Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE.ᐟ 

THE PERFECT WEAPON

NOW PLAYING…

TYPE SHIT FUTURE, METRO BOOMIN

Shawty said I’m a superhero,

so how the fuck I’ma hide from shit? 

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DESPITE the cool breeze in the air, Rafe’s body temperature felt hotter than hell.

He’d gotten a glimpse of Victoria while he was by the keg stand, getting a drink. She laughed politely while standing with him and a few of their mutual friends, though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Rafe could tell she was putting on a show for that asshole. His arm was around her waist, and his thumb moved in a soft motion back and forth. Rafe couldn’t stop staring at the two with a scowl on his face. Rafe thought he could never lose the look. It hasn't left his face since he walked in on her, naked, beneath him.

Houston-fucking-Matherly. His dad is the owner of Matherly Motors, the local sports car dealership in Figure 8. His family was well known for having the newest, hottest cars on the lot. Houston, despite being in college at Kitty Hawk U (Fuck the Wildcats), was a salesman at Matherly Motors. He even sold Rafe his Bronco. That, of course, was before Rafe caught him fucking Victoria.

People thought Rafe was the playboy. They thought he was the one who cheated, lied, and manipulated girls into sleeping with him when in reality… That was all Houston. But for the past few years, Rafe’s reputation had been dragged through the mud. He’d gotten caught with drugs a few months back and gotten into some hot water. His dad was able to clean out his record and get him back into school and on the baseball team. But his reputation precedes him: He is now the ‘bad boy’, a manwhore drug addict who fucks around with girls and ghosts them immediately after.

Rafe’s had his fair share of one-night stands, but he always made sure the girl knew it was simply that. That being said, Rafe has only ever had one real girlfriend. And that was Victoria Castle. Until two weeks ago.

So now, here he was. Dragged out to the Boneyard for a kegger by Topper and Kelce, hosted by a few pogues. Rafe didn’t want to go; he’d much rather spend his time locked in his room with a case of beer and a movie on the TV. Topper and Kelce had forced him out, telling him he needed a simple rebound.

“Dude,” Topper snapped his fingers in front of Rafe’s face a couple of times. “Come back. I don’t think you’ve blinked once in five minutes.”

Rafe grunted. He turned back to his friends, looking between them. “M’Fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Kelce chuckled as he spoke.

“What, now you idiots give a shit?” Rafe crossed his arms, finally turning his body toward Tweedledee and Tweedledum. “Didn’t seem to care an hour ago when you forced me to come to this dumbass party.”

“Bro, don’t even pretend like you don’t want to be here,” Justin, who Rafe forgot was standing with them, chuckled and took a step forward. He wrapped an arm around Rafe’s shoulders and gestured to the sea of people around them. “Just take a look, Cameron. You’ve got every opportunity to get revenge on that soulless bitch.”

“What the hell are you yappin’ about now, Richards?” Rafe looked over at Justin after rolling his eyes.

“Walk with me,” Justin pulled Rafe away from Topper and Kelce, though allowing the two to follow behind. Justin weaves Rafe through the crowds of people, most of them standing closer to the giant bonfire in the middle of the beach. “What I mean is, you’ve got every breed of girl here imaginable. You know the saying: you can get over Vic by getting under another one. Want one that looks just like her?” Justin points to a girl who does look a lot like Vic — tall, slender, with tan legs and long, brown hair. Justin keeps walking, though, dragging Rafe around to another group. “Or maybe you want a dumbass Touron who’s looking for a quick fuck anyway? Who cares, right?”

Rafe pondered for a moment. Justin could be right. All Rafe needed was someone to help him forget about Victoria.

When he broke up with her, Rafe's father was incredibly angry. He screamed at Rafe. He called him a disappointment. Victoria Castle was exactly what the family needed to reach more clients, according to Ward. He fucked up by breaking up with Victoria, cheating be damned. This pissed Rafe off more than when he first caught Victoria and Houston.

But before Rafe could come to a decision, Justin kept talking. “But, if I were you, I’d really want to piss Victoria off. And the best way to do that…” Justin led off for a moment. Rafe figured it was for dramatic effect. “...Is to fuck a pogue girl.”

Rafe laughs at this. Him? The ‘kook prince'? Fuck a pogue girl? Yeah, right.

“He may have a point, Rafe,” Kelce adds after Rafe laughs in disbelief. “You, of all people, know Victoria hates pogues more than anything.”

“Yeah, we all do,” Rafe agrees with a nod. He sighs, the frown on his face deepening. “So why the hell should I fuck one?”

“Make Vic jealous,” Justin slapped Rafe’s chest with the back of his hand. “Show her that she’s replaceable. Hook up with the pogue a few times, show up to some parties with her. Hell, take her to Midsummer’s. That'll make Vic go insane, and she'll definitely want you back.”

“She can’t take that she lost Rafe Cameron to a pogue girl,” Topper shook his head in agreement. He shrugged, giving Rafe a look that said he may have a point this time.

“Think of it as a challenge,” Justin shrugged. “How quickly can Rafe Cameron get his ex back?”

“I don't want her back.”

“Okay, then,” Justin pondered for a moment. “Then how quickly can Rafe Cameron piss off his ex to the point that she wants him back? I say you can't do it by Midsummer’s.”

Rafe knew that was the one thing Justin had to say. Rafe was many things, but the one thing he’d always agree with was his competitiveness. Justin wanted him to play this game? He’d play along. 

“Fuck it, fine.” Rafe huffed out a breath and looked at Justin. “Who should it be, then, smart-ass?”

Justin looked around the crowd with furrowed brows. His eyes flickered around the different groups of people. Then, Rafe noticed as he did a double take. Justin smiled wide and looked back at Rafe. “What if I told you that you could not only fuck a pogue girl, but the pogue girl?”

Topper barked out a laugh and shook his head. “No fucking way.”

Rafe didn’t even have to look in their direction to see who they were speaking of. Everyone knew that out of all the pogues, one was the most known. Rafe looked over to see Reilly Heyward standing with Kiara Carrera. A drink was in her hand, and she took a quick swig before laughing at something Kie was saying.

All four boys stood and watched the girls for a moment. Kelce was the first to speak up. “Reilly Heyward? Really?”

“Dude, that's impossible,” Topper agreed. “She’s, like, impossible to get with.”

However, Rafe was already in. From the moment he saw her, he knew she was the perfect one to piss Victoria off with. Vic hates pogues, namely, Reilly. When Rafe was with Vic, he never understood why she hated Reilly so much. From what he could tell, Reilly kept to herself and her friends. He figured it had something to do with her friends and not her, and Rafe didn't care enough to ask. But now, he had the perfect weapon in Reilly Heyward. A part of him felt bad for a moment; Reilly was just an innocent bystander in this. She didn't do anything wrong. She didn't deserve what they were planning. Rafe immediately pushed it down. Reilly was nothing but a stupid pogue, plus she was friends with John B Routledge and JJ Maybank. Why would he ever give a fuck about her?

She’s the total opposite of Victoria, like a warm, orange against a dreary gray. While Victoria stands tall and slender, her wavy brown hair cascading down to the small of her back, Reilly is the antithesis. Reilly is a shorter height, with warm, sepia-brown skin that gleamed like gold, escalated by the fire that crackled a few feet away from where she stood. Reilly’s curly hair only reaches her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. Even her stature is different from Vic's, with softer curves and edges, like a Renaissance painting. Where Victoria's physique is sharp and athletic, Reilly's is more rounded and inviting.

Rafe couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between Reilly's style and Victoria's over-the-top glamour. While Victoria was often seen in skin-tight, figure-hugging dresses that accentuated her curves, paired with stilettos that added to her already tall, statuesque frame, Reilly's approach to fashion was decidedly more casual. She favored comfortable jeans or denim shorts, often paired with a normal shirt and sneakers that looked like they'd been broken in over time. She'd be less expensive, that's for damn sure, he mused to himself as he continued to watch Reilly talk with her friends.

Rafe watched as Reilly let out a loud laugh, her head tilting back with it before looking straight again, that same smile still plastered onto her face. She was talking to JJ Maybank now, and Rafe had to admit: getting her away from him and the rest of the pogues might be the hardest part of this stupid so-called challenge. They were all basically glued at the hip. They went everywhere together, always showing up with at least three of them there. Rafe figured it was a 'safety in numbers' thing. Pogues usually did come in flocks.

Watching Reilly freely joke around with her friends, though. It was nice. She was so focused on being with her friends, that she didn't notice the hole Rafe was burning on her face. She looked so happy, so carefree. Rafe almost envied her for the moment. 

The thought disappeared from Rafe's head almost the second he thought it. Justin was right: Reilly was the complete opposite of Victoria. She would be perfect.

Victoria would die if she saw Rafe with Reilly. She was not his type, which is why he'd make sure this would work.

Everybody said Rafe was nothing but a fuckboy. He’d worked so hard to get himself out of that box, just to be shoved right back in. Might as well prove them right.

“Right.” Rafe smirked. “Yeah, it's on.”

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE.ᐟ

MAYBE YOU SHOULD HELP HER.

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NOW PLAYING…

GHOST IN THE MACHINE SZA, PHEOBE BRIDGERS

Can you distract me from all the disaster?

Can you touch on me and not call me after?

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“AND then he told me he didn’t want to talk about it,” With a low groan, Sarah watched Reilly rummage through her backpack. Out came the notebook, a dreaded harbinger of the work to come. Reilly shook her head.

“You know that’s just how he is,” Reilly tried to reason out Sarah’s anger. She knew how Sarah had been trying to get John B to open up to her for weeks but with no luck. For some reason, Sarah always goes to Reilly for her relationship problems. Reilly had no clue why — she’d only been in one serious relationship, and it wasn’t even a real relationship. But Sarah loved talking her issues out with Reilly, and Reilly honestly didn’t mind listening. Selfishly, it made her feel a little better about her problems. “You can’t force him to talk about anything he doesn’t want to talk about. John B can be a bit of a… closed book… at times.”

“I know, but it’s like,” Sarah pauses for a moment as she follows Reilly. She sits in the seat beside Reilly and begins taking out her notebook and a pen. “I give him all the support I can, and it’s… it’s crickets. It’s like he doesn’t even notice.”

“He notices,” Reilly says with a nod. “I swear he does. He just needs a little more time to crack open, that’s all.”

“God, I hope you’re right,” Sarah grumbles as the door to their class swings open. All heads turn to Rafe Cameron as he struts through the classroom as if it belongs to him. Reilly barely looks twice at him, but she does notice the way his eyes land on her and Sarah. He stalks over to her and places his phone on the table that sits in front of Reilly and Sarah. Reilly takes the time to glance up at Rafe, whose eyes are dead on his sister with an expectant look on his face.

When Sarah glances between the phone and her brother with a confused glance, Rafe lets out a huff. “Rose has been trying to call you for an hour ,” Rafe ordered to his sister, who rolled her eyes in response. “She said you weren’t answering.”

“That’s because I’ve been avoiding her,” Sarah spit out in response. She looks down at Rafe’s phone, reading through all the texts that Rose has been spamming Rafe with for the past hour. She sighs and begins to grab her phone from her back pocket.

“Yeah, well, now she won’t leave me alone,” Rafe snaps, snatching his phone back from the table and pocketing it. “Call her, please. Now .”

Sarah groans and stands, phone in hand. She turns back to Reilly for a moment, saying she’ll be right back. Reilly nods with a smile, and Sarah walks out of the room to call her stepmom back.

That leaves Reilly and Rafe. Reilly didn’t hate Rafe, not really, though all her friends did. John B and Sarah hated him because he didn’t approve of their relationship, and made that very clear a few years back. JJ didn’t like him because Rafe had 'made his life a living hell’. And Pope didn’t like him mainly because JJ didn’t like him.

Reilly’s problem wasn’t with Rafe exclusively. Her issue was more so with all kooks. They all acted like they were better than everyone, just because they had money. They could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and they got no repercussions from it. Reilly hated the injustice; it pissed her off more than anything in the world. She hated the way they stuck their noses up to anything slightly different than them. She hated that they never had to work a day in their life. They had all the time in the world, while Reilly constantly felt like she was running out of time.

“Reilly,” Rafe greeted the girl with a small nod.

“Rafe," Reilly replied. Since Sarah had walked away, she’d dug out her laptop and turned it on, hoping that the small busy work would buy her enough time for Sarah to get back. It didn’t work.

“Hey, I uh…” Rafe grabbed an extra chair from behind him and sat down. His legs straddled either side of the chair as he leaned on the backrest. “I been meanin’ to ask you. You wanna, like, hang out sometime?”

“What, like a date?” Reilly asked. Her eyebrow shot up. This was out of nowhere — truly. Rafe barely ever said two words to her. Most of their exchanged words were ‘hi’ or ‘hey’, if that . They didn’t even have the same friends and Sarah was barely a connection between the two of them. So why was Rafe Cameron, the most popular, richest guy on the island, asking Reilly Heyward out on a date?

Rafe flashed a smile and Reilly felt her cheeks warm. The Cameron boy rarely wore a grin, but this one was pretty good-looking. With small dimples deepening on his cheeks and smile lines crinkling by his eyes, Rafe looked so different when he smiled. The picture of the tortured boy with half-lidded eyes escaped her brain for a moment, and there he was. Rafe, with blue eyes that seemed to shine for a moment, almost like something you’d see out of a cartoon.

He almost had Reilly. Almost.

But she’d never let herself forget.

“I think I’m okay,” Reilly said, shaking her head with a fake smile. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Oh, come on, Reilly,” Rafe smirked. “You don’t wanna go out with me?”

“Not particularly,” Reilly shook her head. She’d since looked down at her laptop, typing in her password and opening her notes app. She didn’t dare look up at Rafe.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Rafe shrugging his shoulders. “Alright. Well,” He sighed, standing up from his seat. Reilly finally peeled her eyes from her laptop, watching as Sarah reappeared behind him as he spoke. “Hit me up if you change your mind.”

“Will do.” Reilly waved her fingers with a sarcastic smirk as Sarah took her seat beside her again. 

“Talked to Rose," Sarah mumbled. When Rafe didn’t take that as a sign to leave, Sarah cleared her throat. “So you can leave. Now .” She demanded, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face.

When Rafe walked away, Sarah turned to Reilly. “What did he say to you?”

Reilly peeked over, watching as Rafe said ‘what’s up’ to a random guy in the front of the class. He dapped him up before continuing his walk back to the door. Before leaving, he turned around one more time, almost like he was checking to see if Reilly was looking at him. When he finally did catch her eyes, he expected her to look away with a flustered expression. But she didn’t. She kept her big, brown eyes on his. Rafe smirked.

Got her.

HE, in fact, did not have her.

“I’ve tried, like three times,” Rafe groaned. He began his wind-up, raising his hands above his head before throwing the ball right down the line, right into Topper’s glove. Topper stood from the small bucket and threw the ball back to Rafe.

“You’ve just gotta keep chippin’, dude,” Topper explained while sitting back down and raising his glove. “She’ll crack eventually. They always do.”

The two were on the baseball field, throwing a ball back and forth. Rafe had been in a bit of a slump lately, having trouble with his pitches in previous games. He needed the practice, and he knew Topper would always be down to throw a few with him. Plus, Rafe liked to throw when he needed to think. And Topper gave pretty good advice — better advice than Justin or Kelce could ever give him.

The Kildare University Colts were the school’s baseball team. They’ve been on a winning streak, and their record is now 7-1. Their most recent game was a nail-biter, and too close to a loss for Rafe. He’d given up too many hits, and even accidentally hit a batter, something he never does. Everyone knows Rafe doesn’t hit the batter with the ball unless he’s trying to. So when the ball traveled straight for the batter’s arm, Rafe knew he was too in his head and he needed the extra practice.

“It usually doesn’t take this long,” Rafe muttered as he caught the ball in his glove. He turned and walked back to the mound, getting his stance ready. “Girls usually say yes the first time.”

The second time he asked her, she had been walking through the parking lot of the baseball and softball fields. Rafe had called her name from across the parking lot and jogged over to her.

She turned him down again with a soft pat on his chest before stepping around him and getting into her car.

The third time he asked her, it was at the local bar. Reilly stood at the bar and ordered a drink. Rafe had seen her approach the bar and was shocked to see a vape in her hand. Rafe stood as Reilly finished ordering and made his way closer to her. As the bartender slid it towards her, Rafe interjected: “I got this one.” He handed the bartender his card to pay. When the bartender nodded and left to charge Rafe’s card, Rafe turned to Reilly. “You know vaping is bad for you.”

Reilly slowly turned to him.“You again.”

“Me again.” Rafe smiled. “What’s up, Reilly?”

“Just wondering why you’re still trying.” Reilly’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your angle?”

“Just looking to take a pretty girl out on a date, that’s all.”

Reilly hummed. “So no angle?”

“No angle.”

Reilly smiled. She took a step closer to Rafe, now chest-to-chest with him. Her eyes trailed down to his lips before moving back to his eyes. Rafe looked down at her with a matching smirk. His hands sat by his sides as he waited for the perfect time to rest them on her hips. Reilly took in a small breath.“Well, in that case…” She leaned even closer, her lips coming up to his ear as she whispered, “No, thank you.”

Rafe frowned. Reilly stepped back.

“Thanks for the drink!” She smiled back at him as she walked away, back towards the group she was with before.

Rafe’s frown turned deeper into a scowl. Fucking bitch. What was her problem?

The fourth time's the charm, Rafe told himself as he watched Reilly unknowingly approach him.

“Hey, Reilly,” Rafe greeted Reilly as she walked down the hallway. She had her hair in two buns on the back of her neck. A few strands of hair had escaped, framing her face prettily. She had on a grey sweater and a pair of denim shorts. She turned from her pogue friends and looked over at Rafe. Her books were clutched to her chest. Rafe swallowed nervously at the sudden attention, though he wasn't too sure why he was so nervous, especially when he was the one who walked up to her. “You change your mind yet?”

“‘Yet’?” Reilly’s eyes narrowed. The two girls that were with Reilly, giggled with shocked faces. 

Rafe smirked. “It’s bound to happen — I’m just checking to see if it’s happened yet.”

“Rafe, you’re cute,” She started. But before Rafe could even think to celebrate, Reilly continued. “But in full transparency, I’ve already tried dating a kook once, and it didn’t go too well. No matter how hot you are, I’m not interested in putting myself into that situation again. So, no. I’ve yet to change my mind. See you later?”

With that, she walked away, like she never stopped in the first place. She continued talking to her friends as if nothing happened, as if Rafe was nothing but a bug on her arm that she flicked away without a second thought. Rafe watched with a small smile on his face as she walked away. She smelled like vanilla and coconuts.

“Remember who you’re trying to get,” Topper instructs as Rafe throws the ball to him again. The ball landed in his glove with a loud clap, echoing throughout the silent field. Topper throws the ball back. “She’s not some Kook girl who’s been in love with you for years. She’s a pogue. They're, like, infamously hard-headed.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Rafe nods. He takes his glove off and walks closer to Topper. Topper takes his glove off as well, standing up to meet Rafe in the middle. Rafe daps up Topper. “Appreciate you comin’ out with me. Just gotta get my head on straight.”

“Hey, no problem,” Topper claps Rafe on the back. “I can’t believe I’m helping you out with a relationship now. Feels like yesterday, you were helping me figure out a way to ask Ophelia out.”

“This is not me asking her out for real,” Rafe shakes his head. “Trust me, I’d never go that low to date a pogue. This is me trying to get her to go to Midsummer’s with me, maybe even have sex — to make Victoria jealous. Not the same .”

Topper raised his hands. “You're right. My bad.”

“I think I need to lose the ‘date’ approach,” Rafe thought out loud. “I need to pretend like I need help with something.”

“Tell her you need help with math,” Topper snapped his fingers and pointed at Rafe, a dopey smile on his face. 

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I’m great at math. I can’t pretend to be bad. Can’t let my grades slip, either. She’s not worth the bitching from my dad.” 

“Maybe you shouldn't pretend you need help,” Topper hummed, looking down and tapping his foot in thought. “Maybe you should help her. ”

“Got something in mind?” Rafe questioned.

Topper smirked. “I might.”

“REILLY!”  

Reilly stopped mid-pencil stroke. Her eyes closed at the all-too-familiar voice that shouted from behind her. She turned in her seat to see Rafe speedwalking towards her. 

“Rafe, this is a library ,” Reilly whisper-shouted at Rafe as he got closer to where she sat.

“And?” Rafe snorted, taking a seat in the chair across from Reilly. He plopped down in the chair before clasping his hands in front of him on the table and staring straight at Reilly.

“What do you want?” Reilly asked with a clipped voice. She needed him to go away so she could finish studying. She only had thirty minutes left on her timer. Then she could go to the Chateau to meet up with her friends, something she’d not been able to do lately since work and school had been taking up so much of her time.

“I heard you need volunteer hours for school.”

Reilly’s eyes snapped up at this. She’d procrastinated a little too long, and now she couldn’t find a place that would let her do volunteer work. All the approved places on the list had been filled by the other students.

Rafe took her lack of an answer as a ‘yes'.

“You can keep the book for our games,” Rafe offered. “We need someone. My coach has been doing it, but he fucks it up every time because he's too busy screaming at us.”

Reilly’s silent for a moment. “What’s the catch?” She asks, closing her notebook. There was no point in trying to finish studying now, her concentration had officially been broken.

“No catch - Why's it always a catch with you?" Rafe shook his head. Before Reilly could argue, Rafe interrupted her. “ Promise . I’ll pick you up, you’ll keep the book while we play, and then I’ll take you home. You’re not even using up any gas this way.”

Reilly mulled it over in her head. It did sound like a good deal. No gas money of her own, she got to watch the sport she loved, and she got her volunteer hours. The only downside was that mostly kooks would surround her, with Rafe Cameron of all people being one of them. But she could handle a few kooks, and she knew she could handle Rafe. There wasn't much of a risk — only a reward.

“Fine, Cameron,” Reilly sighed after a few seconds of thought. “You win. I’ll do it.”

“Cool,” Rafe kept his face deadpan to keep from smiling in joy. Fucking finally, he got her. He owed Topper big time . “I’ll teach you how to keep the book before the game this Saturday.”

“No need.” Reilly snapped her schoolbook shut before shoving it in her backpack and standing from her seat. She shouldered the backpack and pushed her chair in. “I’m sure you know my address. Bobby's. See you Saturday.”

