his flash cards.
“unlike your lazy ass, im getting some cramming studying done”
the way he said it almost felt like.. an invitation? and yet the words made it seem like a challenge all at the same time. maybe you’d accept both.
you pulled your covers off and sauntered over to his bed, dramatic as ever. he watched your every move. you decided right then and there that you loved having pope heyward’s eyes on you. to have him look at you in that way. more than anything. maybe even more than winning the decathlon.
before sitting down on the end of his bed you grabbed your own, again, superior, flash cards from your bag. surprise flashed through pope’s features. you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling and giving yourself away.
“what?” you asked, “did you think i would study with your shitty flash cards?” you scoffed, “i’m not stooping to that level.”
before you could hesitate too much, you passed them to him. “and since you’re technically on my team i guess you can use them as well.”
pope, unlike you, made no move to hide his blinding grin. and even though you were sitting down you thought you might fall over at the sight.
“i knew you’d finally realize i’m your equal” he said as he started flipping through your perfect cards.
you kept silent, not confirming nor denying what you both already knew to be true.
inching forward slightly, he looked up at you and said: “maybe we could start with biology? i’ve been struggling a little bit with the newest topic.”
you knew he was lying. his perfect and consistent scores were proof enough of that. and if it had been anyone else to mention that class, you would have slapped them silly.
but pope got it. he knew how much the c minus had killed you inside. he understood. probably more than anyone else ever had. you could see it in the way he was looking at you now. with love. concern. friendship.
so you answered, “well if you need the help i guess so. cant have you making us lose, can we heyward?”