With that, she walked away.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWO.ᐟ

GONNA HAVE TO KEEP THIS ONE.

NOW PLAYING…

JUST FRIENDS MUSIQ SOULCHILD

i’m not tryna pressure you

just can’t stop thinkin’ bout you

you ain’t even really gotta be my girlfriend

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REILLY was already sitting on her front porch when Rafe pulled in. She’d rather not have to explain to her dad and brother why a kook boy was picking her up at five o’clock on a Friday evening, especially if that kook was Rafe. And, God, if Mark ever found out? He’d lose his shit.

She sat with her knees to her chest until she heard the crunch of the gravel parking lot under a vehicle. Reilly stood once she saw a vintage Ford Bronco pull in. She walked toward the car, offering the driver a small wave in greeting.

“Hey,” Rafe says as she climbs inside the Bronco. 

“Hey,” Reilly greets back. She shuts the door and looks around the inside of the car for a moment before nodding at Rafe. “Nice car.”

She meant the compliment, too. The car was impressive. The exterior was light brown with a dark brown interior. The roof was off to fight off the hot North Carolina temperatures, which did help a bit. The car itself was sleek and immaculate. Reilly felt a pang of jealousy spark deep within her chest — a vintage Bronco had been her dream car for years. Houston used to take her with him to "test drive" the cars, and every time she'd beg him to take a Bronco.

Rafe shifts the car into drive. He mutters, “Thanks,” as he begins to drive off toward the fields. He decides against mentioning how a part of him hates this car now since he was the one who sold it to Rafe. He opts for a less annoying topic. “How was your day?”

Reilly could tell the question was only asked so the entire car ride wasn’t made in awkward silence. She has half a mind to be grateful, but she knows Rafe is doing this for him just as much as he is doing it for her.

Reilly rolls her eyes to herself and shrugs. “It was alright. I had work this morning, but it was kinda slow, so…”

Rafe hums. His eyes don’t leave the road. “Nice.”

“So,” Reilly huffs out a breath. Her head turns to watch as Rafe drives. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity to see where she is going with this. “pitcher huh?” 

Reilly told herself this was all out of pure curiosity, but another part of her was starting to get nervous. Something felt off — she didn’t know what it was, but she didn't like it. The sooner she figured out what it was, exactly, the sooner she could fix it.

Rafe chuckled. He tapped the steering wheel a couple of times and nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s a pretty big responsibility.”

“Yeah.” Another short answer. Reilly pushed down the urge to let out a low whistle at the fruitful conversation. Rafe obviously was no longer interested in talking. She must have hit a sore spot. Reilly shook her head to herself. At least she tried, nobody could say she didn’t .

“I guess I like pitching because of the responsibility, though. I’m pretty good under pressure. Always have been. Plus, I love baseball, so,” he turns to Reilly for a moment, surprised when she’s looking right back at him, taking in every word as he speaks. Most people, aside from his friends, pretended to listen when Rafe spoke. So to see Reilly, a girl that Rafe did not consider a friend, listening as he spoke was new.

Rafe clears his throat and peels his eyes away from her, back to the road. “And it’s the one thing my dad can’t mess up for me.”

“Your dad?” Reilly's mind moves back to Ward Cameron, the most well-known man on the island. As the founder and sole owner of Cameron Development, Ward Cameron was damn near untouchable. Without a doubt, the most ethically and morally corrupt man Reilly has ever seen, but a businessman nonetheless. He was filthy rich — proven by his many cars, two boats, and seven-room mansion on the top of Tanneyhill. He was so rich that Reilly wouldn’t be surprised if Ward ever got away with murder.

One could say the same for Rafe, too. Reilly remembered when Rafe got caught with cocaine at a party. Rumor was he was high off his ass and got caught by the cops, asleep, and completely naked in the bathroom. They arrested him and held him in custody for a day before Ward had gotten him out. Anyone else, and Reilly would think a day was quick to be let free, but not when it's Rafe. That being said, Rafe was on probation for months. He couldn’t even play baseball again until his probation ended.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad punishment. Hell, it wasn’t much of a punishment at all . Sure, Reilly would hate it if she couldn’t play for a few months, but it was better than jail, which would be anyone else's consequence.

“He has a particularly specific talent for fucking with things I love,” Rafe shrugged as he drove. The lights of the baseball field were visible over the hill, indicating they were getting closer to the park. “But he’s the one who got me into baseball in the first place, and he knows that I don’t have a possible future in it. So he can’t mess that up for me.”

“‘Mess up’ how?” Reilly asks as Rafe pulls into the parking lot, snagging a space designated for players only. He shifts the car into park , turns the car off, and turns to Reilly again. 

He shrugs. “He tries to put the pressure on me until I collapse. Did it whenever I told him I didn’t want to be a business major… Said it was stupid to like the ocean. So I changed my major to business. Happened again when he told me that I was going to be the next in line to run Cameron Development, even though I don’t want to do it. Still, it’s not like I’m going to the MLB or anything. So, he can’t really pressure me too much with it. I mean, he yells or whatever when I mess up, but it isn’t the same. He knows it doesn’t matter in the end. It doesn't affect me the same.”

Reilly nods, starting to understand to a certain degree what Rafe is trying to say. She was, for a lack of a better word given the circumstances, pleasantly surprised by what he said. Reilly always assumed Rafe was incapable of having true, deep conversations like this. She assumed he was shallow — likely because he was a kook, which was a stupid thing to think. But what else was Reilly supposed to assume? Any conversation she had with most kooks ended up being about the most recent boat they bought and how much it cost. It wasn’t something Reilly could relate to, so she gave it up altogether.

Reilly wasn't used to an actual talk with a kook. But she didn't mind it.

“So he does it out of spite ?” Reilly wondered aloud.

Rafe chuckles softly, the wind carrying the laugh through the air before meeting her ears. His body was now fully turned towards her, as her body was to his. Reilly smiled at the laugh, almost happy that she could pull it out of him.

Rafe shrugs. “ Feels like it.”

It’s silent for a moment. Just Rafe and Reilly looking at each other. Rafe’s face seemed relaxed, staring directly at Reilly with a soft gaze. Reilly’s eyebrows furrowed, her expression clearly showing her confused thoughts. Where was this coming from? 

Rafe sighs and unlocks the car doors, snapping Reilly out of her thoughts.

“We should head in. I’ll show you around, find you a seat or something.” Rafe opens his door and climbs out before opening the back seat and grabbing his bat bag.

Reilly follows behind. She grabs her water bottle before shutting the door. She turns around just in time for Rafe to reach her. He clicks the lock button on the key fob, a small chirp indicating the doors have locked, and gestures toward the front gate of the baseball park. “Ladies first.”

“How chivalrous,” Reilly jokes and steps ahead, walking inside. Rafe follows her but takes the lead, guiding Reilly to the dugout.

Most of the team is there already, with a few stragglers coming in behind them. Some stood on the field throwing, others in the dugout and getting their things ready. 

“Guys,” Rafe’s voice calls out over the different voices that spoke out through the dugout. One word was enough to garner the attention of everyone inside. The voices turned into mumbles before complete silence. Every pair of eyes trained on Rafe, glancing at Reilly every once in a while. “This is Reilly. She’s gonna keep the books. Reilly, these are the guys.”

Reilly raises a hand, waving at the boys who hadn’t blinked once since they noticed she was there.

“Nice to meet y’all,” Reilly said sweetly, though at that moment she felt like she was going to throw up. She wasn't used to being surrounded by kooks like this — especially when they all stared at her.

The boys didn’t say a word. They kept their eyes trained on Reilly. Rafe scoffed, stepping slightly in front of Reilly, blocking their view of her. “Jesus Christ, you guys never seen a girl before? Get your shit and warm up .”

This seemed to snap the rest of the team back into reality. They all went back to their normal routine, unpacking their gloves and shuffling on their cleats. Rafe turned to Reilly, looking down at her. “Sorry about them. Those were mostly the rookies — freshmen.” He turned around, his back facing Reilly for a second. “This is where you can sit,” Rafe pointed to a small, random school desk that sat in the corner — the kind with the chair connected to the desk itself. “It’s not much, but it’s easier to keep the books on something solid.”

“No, I appreciate it,” Reilly set her water bottle down on the desk. Rafe grabbed the book and set it down on the desk as well, putting a mechanical pencil on top of it.

“I’m gonna go warm up. Need anything, you give me a holler?” Rafe asked, grabbing his glove and backing toward the exit of the dugout.

Reilly saluted, taking a seat at the desk. Rafe gave her a half-assed thumbs-up and turned, running onto the field.

Reilly watched him for a while as he threw the ball back and forth with another boy, taking a step or two back every few throws. She watched as Rafe naturally took charge when he was on the field. It was like as soon as he walked in, the rest of the team started being better: throwing better, catching better, taking larger steps back from each other.

It was as if Rafe made them better simply by being there.

Obviously, Rafe was the captain , Reilly thought as she watched Rafe throw the ball. He and the other player had moved a bit away from the rest of the team, over to the side so Rafe could throw a little harder. The guy had squatted down, waiting with his glove raised as Rafe began actually throwing the ball. Rafe raised his leg and bent his knee for a moment before stepping out and throwing the ball hard . It went straight into Topper’s glove with a loud BAP , the noise echoing throughout the whole field.

Reilly almost groaned. Why did the universe keep doing this to her? She always did have a tendency to like baseball boys — Houston Matherly being her most recent run-in with one. After that giant shitshow ended, Reilly swore them off. So why did Rafe have to be so good at pitching? And why did he look so damn good doing it?

“Hey.” A voice snapped her out of her trance, like dumping freezing ice water over her head. Reilly blinked and looked up, seeing the smiling face of someone she’d never met before. He had wavy, sun-kissed blond hair with brown lowlights. His skin was tan, which paired nicely with his green eyes. He smiled. “I’m Justin.”

The boy, who looked like a golden retriever personified, stuck out a hand for Reilly to shake. Reilly took his hand and shook it for a moment before letting go. “I’m Reilly.”

“Nice to meet you, Reilly,” Justin paused for a moment, looking at Reilly with something hinted deep within his eyes. What it was — Reilly had no clue. Before she could land on anything, it disappeared. Justin took a step back, jerking a thumb toward the field. “I gotta go. Hope to see you around.”

With that, he turned and ran off toward the field.

Reilly shook her head as Justin jogged away. She glanced over at Rafe and gasped when she noticed that he was staring right back at her now. She was too far away to see the expression on his face, but she did see him give her a tilted head, mouthing, "You okay?"

Reilly nodded, giving Rafe another thumbs-up in return with a smile. Rafe turned around before Reilly could fully take in the smile he gave her.

The game ended with Kildare University winning by seven runs. Rafe kept an eye on Reilly when he could, making sure she wasn’t having any trouble keeping up with the game. But every time he looked over at her, she was perfectly fine. She sat with her chin in her hands as she looked between the game and the page. She seemed to have no issue keeping up. Any time one of the guys asked her a question, she was right there, answering like she’d done this for years.

“Hey, Reilly,” Justin yelled from the other side of the dugout. “What’s the score?”

“Sixteen to nine.”

“What inning is it?” Kelce asked next.

“Top of the eighth.”

“Where are they in the lineup?” Topper asked this time.

Rafe almost snapped at the boys, stating they were asking too many questions too fast. But Reilly turned the page in the book, taking a glance before answering, “Bottom.”

Rafe smirked, nodding his head. She did know her shit; that much was for sure.

“Good job today, Reilly,” Justin clapped Reilly’s back firmly with a chuckle. She and Rafe were headed back to Rafe’s car, he must have caught up with them on his way there. “You’re a damn good bookkeeper.”

“Thanks,” Reilly said back with a laugh.

“Gonna have to keep this one, Rafe,” Justin said with a wink, giving Rafe a knowing look before walking ahead of them. Reilly watched as Justin unlocked and popped open the trunk of his bright orange sports car — was that a Lamborghini? — and put his bag in.

Reilly couldn’t lie; her heart did a little leap at Justin’s comment. Gonna have to keep this one, Rafe. What did that mean?

Of course, Reilly knew what Justin must have meant: Rafe needs to make sure Reilly keeps the books at all the games. But the way he said it, the way he smirked and gave Rafe a look that Reilly couldn’t understand…

Reilly shook the thought out of her mind.

Rafe unlocks the Bronco and steps in front of Reilly. He opens the door for her, allowing her to climb in before softly shutting the door behind her. He throws his bat bag in the back before hopping in beside Reilly in the driver’s seat.

— — — – – – - - -

Rafe was going to kill Justin.

Fuck, was he trying to get Rafe found out? Probably . Justin was a chaotic guy, someone who liked causing mayhem to watch it unfold. Rafe knew Justin was trying to get Reilly to ask him what his words meant. Rafe had realized quickly that Reilly was smart , too — he'd need to come up with a plausible lie fast . He also kept a note to himself: Keep Reilly away from Justin at all costs.

But then… Reilly never asked. She didn’t even look like she wanted to ask. She just sat in silence, knees tucked up into her chest, eyes looking out the window. The sun had begun to set an hour ago, so it was beginning to darken outside. The yellow streetlights caused her skin to turn gold in flashes, then back to the dark blue glow from the moon. She looked so at peace. Rafe found himself turning corners slower, just so he didn't interrupt her peaceful state.

She looked… pretty.

Rafe had never looked twice at Reilly before. She was the definition of off-limits; a pogue girl who was close with his younger sister. Besides, she wasn't even his usual type. But when he looked at her for a few seconds before returning his gaze to the road, Rafe couldn't help but admire the way she observed the world as it rushed past her in his speeding car.

The drive home was in silence. Words didn’t need to be said; neither of them seemingly felt the need to say anything. All that was heard was a rap song playing softly in the car, largely drowned out by the brown noise of driving down the road. It was a comfortable silence, one Rafe didn't mind staying in for a while. His mind, which usually ran nonstop with thoughts about school, the frat, baseball, his dad, Houston, and Victoria , was now completely silent. It was a relief, and Rafe couldn't help but think that maybe Reilly was the reason for that relief. He almost didn’t want to drop her off in fear that the second she exited the car — the moment the door shut behind her — the thoughts would creep back into his head in droves.

Despite this, Rafe pulled into the gravel driveway. The crunch of the rocks underneath his tires seemed to snap Reilly out of whatever trance she was in. Her head raised, and she blinked as she entered back into reality and took in her surroundings. Rafe parked and unlocked the car door, but noticed that Reilly didn’t immediately open the door to exit.

“You did a good job today,” Rafe said in a soft voice, the softest Reilly had ever heard from him. Her eyes snapped up to Rafe’s. She gave him a small smile.

“You did, too,” Reilly said back, that same smile not leaving her face.

“I guess this means you passed,” Rafe says next as Reilly begins grabbing her things to leave. This catches her off guard, though, so she stops and looks back at him.

“Passed?”

Rafe nods. “Yeah. See, that game was a test . I knew we were gonna win, they're light work. Wanted to see if you really knew what you were doing. Can’t have some amateur running our books. So, welcome to the team, Reilly Heyward: The Official Kildare University Colts Dugout Girl. ”

“Jesus, that’s a mouthful. We may need to workshop that title." As she spoke, Rafe noticed the way she subtly leaned forward, staring at him through her eyelashes. Rafe felt the corner of his mouth twitch. He mirrored her actions, slowly moving closer as well.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Reilly hummed. “I’ll keep a list.” 

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitches again, and this time, he lets it curve into a smirk. He doesn’t speak; he’d rather let the silence speak for itself at this moment. He is getting into Reilly’s good graces, finally , and if he says one wrong thing, he’ll be back to square one. That isn't something Rafe can do.

After a moment, it’s silent again. That same comfortable silence that Rafe knew he would begin to crave the moment Reilly stepped out of the car.

Reilly spoke in a delicate voice. “I’m glad I passed.”

“Me, too.”

Reilly opens the door but turns once more before leaving. “Bye, Rafe.”

“Bye, Reilly.”

— — — – – – - - -

Reilly closed the door behind her. She let out a long breath, one she must have been holding since Rafe picked her up. Her eyes closed shut as she caught her breath.

What the hell was that?

The way Reilly found herself leaning closer to Rafe. It wasn't an accident, not necessarily. Reilly found herself leaning in before it was too late. Her eyes stayed trained on Rafe's features, taking note of what she could. His hair was damp from sweat, a few strands sticking to his forehead. Freckles spanned across his cheeks and over his nose. His skin was clear, free of any blemishes, aside from a light-colored scar that sat above his eyebrow. And his eyes, god , those eyes. Light blue in the sun, a darker, almost navy blue in the night. So much expression was held in those eyes, but Rafe was a master at keeping them hidden. Reilly envied that ability.

Reilly used to wonder what it was about Rafe that made people go crazy. Sure, he was attractive at first glance, but Reilly never understood how Rafe seemed to drive people insane. After spending the past few hours with him, she was starting to get it.

Reilly was fine where she was. She was happy staying in the background, working her two jobs, going to school, and just being . She didn’t feel the need to be seen all the time; she didn’t like being seen in detail , and she sure as hell didn’t like being vulnerable. To her, that felt the same as splaying out in front of everyone she loves with tied ankles and wrists, unable to move. It’s like someone was holding a microscope up to her heart and searching around in there for anything susceptible before yanking it out and showing it to everyone. Reilly shudders every time she thinks about it. She was perfectly fine where she was.

But the way Rafe looked at her, even if it was just a glance… it made Reilly want to be seen by him. It made her want to be known by him.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER THREE.ᐟ

BABY STEPS.

NOW PLAYING…

PROM SZA

Promise to do better
Shoulda coulda probably wanna let me go
But you can't.

10.2k words

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BEFORE she even opens her eyes, Reilly feels the knot around her ankle tighten.

Her eyes blink open slowly. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust, but the first thing she notices upon her slow-clearing vision is a long, thick rope wrapped around her ankle. A knot about the size of a lime is what keeps the rope tied to her ankle.

Reilly looks up from the rope, staring straight ahead. She’s met with a vast darkness in front of her, spanning for what looked like an eternity from left to right. Reilly couldn’t see anything in front of her face. It was like she was right on the edge of darkness.

Reilly feels a small tug on her ankle. She looks back down at her ankle to see the knot tightening around her ankle more, squeezing the skin — yet, she feels no pain. Sweat begins to bead at the crown of Reilly’s forehead, and she rushes her trembling hands to the knot. She starts working at untying the knot as fast as she can, her shaking fingers beginning to ache from the roughness of the scratchy rope. Her breathing picks up as if she’s been running for hours straight. She feels like she can’t breathe right. 

Another tug. Reilly finally unties a part of the knot and moves on to the next section. Her fingers are on fire as she digs them inside the loops of the rope to pull it out in the hopes of loosening it. She glances back up, the darkness still in the same spot. Nothing but a looming sea of black.

Nothing spoke to Reilly. Nothing called for her, nothing taunted her. Besides the sounds of Reilly’s frantic panting, there was no sound. Not even her voice echoed around her. Reilly wasn’t even sure she could hear her voice, or if it was in her head.

Reilly pulled the next rope through the loop with success, untying another part of the rope. Reilly almost let out a hysterical laugh as she continued loosening the rope. Her hands moved onto the third section with ease, starting to get the hang of it. The knot was beginning to give and once it did, she could find a way out of this place. 

Then, she felt the pressure around her ankle tighten once more. Reilly felt dread begin to seep through her bones and out of her pores.

Her eyes dragged to where she just was, to the part she’d just finished. And there it was: tied up again, back to the state it was before she ever touched it.

The elation in Reilly’s chest extinguished, like using your fingertips to snuff out a candle.

The overwhelming excitement she felt to set herself free flipped at that moment. Her hands stopped trying to untie the knot now deeming it pointless. Instead, she slumped forward as she let out a breath. Her hands stayed clasped in her lap as she stared ahead into the black abyss.

A speck flies in front of Reilly’s face, looping around a few times before landing on top of the knot once it has her attention. Reilly leaned a little closer, focusing in on the speck that was actually a small ladybug. The ladybug sat on top of the knot without a care in the world. Reilly stared down at the small bug, watching as it began to crawl around the knot as if it were exploring. Reilly felt her heartbeat slow, her breaths following suit. Before long, she was completely calm. She felt at peace. Her hands were no longer trembling, her eyes were no longer frantic and searching around. She just stared at the ladybug. Even when she felt another tug at her ankle, Reilly didn’t move her focus from the bug.

A booming crash of waves is what startles Reilly, causing her body to jerk. She glances down and smiles to herself when she sees the ladybug didn’t get spooked and fly off. It was still there, still standing on top of the knot.

Reilly turned her head. Behind her was the tide, the foamy water moving in and out behind her. The sky behind her was a dark blue. Yet, the ocean itself looked black, besides the white sea foam that washed up on the shore. Now that she heard it, the sound of the waves was the only thing Reilly could hear. It was astounding, the boisterous noise filling her ears. Reilly opened her mouth to speak, and when she did, she couldn't hear herself. She strained her ears and let out the loudest yell she could muster, and yet, she couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of the tide rolling in and out behind her.

Until she heard the yelling.

The words were unintelligible. Fathomless screams from voices that sounded from deep in neverending, expansive water. Reilly’s eyes caught a small object far in the distance, the source of the yells. It was a small fishing boat, bobbing and ebbing with the waves of the ocean. The boat seemed to be anchored, judging by the way the boat didn’t continue to sail through the ocean. It moved with the waves, but it wasn’t going anywhere. It just sat in the middle of the water.

Reilly didn’t move. She only watched as the voices continued to yell with desperation dripping from their varying voices.

Another pull. Reilly gasped and looked back at the wall of darkness. 

Another tug.

Another yell. 

Reilly’s head once again snapped back to the boat in the water before back again in the darkness. She knew what was behind her — it was clear enough for her to see. Behind her was help. Behind her was safety. 

She didn’t know what was in front of her. Whatever it was, it was unknown to Reilly. The haunting black wall in front of her terrified her to her core. She wanted nothing more than to get as far away from it as he could. She didn’t know what could be waiting for her there. Yet, the rope continued to pull her. Another tug.

She could yell. She could wave her hands and scream until her throat was raw and her vocal cords were useless. She could pull back at the rope with all her strength. She could move, and pull back from the terrifying unknown.

Reilly feels her right hand twitch at her side. In her throat felt like a bubble with something inside, something she wanted — needed — to let free. Another tug.

Reilly opens her mouth. Her hand moves to cup around her mouth, hoping it will amplify her scream. She takes a few quick breaths before taking in one deep breath, preparing to let out a cry for help. 

Her eyes open before she ever gets to yell.

“HEY , baby,” Reilly’s dad, Bobby Heyward, greeted her from the couch in the living room as Reilly walked down the steps that lead into the living room. The windows were open and the curtains were drawn, allowing both the living room and the small kitchen behind it to flood it with natural light.

Reilly stood behind the couch, watching the TV as the weather-woman spoke about the next storm coming in soon. Reilly bent down to kiss her dad on the head.

Saturday morning had come like a slap in the face to Reilly. She stayed awake until three in the morning before finally forcing herself to close her eyes and fall asleep, though that itself was a challenge. Every time she fell asleep she was met with the same dream. The last time she had it that night, Reilly awoke in a thin layer of sweat. Her breath was heavy, her chest rising and falling rapidly for a few moments.

Pope had crashed through the door, swinging it open with a shaken look on his face. Though he had his sleep interrupted, her brother still looked concerned as he stepped deeper into the room. His voice was low, telling Reilly that she was screaming and asking her what happened.

Reilly had brushed him off, telling him it was nothing but a weird dream. When he asked if it was a nightmare, Reilly paused. Her hand drifted to her ankle, absentmindedly rubbing the skin. She shook her head at Pope and told him it wasn’t a nightmare — just a weird dream.

“‘Morning, dad,” Reilly replied as she walked over to the dog food in the lower cabinet to feed Beau for the morning. As she bent over, the noise from the TV quietened and Bobby spoke up with a gruff voice. He had turned around on the couch, craning his body to look back at Reilly.

“Hey, you still good to work a few hours for me today?” Bobby asked before turning back to face the TV.

Reilly placed the bowl on the floor, watching Beau stick his face inside and begin to eat the food. She petted his back as he ate a couple of times before standing back up. “Yup.”

“You’re my favorite kid, you know that? You can clock in at nine. Sound good?”

Reilly began walking back up the stairs with a sarcastic laugh. “Sounds good. I’m gonna get changed. Will you let Beau out once he’s done eating?”

Bobby raised a thumb in reply. Reilly thanked him and moved to go up the stairs, before she heard, “ One more thing .” She waited as Bobby stood up with a grunt. He clicked off the TV and walked around the couch, closer to his daughter, who had moved back down to the foot of the stairs. His eyes are downcast, even as he rests his hand on Reilly’s shoulder. 

Her father lets out a sigh, guilt dripping like honey from his lips as he speaks. “I know you and Pope are supposed to be with your mom next weekend —”

“Dad.”

“I know, let me just say this,” Bobby said in a gruff tone, raising a hand to quiet Reilly. His eyes raised — nothing but a pleading look showing through his deep, brown eyes. “I already gave your brother the whole song and dance last night, so I’ll make it quick.” When Reilly nodded without a word, Bobby continued. “I want you to have a good time. But if you need anything , you call me. I know how you two are. Please don’t talk back to either of them. Just stay in your rooms, and stay together. Call me if I need to get you.”

“We’ll be okay, Dad,” Reilly promises. “Mom’s been doing better lately.”

“You know it ain’t only your mom I’m worried about.”

Reilly sighed. Unfortunately, her dad was right — she did know.

Five years after Bobby and Joy got divorced, when they were nineteen, the twin’s mom got remarried to a man named Mark Reeves.

Mark was a real estate agent, founder, and CEO of Reeves Real Estate, the most well-known agency in Figure 8. Mark met Joy, Reilly and Pope’s mom, when she was a waitress at a local diner in Figure 8. According to her, he “swept her off her feet and it was love at first sight”.

On top of being a beloved real estate agent, Mark Reeves was also heavily addicted to cocaine.

It was his only personality in the house anymore. He and Joy did it constantly, with or without Pope and Reilly in the house. The twins have walked in on the two doing lines off the marble kitchen island more than once.

The problem was that Mark was rich . He also happened to be loved by the Figure 8 community. So the first and only time he got locked up for beating the shit out of Joy, Mark got out after two days and went right back to the drugs, and right back to the abuse. Like his prison visit never even happened, or like it was nothing but a vacation for him.

That was the part that hit Reilly the most. She was so sure that Mark would be in jail for a while. Her mom had bruises all over her arms and legs, a long bruise that ran up her neck, and she even had to go to the doctor to get her jaw fixed. The police had to question Joy, and while she understood why her mom was apprehensive, Reilly still encouraged her to do it. Reilly remembered telling Pope that Mark was going to be away for a while, and while Pope was still his usual skeptical self, she wouldn’t hear anything else. She was so sure of it.

Barely two days later, Pope gets the call from Bobby — Mark was out.

That’s why Bobby was telling her this. No matter what Mark did, he’d get himself out of it. He could hurt Joy, Pope, or Reilly, and he’d get no repercussions from it. He had the police wrapped around his finger, like Ward Cameron.

Reilly nodded. “We’ll be good. No back-talk, no arguing, no splitting up.”

Bobby’s shoulders visibly relaxed at Reilly's promise. He closed his eyes, let out a breath, and nodded. His chocolate-colored eyes stared down at the floor for a moment before looking back at his daughter. He kept his eyes on her, flicking between her eyes before looking to her nose, her lips, then back up to her curly hair. His eyes’ journey ended in her eyes, which looked at him with confusion. Bobby’s lips turned into a soft smile and his hand shot out to gently rest on Reilly’s cheek.

“You look just like her.”

THREE hours into her shift, and Reilly was already beginning to fight sleep. The morning rush had already come and left, turning Heyward’s Seafood Shop into a ghost town. Reilly already preoccupied herself with finishing her homework, watching two episodes of Love Island , and even doing her job: restocking. She had no more side tasks for the day. Now, her head rested in her hand, her eyes slowly closing before snapping open when she'd catch herself drifting off.

The doorbell rang, and Reilly perked her head up. She knew it was bad whenever she got excited to work.

“Welcome to Heyward’s Seafood Shop,” Reilly spoke out to the stranger who’d entered. Judging from the build, it was a man. He had an old and faded green cap on his head and a grey hoodie. His head turned to the side, looking to the right so Reilly couldn’t make out what they looked like.  “Can I interest you in our minnow bait?”

“Nah,” The voice replied. The head turned, revealing Rafe underneath the faded baseball cap on his head. “I’m more of a crayfish guy, myself.”

Reilly’s eyes widened. “Rafe?” She stood from her stool and walked around the front desk. She tried to hide the smile for a moment before giving up. She would be excited for any company, and seeing someone she knew made her excitement heighten. “What are you doing here?”

“Never got your number,” Rafe muttered as he stepped deeper into the store. He looked around the shop, looking at all the different items the small shop had to offer. After a moment, he looked back to Reilly. “Gotta send you the team schedule.”

Reilly felt her shoulders drop, but she immediately shook it off. Ever since the night of the first game, after Rafe dropped her off at her house, Reilly couldn’t stop thinking about the moment they had. But every time she did, she snapped herself out of it before it could go too far. She couldn’t help it, though — every time she thought of those dimples, those deep, blue eyes, Reilly found herself falling into a trance.

Rafe cleared his throat.

Reilly blinked and shook her head. “Sure,” She reached behind the front desk to grab her phone, praying to God that she wasn’t staring too hard at him. She handed it to Rafe, who also gave her his phone in turn. She put her information in and the two switched phones back again.

“Nice set-up your dad has here,” Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets after gesturing to the shop.

“Yeah, this is where the magic happens,” Reilly leans against the counter before jumping up and landing on top of it. She crosses her legs at the ankles. She’s silent for a moment, watching as Rafe looks around the store. He walks down one aisle, taking his time to look around. His eyes landed on the fishing poles that stood off to the side. He looked over a few, nodding with an impressed look at a few of the rods they were selling. Reilly’s eyes narrowed as Rafe stayed silent but continued to look around the store. Why wasn’t he leaving?

Reilly cleared her throat now. “Rafe,” She said, making sure her voice was loud enough to be heard from the back of the store where he stood. “Did you really just come here to send me the baseball schedule?”

A chuckle is heard from deeper into the aisle. Rafe emerges a few seconds later and stops beside the girl. He leans one hand on the counter. “Yeah, okay. You got me. There’s a party tonight at my frat. You should come.”

“A party,” Reilly’s eyebrows furrow. She’s been to a few kook parties, almost only during her time with Houston. They usually weren’t too bad, but Reilly always ended up getting left alone. Houston would make up some excuse to walk away — He needs a drink, or, He needs to use the bathroom. Then, he’d go talk to his friends.

Frat parties with Houston usually meant Reilly standing in the corner alone, waiting for Houston to be ready to go.

And that was while she and Houston were hooking up — Reilly could only imagine how quickly Rafe could walk away. He didn’t even need to give her an excuse. It’s not like they were dating. Reilly didn’t even know if they would even be considered friends . 

“I’m not really into frats,” Reilly muttered, shaking her head.

“ Come on ,” Rafe pushes. “It’s not like you’ll be alone. My sister will be there. I'll be there.”

“Right, like you won’t walk off the second we get in there,” Reilly scoffed, her eyes rolling away from Rafe, landing on the fridge full of bait that sat in the corner.

Reilly hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It kind of spilled out of her mouth, a problem she knew she had. Not that it mattered. Anything she could keep in her head showed up on her face anyways.

Reilly knows it’s unfair to project her issues with Houston onto Rafe like this. But, it was realistic. Rafe was a popular guy. He was respected by all of Figure 8, and every one of those people will be at this party. His attention would most certainly be on other things the entire time. And Reilly would get left in the corner, waiting for Rafe to finish having fun before taking her home.

She didn't blame him. His frat was hosting, after all. But even so, it didn't sound like like the most fun night.

Rafe is quiet for a few seconds. His eyes are directly on Reilly, despite her trying to look anywhere else. He seems to notice this as well because before too long, he speaks up. “Hey. Look at me.” The command, spoken with such confident, deep voice, causes Reilly to listen before she even realizes it. Her brown eyes snap up to Rafe, looking straight at him.

Rafe steps closer, moving the hand that was once beside Reilly to rest on the counter behind her back. His face is closer to her now, but not uncomfortably close. It’s then that Reilly sees the freckles that dotted Rafe’s cheek again.

Rafe speaks, lightly shaking his head as he says, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

God, the look on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, narrowing his eyes as well. The outer corners of his eyes were crinkled. It would be so easy to just reach up and smoothen out those wrinkles, Reilly thought to herself.

Someone else would think that Rafe looked mad, but Reilly knew they would be wrong. Rafe wasn’t angry at this moment, he was insistent . Insistent that Reilly knew he wouldn’t leave her, maybe even demanding himself the same thing. Reilly could see the intensity in his eyes. She could see the certainty as well. It seemed to her as though words danced across his eyes, spelling out a promise to her one by one.

Oh, what the hell? 

Reilly lets out a sigh and she swears she can see Rafe crack a smile before she even answers. He rubs his mouth with his hand before she can be sure.

“So?” Rafe’s eyebrow shoots up.

“Fine.” Reilly shakes her head. When Rafe nods, she points a finger at him. “You better not leave me for too long, Cameron. And you’ll take me home whenever I’m ready.”

Rafe keeps nodding and chuckles. He usually hates it when people try to boss him around. Why was he laughing now that she did it? “Yes ma’am. The theme is ‘Cowboy-Cowgirl Night’. Text me when you get off, I’ll let you know when I’m picking you up.”

He turns, heading towards the door with a spring in his step. “See you later, Ry.”

Ry.

THE party was in full swing, despite Rafe and Reilly showing up two hours late. Rafe promised her that two hours late was the prime time for entering a party, especially if you were showing up with him. “It shows them that we care, but not enough.” He’d said to her with a shit-eating grin on his face. Reilly had rolled her eyes at the time, but she knew deep down he must have been doing something right.

Reilly had to admit it; Rafe looked good . He wore a white wife-beater that showed off his strong arms with light brown, worn-in jeans. A matching light brown cowboy hat sat on his head and it looked like it wouldn’t look anywhere near as right on anyone else . His hair flopped in his eyes a bit from the hat, but again — it worked. A gold chain hung loosely around his neck. Reilly had to peel her eyes off Rafe as he stood leaning against the Bronco with the passenger door open for her to climb into.

Reilly walked up the steps to the huge frat house with Rafe in front of her. He knocked on the door three times, winking at Reilly, who did her best to ignore it. A small hole in the door slid open, a pair of eyes looking between the two. A stuttering voice sounded from the other side of the door, asking who was there with a quiet, almost scared voice.

Rafe sighed. “It’s me , Cole,” The door then swung open, and a younger-looking boy with jet-black hair opened the door for the two to enter.

“Sorry, Cameron. That hole in the door’s small as fuck,” The boy, Cole, gave a nervous chuckle and scratched the back of his neck. He stood to the side, opening the door wider and allowing Rafe and Reilly to walk through the large doorway.

“Have a good night, Rushing,” Rafe clapped Cole on the shoulder before holding his hand out behind him for Reilly to grab. She grabbed it without a second thought, allowing him to guide her through the giant, crowded house.

As Rafe began leading her into the house and passing Cole, Reilly looked up at Cole with a smirk. “Your hat’s on backward.”

Cole’s cheeks reddened. He snatched the cowboy hat off his head and switched it around.

The music blared so loud, that Reilly was sure the house was shaking. People were everywhere, most in the middle of the living room dancing, others sitting on the couches that sat around with no organization. The entire house was lit by bright LED lights, shifting from red to orange to green, and so on. Next to the kitchen were the sliding glass doors that led to the back porch. There stood another group of people, a few ping-pong balls into red solo cups. They cheered with excitement whenever someone landed. In the backyard, Reilly can see an even bigger crowd. A few fairy lights were strung up around the backyard. People are everywhere on the small back lawn, dancing and jumping around to rap music. 

“Pledges,” Rafe joked about Cole, the dimple in his cheek deepening for a moment. 

“You were a pledge once too,” Reilly teased Rafe. Someone had to keep him humbled, right? While Rafe shrugged in agreement, she added, “Like a million years ago.”

“ Excuse me?” Rafe barked out a laugh, squeezing Reilly’s hand for a moment before pulling her closer to him. Reilly didn’t mind being a little closer to him. “You’re only one year younger than me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

— — — – – – - - -

Rafe felt like he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Not with Reilly looking up at him with her big, brown eyes. Not when she batted her eyelashes up at him. Not with her white tank top hugging her body perfectly. Rafe tried to keep his eyes to himself, but it was proving to be impossible. Ever since he saw her walk down the driveway and towards his car, he’s been fighting the urge to stare. She was just too damn pretty — and that damn hat on her head was driving Rafe insane.

Before Rafe could find the right words to flirt back with, a voice yells over the music, interrupting him.

“ Rafe !” Topper shouts from across the room. He raises a hand, waving the two over. Rafe raises a hand back before gently pushing Reilly to the giant couch, towards Topper. His hand stays on Reilly’s lower back, making sure she doesn’t get dragged away from him by the rowdy group of college students around them.

Rafe shows her to the couch where his friends sit: Topper and Kelce, and their girlfriends, Ophelia and Delilah.

“What’s goin’ on, guys?” Topper asks, sitting up for a moment to dap up Rafe. His arm then goes right around Ophelia’s shoulders. He kisses her temple and she gives him a soft smile. She waves to Rafe as well, to which Rafe gives her a nod in return.

“It’s about time you showed up,” Kelce was next to speak up. Delilah laughs beside him and takes a sip of her drink.

“You know Rafe is allergic to being on time, babe,” Delilah retorts.

“How’s it going, Reilly?” Topper asks Reilly. Rafe sits down on the couch, grabbing Reilly’s hand to sit with him. She does so, sitting between Ophelia and Rafe. Rafe leans his back against the couch, his arm resting against the back of the couch and making himself comfortable as Reilly stays sat up in her seat. He could tell she was nervous, and he almost reached out and rubbed her back to comfort her. He kept his hand still behind her, instead.

“Not too bad, how about you, Topper?” Reilly replied, raising her voice a little to project over the loud noise surrounding them.

“Doin’ just fine,” Topper gave Reilly a charming smile. 

Rafe mentally praised himself for introducing Reilly to Topper and Kelce at the baseball game instead of doing it here. They’d built up a rapport that night, so now, Reilly didn’t seem too uncomfortable in this huge, overly-crowded place.

Topper gestures to the blonde girl under his arm. “This is Ophelia, my girlfriend.”

“This is my girl, Delilah,” Kelce added next, moving his hand up to ruffle the brunette’s hair. Delilah groaned and pushed Kelce’s chest, cursing him out in what Reilly guessed was Spanish. Kelce just laughed at her and helped her smoothen her hair back down.

“This is Reilly,” Rafe spoke up finally, but leaving it at that. Reilly looked back for a moment, noticing Rafe’s eyes scanning around the house — almost like he was monitoring the crowds. Making sure nobody was getting into trouble.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Ophelia smiled wide. Her voice was higher pitched and sickly sweet. Delilah echoed Ophelia with a sultry smile.

Reilly smiled at the girls as well, though Rafe noticed it wasn’t as wide.

“Reilly’s our new bookkeeper for the team,” Topper explained to Ophelia.

Ophelia’s eyes widened, almost cartoonishly, at her boyfriend’s words. Her head snapped back to Reilly, her blonde hair whipping around from the speed. “I tried to keep the books once ,” She recounted, even pointing her index finger in the air for effect. Her head began shaking slowly as she stared off into space. “Never again.”

“Yeah, then she was texting me every field change to ask what inning we were in,” Delilah added, letting out a laugh. “As if I knew? I was like, ‘Girl, you better ask your boyfriend’.”

Reilly laughed at Delilah's words. “I still get confused sometimes,” Reilly offered with that same, small smile.

“Topper just doesn’t get that other people think about things other than baseball, ” Ophelia rolled her blue eyes with a teasing smirk. She nudged Topper’s side with her elbow with a smile, to which he chuckled.

“If I could get Kelce to talk about anything other than the Dodgers for longer than five minutes, I’d be overjoyed.” Delilah continued, her red lips turning up into a smile, showing off her perfect teeth.

Rafe watched Reilly laugh along with them. Her shoulders had begun to lower. She seemed more relaxed. Rafe smiled to himself as he watched the girls talk amongst themselves, as if there weren’t three other dudes there, too.

“Oh hell,” Kelce teased, leaning over to tap Rafe on the shoulder. Rafe, whose hand had moved from the back of the couch to around Reilly’s lower back, turned to Kelce. “They’re organizing against us already.”

RAFE glanced down at the time on his phone, surprised to see that it was already twelve-thirty. He and Reilly had shown up at ten.

She’d been talking to Ophelia and Delilah almost the whole time. The others had shuffled themselves around, making it easier for the girls to talk to each other. Now, Ophelia sat between Reilly and Delilah. Rafe kept his spot on the other side of Reilly, keeping his promise to not leave her alone. Though Rafe figured if he did walk away, Reilly may not even notice. She seemed to be having a great time with Ophie and Lilah, only stopping to accept the drinks that Topper and Kelce had gone to get them. While Rafe pretended not to notice, he did keep an eye on Reilly throughout the night, making sure she was good.

His eyes lingered every once in a while.

— — — – – – - - -

Reilly was having a great time talking with Ophelia and Delilah.

Ophelia Van Der Hilt grew up in the Outer Banks. She is the daughter of a famous model from the 90s, and her father is a well-known art collector. They met on a set and, as Ophelia explained with a dreamy look on her face, fell in love immediately , soon giving birth to Ophie. Ophelia started dating Topper seven months ago, and she has a golden retriever puppy named Arlo. She’s in a sorority — a legacy, her mom being an alum and ex-president of the chapter.

Ophelia cheers for the Kildare U cheerleading team, along with being on the dance team as well. She’s been dancing since she was four. She likes to surf as well, explaining to Reilly that she forces Topper to take her out on every swell day no matter what day it is.

Her grandma owns The Prickly Palm, a smoothie shop on Figure 8, though Ophelia partly manages it for her due to her grandma’s old age. However, Ophelia didn't mind. She wanted to own the Prickly Palm for herself someday, though her parents wanted to be a part of the industry as well; whether that’s modeling, acting, or dancing.

“I’m kind of a nepo-baby,” She’d muttered with an embarrassed look. Delilah was quick to comfort her with a hand on her back, telling her that pretty much all kooks were nepo-babies to some extent.

Delilah de la Cruz is originally from Spain, having moved to the Outer Banks with her family when she was nine. Her dad is a surgeon and her mom stays at home. She has an older brother, Marcelino, who lives in New York for work as a journalistic reporter.

Delilah made it abundantly clear to Reilly that she doesn’t have a goal in life. She takes every day as it comes, letting her path work its way out for her. She’s been scouted out by modeling agencies every once in a while, and she’s taken a few here and there. She’d fly out to wherever they needed her, stay for a week, then come right back to the island when she finished.

Reilly always wondered what that would be like; To not plan at least five years ahead at all times. To take the world as it came, not feeling any dread that she was behind in life. Reilly thought she had a pretty carefree attitude, letting spontaneity take the reins a lot of the time. But she was nothing compared to Delilah — The girl who never set an alarm a day in her life, despite being in college .

Ophelia and Delilah were sweet people. They listened when Reilly spoke, not starting their own side conversation in the middle of her words. They didn’t look at her like she was an idiot whenever Reilly said anything. They listened and joined in, making Reilly feel as if she’d been friends with them for years instead of hours.

The longer she spoke to them, the more Reilly was starting to wonder why she was so quick to judge. Where did that come from? She didn’t remember being this way as a kid, she never knew a stranger back then. But now, as an adult, she had to warm up to anyone she met for the first time. She started not caring for them, then finally came around to them later. She did the same thing with Sarah when she started dating John B. Now she was at it again with her older brother and his friends.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice spoke up, grabbing Reilly’s attention. She turned to him, giving him a small hmm ? She noticed Rafe’s eyes flick from her lips to her eyes rapidly before staying focused on her eyes. Her chest felt like it was caving in. When did he get so close? “Want to get a drink with me?”

Reilly looked down at her cup, seeing now that it was empty. She didn’t even remember drinking it. “I’d love to.”

Rafe stood and Reilly turned back to the girls, mouth open to tell them she’d be right back. Her mouth snapped shut upon seeing Ophelia with a knowing smile on her face and Delilah with raised eyebrows.

“ Have fun, ” Delilah teased, sending Reilly a wink. Ophelia waved her fingers as she giggled.

Reilly rolled her eyes with a smile, taking Rafe’s hand that he’d offered to help her stand from the couch.

— — — – – – - - -

Rafe kept his hand in Reilly's, though she led the way this time. His eyes scanned over her head, looking amongst the multitude of drunk college students in the giant house. Rafe hadn't seen or heard anything going on yet. This night was going a lot better than most of the parties Kappa Phi hosted. There have been nights that Rafe can't sit down for ten minutes without having to get up again to stop a fight or clean a mess. But tonight has been as close to perfect as possible. Rafe does one more sweep through the sea of people throughout the house, then he returns his focus back to Reilly.

Somehow, his quick-moving eyes latch onto a flash of dark brown hair.

Victoria.

Rafe watches as Victoria begins laughing, her hand raising up and grabbing onto someone’s bicep. Rafe looks up to see that it’s Houston and of course, she’s with him. Houston’s arm is around her shoulders, but it’s obvious he isn’t paying any attention to her. She stood at least a foot shorter than the four other guys she was talking to, and it seemed like they were all immersed in their own conversation, leaving Victoria silent under Houston’s arm like an accessory.

Please, God, let her look over here.

As if the Universe, or God, or whatever the hell was listening to Rafe’s pleas heard him. Victoria’s eyes move up and land on him — direct — as if she knew exactly where he was. Her eyes narrow, the hand that wrapped around Houston’s arm tightening its grip.

Rafe smirks when Victoria sees him. She sneers as Rafe keeps his chest almost pressed to Reilly's back. He keeps his eyes on Victoria, refusing to be the first one to break eye contact.

That is, until he hears a loud crash coming from one of the rooms in the back. Rafe’s head whipped around, peeling his gaze off of Victoria and towards the direction of the loud noise. His grip on Reilly’s hand loosens.

— — — – – – - - -

When she finally made it to the kitchen, Reilly couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh. Pushing through a giant crowd of drunk dancing people proved to be a lot of work for her. Someone like Rafe — huge, that is — should have no problem cutting through. But even at an average height like Reilly, she had trouble pushing through the sea of students.

“Jesus,” Reilly chuckled. “From now on, you’re always in front.” She continued to giggle as she turned around, looking at Rafe who was right behind her.

Was right behind her.

Instead of seeing the tall boy, Reilly was met with a nearly empty kitchen. Aside from the two girls in the corner making out. Reilly glanced around, searching for Rafe, but he was nowhere to be found.

When did he let go of her hand? He had a tight grip on her for most of the way here. Reilly didn’t even realize they had let go of each other — she must have been too focused on pushing through the crowd.

“Reilly?”

The voice sounded from behind the girl, causing her to yelp and spin around, eyes wide. In front of her stood Justin, the boy she met at the baseball game. Reilly held her chest with her hand, letting out a relieved laugh. “Justin, hey,”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, there,” Justin placed a hand on Reilly’s shoulder, peering down at Reilly with a distressed look on his face. His face held nothing but apologies, matching the tone in his voice.

Reilly shook her head. “No, it’s okay,” She replied. Her eyes flitted around the house, still looking for the Cameron boy. “It’s okay. Sorry, I was just... looking for Rafe.”

“Oh,” The boy’s eyes shifted down for a moment before whipping his head back up to Reilly’s. “I’m not sure where he went. I thought I saw him go downstairs.”

Reilly’s head tilted in confusion. Did she misunderstand? She could have sworn Rafe wanted her to go to the kitchen. And if not, why wouldn’t he pull her in the right direction? None of it made any sense.

“But hey — it’s all good, right?” Justin clapped his hands together twice. “We can hang out here and wait for him to get back. Have a drink or two.”

“You don’t have to wait with me,” Reilly stammered out. “I can wait for one of my friends to show up.”

“Why wait for a friend when you’ve got one right here?” Justin chuckled, gesturing to himself with a grin. “We’re friends, right?”

Reilly wanted to say no. She really did. It was on the tip of her tongue. But before she spoke, she thought back to Ophelia and Delilah. She was doing it again — the same thing she did with everyone she’d met in the past few years. You always say you’re trying to be better, Reilly. So be better.

Reilly nodded with a smile. “Sure.” Baby steps.

“Cool.” Justin rubbed his hands together, looking around for a moment. The awkward silence would have been even more awkward if it weren’t for the blaring music that filled the air. Justin stepped forward, leaning closer to Reilly so he didn’t have to yell as loud. “Want a drink?”

Reilly looked around. Still no sight of Rafe. She glanced back at Justin. Another drink would loosen her up. “Sure.”

Justin grinned. “Got anything else for me other than ‘sure’?”

Reilly’s head tilted to the side. Justin had a joking smile on his face and his arms were still crossed. Reilly did the same, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. “I do whenever someone says something worthy of it.”

“ Ohhh… ” Justin dragged out the word before he laughed out loud. He walked toward the fridge and opened the door. “Well, alright then. Note taken. You a beer girl?”

Reilly’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“I'll take that as a no.” He closed the fridge. “Well, that’s all we got in the fridge here. There’s a cooler of Tweas outside if that’s more your speed?”

“I’m a sucker for a Twea, Justin,”

“Got it.” Justin winked at her. He looked back at the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. He turned to Reilly with a wide, excited smile. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

“I’ll be here.”

With that, Justin walked away, heading towards the sliding glass door. Reilly found herself looking for Rafe again, though the last two times led to nothing. She kept doing double-takes, thinking someone was him, but getting let down every time. He really was nowhere to be found . Reilly didn't want to move from the kitchen and get even more lost in the huge house. It was better to stay put. Reilly rolled her eyes with a scoff. He was right behind her — where could he have possibly gone off to?

“What are you doing here?” 

The voice was high and shrill, like nails on a chalkboard to Reilly. Reilly didn’t even have to look at the person; She knew who it was. Reilly did anyway, standing face to face with Victoria Castle. She stood there, arms crossed and eyebrows set low. Her lips were set into a frown as she looked Reilly up and down. She looked pissed .

Reilly gave Victoria the sweetest, fakest smile she could muster. It was no secret that Victoria loathes pogues with everything in her, Reilly especially. At first, the hate wasn't reciprocated. Reilly didn't have any problem with Victoria at first. She didn't speak to her much, and the girls kept to themselves and did their own thing. But after a while, it started. The hateful stares, the snickers as Reilly walked by, and the outspoken hatred towards pogues became routine. After that, Reilly began to hate Victoria right back. The two had their minor clashes here and there, chopped up to petty arguments. That, however, was nothing like what Victoria was doing now, point-blank confronting Reilly in the middle of a party.

It surprised Reilly. In the past, Victoria always backtracked or even backed off once Reilly began speaking, but that was almost always at school. Reilly guessed it was the alcohol that was giving Victoria the extra courage now.

"Hello to you too, Vic,"

Victoria sneered. “ Don’t call me Vic. Answer my question: What are you doing here ?”

“Rafe invited me.”

Victoria lets out a laugh, even resting her hand on her toned, bare stomach. “Oh, you were invited ? That’s cute.” Her laugh dies down. “Hey… Isn’t your dad the owner of that fish and bait shop on the cut?”

Reilly kept her mouth shut, though it was already getting tough for her to do so. Victoria Castle of all people was not worth getting into a fight over, Reilly knew that. That being said, Reilly already wanted to lay into Victoria. She didn't like Victoria as it was, but she drew the line at people talking about her family — her dad, more than anyone else. He was a hardworking man and an amazing father. He didn't deserve any dirt on his name, especially not from some kook .

But her dad was the one who always tried to preach to her that arguments and getting into fights... None of that would change anything.

Reilly shook her head and took a step to the side, getting ready to just go back to the couch with the others. Rafe and Justin be damned, she wouldn't stand around and let Victoria antagonize her.

Before Reilly could walk past her, Victoria steps in front of her. Reilly watched, almost in slow motion, as Victoria took her red solo cup towards her. The sticky beverage spilled down the front of Reilly’s shirt before dripping down to her legs.

It’s as if everything goes silent. It’s like the music that was at first, all-encompassing, was now gone. Though Reilly knew the music was still playing at the same volume, a few people had still turned at the sound of a spilling drink. And if that wasn't enough to get their attention, Reilly's sharp gasp of surprise did.

Reilly’s eyes moved around her. Unfamiliar faces stare right at her as she stands with her arms away from her sides, her white tank top now most likely completely see-through. Reilly glances down at her ruined clothes. Her body was on fire, her hands shaking with anger. They closed into tight fists, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palm. She repeated her father's words in her mind over and over. Stay calm, Reilly. Stay calm.

“What the fuck ?” Reilly yells out, taking a step away from Victoria. It was the best she could do without rearing her fist back and sending it full throttle into Victoria's smug face. Reilly looks up at the kook girl, who wears a fake pout on her face, failing to hide her snide smile. 

“ Oops ,” She shrugs, jutting out her bottom lip, and holy shit , it would be so easy for Reilly to just hit her real quick.

Reilly looked around, glancing over the partygoers who were still watching the altercation between the two girls. She couldn't make out any of their faces — all of them muddled together. Reilly couldn’t differentiate any person from another. Rafe could have been staring right at her, and she wouldn’t have recognized him. There was one thing Reilly did notice. Everything had set in, and it dawned on Reilly that everyone was just... standing there with dumbfounded looks on their faces. Nobody moved to help her. Nobody was going to help her.

Reilly scoffed. “I forgot for a second why I fucking hate kooks,” She muttered under her breath, stepping away from Victoria again, this time to go home . Rafe and Justin both weren’t back — she couldn’t wait for either of them anymore. She wanted nothing more than to let loose on Victoria. She wanted to kick her ass up and down this entire house like she knew she could do with ease, but she also knew she shouldn’t.

She knew her dad had a point — what would that do? It would only prove to everyone that pogues were only good for fighting and stealing. Reilly wouldn't be the one to prove them right.

Victoria cackled at Reilly’s words. She was the only one who heard Reilly say it. The crowd around them still seemed to lean in with curiosity about what Victoria was going to say next. Reilly was still trying to get by her without pushing her too hard. She couldn’t care less what Victoria had to say. But yet again, Victoria blocked her path, not allowing Reilly to leave.

“ You hate us ?” Victoria smiled. “That’s funny. Nobody here likes you, pogue .” Her words are like venom, shooting out and stinging Reilly, who did her best to keep her face neutral. Deep down, she knew it was pointless. Victoria didn't stop at that, taking a step as she continued to berate Reilly. “They may be nice to you, and they may act like they're your friends. But deep down they know — we all know — that your side of the island is nothing but penniless deadbeats who do nothing but get high and leech off of us ." Her sneer had turned into a smirk, evidence of the joy she was getting out of this.

Victoria leans down a bit. Her face was right in front of Reilly's now, and the utter disgust on her face was more apparent than ever. She lowers her voice, but it’s still loud enough for most of the people to hear. “And no matter who invites you out with us, that will never change .”

Reilly feels the sting of tears beginning. She quickly blinks and looks down before finally giving up — pushing through Victoria to walk away. Victoria stumbled a bit from the shove, but someone caught her and helped her stand again. Instead of feeling even a bit of embarrassment, Victoria only laughs as Reilly makes her way towards the front of the house.

For a moment, Reilly was nervous at the thought of having to push through again, the same way she did on her way to the kitchen. However, this time, Reilly watches stunned as the crowd parts like the Red Sea before her. She doesn't take a second to think about it though, instead stepping through the clearing that had been made for her.

Reilly blinked away more tears and kept her eyes on the floor for as long as she could. She only glanced up every few seconds to make sure she was still heading the right way.

She could not cry in front of these assholes. She couldn’t give any of them the satisfaction of knowing they beat her down that bad. Reilly stayed focused on the ground, one foot in front of the other until she made it outside. From there, she would figure out a way home.

“Woah, woah,” A large hand wraps around Reilly’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks. When Reilly looked up to see Rafe, it only made her want to cry more. Maybe it was the words Victoria had said, about how none of them actually cared, or maybe it was the fact that she'd finally found him. Whatever it was, it wasn't helping. Rafe looked remorseful like he had accidentally just kicked someone’s puppy. His eyes were full of concern and his mouth was stuck open, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't figure out what .

Oh, Jesus. He had seen it all happen.

Rafe didn't say a word.

Reilly pulled her wrist from his grasp and turned around, finishing her walk to the front door of the house.

— — — – – – - - - 

After Reilly continued to the door and ignored Rafe's call for her to wait, Rafe turned to Victoria, who still had a grin on her face. His face twisted into that of animosity. His eyebrows knit together, teeth clenched as he snapped, “Why the fuck would you say that to her?”

Victoria shrugged with indifference, her laugh turning back into her fake pout. “She was getting a little too comfortable , Rafey. Someone had to remind her who she really is.”

“You’re just a miserable bitch, aren’t you?” Rafe shook his head.

He saw everything. Rafe knew as soon as he let go of Reilly’s hand that he shouldn’t have, especially after pissing off Victoria the way he did. But he knew he should put a stop to whatever caused that crash before it escalated. He figured five minutes away wouldn’t be too bad. Then, he’d be back by Reilly’s side like he said he'd be.

Turns out someone only knocked over a vase that none of the frat brothers cared about anyway. It was an accident, that much was clear, and Rafe brushed it off. It only took him a minute to clean. But then, on his way to the kitchen, Rafe got stopped by a few people he knew.

Before he knew it, five minutes had turned into ten, and fifteen was approaching fast.

It was Topper who got Rafe's attention. He stepped in with rushed, breathy words that " Reilly was about to kick Victoria's ass" and that was what pulled Rafe away from the conversation. He stepped away and followed Topper through the crowd of people who stood around what he could only assume were Reilly and Victoria.

This wasn’t what Rafe had planned. He didn’t know Victoria would actually say something to Reilly — he figured Reilly would scare her too much. But no, it was true: Victoria stood in front of Reilly, not letting her walk away. Rafe watched as Reilly smiled at Victoria, though he noticed that the smile didn't exactly reach her eyes. It was nothing like the smiles she gave him, nothing like the ones she gave him at the shop earlier that day.

Then, Victoria dumped the entirety of her drink on Reilly. And Rafe froze in his tracks.

He heard Topper mutter out, "Oh, dude ," under his breath, but his voice sounded distant to Rafe.

He listened as Victoria laid into Reilly, speaking down to her as if she were a dog, chiding her without stopping. Rafe felt his heartbeat in his throat. The blood underneath his skin began to boil. His hands clenched at his sides as he listened to Victoria call Reilly scum. If the entire house wasn’t already drenched in red from the LED lights, Rafe would still only be seeing red.

It was clear Victoria was only trying to piss Reilly off enough to cause a real scene. But even though her hands were balled into fists, her gaze sharp like daggers, Reilly didn't take the bait. Instead, she stood there as Victoria kept on.

He wanted to push forward and call Victoria the stupid, selfish bitch that she was. He wanted to grab Reilly’s hand and take her somewhere else. Anywhere else. He wanted to drive her around, the same way he did the night of the baseball game. That moment played on a loop in his mind a lot, lately, and Rafe craved it. He could do it. He could step forward, and he could do it. Nobody would give him a hard time like they were with Reilly — Rafe knew that.

So why didn’t he move?

The only thing his body seemed to let him do was grab her wrist as she unknowingly pushed past him. But Reilly didn't wrap her arms around Rafe like he thought — like he hoped — she would. Rather, upon realizing it was him, Reilly shook herself free of his tender hold and proceeded to the door. As if Rafe was a random person she’d never met before.

Rafe called out for her but to no avail. He took a step forward to follow Reilly out but stopped when Justin walked into the middle of the clearing where Reilly stood before. He had a beer in one hand and a Twisted Tea in the other. He glanced around, confused for a moment before his eyes landed on Rafe and Topper. He walked closer to them, but kept his eyes on the crowd of people around them that were finally beginning to disperse; as if he was searching for something.

“What the hell are you doing, Justin?” Topper asked. It was evident from the tone of his voice that Topper was annoyed.

“I got this for Reilly,” Justin raised the Twisted Tea a little higher in the air. “She was waiting on Rafe, so I went ahead and got her something. Where’d she go?”

Rafe once again felt his heart rate rise. Why the fuck was Justin getting her a drink? That was supposed to be his job tonight. That was the whole reason they were on their way to the kitchen in the first place.

But then again, Rafe did leave her alone. Just like he promised he wouldn’t.

Just like he was doing right now.

Rafe’s feet moved before his brain caught up, turning away from Justin and Topper and walking towards the front door with a huff. Nobody dared touch him as he walked out, everybody splitting in two as he made his way out of the house.

Once he stepped through the front door, Rafe was met with slightly cooler air. He jumped down the steps as his eyes caught on the girl, walking down the long driveway and towards the road. Was she planning on walking home ?

“Reilly!” Rafe’s voice cut through the cool, silent air like a knife. He knew she heard him, but she didn’t stop. Rafe sped up, lightly jogging to catch up to her. He slowed once he reached her and grabbed her wrist again with a tighter grip, not letting her slip through again. “Heyward, hold on a minute.”

“Please, just — let me go home, Rafe,” Reilly urged. He couldn’t see her face, but the tone of her voice was enough for Rafe to falter. It was brittle, like a thin twig that was threatening to snap in two from so much as a feather's touch. Rafe’s chest felt the same like something inside of him was cracking from the sound of her voice alone.

“ Hey ,” Rafe’s voice was gentle. He pulled her to a stop with a gentle tug, holding her still. “Let me take you.”

Reilly shook her head with desperation, her one free hand moving to her cheeks to wipe the fat tears. Rafe ducked his head down, trying to get a good look at her. He only got a peek before Reilly turned away once more. Rafe wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he did know that even when she cried, Reilly was pretty. His hand moved to her shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort her. He rubbed her shoulder with his thumb slowly, hoping to calm her down.

“I don’t want you to see me cry,” Reilly whispered. Her voice was so low that Rafe could barely grasp her words. Rafe reached both hands out now and held onto her forearms gently.

“Why not?”

 “I promised myself a long time ago that I’d never cry in front of anyone — especially not kooks.” She sniffled, still refusing to look up. Rafe wished she’d do it — just look up at him again. Even if she didn’t have her usual smile on her face, Rafe still wanted to see her. “I never should have come. I should have known this would happen.”

“I had no idea Victoria would do that to you,” Rafe pleaded, still ducking his head down to look the girl in the eyes. He was doing everything he could to convince her. If she would only look up, just a few inches higher, she could see his face and she’d believe him. Rafe continued to rub her arms, telling himself that he would stand there for as long as it took, even if it took all night.

All he wanted was for her to feel better.

“It’s okay to cry.” 

It’s okay to cry. The voice echoed in Rafe’s brain after he said it, this time in a softer, more gentle voice. He smiled to himself as he remembered his mom’s soft, golden hair. Her bright blue eyes. The smile on her face as she said those same words to Rafe when he was a kid. It’s okay to cry. 

Reilly only shook her head in response. She let out a deep breath and looked up at Rafe. Finally .

Her eyes were watery and red. Her face was somewhat red as well from her crying. Rafe held himself back from holding her face with his gentlest touch and pulling her into his chest. He sighed and kept his eyes on her face. He racked his brain for something — anything — to cheer her up. But like before, when he'd stopped Reilly from leaving the first time, he said the same thing: Nothing.

After too long of silence, Reilly shook her head and looked away, gesturing towards his car that sat parked a few yards away. “Just take me home, Rafe.”

Rafe nods and turns towards where he’d parked his Bronco earlier. He placed his hand on her lower back, needlessly guiding her towards the car. Once they reached it, Rafe opened the door for Reilly. He watched as she climbed in before shutting the door behind her and making his way around the car and to the driver’s seat with a defeated sigh.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOUR. ᐟ

FULL KOOK.

NOW PLAYING…

TORONTO 2014 DANIEL CAESAR, MUSTAFA

Just know whenever you need me,
we’ll figure it out.

6.4k words

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THE birds chirp a sweet, melodic tune outside and the sun peeks through the window. The curtains blow slightly from the wind rolling off the water. Her vision is blurry before Reilly blinks, clearing it up a bit. She loved waking up naturally. It was much preferred to a loud alarm blaring and startling her from her sleep. It reminded her of when she was a kid, waking up to the sound of crashing waves and seagulls.

Reilly sits up, stretching her arms and legs for a few seconds. When she relaxed, her legs swung over her bed and onto the cool, wooden floor. The old wood creaked under her weight as she walked towards the mirror on her desk. She sits at the chair and pulls her thick, curly hair from the silk scrunchie that kept it tied on top of her head. It splays out around her, waiting for a comb to go through it to calm it down a little bit. Reilly lets out a long breath as she glances at her comb with a distasteful look.

Her phone rings. She looks over to where she left it sitting on her bed, seeing the name RAFE CAMERON on the screen. Reilly finds herself shooting up from the chair to grab the phone. Her finger pauses over the screen for just a moment. Then, her thumb swipes across the screen.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice greets over the phone. “What are you doing?”

Reilly puts the phone on speaker before looking back at herself in the mirror. She sprayed her hair with water and pulled the comb through her hair as she spoke. “Getting ready for work at the country club — what else is new?”

Rafe hums. For a while it’s silent and Reilly stares at the phone with a confused look, waiting for him to say something. She almost checked her phone to make sure she didn’t accidentally mute herself. But Rafe’s voice cuts through the phone before she does.

“Are you good?”

Reilly rolled her eyes at the question. She’d already been asked four times by Ophelia, Kelce and Topper. She took a breath, telling Rafe the same thing she’d told them: “I’m okay. I always am.”

ABOUT a week had gone by, every hour of it spent with Reilly focusing solely on work. She would get up, work a few hours at the shop, then go straight to the country club to work the rest of the night. She’d get home by midnight, then wake up at six again that morning to clock back in at the shop.

On days that she had class, Reilly would work right until her class started. She’d go to class, then go right back to whichever job she was scheduled to work. Any time that she wasn’t at the country club or school, she was at the shop.

She’d barely had any time to hang out with her friends; Maybe once or twice stopping by the Chateau for an hour or two before having to go home for the night in order to be up early the next day. She had seen Pope, her own twin, about two out of the five days she’d been on her working streak.

It’s been weird for Reilly to not see Pope so often. The two grew up together, obviously, and being right beside each other every day became a habit. As kids, they slept in the same room for years. Reilly had the tendency to crawl into his bed when she got scared, not that Pope ever cared. Even as a kid, Pope was the best comfort Reilly could have.

Even as middle schoolers, when Bobby and Joy would yell and scream at each other from the living room, Reilly would grab her blanket and a pillow, quietly walk from her room to her brother’s, before crawling into Pope’s bed. Beside him, Reilly felt as if nothing could touch her. She felt invulnerable. She imagined it like a giant bubble that existed around them only, and any outside source trying to get in would bounce off immediately.

Reilly has surprised herself that she hasn’t told Pope about her and Rafe hanging out more. She always went to Pope with everything little thing. Sure, she would go to him mostly to help with homework, but a lot of the time it was also just to have someone to talk to. Someone who understood exactly what she was always thinking.

They both went to each other first. Before anyone else, including their parents. So, the time away from her brother felt like an eternity, though it had only been 48 hours. So, the fact that she had not told him about this was definitely out of the ordinary.

Rafe had made it a point to call Reilly every day at least once, just to talk to her. After he heard about her schedule for the week, Rafe took it upon himself to call her — “just to make sure you’re up on time.” He had said with a nonchalant shrug.

So, he did. The first day or two, he’d sleepily mumble, “You up?” Into the receiver, not realizing Reilly was already getting ready or sitting at the shop. But she let him think he was helping her — she thought the gesture was sweet.

After a while, it became a part of the day that Reilly couldn’t wait for. The one day that Rafe hadn’t called her, Reilly felt weirdly disappointed. But then, Rafe showed up to the shop again, just to sit and talk to her. He stayed for two hours — until his dad called, demanding Rafe get back to the house to help him with something.

After he left, Reilly felt a small pull in her chest. She ignored it as she greeted the next customer who walked in.

The country club was packed today, as if everyone and their dad decided to play golf. Reilly was, once again, in the zone — racing through the fields of green hills in her personalized golf cart, her eyes peeled for golfers who needed her to make a drink or two for them.

During her third loop around the green, she noticed a hand fly up, waving her down. She waved back and turned the cart towards the group of three and headed towards them.

The three men that stood at the bottom of the small hill became clearer and clearer the closer Reilly drove towards them. After getting close enough, she finally realized who these three men were.

“What’s up, Reilly?” Topper greeted her with his arms open wide. Reilly hopped out of her cart once it was in park and went in for a small hug. One thing she’d learned about Topper was he was a hugger through and through. He didn’t greet her without at least a small side-hug from the girl. The trait was familiar in his girlfriend, too; Ophelia was also naturally touchy. The quirk was endearing to Reilly; She thought it was sweet that they were the same in that way.

“We missed you, girl,” Kelce added, patting the girl on the shoulder with a heavy hand. “Rafe’s been keeping you to himself too much. We all gotta hang soon.”

Rafe’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull at Kelce’s statement. His eyes quickly moved to Reilly, gauging her reaction. Reilly laughed at Kelce. “Well, you need to take that up with Rafe, not me.” She glanced at Rafe with that same sweet smile.

“Are these the specials, right here?” Topper’s attention shifted quickly to the whiteboard that was attached to the top of Reilly’s beverage cart. The list of drinks with the prices beside them was written neatly on it, decorated with little hearts and stars around the words.

“Yeah, those are the drinks of the week,” Reilly confirmed with a nod. She flipped open her notepad and clicked her pen. “What can I get y’all?”

“I’ll just take an Michelob Ultra, if you’ve got it,” Kelce was the first to speak up.

“Michelob, okay,” Reilly turned to Topper next, who had been reading over the specials of the week. He pondered for a while. Right as Rafe let out an annoyed huff, Topper finally landed on a decision.

“Can I get the Kildare Sunrise?” He asked her with a shy smile.

“Of course!” Reilly replied. Lastly, she looked to Rafe, who still hadn’t said a word yet. “And for the mute?”

Rafe chuckled and nodded — she wasn’t wrong. He’d been oddly silent since he watched her walk over to their group. He just … didn’t know what to say to her. He still didn’t know what to say. But now she was addressing him directly and he was going to have to think of something quick.

“Hey, Reilly.” That’s all you got, bud? Jesus, Rafe, say something else! “I’ll just take a beer,” He stepped closer and smiled softly down at Reilly. Truth was, Rafe was happy to see her smiling. Reilly had been a little down since the whole Victoria thing happened. Rafe had made sure to text Victoria that night, telling her to leave Reilly alone. He hadn’t mentioned that to Reilly, though. Or anyone, for that matter. He just continued to talk to Reilly every day like he had been. He had basically turned into her alarm clock, calling her to wake her up every morning and learning her schedule to do it. In turn, it meant Rafe had to wake up early to do it, but he didn’t mind. If anything, Rafe felt better in the morning — not too groggy from oversleeping. He was beginning to look forward to falling asleep, just so he could wake up in the morning, roll over, and dial Reilly’s number.

“Coors, Michelob, or Miller?” Reilly asked automatically, still a bit in work-mode.

Rafe smirked. “Take a guess.”

“You look like a Miller kinda guy.” Her voice was low, almost sultry. Her head was tilted to the left as she spoke, her curly hair falling slightly in front of her eyes. Rafe had to stop himself from reaching up and brushing it away from her face. Her skin looked so soft. How could anyone have such soft skin?

Rafe blinked, snapping himself out of his thoughts. He kept his face still. That was a trick he’d been working on: No matter what emotion he’s feeling, he’d keep his face completely still. He’d gotten the hang of it with most of the emotions. The only one he couldn’t figure out was anger. His face always gave it away when Rafe was mad.

“Perfect,” He smiled down at her. “Miller’s perfect. Thanks, Ry.”

“Of course. Give me a few minutes to make that Kildare Sunrise, I’ll be right back,” She flashed a smile and spun around, walking back to her cart — out of earshot, but still visible.

Rafe watched with a smile as Reilly walked back to her beverage cart. She had her curly dark hair down, falling and landing on her shoulders. She wore a white, long-sleeved quarter-zip athletic shirt with a navy-blue golf skirt. Rafe couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she started making Topper’s drink with ease. She mixed different juices and alcohol together as music played softly from the Bluetooth speaker she had sitting in the cart. Rafe grunted and looked at Topper as Reilly worked.

“Why the fuck did you order a complicated ass drink, dumbass?” Rafe slapped Topper’s shoulder, causing him to stumble a bit from the surprise.

“The whiteboard says it’s her personal favorite!” Topper whined, raising his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t know it would be an annoyance to you.”

“It’s one of the hottest days of the year and you’ve got her up there —” Rafe stopped himself and sighed. “Whatever. Never mind.”

Kelce snorted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “How’s that challenge going for you, bud?” He said lowly while shaking his head.

Rafe felt his eyebrow raise at the question. He turned to Kelce. “And what the fuck do you mean by that, Kels?”

Kelce shrugged, his eyes staring off into the trees in the distance. “I’m just sayin’... Are you sure you’re still just doing all this for the challenge?” Kelce’s voice spoke up, leaning on his golf club with a raised eyebrow. A smirk played on his face. “I mean, dragging us out here out of nowhere? Seems to me like you’re starting to care about her or something.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe grumbled under his breath. “What about you? Mr. ‘We Gotta Hangout Soon’?”

“She’s my friend,” Kelce laughed. “I’m not the one pretending to like her to make my ex jealous.”

“I’m not pretending,”

“By definition you are.”

“Jesus, I’m not having this conversation with you two idiots,” Rafe shook his head and walked away, heading up the small hill and towards Reilly’s cart. Behind him, he heard Topper whine out a little, “I didn’t even say anything!” as Rafe trekked up the hill without turning around.

“Sorry about Top,” Rafe spoke up as he got enough. He stood to Reilly’s right as she continued to work. Reilly glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow as she asked what he meant by that. “Gave him shit for ordering that.”

“Oh, that’s okay. It’s my favorite.”  Reilly shrugged, adding the last bit of juice to the drink. She stirred it up for a moment before setting it down. She then opened the built-in cooler and grabbed two beers. “One Miller and one… Michelob.” She grunted as she reached deeper into the cooler to grab the second beer. She pulled it out and let out a breath of relief.

Rafe smiled at her, took the beers, and handed her Topper's drink as they walked back to Topper and Kelce.

Rafe set his drink down on their shared cart and dug in his pocket for cash. He grabbed a one-hundred-dollar bill and handed it to her. Reilly only looked at him.

“Rafe, all together, the drinks are twenty-two dollars.”

“Just keep it,” Rafe pushed the cash towards her again when Reilly attempted to hand the bill back. The look on his face told Reilly that the conversation was over. She was keeping the money, end of story. He moved on quickly. “Have you been drinking water? It’s like ninety-two degrees out here.”

“Yep. My bottle’s in the cooler in my cart.” Reilly confirmed. “Thank you, Rafe.”

Rafe only huffed and nodded in response. He turned and looked at his friends, both Topper and Kelce giving Rafe knowing smirks. Rafe’s eyes widened, an expression that said, ‘You better tip her well or else I will kick your ass.’

Topper and Kelce both fished out their own bills, both handing her a fifty. Again, she wanted to argue, but Rafe shushed her and shook his head. Reilly’s mouth snapped shut.

Reilly could only thank them. “I’ll be back around soon, okay? The rest of the drinks are on the house. I’ll see y’all later?” Kelce nodded with a smirk and Topper gave her a thumbs up. With that, she looked at Rafe, stepping close after checking that none of her managers were watching her.

“I’ll see you?” She repeated to him only, looking up at him with those big, brown eyes.

Rafe nodded down at her. “Drink some water.”

Reilly did a fake salute and winked before turning and making her way back to the cart. She put the $178 tip in her tip bag with a smile.

Rafe shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips as Reilly sped off. He rubbed his chin and turned to see Topper and Kelce both looking at him with knowing smiles.

“What?” Rafe asked while grabbing the golf club from his bag.

“I’m starting to think you need to call this off,” Topper smirked.

“I’m not calling shit off,” Rafe argued, placing the golf ball on the tee. “Whatever you think it is you’re seeing between me and Reilly isn’t anything, okay? So shut the fuck up about it. Christ.”

Topper raised his hands in surrender, muttering a small, “Whatever you say, man.”

— — — – – – - - -

Beau hasn’t stopped trailing Rafe since he entered the shop. Reilly has truly never seen the hound so obsessed with someone — not even her.

She laughed as she watched Rafe walk through the aisles, keeping himself within a few feet of Reilly to keep their conversation going, Beau hot on his tail. Usually, Beau would sleep under the front desk while Reilly worked. But since Rafe was here, Beau was awake and alert, tail wagging and tongue hanging from his mouth as he happily trotted behind the tall boy.

“I’m sorry again,” Rafe muttered as Reilly stocked the cans of dead bait. Reilly nodded, her way of saying ‘it’s okay.’ She’d already forgiven Rafe; He really didn’t do anything wrong, Reilly knew that. In the moment she was a lot madder at him. But since she’s taken the time to think about it, she’s calmed down. She knows he’s one of the hosts — he’s got to check up on people every once in a while. Him being with her the entire time was unrealistic. Reilly herself had already apologized to Rafe for her blow-up, to which Rafe told her that she didn’t need to be sorry.

Rafe stuffed his hands in his front pockets as he followed behind Reilly. “I know she’s got a bit of a jealousy issue, but since she cheated on me… I didn’t think she’d actually confront you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Who did she cheat on you with?” Reilly asked.

Rafe grunted. “Houston Matherly.”

Reilly couldn’t stop herself from letting out a sarcastic laugh when she heard the all too familiar name. “Figures.”

“You know him?” Rafe asked, scooping up Beau in his arms and carrying him as the two walked back up to the front of the store.

Reilly jumped up on the counter and swung her feet. Rafe stood beside her, leaning on the counter while scratching behind Beau’s ear. She nodded slowly. “A little too well. He and I used to… mess around, I guess.” Before Rafe can speak up, she continues. “He acted all lovey and cute in private. Couple stuff. But the second we were around other people… It’s like all that shut off. He barely looked my way twice.

“I wanted to be with him, like — really be with him, but anytime I’d bring it up, he’d tell me that pogues and kooks wouldn’t ever work. He’d say I wasn’t good enough for him. Eventually, enough became enough, so I broke it off. Not said a word to him since.”

Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe when she spoke. It was like she was using his air, like every breath he let out, she’d steal directly from his mouth. Rafe hung onto every word she said, like every syllable was a cliffhanger. He couldn’t blink. He was solely focused on what she’d just told him.

“He’s a dickhead,” Is all Rafe can say. He wants to tell her that that isn’t true — that pogues and kooks can make it work. That the whole ‘pogues versus kooks’ thing was stupid, anyway. He knew she knew that, though. He didn’t have to tell her. He didn’t think there was anything he could tell her that she didn’t already know.

“My dad wants me to go to school for business. I wanted to go for something else.”

Reilly’s head snaps up to him at this. Her eyebrows furrowed at his words. “What did you want to go for?”

Any other person, and Rafe would make them swear not to laugh. But for some reason, the temptation didn’t fall on his lips with Reilly. He was just prepared to tell her, like he already knew she wouldn’t laugh.

“Marine biology.”

Reilly smiled. Not in a mocking way, but a real, honest-to-God smile. Dimples impressed themselves into her cheeks. Her head tilted to the side, and she looked Rafe up and down and Jesus, was Rafe blushing?

“Really?” Reilly asked him.

“Yeah. I always loved the ocean. My mom bought me a huge book with every recorded sea-animal in history when I was nine, and I read it cover to cover more than once,” Rafe gazed off as he spoke, a small smile on his lips as he thought back to that time.

“That’s really sweet,” Reilly whispered.

Rafe hummed. His eyes stayed trailed off, though he’s still holding Beau and scratching behind his ear. “I think it’s just the mystery of it all. That book was thousands of pages long, and we’ve only discovered about 4% of the ocean.”

“So, you want to go discover the other 96%?”

“No — fuck no,” Rafe chuckled and shakes his head slightly. His eyes snap back up to Reilly, who had hung on to every word he’d spoken. “That’s a death wish and believe it or not, I don’t have one. Nah, I just want to study the ones we have discovered. Their characteristics, their genetics, stuff like that.”

Reilly nods in understanding, a content look on her face as she watches Rafe seemingly day-dream about it. After a moment, Rafe blinks, snapping himself out of it.

“Anyways… Yeah. I wanted to go do something with that, but my dad is working on making me the next heir of Cameron Development. Even though we both know Wheezie would be better for it than me.”

He mutters the last sentence. Reilly barely catches it. “Who’s that?”

Rafe, who was in the process of putting Beau back down on the ground, looks up at Reilly. Once Beau is off to the underside of the desk for a nap, Rafe stands straight. “Wheeze? My sister — Louisa. Everybody calls her Wheezie. She’s a genius, Reilly, like a real one. Not just with school, but just… with everything. It’s insane.”

Reilly feels the apples of her cheeks rise again. She can tell by the way Rafe talks about Wheezie, that he really loves her. It’s so clear — the way his eyes light up when he talks about her, the way he smiles when he thinks about her. It was really cute.

After a few minutes of silence between the two, Rafe speaks up again. “Hey, how do you know how to keep the books?”

Reilly leans over on the desk to grab her stock and inventory notebook. She felt a hand on her thigh, Rafe gently keeping it there to hold her steady in case she lost her balance and fell off the desk. His hand was so warm, so gentle, that Reilly almost wanted to milk her time in grabbing the notebook. Deciding against it, she snatched the notebook and sat back up straight and opened it. She used her pen to mark out a few things before closing it shut and finally answering Rafe. “I play softball.”

“What?” Rafe’s voice boomed throughout the store, catching the eyes of a few customers.

Reilly shrugged and nodded. “I’m the catcher for the softball team at school.”

Rafe blinks. Shit. How did he not know that?

Because he’s never asked. He’s never cared to ask.

That’s over now. Now that he’s gotten a taste, Rafe wants to know everything there is to know about this girl.

“I’ll be at the next game.” His voice is gruff, final.

“I’ll make sure I send you the schedule,” The dimples in Reilly’s cheeks deepen and Rafe finds himself staring at them. Jesus Christ.

There’s a beat of silence. Usually, Rafe would leave once he found himself getting bored, rarely ever even coming up with a half-assed excuse. But he wasn’t bored today. Even when they were silent, the only thing that they could hear was the sound of customers shuffling throughout the store. He wasn’t bored.

“Hey, so I know your dad owns the shop or whatever,” Rafe’s voice is deeper, and his voice is quieter.

Reilly’s head tilts to the right, waiting for Rafe to continue. “Yeah…?”

“What about your mom?” He’s seen Joy Reeves (formerly Heyward) around here and there. Mostly in fancy boutiques, sitting by herself eating food in a diner, or on a bench in the park. But he’s not said much to her. The two were familiar with each other, simply friends of friends.

Rafe also knew about Joy’s addiction. It was easy for him to weed the druggies from the sober people, and Joy was a downright addict. Rafe suspected coke was her drug of choice. Her thin arms and legs, the deep bags under her eyes that she tries to cover with makeup, and the way she shook when she was in public: The signs were all there.

But where Joy was soft, quiet, and shy, Reilly was the opposite. Joy was impassive and Reilly was expressive. Joy was apprehensive, Reilly was outgoing. Joy was like a dark, cold cave, and Reilly was comparable to a sunny day, or ice-cold water at two in the morning. Reilly was fresh air after being stuck in a smokey room. Rafe couldn’t see how someone like Reilly could be made from someone like Joy.

Reilly let out a breath through puckered lips. Rafe stays silent, watching as Reilly nods and collects her thoughts. She’s trying to figure out what to tell me, Rafe thought to himself, and what not to tell me.

After a moment, Reilly speaks. “Yeah, uh… She’s-She’s something.”

“She seems nice.”

Reilly nods again. “She is. She’s really sweet. She’s just… In a shitty situation.” Reilly’s hand moves up to her arm and she gently rubs back and forth. Her eyes are downcast on the ground as her legs kick back and forth in the air.

Rafe steps forward. He still stands beside her, but now his hand is in hers, gently holding it. Her eyes move from the floor to their intertwined hands, and for some reason, she feels different. Whereas before, she couldn’t find the right words, now she knows exactly what to say.

Or maybe she doesn’t know what to say. Maybe she’ll sound like a complete idiot. But Reilly doesn’t care anymore. She needed to say something — it was pushing for her to let it out, to let someone in on everything.

“She and my dad got a divorce about nine years ago. Pope and I were fourteen— just turned fourteen. I was pretty okay with it, but Pope, he… he took it hard. He’s the smart one, but he’s also very emotionally available. He cried for three days straight. It took me three days to cry. And when I did … Maybe lasted an hour.” Reilly laughed. Rafe didn’t laugh. “So, they get divorced. Mom moves out, has her own place for a few years. Then, she meets Mark.”

“Mark Reeves?”

“Yeah. You know him?” Reilly looked away from their hands and back up to Rafe. Even though she was sitting on top of a counter, and he was standing, he still towered over her.

Rafe shrugged, though his heart was beating in his chest. “Met him a few times. Kinda have to since our business work together sometimes.”

Yeah, he knows Mark Reeves. Didn’t like the guy — never did, but he knew him alright. The two men had a few similarities; Mostly the drug problems, though Rafe knew Mark’s problem was a lot worse than his ever was. It all made sense now — Mark introduced Joy to coke. That had to be how she became an addict. Rafe wanted to throw up at the thought of Reilly doing coke because of him. He couldn’t imagine letting her get anywhere near that part of his life. For Mark to do that to Joy so easily… To be the one who introduced her to it in the first place… It made Rafe sick.

Reilly hummed. “Makes sense. You don’t want to know him on a personal level, trust me.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s a bit of a dick. Or — He’s a fucking dick. He and my mom got married, and he’s… well, he’s not all he’s cracked up to be, if you get my drift.”

A smile stretches across Rafe’s face. He chuckles and shakes his head, taking a step away from Reilly. He lets go of her hand and immediately regrets it. He stuffs his hand in his pocket instead of reaching for it again.

“So, he’s a drug addict? Join the club.” Rafe rolls his eyes.

“No, he’s like a real, true addict. The bad kind.”

“I don’t think many addicts are necessarily good, Ry,” Rafe snorts.

“You know what I mean,” Reilly leans back as she laughs. Her hands move up to push back on Rafe’s chest. Rafe takes a few more steps back as if she pushed him hard, though they both know he could have stood still as a statue if he wanted to. “He’s like, a really bad one.”

“You’re gonna have to elaborate.”

“You know…” Reilly still has a small smile on her face, though it doesn’t reach her eyes anymore. Rafe saw it as soon as it happened: The shift. The way she went from having a good time, to pretending like she was. He could see the pain in her eyes. His heart felt like it was cramping up at the sight.

Reilly shrugged again, the small smile she once had turning into a frown. “He’s not the nicest to my mom. Mainly when he’s drunk or high. He tends to…” Her words trail off as she decides how exactly she wants to say it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to say it at all. “You know, he hits her sometimes.”

Reilly regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t something she talked about much, not even to her dad or brother. She didn’t like the vulnerability of it. She didn’t like feeling less than or pitied by anybody. So, she tended to keep the things that upset her to herself. She wasn’t the sad, depressing type of person — at least not in public. When around others, she did her best to keep herself light.

So, Reilly looked back up at Rafe, putting on her biggest smile she could muster. She lets out a breath and shakes her head, ready to move on from the subject as quickly as she can. “On the bad days, that is. But that’s not —”

“Has he touched you?”

Reilly’s eyes widen when she realizes Rafe looks pissed. She’s seen Rafe’s explosions before. She knows how he looks when he’s close to blowing up, and while he wasn’t there yet, this was pretty damn similar.

“A-Are you okay?” Now, Reilly’s hand was the one reaching out to grab Rafe’s. Her fingers intertwine with his smoothly, as if she’s done it a million times. Her other hand moves next when Rafe barely acknowledges her, grabbing a hold of his opposite arm and squeezing. Her thumb absentmindedly rubs the bare skin. Rafe blinks.

“Has he touched you?” Is all he asks again. His voice is steadier this time, and his low tone shocks her. Reilly can’t get herself to answer. She did not want this to happen, she didn’t want someone worrying over her like this. She thought they’d both laugh it off, Rafe would forget the whole conversation, and Reilly would drag her feet back to her room to wallow in sadness for the rest of the night — something she did often when she thought about her mom.

But Rafe did not look like he was in a laughing mood anymore. The lighthearted conversation from three minutes ago was now left in the dust, and Reilly could barely remember how they even got here.

“Reilly.”

“No.” She answers before she even thinks. Rafe’s voice snapped her back into reality, her silence probably being the thing that made him snap at her. “No. He’s never touched me. He-He’s tried — Gotten close. But Pope … or my mom have always stopped him.”

When Rafe doesn’t say anything right away, Reilly feels herself start to speak again. Anything to soften the blow of the bomb she just landed on Rafe. She wishes she could just take it all back, but she knows it’s too late. “It’s my fault, anyway. When I get mad, I tend to say the first thing that pops into my head, and I’ve said the wrong thing at the wrong time once or twice.” Reilly’s voice feigns indifference, like it doesn’t bother her that her stepfather has tried to hurt her more than once. But the tears that threaten to gather in her eyes say otherwise.

“Shut up.” Rafe finally says something else. He stares straight down at her, with those piercing blue eyes. Reilly swears she can see herself in his eyes — like they’re two small mirrors that look straight at her. “Just, shut the fuck up.”

He steps away again, out of her touch again. His hand moves up to his head and he runs a hand over his hair for a moment while pacing back and forth around the store. His steps echo throughout the store, and the wood creaks beneath his feet. His breaths quickened for a moment before he took a deep breath. Reilly swears he can hear him mutter, “Why the fuck am I…” But his voice was so small, she’d never be sure.

His back is now facing her fully. His hands rest on his hips. He taps his foot once, twice, three times. His right-hand squeezes three times too, before he speaks up.

“It’s not your fault. No matter what you say to him. It isn’t your fault.” He slowly, so slowly, turns and steps forward, back to his spot close to her. “How long has this been happening?”

“Him hurting my mom? Maybe two years.” Reilly’s words are still flowing, as if she was just having small talk with him. As if she wasn’t telling Rafe something that was about to make him lose it. Her words flowed from her tongue like she was reciting poetry, not talking about her piece of shit stepdad who Rafe currently wanted to bury alive. “He’s been a dick forever, though. When me and Pope were teenagers, we used to sneak out and go to the beach. Just sit, watch the waves and the sunrise. Never even surfed.”

She smiled a soft smile, her eyes caught staring in the distance. “We loved it. It’s already our favorite place to be. But the beach during sunrise? The breeze coming off the water, so it isn’t blistering hot?” Reilly whistled a low tone. “It’s a whole other level.” Her smile slowly dropped, and Rafe watched as the happy memory faded away from her. The smile was now completely gone, traded in for a neutral face again. “Anyways, Mark caught us once. He told us it was stupid and childish to go sit on the beach. A ‘waste of time’.”

Reilly let out a small chuckle. “It’s dumb, I know. But it got to me, somehow. Maybe because it was him who said it? Maybe because he was kind of right? Either way, we never snuck out again. Like —” She sat up straighter. “I’m an adult now, I get that I can do whatever I want. But he — somehow, he got to me so bad that I’ve not… Never did it again.”

Rafe grunted. His hand reached up to rub his mouth as he nodded and looked away for a moment. He could feel his hand shaking as he took two calming breaths.

He cleared his throat. “If he ever does… hurt you,” His voice is low and rough, like he’d just finished screaming until his throat was sore. “You tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

Reilly’s eyes are wide. Her heartbeat is beating so hard, it feels as if it’s in her throat, slowly crawling its way up. She blinked once, twice. Reilly could only nod. Rafe’s face looked like he was serious — he would take care of it if Mark were to ever touch her. Reilly didn’t necessarily need Rafe to help her, but it still felt good that he wanted to.

“Be careful, now,” She felt her body leaning forward. She still sat on top of the front desk, her legs crossed in front of her. Reilly’s arms were placed on the countertop on either side as she leaned her body closer to Rafe’s instinctively — like she wanted to be closer to him.

Rafe’s head tilts as he steps closer, now directly in front of her. His eyebrow is raised, and his mouth is shaped back into that damn smirk; The one Reilly can’t seem to resist.

“Why should I?” He retorted.

“If you’re not careful, you’re gonna make me go full-kook,” Reilly whispered, like a secret between just those two.

But Rafe knew the real secret. And Reilly had no clue.

He’d never admit it, but Rafe was beginning to rethink this ‘challenge’ he had going on with Justin. The more time he spent with Reilly, the sicker he felt at the thought of her finding out. Topper and Kelce were right. This whole thing could blow up in Rafe’s face, and he’d lose the one girl who he didn’t want to push away.

But, fuck, what could he do?

He could tell her, straight-up. That would be the most admirable way, but Rafe could already see the hurt in Reilly’s face as he scrambled to justify what he’s done. He’d say the wrong thing — he knew he would. He’d offend her even more, and she’d never talk to him again.

What else were his options, though? Someone else spill it to her?

Rafe could see how that would play out. Topper or Kelce would accidentally let it slip, sliding it into a joke or something. Or, worse: Justin would just tell her. If any one of his friends were the least likely to have a conscience, it was Justin. If Justin were to get bored, he’d do anything to make it ‘fun’ again.

‘Fun’ in this instance would be telling Reilly about the entire thing, just to watch the aftermath with a sick smile on his face.

No, that could never happen. Reilly could not find out.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIVE .ᐟ

EFF MARK.

NOW PLAYING…

ARE YOU LOOKING UP MK.GEE

Rylee just waits on
someone to give her new light.

4.3k words

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RAFE’S head snapped up at the sound of the doorbell ringing, the familiar ding-dong echoing throughout the estate. He peered down at the time on his phone: eleven-thirty. What the fuck?

Someone else would get it. It was probably a stupid pogue here for Sarah. They had a habit of staying up late partying and sleeping in throughout the day, completely wasting the day away. Except for Reilly. She gets up way too early for work every day.

The doorbell rings again, this time twice in a row. Rafe groans, “Somebody get the —” He cuts himself off.

Wheezie’s at a sleepover. Sarah’s out with John B. Ward and Rose went to New York for a conference. Rafe was the only one at the house for the night.

The doorbell rings for a third time, followed by a few knocks on the door in quick succession.

“Why do you even have to stay there? You’re in college.” Rafe asked the girl as they walked beside each other towards the parking lot. The baseball game had ended, Kildare winning (obviously. The two slowly walked to Rafe’s truck so he could take Reilly home.

“Court ruled in Mark and Mom’s favor. As long as Pope and I live with our dad, we have to stay a weekend with Mom and Mark once a month.” Reilly explained. “Trust me, you don’t have to tell me how dumb it is. But Mark — He has connections and a fuck-ton of money.”

“He bribed the judge?”

“I mean, either that or he knows him personally. I think he bribed him, though. Mark knows my dad can’t afford a good enough lawyer. They were going to win anyways — Mark bribed the judge just to prove he can.” Reilly scoffed. Rafe noticed her hands were closed in fists by her sides. “I hate him so much.”

Rafe nodded. They made it to the truck, Rafe yanking open the passenger’s side for Reilly to climb in. His eyes were narrowed, deep in thought as she settled herself in the seat, waiting for him to close the door.

But then Rafe didn’t shut the door. He stood still, his right arm resting on top of the door. His other arm was stretched out, grasping onto the headrest. Reilly leaned her head back against the headrest as she looked up at him, her hair softly tickling Rafe’s hand. His hand twitched. Fuck, it would be so easy to just reach out and hold onto her cheek. He could practically feel the softness of her cheek against his rough hand.

Rafe didn’t move.

“Fuck Mark.” His voice was deep, rough. His eyes were like stone, unmoving, unwavering as he spoke.

Reilly smiled up at him. She leaned forward slightly and Rafe felt his breath hitch. She didn’t move too close, but she didn’t have to — Rafe could already feel his heartbeat in his throat.

Reilly’s head tilted to the side. “Fuck Mark.” She repeated.

Then, hours later, Rafe's in his room with his eyes glued to his phone. He had been texting Reilly all night. He told himself it was the least he could do — check up on a girl who was stuck in a place she didn’t want to be, hell, shouldn’t be. But deep down, Rafe knew he enjoyed talking to her much more than he’d let on. He was doing this for himself just as much as he was for her.

His last text had stayed on read for a few minutes. Rafe told himself not to freak out yet, but the continued silence began to haunt him. He tried to busy himself with something else. He tried turning on a movie and scrolling mindlessly through his phone, but his thoughts kept going back to Reilly. She still hadn’t texted and he knew she wasn’t asleep yet.

Rafe texted twice, three times, to nothing. That’s when he started to freak out. He paced around his room for a few minutes, asking himself why he didn’t just suck it up and request her location like he wanted to earlier. But of course, he pussied out, and now he was stuck wondering if she was okay.

Rafe trudged down the steps with a huff. His mind was reeling, and while the priority was Reilly, he needed whoever was at the door to shut the fuck up.

The doorbell had turned into knocking, an incessant bang against the door that hadn’t stopped since Rafe began walking down the spiral staircase.

When he finally reached the door, Rafe didn’t bother checking to see who it was. He swung open the door. “Jesus, what —”

And she’s there. Reilly is standing there, in front of him, soaking wet from the tropical storm that blew in a few hours earlier. Her hair was dripping wet, the droplets rolling down her face that was equally drenched. All she has on is a (also wet) hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts. Her hood is over her head, probably in the hopes that it would protect her from the rain — she was wrong.

“What are you — Get inside,” Rafe grips Reilly’s wrist and gently tugs her in. Once she stumbles her way through the door, Reilly lets out a shivered breath of relief. She had no clue if anyone was following her.  She could feel the rain from her clothes and hair dripping onto the expensive wooden floor, and she cringed.

Rafe shuts the door behind them and turns back to Reilly. His eyes are searching over her body. The only thing he could see now was how cold she must be from the rain outside.

“What are you wearing?”

“W-What I left in,” Reilly stutters out, her voice trembling. She didn’t know if it was from the cold or the fear. Judging from the way her legs and hands both shook, she figured it was both.

Rafe looks through the window that shows the front driveway. He scanned the driveway for another car, other than his. When he doesn't see Reilly’s familiar car, he looks back at her. Her head is down, staring at the dripping water falling onto the floor. “Did you walk here?”

Reilly doesn’t lift her head. She lets out a half-hearted chuckle. “I ran here.”

The joke lands flat. Rafe doesn’t laugh. He just huffs and grabs her wrist again, but then slides his hand down, his fingers wrapping around her hand. He tugs her arm, leading her up the steps and to his room.

As soon as they make it, Rafe stalks straight for his dresser. He dug through the clothes for a moment, picking out the warmest clothes he owned — A thick pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He placed the items on the bed. “Get changed, warm up. Towel’s in the warmer in the bathroom. I’ll be right outside. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Reilly could only nod. It felt as if her body was on autopilot. Even after Rafe had shut the door behind him, Reilly didn’t even feel her body move as she peeled off her wet clothes that stuck to her body. Before she knew it, her clothes were replaced with Rafe’s new, fresh, dry clothes.  Rafe didn’t tell her where to put her wet clothes, so she opted to hang them on the side of his bathtub to dry off some.

Once she finished, Reilly cracked the door open and there he was, like he said. Rafe stood against the wall to his left, his head leaning back against the wall. He lifted his head and looked at her, standing his body straight. “You good?”

When Reilly nodded, Rafe took it as his chance to go ahead.

He shuts the door behind them. He and Reilly both take a seat on the bed. Her feet dangle from the height, but Rafe’s touch the floor with ease.

Reilly has barely said a word. Reilly — the girl who can’t keep her mouth shut — is silent.

“Reilly…” Rafe trails off, mostly to get her attention. He figured if he had just started speaking, she wouldn’t hear a word he said. “You’re scaring me. Talk to me.” He finally moves his hand up, gently pulling down her hoodie. When he’s met with frazzled, curly hair, he moves that out of the way, too, to get a better look at her face. It’s been covered the whole time she was here, her face has barely left the ground.

That’s when he finally notices it. The large bruise that started at the middle of her neck and trailed down towards her collarbone. And the swollen lower lip that had slowly dried blood coated on it.

Rafe’s breath hitched in his throat. He feels his jaw clench. If he wasn’t careful, his teeth would shatter in his mouth. His fingers had curled into a fist, and he was going between clenching and unclenching those as well. Every muscle in Rafe's body felt tight. He struggled to hold back his desire to let loose and do what he so desperately wanted to do.

The way Rafe stayed eerily still drew Reilly to look up at him. His face was deadpanned as he stared at her. His mouth was a straight line, with no uptick at the corners like usual. His hair had fallen in his face, almost blocking his eyes. He looked really fucking mad and he was yet to say a word since he saw her face. Reilly’s hands began fiddling with her own fingers, picking at the skin around her nails.

Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe.

His eyes kept moving from her eyes to her lip to her neck and back to her eyes. Her eyes that looked like they’d been holding back tears for the past hour. Once Rafe finally looked past the blood and bruises, and at her actual face, his heart dropped. Her eyebrows were pinched, and almost cartoonishly, her lower lip was beginning to tremble. She looked so scared, so sad — a trait that he’d never seen on her before and never wanted to see again.

“Oh, baby…”

That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The dam broke. A sob escaped Reilly’s throat after she’d been fighting so hard to keep it down since she left. Her eyes snapped shut and her face fell into her hands. She felt the weight of Rafe’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, drawing her into his side. She rested her cheek on his chest as the tears began running down her face. Her cries were beginning to overtake her, and it felt like she was trying extra hard to breathe.

“Hey, hey,” Rafe’s voice finally cut in again, pulling her back into reality. Even though she and Rafe were physically close at this moment, it felt like she wasn’t actually there. Like her body was there, but her mind wasn’t. It was as if she were watching this happen from a different perspective.

“Come back, now,” Rafe's voice was uncharacteristically soft. Reilly had no clue how Rafe knew she needed that, but she didn’t think about it too long. She was too anchored onto Rafe’s words to think too deeply about it. “S’Okay, baby.”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Reilly muttered into his chest, her body still hiccupping from crying.

“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere else, Reilly,” Rafe shook his head even though she couldn’t see him. He rested his cheek on the top of her head as he spoke, “You’re exactly where you should’ve gone.”

When Reilly doesn’t say anything in reply, Rafe goes through all the things in his mind that he can say to keep her in the present. But every time he tried to think of something, his mind kept going back to the past. He had to know — once he knew that, then he could focus on making it better.

“What happened?” He asked. He had almost started rocking her like a baby that needed coddling to calm down. But, surprisingly to him, it seemed to be working. She hadn’t pulled away yet, at least. “Gotta tell me so I can fix it.”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking. Rafe knows the answer — it was him. Mark. While Rafe doesn’t know the details, he doesn’t need to. But for some reason, he has to.

“I don’t even know what started it,” Reilly says slowly, getting through the sentence as best as she can. She shakes her head but doesn’t move away from him. “Or maybe I do. Got home late. He was drinking. Probably high, I don’t know —”

“Mark?”

“He was pissed that I got home late. Even more pissed that Pope had run off with our friends.”

Rafe sighed. He was the one to move away from the girl, grabbing onto her shoulders and pulling her away to stare her straight in the eyes. “You’re not telling me this.”

Reilly knew what he meant. She wasn’t about to tell him that Mark slammed her against the wall and gripped her neck before throwing her to the ground. He didn’t ball his fist up and punch her in the mouth, splitting her lower lip.

Reilly shakes her head and stands up. This was all too much for her; it was happening too fast. She didn’t even remember the trek here — it was only a ten-minute walk to Rafe’s house from Mark’s, but the high wind and horizontal rain made it closer to fifteen — maybe twenty. But Reilly’s body was basically on autopilot. She had to get out of that house. The Chateau and her own home were too far; any house of the cut was too far. The Cameron estate was right there. But she didn’t think it through — she didn’t think about the interrogation Rafe was going to give her. She didn’t think about having to explain to Rafe what happened. The thought of him (or anyone, really) being concerned for her, pitying her? Maybe the Chateau wasn’t too far after all.

“It’s late,” Reilly pulls her hood back over her head and slips her shoes back on her feet. “I’m sorry for bar-barging in like this —”

“Hey — No ma’am,” Rafe reaches forward, his hand once again wrapping around her wrist. He pulls her back down beside him, their thighs pressed up against one another. “What’d you think, you’re just gonna run back out there?” Rafe sighs and pulls her hood down for the second time. His eyes bore into hers, staring deep into her eyes. “You-You gotta tell me, Ry. Tell me and I’ll make it better, I swear to God I will.” His voice is pleading now, the tone in his words pulling and stretching like an old-timey taffy machine. If his eyes could speak, they’d be speaking in that same pleading tone. His eyes almost looked bluer as they stared holes into hers. He waited on her every breath for her to finally tell him what he’s been waiting to hear.

Reilly took a deep breath. Before she could think, the words escaped her mouth. Now that she had already cried about it, the tears were done. She just laid it out there, purposefully ignoring his eyes — it was the only way she could get through it. She told him everything. Everything Mike said to her, everything he did. She told him about how she left immediately, forgetting her keys in the process but refusing to go back inside for them. She told him how she decided to run to Rafe’s house because it was the closest.

“When you said he’s never done this before,” Rafe swallows. He’s not sure if he actually wants the answer. "Was that the truth?”

Reilly nods. “He was just… extra angry tonight. I’ve never seen him so…” She trails off. She doesn’t have to explain, and honestly… thinking about it made her fingers tremble.

This time, Rafe stands up. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

His long legs stride over to the door, where his shoes lie haphazardly.

Reilly jumped up behind him, holding onto the bottom of his shirt: the first thing her hands could hold on to.

“Rafe,” Reilly begged quietly. Rafe didn’t listen. “Rafe, please.” Her voice cracked and her words were turning more into a whimper now, making her sound fucking pathetic — she hated it.

“You stay here. Get some rest. I’ll be back soon.” Was all he said as Rafe slipped on his shoes and grabbed his car keys that were sitting on his dresser.

“Rafe,” Reilly tried again, but Rafe ignored her. He’d moved on to grabbing his phone and pocketing it before moving toward the door again. “Rafe, please don’t do this. I don’t want you getting —”

“He can’t do that to you, Reilly!” Rafe’s voice boomed over hers, drowning out her pleas. His eyes were wide, and his chest was rising and falling at quick speeds. He had turned as he yelled out, looking at her for the first time since he’d stood up. He took in her slightly red face, and it only pissed him off more. How could anyone do this to her? Especially her own stepdad — someone who's supposed to protect her. He married into her family intending to take care of her as if she were his own. And this is the shit he does to her? Rafe would be damned if the same thing that happened to him happened to her too. He’d never let it happen again.

“Please,” Reilly whispers. Her hands are still gripped onto his shirt, fisting the fabric between her hands. Her head is tilted up and Rafe can really see her lip now; the split in the skin, the fully dried blood that had made its way between the cracked lips.

If his heart was clenched before, it is shattered now.

He’s such a fucking idiot.

Rafe only shakes his head at her. His angry demeanor was now almost completely gone, now a saddened expression. His head continues to shake as he brings her into his arms, completely encompassing her in him. His hands rub her back as she leans into him.

“M’Not leaving.” Rafe couldn’t stop shaking his head. “Never leaving. I promise.”

“I don’t wanna be alone right now, Rafe,” Reilly continued to plead. “I can’t.”

Now, Rafe nodded. “I know. I know, baby. I know.” He repeats those words over and over like a mantra. The rhythmic sound seems to help calm Reilly down. She hung onto every syllable like her life depended on it. “You’re good. I got you.”

Finally, Rafe pulled away. His hand reached out and gently cupped her cheek, doing his best not to touch the bruise around her upper neck. His thumb found itself softly rubbing into the skin of her cheek. His gaze drifted down to her neck, but he quickly snapped back up to her eyes. He knew if he stared at her throat too long, he’d only get himself worked up again.

Rafe wanted to hurt Mark. Badly. He wanted to beat him within an inch of his life until his face was no longer recognizable. He knew how he’d do it, too. He had a plan cooked up from the moment he saw her face. First, he’d start by tying Mark to a chair. He’d start slow: Maybe a pair of pliers to the fingernails? Or the teeth? Then, he’d move on to the real shit. Beginning with a knife to the —

“Hey.”

Her voice dragged Rafe back to reality. His eyes, before unfocused but lingering on the wooden-paneled floors beneath his feet, zeroed in on hers. His hand that was once on her cheek had fallen to his side, and now it was Reilly’s hand that held his face. She stared at him with deep, concerned eyes.

“I lost you there. You with me?”

Rafe nodded. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. M’Here.” He stood up, holding a hand out for Reilly to grab. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She was probably still cold, despite being in a much warmer house. Even though she had warmer clothes on, Reilly was still shivering — because Rafe was too caught up in his own feelings to fix that. He was already failing at this whole thing.

Rafe didn’t even grunt as he lifted Reilly onto his bathroom counter. As soon as she settled atop the marble counter, Rafe opened the first-aid kit (that he’d used on himself one too many times) and got to work.

She didn’t need much done. There was nothing Rafe could do for the bruise around her throat, but he did want to get the split lip patched up at least. Rafe twisted off the cap to his trusted ointment. He didn’t know what the shit was made of, but he knew it worked fast. With a small cut like this, her lip would be completely healed in three days at most.

Reilly’s eyes shut as he worked, and even after he muttered a small, “All done” once he had finished, Rafe stood up and kept his eyes trained on her. Even though she sat on the counter, Rafe still had a few inches on her.

After a second, Reilly’s eyes opened. The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched up. Reilly’s matched.

“I hope you know I’m trying my hardest to be calm right now.”

A laugh bubbles in Reilly’s chest. Her shoulders shake and her head drops for a moment as she laughs, but she looks back up at him with those same smiling eyes. “I know. I’m proud of you.”

Rafe’s heart leaps in his chest. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you. I’m — she's proud of me?

His cheeks warmed up. He didn’t expect that, but — he really liked hearing it, maybe a little more coming from her. It wasn’t something he heard often, and for some reason he embraced it more coming from Reilly than he would from his own father. It felt like the sunrise coming from her. Warmth spread over his entire body as if he were on the beach.

A splash of ice-cold water washed over Rafe as he thought back to why she was there in the first place. “I’m never letting him near you again, alright?” Rafe’s voice was low and gruff. He dipped his head lower to be eye-to-eye with hers as he spoke. When she looked away, he gently grabbed hold of her chin and pulled her to look back at him. “Never should have let you go in the first place.”

“Rafe,” Reilly breathed out a small chuckle. She shrugged. “I legally don’t have a choice.”

Rafe scoffed and stood back up straight. He took a few steps back, but not too far. “Fuck Judge Thornton. He’s a dumbass geriatric fuck.”

“His grandson is your best friend. Aren’t you supposed to go play golf with them next week?”

“Just rubbing elbows, baby,” Rafe smiled down at her, taking back his place between her thighs. “He’s still a dumbass. So’s Topper. Let’s pray he never passes the bar.”

“You’re all talk.” Reilly shoves his shoulder playfully.

Rafe hums. “Yeah?” He smirks before scooping the girl up in his arms. Her legs wrap around his middle as he holds her thighs. He turns toward the door and kicks it open, moving toward the bed. He places her down gently and climbs in behind her.

He thought of asking if she’d rather him sleep on the couch, but from the way Reilly’s body immediately folded into his, he figured she didn’t mind. He pulled her against him, letting her cheek rest against his chest. Rafe let out a sigh. To say he was still mad as fuck at Mark was an understatement. But here, with this girl, her head lying on his chest? Rafe was… content. Not overly happy, not sad. Just… peaceful.

It doesn’t take long for Reilly to fall asleep. The adrenaline had worn off a while ago, and the exhaustion from the whole night had finally caught up with her.

Rafe, however, couldn’t sleep. Every single time he closed his eyes, his mind went right back to replaying the entire night over again. He couldn't seem to talk himself into believing she was all alright. Opening the door to find her standing at his door, soaking wet. Finally (after way too long) noticing that she was hurt.

She must have been terrified. Rafe knew she probably tried to seem unphased in the moment, as Mark let loose, but deep down… Rafe could imagine the look on her face. It was like he could see her scrunched-up eyebrows, the way her chin probably shook as she tried to hold off crying. He could see the tears gathering in her eyes. It was like he was there — it was like he was standing right there as Mark held his hand tight around her throat, squeezing.

Rafe’s eyes snapped open. This wasn’t going to work. He was just getting angry. But every time he closed his eyes, it was all he could see. Rafe let out an annoyed sigh. He looked down at Reilly, still sleeping peacefully on his chest. She looked so much younger like this.

He couldn’t help himself from pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead. He closed his eyes. As Reilly nestled closer to him in her sleep, Rafe felt his heartbeat start to slow down. She was okay. She was with him. She was under his arm, warm and safe, sleeping comfortably. Rafe willed himself to think of something else — anything other than the pain and anguish Reilly had been through a few hours earlier. Thankfully, this time, it was a little easier for him.

Instead, he dreamed about the beach and a sunrise peeking over the horizon.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIX. ᐟ

THAT’S MY GIRL

NOW PLAYING…

FAFO ZACK FOX

Fuck around and find out.

4.3k words

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“SEE?” Reilly giggled as she whipped out her phone, opened the camera, and snapped a few photos. She grinned at Rafe, squinting her eyes against the sun that shone directly in her face. “He’s doing so good!”

She sets her phone down and rubs Beau’s head for a few seconds before she leans back in her seat again. Rafe scoffed and shook his head, though the smirk that played on his face proved that he wasn’t angry, not like he acted like he was. His eyes flicked back up to Reilly before he rolled them with the utmost drama. “I can’t believe you talked me into letting your dog ride in my $300,000 car.”

“He’s just sitting there!” Reilly argued with that same damn laugh, gesturing down to the (albeit well-behaved) basset hound that sat in the floorboard of Rafe’s car. Beau stared up at Rafe happily, his tongue sticking out from his drooping mouth. Reilly scratched behind his ear a few more times, muttering about how he’s such a good boy, before sitting back against the coffee-brown leather seats. Rafe turned the air conditioning on full blast once the girl and her dog hopped in the car, instead of letting the top down like he usually did. The storm had blown over early that morning, leaving the air in a humid, muggy state in its wake. Windows down wasn't an option; it was way too stuffy outside, even with the wind blowing. So, the best option was to keep the windows up with the air conditioner turned up.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Rafe chuckled after glancing back down at the droopy-faced dog. Rafe couldn’t deny it; Beau was cute. Beau had come to love Rafe, a feeling that developed during Rafe's time in the shop while Reilly was on shift. Rafe would always let Beau roll onto his back so he could rub his stomach. Reilly had told him once that it was Beau’s favorite place to get scratched (besides his ears). So now, Beau knew whenever he saw Rafe, it equaled tummy scratches.

“So, is this team good or what?” Rafe asked Reilly as he drove down the road towards the fields. Rafe had to admit he was looking forward to watching Reilly play. The two talked about that and baseball all the time, whether it be the pro league or their teams. Reilly spoke a lot about how she’d been playing since she was old enough to hold a bat. She told Rafe about how her dad used to take her to the park and toss with her. He always said if she could hit ten in a row, he’d take her to get ice cream but would always cave and take her even when she couldn’t do it. Even though Rafe had never officially met Reilly’s dad yet, he still felt like he knew him. Reilly speaking about her dad with such affection and respect, it blew Rafe’s mind that someone could like their dad so much.

Rafe loved his dad; that was no question. Deep down, Rafe craved his dad’s approval more than anything else. He could count for hours, reciting everything Rafe had done for his dad because of his love for his father.

But Reilly likes her dad. Rafe can’t say he feels the same about his.

He watches as Reilly shakes her head. “Oh, no. This team sucks. But whenever they begin to lose, they start getting… aggressive.”

“Aggressive, huh?” Rafe chuckled to himself at the thought. He'd been in a few fights on the field himself, but the thought of Reilly getting into any sort of confrontation made Rafe's chest feel strange.

Reilly turns to look up at him. She had slid her visor over her head, now having something that blocked the sun from her eyes. “Yeah, you know. They get a little pushy.”

“What if someone tries to fight you?” The concern on Rafe’s face and in his voice was too evident to ignore. He looked over at Reilly, and he knew for a fact he looked like a scared puppy — probably reminiscent of Beau. He already didn’t like how Reilly refused to skip the game after what had happened with Mark. But Reilly insisted — saying she felt fine, and the busted lip made her look "badass."

Reilly laughed this time. “Sam probably will. She’s not my biggest fan.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

— — — – – – - - -

Reilly smiled to herself, pretending to be busy with something on her phone as she spoke. She couldn’t help but feel endeared by his concern; scared for her because some girl might try to fight her? Reilly kind of hoped someone would. It would certainly give her an outlet for her anger from last night. So, no. Reilly wasn’t scared of a little scuffle, and yes, she absolutely would kick someone’s ass today if they deserved it enough. Besides, it’s not like she was going out there with a pair of boxing gloves and a mouthpiece. Reilly wasn't looking for a fight, but she wouldn't back down from one, either.

Reilly glances at Rafe as he waits for her response. “What’ll I do if she tries to fight me?” she asks for clarification. When Rafe nods, she shrugs. “I’ll fight them back?”

This seems to please Rafe, judging by the amused face he makes. He nods and turns back to the road, his fingers gently tapping the steering wheel a few times.

He can’t help but think that is incredibly attractive.

REILLY knows Rafe is watching from the stands as she squats down behind home plate, warming up with the pitcher before the game starts. She raises her glove, giving the pitcher a frame of where the ball should end up. The pitcher, Anna, starts her wind-up. She lifts the ball over her head, then swings and throws it straight into Reilly’s glove. Reilly points at her with a nod before standing and throwing the ball back.

Was Reilly showing off a bit? Yes. Was it because Rafe was there?

Well, yes.

She didn’t know why, but she wanted to prove to Rafe that she was at least decent at the sport. If she had to guess, it was because she had a deeper fear that people assumed she was one-dimensional. But Reilly wasn't interested in tapping into that, especially not now. So she just threw the fuck out of that ball, sending it straight to the second baseman, Kennedy. Thank God Kennedy caught it. The throw wasn’t too bad, but Kennedy always had a way of making the throws look better than they were.

— — — – – – - - -

Reilly stood and walked up to the pitcher, and Rafe tried; he really did try not to stare at Reilly’s ass as she walked… but shit. This is what did it — this is what convinced Rafe that God created softball jerseys simply to drive Rafe crazy. At this point, Rafe believed that God created Reilly to drive him crazy. The way her shirt hugged her form accentuated her curves, and those softball pants — Jesus Christ, the pants were a whole other story.

Jesus Christ, Rafe — You’re being weird as hell. You're here to watch her play, not stare at her ass.

Rafe pulls his eyes away from Reilly and toward the dugout where Beau lies on the ground. He wasn’t asleep, though. His eyes stayed trained on Reilly as she made her way back to the dugout. His head lifts as Reilly enters, his tail wagging as she scratches the top of his head for a moment. Rafe chuckles at the sight.

“You said you wanted to drive me,” Reilly shrugged once she stepped out of her house with Beau at her feet. “Beau goes to all my games. He’s the dugout dog, Rafe.”

Rafe had rolled his eyes at the time, but for some reason, he didn’t say ‘no’ to her. He pretended to threaten Reilly with death if he pissed in his car. But when he first saw her walking down the steps of her house with Beau trailing behind her with a happy demeanor, he didn’t groan. He smiled.

A few minutes into the game, Rafe realized that not only was Reilly on the team — she was the captain. Or, at the very least, the rest of the team saw her as the leader in some way.

She had failed to mention that part. Though Rafe figured that was true to her character. She wasn’t the bragging type. Or maybe she didn’t see it as a big deal. Maybe she didn’t even realize it at all.

But Rafe leaned forward in his seat, watching Reilly as she called time, and ran up to the girl on the mound, talking to her for a few seconds. When they got back into their positions, the pitcher (who hasn’t thrown a strike yet) struck out the batter on the other team.

“Let’s go, Reilly!” A familiar voice screams from behind Rafe, ringing out through the whole field. Rafe doesn’t even have to turn to know who it is. He does anyway, twisting his body around to see JJ Maybank strolling down the steps a few rows away. Behind him are the rest of the pogues: John B, Sarah, Kie, Pope, and Cleo, all walking down the steps. Rafe snaps his head forward again, hoping he didn’t catch any of their eyes.

When he figures he’s in the clear, he looks back over at them. They’re all sitting a few rows down with Reilly and Pope’s dad directly behind home plate, the closest they can get to Reilly without being on the field. Rafe was sitting higher in the stands and closer to the dugout, so there was no way they’d see him once they passed him unless they were looking for him.

The pogues and Bobby only cheer louder after a moment. Rafe looks back out to the field to see Reilly walking up to the plate with her bat in her hand. The announcer introduces her as a rap song Rafe knows plays loudly as she walks up. Worried about being spotted by the pogues, Rafe completely missed the first three girls batting. But now that Reilly was up, Rafe sits up a little higher in his seat, keeping his eye on the girl as she takes a few small swings and steps into the batter’s box.

A lefty, he thinks to himself, how did I not know she was left-handed?

He knew he’d seen her write before, more than once. All those times he’d spent in the shop with her, watching as she wrote down the things they needed to stock up on in the store or writing the different deals they had on the chalkboard.

God, he didn’t know much about this girl at all, did he? He didn’t even know she played softball until a little while ago. He sure as hell didn’t know she was the captain and he didn’t even know what hand she used to write things with. He's surprised he even knew her last name at this point. From the outside, it seemed trivial, but Rafe felt annoyed that he didn’t know these little things about her. He keeps telling himself he’ll fix that, but every time he thinks he’s learned something new — she surprises him all over again.

Reilly holds the bat up, ready to swing. The pitcher gives her a nasty smile (that looks more like a sneer) that Rafe can spot from the back of the seating area. The girl throws her pitch, and Reilly doesn’t move. The umpire stands and yells, “STRIKE!” at the top of his lungs.

The pitcher smiles even wider. Rafe’s eyebrows furrow at this — it looked like an easy throw to him. But his confusion is squandered at the sound of Bobby Heyward yelling from the stands, “You see it now, baby! Rip it!”

The pitcher, again, smirks at Reilly, and now Rafe wishes Reilly would take that bat to the girl’s skull. The smile on the girl’s face, the overconfident smirk she had was only there to piss Reilly off. Judging from the way Reilly was gripping her bat, it was working. It seemed to be a good tactic, too, because Rafe found himself struggling to stay in his seat.

The hell are you going to do, stroll onto the field because a girl is smiling at Reilly?

Rafe feels his knee begin to bounce, a bad habit that happens whenever he feels anxious. He could really use a bump right now — how long had it been? Four days?

Yeah. Four days. Shit, that’s the longest Rafe has gone in at least two months. It usually took about five days for the withdrawals to start, so Rafe knew he didn’t have much time until it kicked in: fatigue, restlessness, agitation. And the worst one: the nightmares.

He planned to get high after Reilly went to bed at Mark’s house, but obviously, that plan fell apart once the girl showed up on his doorstep soaking wet with a split lip and bruised neck. But Rafe didn’t mind, not even now. He’d much rather make sure she was good than hit a stupid line of coke. He wasn’t about to do it with her crying in his bed. He wouldn’t do it after she went to bed, either. Risk her being around that shit? Rafe would rather never use again than risk Reilly being anywhere near it. He refused to have it out around her no matter where they were.

He already knew she had her own problems with the drug on her own. She knew Rafe was using, too, and she never said anything despite her understandable hesitation toward it. Rafe had long forgotten about it by the time they were in bed, anyway.

“Ball!”

The umpire’s screams caused Rafe to look back up. He tended to daydream when he thought about Reilly; that much was clear.

Reilly took a step out of the batter’s box.

“You’re scarin’ her, Ry!” JJ screamed from behind the plate, whooping a few times after. The pogues laughed around him, and Reilly smiled to herself and shook her head, glancing up at the pitcher who had a more than displeased look on her face.

The comment even got a chuckle out of Rafe, though he wiped the smirk from his face almost immediately once he remembered who had said it.

The pitcher begins to throw the ball again. Rafe leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he concentrates. Come on, Ry…

CRACK!

Reilly’s already taken off before Rafe could even catch up to what had happened. He watched the ball go out towards right field, too far away from either of the outfielders to catch in the air. Reilly’s moving, already rounding first and moving on to second base.

She made it to third base before the ball made it back to the infield. The pogues go crazy, jumping, screaming, and generally being the loudest in the crowd of cheering fans. Rafe wished he could jump up and cheer for her, too. His legs itched to stand, and his mouth twitched to cheer. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed welded to his seat. He decided to clap for her instead, an approving smile on his face.

Rafe watched JJ stand from his seat, pointing out to Reilly, who stood with one foot on third base. “That’s my girl!” he yelled out as loud as he could, even cupping his hands around his mouth in the hopes of being even louder somehow. Reilly pointed back at JJ with a wide smile and a laugh. Rafe scoffed.

The next girl hits the ball, and Reilly doesn’t hesitate before she sprints to home plate. The ball gets thrown back to the catcher quicker than expected, so Reilly slides into home. Her foot reaches home right before the catcher can tag her out. The crowd erupts in cheers for another Kildare U run on the board as Reilly stands up and heads to the dugout. But she can only take a few steps when the other team’s catcher slams into her shoulder, knocking her back a few steps.

The crowd goes silent. Rafe feels something in his chest drop before leaping back up and doing somersaults. He sits up and glances over at the pogues for a moment, gauging their reactions. They all have smirks on their faces, a few of them shaking their heads in disappointment, like what that girl did was a colossal mistake. Yet, they didn't look worried. So Rafe kept himself still, willing to look back at the field to see what was going to happen next.

It feels like there’s a lifetime between Reilly getting knocked back and catching her balance. But it was only half a second before she shot forward, fast-walking over to the catcher and raising her hands to push her back. But before she could reach her, another teammate wrapped her arms around Reilly, pulling her back and instructing her to calm down because it was not worth it.

She lets go of Reilly after a few seconds but keeps hold of her hand to drag her back to the dugout. Reilly’s eyes land on Rafe, sitting high in the stands. She shrugs as she walks back, and he shakes his head with a smile.

Rafe smiles to himself. That’s my girl.

His girl.

Rafe liked being around Reilly, even though he tried to convince himself he didn’t. He enjoyed her company; he liked hearing her opinions and her thoughts. He liked watching her smile, and laugh. He liked watching her play, and he liked sitting with her while she worked. He liked running into her at the country club or school. He liked driving her to his games, and he liked driving her to hers. He liked seeing Beau, partly because he liked the dog and partly because he knew Reilly wouldn't be far behind. He liked texting her when he didn't see her, he even looked forward to seeing his phone light up from a notification from her.

Rafe just… he liked Reilly.

— — — – – – - - -

Her face lights up when she sees him.

The game ended. Bobby and the pogues had already run up to her, all of them congratulating her on the win. JJ had made the biggest deal out of the win, hugging her so tight that her feet lifted from the ground. After he set her on the ground, he ruffled her hair a bit with that same wide-set smile.

“You killed it,” he had muttered into her hair while his arms wrapped around her.

Pope was next, letting JJ get his word in first. Once JJ had let go, Pope stepped up to his sister with a proud smile. The two did the same handshake that they had since they were eight before Pope leaned forward and kissed her temple. "Good job, sis,” he hummed. A smug smirk crept onto his face as he said, “I see you finally listened to me about raising your bat higher. I told you: just a fifteen percent raise leveled out your swing and you fuckin' smacked that thing —”

“Thanks, Pope,” Reilly cut him off before he could get the chance to go on the same tangent that he’d been on for days. Her brother only huffed out a laugh and shook his head. His hand moved to the back of his neck as he mumbled “whatever” under his breath and stepped out of the way for the rest of their friends to come up.

After a few more minutes of talking, the pogues bid their goodbyes, telling her they were going to go back to the Chateau for the night and inviting her. Reilly nods and says she'll text them later.

Bobby is the next to say goodbye. He opens his arms for yet another hug, which Reilly would never deny. She steps into his arms and breathes in his familiar scent. Bobby chuckles as he squeezes her tighter. “You did great, baby girl." His voice was low, tired from the day's work, and scratchy from the yelling a little while before. “But it’s late. I’m gonna head on home. You get home safe, okay?”

Reilly hugged her dad one more time, asking if he’d take Beau home with him. She was going to be there a little while longer, and the poor dog was exhausted from the day. Bobby agreed and called for the dog, who trailed up to him with his usual wagging tail. Bobby scooped Beau up in his arms, allowing Reilly to give the dog another scratch behind the ears before making his way back to his car.

Once he had left, Reilly began pushing through the crowd, looking for a certain six-foot-three man.

“Hey, slugger,”

Reilly whipped around, her eyes finally landing on the guy she had been looking for since the game ended. Hell, since it started, too.

She’d caught his eyes a few times as she was on the field, smiling at him each time, and getting a wink in return. She tried to forget he was watching, but it was no use. Every time she made a good play, she hoped he saw it; just like she hoped he missed it every time she messed up. After the second inning, Reilly knew it was no use. There was no forgetting he was there.

Now that he was finally in front of her, Reilly couldn’t help but launch herself into Rafe’s arms, allowing him to catch her for a moment. Rafe let out a quick chuckle as he caught her. Once he set her back down, Reilly kept her hands on his forearms as she beamed, “Slugger, huh?”

“Well,” Rafe claimed, huffing out a breath and looking away for a moment to pretend to think. “I was thinking slugger — at first. But after that first at-bat, I’m thinking maybe ‘scrapper’ is more like it.” When Reilly lets out a big laugh, Rafe laughs along with her. He likes the way her embarrassed smile is different from her usual smile. “But I don’t know… the way you slugged the hell out of that ball, or the way you damn near slugged that girl —”

“Shut up!” Reilly moans in protest, the dimples in her cheeks deepening.

Rafe couldn’t shake the smile on his face as he looked down at her. Sweat beaded on the crown of her head, and her baby hairs were beginning to curl up from the moisture. Running around for two hours had made her cheeks flush from the heat. She looked so real.

“She deserved it!” Reilly groaned, pushing Rafe’s chest. He laughed and took a steady step back but quickly regained his balance and took his place right back in front of her. He grabbed onto her elbows, keeping her still. "You saw what she did, right?"

“Yeah, I saw it. I’m not saying she didn’t deserve it, Ry,” Rafe agreed with a nod. “Part of me wishes you had made it to her.”

“I was close,” Reilly sighed. “Maybe next time. Told you they were aggressive.”

Rafe shook his head with a laugh. His hand moved to her lower back as he guided the girl toward the parking lot. “Alright, slugger. You ready to go?”

Reilly nods with a huff and begins to bend down to grab her bags. Before she can grab them, Rafe’s large hand reaches for them first. He taps her hand out of the way before snatching the straps.

He places one strap of the backpack over his shoulder and picks up the larger, rolling bag. His other hand remains on Reilly’s back as he pulls the large bag behind them. He knows Reilly can get back to his car without his 'guiding hand,' but he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch her in some way. He’d been wanting to since she walked away from him when they got to the field. Even if it was just a feather’s touch, Rafe didn’t care. After last night especially, Rafe wanted nothing more than to always keep an eye (and a hand) on her.

As they walk towards Rafe’s car, Rafe speaks up. “You know, I should start coming to more games. I could bring the others, too. Ophelia and Delilah don’t really care about sports that much, but they like you.”

“I’d love that,” Reilly nods along as they near the car. “If you want, I can get you better seats next time.”

Rafe’s arm moved from her back to around her shoulders. He reveled in the way she didn’t pull away, the feeling of her arm going around his waist in turn. Last night (or, early in the morning, rather) Rafe woke up in the middle of the night. His eyes shot open from a dream that left his memory the moment he was conscious. But instead of his breath picking up and the perpetual feeling that he was going to die, Rafe felt calm. He felt at peace. Instead of trembling hands and even shakier breaths, Rafe closed his eyes and fell back asleep. His arms tightened around Reilly, whose soft breathing lulled Rafe back into slumber. Before she awoke later that morning, Rafe found himself wishing Reilly would stay asleep for a little while longer. But she didn't, and Rafe had to let her go. She didn't realize how difficult that was for him. She probably never would.

“Seeing you do your thing up close?” Rafe felt his cheeks rise. “I don’t know why you didn’t do it sooner.”

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVEN!

FOR NOW, BUT NOT FOR LONG.

NOW PLAYING…

RIGHT DOWN THE LINE GERRY RAFFERTY

It’s been you, woman,
right down the line.

6.5k words

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“I MEAN, IT’S FUN SOMETIMES. But it’s mostly kind of lonely.” Ophelia’s sweet voice had lowered since she welcomed Reilly and Delilah into her home. They were both invited by Ophie to go to her house after class.

Reilly had been awestruck upon driving through Ophelia’s neighborhood. Every house looked like a tourist's dream. Houses sat right by the water, and gorgeous flower beds lined the front of huge, white houses with walls of windows. Ophelia’s house was a light blue hue with a considerable arch in the middle of it, like a built-in carport. Plants hung from the bay window at the top of the house, going along with the large tree that stood beside it and the bushes that grew in front of it. The house was gorgeous, and the second Reilly saw it, she knew it had to be Ophelia’s house. Even though her parents owned it (probably buying it before Ophelia was born), Reilly could tell that the house suited Ophelia.

The inside was just as beautiful. The first thing you see when entering is the white wooden steps that lead up to the second floor. The kitchen has a wooden dining table with matching chairs. The island in the middle of the room has light blue cabinets with white stools that sit around it. The living room has a giant white couch with a huge TV that hangs on the wall. Different family pictures litter the walls of the living room, most of them of Ophelia at different ages of her life. In all of them, she has that same innocent, optimistic smile. Same old Ophelia Van der Hilt.

Of course, Ophelia’s room looked exactly the way Reilly would guess, too. The first thing Reilly noticed when she walked in was the hanging bed. The bed, which had a white and blue striped comforter, matching pillows, and a stuffed blue whale sitting in the middle, hung from the ceiling. It swayed gently from the wall of windows that were all open to let in fresh air and natural light.

Now, Reilly stands in front of the giant stand-up mirror, looking over her clothes. The theme for the football game was jersey night, and unfortunately, Reilly only owned one jersey: her own. Reilly rolled her eyes as she adjusted her dark blue Kildare U softball jersey in the mirror with a huff. She glanced over at the girls. Ophelia had on Topper’s jersey and Delilah wore Kelce’s. The thought was cute to Reilly: wearing your boyfriend’s jersey when you don’t have one of your own.

“Where are they now?” Delilah asked. She sat on Ophelia’s bed, her feet dangling off the sides with her back flat on the mattress. She held her phone in the air as she scrolled mindlessly through an app.

Ophelia lets out a huff from her seat at the vanity. She leans forward and closer to the mirror as she puts on her mascara. The bright white LED lights that shine on her face make her blue eyes even brighter as she applies the makeup with care. After a few swipes, she sits back and flutters her lashes in the mirror before replying, “They’re in Madrid for a collector’s shoot. They’ve been gone for three days.”

“If my parents got up and left randomly for days?” Delilah whistled under her breath with puckered lips. “I’d be overjoyed.”

“I was at first, back when I was a teenager,” Ophie replied as she twisted the mascara tube closed. She leans back in her seat with a deep breath. “It gets old, though.” Ophie stays silent for a moment before she looks up at Reilly with her usual cheery smile. “What about you, Reilly? What do your parents do?”

Reilly shrugs, explaining there’s not much to know. She tells them how her dad owns a half seafood, half bait and tackle shop on the cut. She tells them that she and her brother work there when they can to give him extra help. Even the things that weren’t as important — Ophie and Lilah were still listening to Reilly as if her life was the most interesting thing they’d ever heard. Maybe it was.

Somehow, during her life story, Reilly had moved to the bed, sitting beside Delilah. Once she finished talking about her life with her dad and brother, she figured she should also mention the other side of her family. “And my mom lives with my stepdad on Figure 8.”

This snaps at least Delilah out of her mesmerized trance from Reilly’s story. “Who’s your stepdad?” Delilah asks next, putting her phone down and turning to face Reilly. Ophelia had already done the same, turning her body in her chair to look straight at her.

“Mark Reeves. He’s a —”

“A real estate agent, right?” Ophelia cuts her off with furrowed eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Reilly starts picking at the skin around her nails. “You know him?” She knows the answer before she asks.

Delilah clipped out a laugh. “Everyone knows him, babe.” She scrunched her nose and shook her head with disgust.

“Funny, most people’s faces do the same thing when I say his name.”

“That’s because, no offense —” When Reilly shook Ophelia off, a signal to her that whatever she said about Mark would certainly not offend her. “— but he’s kind of creepy. He walks around Figure 8 all the time, asking people if they need a house. It’s really annoying.”

“Most of the people our age just ignore him if they see him. He’s really pushy sometimes," Delilah steps in.

“Not to mention we’ve heard rumors about his, uh…” Ophelia trails off, seemingly looking for the right way to say what she wants to say. Reilly figured Ophie was referring to the drugs and alcohol, but she hoped to God this time that Mark covered his abuse issues well enough. She wanted nothing more than for him to be brought to justice, but she also did not want to talk about that right here and now. To be honest, she never really wanted to talk about it ever. “Habits.”

Reilly snorted and walked to the bed, finally taking a seat beside Delilah. “Trust me, the rumors are all true. He sucks.”

Delilah hums. “I had no clue he had any stepkids."

“He probably wants it to stay that way, to be honest.” When the girls give her melancholic looks, empathy written all over their faces, Reilly shakes her head. “Guys, seriously. I don’t care. Besides, it’s not like I go around telling people he’s my stepdad. He doesn’t care for me, and I fucking despise him. It’s fine.”

Ophie and Delilah seem to take that as an acceptable response, so they move on. “Look, I hate nothing more than being a cliché," Delilah leans closer to Reilly with her chin in her hands. “But I have to ask: How is Rafe as a boyfriend?”

Reilly’s heart stops. She looks between the girls with a nervous laugh and pushes a strand of hair away from her face. “We aren’t dating.”

Ophelia giggles and stands up from the vanity. Delilah follows her actions, and the two girls switch spots: Ophelia on the bed and Delilah in front of the mirror. Delilah turns on Ophelia’s hair curler and waits for it to heat up.

“We’ve known Rafe since he was thirteen. He has never been with the same girl for this long before. Ever. Besides the Wicked Witch of the Banks, of course.” Ophelia lightly pushes Reilly’s shoulder with a smile.

“He must really like you — he invites you everywhere,” Delilah pipes up from across the room. She takes a strand of hair and wraps it around the curler for a few seconds before letting it drop. “Kelce said he texts you all the time.”

Ophelia butts in this time, snapping her head to Reilly. She sets her hands on Reilly’s knees. “Don’t freak out, okay? We’re just telling you this because we love it. We’re honestly… pleasantly surprised by it.”

“When we first met you, we were scared for you,” Delilah says. Reilly’s amazed by how they’re so in sync with each other. They are saying the same thing without talking over each other. It’s like Ophie knows where to stop her sentence and Lilah picks it right back up where she ends. “We were kind of scared he was going to break your heart. We were debating when to tell you. But we decided to let it ride for a bit longer just in case it was real. And here we are.”

“We just like you,” Ophie’s big, blue eyes bore into Reilly’s. “Rafe usually goes out with the meanest girls. Like, mean for no reason. Victoria was the worst. We couldn’t stand her—"

“And still can’t!” Delilah cut her off before letting her finish.

“But we like you.”

“We don’t want him to hurt you.”

Reilly sighs. She appreciates the girls more than they knew for telling her this. She likes them, too. She finds their presence a nice shift from what she is used to. She still loves her friends, and she always will. But she also likes having a change of pace with Ophelia and Delilah. There is nothing wrong with having other friends, even if Reilly feels somewhat guilty about it for some reason.

Reilly knew what Ophelia and Delilah were trying to say: be careful.

“I know what you’re trying to say.” Reilly lets out a sigh, one she feels like she has been holding in for days. Her shoulders drop, along with her eyes, as she stares at the blue rug on Ophelia’s bedroom floor. “The problem is,” Reilly leans back before letting her body fall, landing on the soft mattress and comforter under her. She groans and raises her hands to her head, rubbing her forehead. She drops her hands beside her. This is proving to be a lot harder to express than she thought. “I’m really starting to like him. And it makes me nervous.”

They don’t have to ask why she’s tense. Anyone would be. As they had said before, Rafe wasn’t known for his long relationships. The revolving door of girls wasn’t lost on anyone in the Outer Banks. So why was Reilly doing this to herself? Did she have a thing for torturing herself? She’s been repeating this stupid question for a while now, but for now, Reilly can't come up with a sufficient answer.

“Which is crazy, right? I mean, we haven’t put a label on anything. I don't even think he wants to. But still, I keep getting this feeling in the back of my head that's telling me that he may like me back. I’ve been trying so hard not to get my hopes up…” Reilly trailed off with a shrug. She didn’t have to say it; they knew.

“Well, listen,” Ophelia lays down beside Reilly. Her hair splays out around her head like a bright, blonde halo. It's like light follows her everywhere she goes, shading her face perfectly. "We’ve got your back. One hundred percent.”

“Oh, for sure,” Delilah chimes in, letting the last curled piece of hair fall around her shoulders, framing her face. She turns off the wand and walks to the bed, lying down on the other side of Reilly. “I haven’t noticed anything weird. But if I find out? I’ll tear his ass to shreds.”

Reilly smiled at Delilah, as Ophelia giggled out, “I don’t fight, but I’ll definitely give him a really long, hurtful lecture.”

“You guys are sweet,” Reilly’s cheeks warmed at the girl’s words. Their loyalty reminded her a lot of the pogues’ motto: Always have each other’s backs.

“Okay, I’ve officially made it to my boy-talk limit,” Delilah announced, abruptly sitting up. She turned her head to look at the other two girls, who were still lying back. “Do you guys wanna get ice cream after the game?”

Ophelia shoots up next. “We can go to The Prickly Palm!”

A car door slams outside three times, one shortly after the next. Ophelia stands to her feet and opens her bedroom door. “That would be the boys. You two almost ready?”

Reilly sits up from the bed and goes to the mirror once more. She tucks a side of her jersey into her jeans before pulling it back out. She tucks it in again. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

They hear the living room door swing open. “Yo!” Topper’s voice rings out through the house, the echo bouncing off the wooden walls and making its way to Ophie’s room.

“In here!” Ophelia yells back. A series of footsteps then echoes through the house, through the foyer, and up the wooden steps.

The first inside is Topper. He runs in and kisses Ophie on the cheek before turning back around, towards her en-suite. “I’ve got to shit bad, babe,” he moans out, taking long strides to make it.

Ophie points a finger at Topper. “Uh - no, sir!” Topper halts with a groan. Ophelia’s finger moves towards the door. “Go to the guest bathroom.”

“But O—"

“You’d be flushing by now if you didn’t argue,” Ophie stayed strong, keeping her finger pointed at the door that led to the hallway.

Topper stuttered out a few words before groaning and running out of the room, Ophelia yelling after him to turn on the fan when he was done.

“Good for you, Ophie,” Delilah stated, who now stood under Kelce’s arm.

“I hate when he uses my bathroom. The things that come out of his body…” Ophie shuddered and shook her head.

“Anyways,” Rafe waved a hand at Ophelia to get her to end her spoken thoughts. His nose crinkled in disgust, but the wrinkles disappeared when he looked at Reilly. “You look pretty.” He said slightly quieter like it was just for her to hear.

Reilly feels her cheeks warm at the compliment. She thanked him. “Just wish I had something else to wear other than…” She trails off but gestures to her jersey. When Rafe gives her a questioning look, she turns around and points to her last name and number on her back. She turns back around to see Rafe’s mouth turn into an ‘o’ as he nods. She shrugs with a soft smile. “But it’s no big deal.”

“You could always wear mine,” it is Rafe’s turn to shrug, giving the girl a nonchalant look. “If you want.”

“Do you have one?”

“I’ve got like six in my car.”

“Well,” Reilly picks at her fingers again. “Do you care if I wear it?”

Rafe smirks. He leans closer to her. “It’s weird. I just have this-this gut feeling that you’d somehow look even prettier in it. I don’t know, it’s odd, but... it doesn’t hurt to give it a shot, right?”

Reilly laughs. She smiles at him, taking in his eyes. How was it possible for anyone’s eyes to be that blue? “Oh, well then I’ll definitely take it.”

After Topper reenters, reminding Rafe and Kelce to never let him eat those enchiladas again, he announces to the group that they need to go downstairs. “It’s shot o’clock, and my alarm’s been going off for three hours.”

Reilly grabs Rafe’s and begins to walk with him through the bedroom door and into the hallway. Her face looks at Topper with confusion. “It’s six... He's wanted to drink since —”

“Don’t ask,” Rafe only nudges Reilly forward, shuffling her through the door.

In the kitchen, Topper had already laid out six shot glasses all filled to the brim with a mysterious alcohol. “Voila! A starter shot for everybody.”

“I’m driving, dumbass,” Rafe cuts in. He crosses his arms as he stands behind Reilly, his chest lightly pressing against her back. “I’m not drinking.”

Topper raised an eyebrow. He let out a chuckle. “Since when do you give a shit about drinking and driving?”

When Rafe only replies with an annoyed look, Topper moves on. “We’ll sneak in a flask or something for you to drink there. You should be sobered up by the end of the game; We all know you've got the tolerance.” He claps his hands together and begins handing out the glasses to everyone else.

It had become clear to Reilly from the past few times being around the group that Topper was the party animal of the group. He was always the first to get a round of drinks started, the first to order drinks, and the first to offer up an idea for a party. Reilly didn’t mind. It brought a sort of spontaneity to the group. Judging by the way Ophelia downs her shot with ease, she’s on the same level as Topper. It was hard to imagine sweet, soft Ophelia being the partying type, but the proof was right in front of her. She downed two in a row, no problem.

Ophelia ended up pouring Reilly two shots as well, which was enough to loosen her up. When she stands, her head spins for just a moment. But as always, Rafe is there with a hand on her waist, holding her steady to help her find her balance.

While the rest drank, Rafe had gone back to his car to get Reilly a spare jersey. He gave her a soft pat on the hip. “Go change real quick.”

She did so, and when she walked back into the kitchen, Rafe couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across his face. “God, what did I say?” His arms wrapped around her middle and he lifted her into the air. Reilly laughed in her arms before softly muttering, “Alright, alright, let me down.”

It wasn’t lost on Reilly that his jersey was exactly the same as hers, with a few minor changes. They were both the same dark blue, with the same logo on the front. The only difference was Reilly’s jersey said ‘HEYWARD’ on the back, and Rafe’s said ‘CAMERON.’

Still, the implication was what made both Reilly's and Rafe’s chest warm.

Every window in the Bronco was rolled down with the top down, too. When Rafe started the car, loud rap music blasted from the radio before he quickly turned it down.

Rafe sat in the driver’s seat with Reilly beside him in the passenger seat. Behind them were Delilah on the right, Kelce in the middle, and Topper on the left. Ophelia sat on Topper’s lap, her arms resting on his shoulders with her hands intertwined around his neck.

A familiar song plays on through the car and it’s like Reilly’s body took over as she leaned forward, reaching out to turn the music up. When she’s met with a warm hand instead of the volume knob, she looks up and meets Rafe’s eyes. She smiles, leaning back to let Rafe turn the music up himself.

“You like this song?” Reilly asked Rafe with a pleasantly surprised look on her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but the smile on her lips showed she wasn’t upset — quite the opposite.

Reilly always thought Rafe only listened to rap. Most of the songs he played when he drove her around were trap music, with loud bass and vibrating subs built into the trunk of every car he drove. But this song was gentler, about how the singer loves his woman more than anything in the world. How he wants to tell her every day about how much he loves her. It’s a song of devotion, of undoubtable love. Reilly’s grandfather was the one who introduced her to the song. She used to sing it with him all the time when she was a kid. It took Reilly nearly a year to listen to the song again after he had passed. When she did, it was as if she fell in love with it all over again. Now, anytime she hears the familiar drums and the guitar’s melody, her heart lifts in her chest.

“He better love it!” Topper cackled from the back, patting Rafe on the shoulder a few times. “He's named after the singer!”

Ophelia hit him in the chest. "You, of all people, shouldn’t be making fun of anyone’s name, Topper Kensington Thornton.”

Delilah, who had also caught Kelce laughing under his breath, turned. “Same goes for you, Kelce.”

Reilly hadn’t caught much of their side conversation. Her brain was too busy running a million miles as she worked to decipher the new Rafe lore that Topper just dropped. Her head, which was downcast as she thought, lifted once she made the connection.

"Is your name Rafferty?”

Rafe lets out a long sigh and rubs his mouth with his hand — a habit he has. He nods, but Reilly doesn’t miss the way the apples of his cheeks turn a soft shade of pink.

— — — – – – - - -

He was expecting her to laugh. Truly, he was. He was ready to play it off like it didn’t bother him. He hated his name, much preferring Rafe to Rafferty. And it was true; his parents did name him after the singer. He remembered the way his mom and dad would sing the song to each other. Rafe would peek around the corner, watching as they slow-danced with their arms around each other, swaying back and forth in the living room. Rafe missed those days: before his mom died, before his dad went off the deep end. He looked back on the soft moments between his parents with longing.

But Reilly doesn't laugh. Her voice is calm, low, and genuine, as she remarked, “I love that.” Rafe doesn’t even have to look at her face to know she’s telling the truth. But he does anyway. Her smile is soft, the apples of her cheeks only slightly raised. The brown in her eyes looked almost golden, thanks to the bright sun that was only beginning to set on the horizon.

Rafe mutters out a low, “Thanks,” and clears his throat before looking back at the road ahead of him. Reilly shakes her head with a lopsided grin. Rafe wishes he could take a compliment better. Any time someone (mainly Reilly) said something nice to him, he brushed it off. He didn’t know the right way to take one since it didn’t happen often enough to get used to it.

— — — – – – - - -

Reilly’s phone dings in her lap seconds later. She glances down to see a text from Ophelia in the girl’s group chat.

ophie <3

omg reilly

rafe BLUSHED. I SAW IT.

he never blushes. EVER.

Reilly smiles down at her phone, letting out a small giggle. She glances back at Ophie, who giggles in return. Delilah gives Reilly a wink.

“What are you gigglin’ about over there?” Rafe’s hand suddenly finds its place on Reilly’s thigh. She glances down at it for a moment, the gold signet ring on his index finger cool against her thigh. She glances up at Rafe with a raised eyebrow.

“What? You jealous or something?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just curious?” His grip on Reilly’s thigh tightens, teasing her.

Reilly’s heartbeat rises. She can feel her face flushing — thank God, blushing isn’t visible to him. Her head tilted to the side as she beamed up at Rafe. “Well, just in case it is the former, trust me: you've got nothing to be jealous of.”

AS soon as the six students stepped on the top row of the student section, the crowd of people around them parted like the Red Sea. As the group makes their way up the steps, the crowd stays apart, waiting for the group to pass them so they can stand normally again. Reilly was still amazed at the respect that everyone gave Rafe and anyone who is associated with him. Then again, it couldn’t be just respect. There had to be something else along with it.

Rafe’s grip on Reilly’s hand was tight. He would take a few steps and then glance back at her as she followed, making sure she didn’t miss a step and fall. Not like it would matter if she did — his grip was so tight, Reilly knew he’d catch her the moment she stumbled.

A loud chirp rings out behind her. Reilly turns her head around to see Ophelia on Topper’s back as he walks through the people. One hand rests on her boyfriend’s shoulder, the other in the air as Ophelia screams out, “Let’s go Colts!" at the top of her lungs. The crowd eats it up, all cheering in reply, clapping Topper on the shoulder as he carries Ophie up the bleachers. Topper is all smiles, too, dapping up a few of his friends on the way.

They make it to one of the empty spots near the front of the student section. It was about five rows away from the front, and Reilly felt like she could see everything. She’d never had seats this close to the field before. It was almost too overwhelming for her. Between the band blaring music on one side and the huge crowd of rowdy KU students yelling and screaming around her, it was a lot. But for some reason, Reilly felt more energized than usual. Being here, with her friends, and Rafe … Reilly felt ecstatic. She couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she laughed at something Delilah told her.

Topper hands Rafe a flask. Reilly watches as Rafe rolls his eyes but pops open the cap and takes a quick swig. It is obvious he only took the drink to entertain Topper.

Topper leans over more, his eyes landing on Reilly. His husky voice yells past Rafe, somehow loud enough for Reilly to hear over the loud jeers. “You want some?”

Reilly shrugs and puts a hand out in front of Rafe. Rafe gently gives her the flask. His hand snakes around her waist, and he pulls her close. His lips hover over her ear, and he whispers, “Not too much, okay?”

Reilly nodded up at him, only taking a small drink before twisting the cap shut and handing it back to Topper.

Halftime comes by fast. Kildare U is down by three, and the entire game has been a nail-biter. Any time Kildare came up, the other team would come up next, leading to close scores for the entire game.

That meant a rowdier crowd. Every time the ball was in motion, the crowd screamed at the top of their lungs. Reilly looked over at Delilah and Ophelia, who were screaming and clapping with huge smiles on their faces. For two girls who quote, ‘didn’t care about football,’ they were undoubtedly into this game. Topper and Kelce were the same, though, hooting and hollering at any given moment. Topper had his arm around Rafe’s shoulder, and he slapped Rafe’s chest with his free hand from time to time. Rafe sported the largest smile she’d ever seen, shouting along with his two best friends.

Reilly had gotten into the game herself. She used to go to some of the football games with the pogues, but they were few and far between. Not to mention, their seats weren’t as good as these. They didn’t have much fun being so far away from the game, so most days they skipped it, finding their fun in other places instead.

Even though most of his attention was on the football game, Reilly didn’t miss the way Rafe kept a hand on her at all times. An arm around the waist, around her shoulder, his hand clasped in hers. It was a big help too, with the stranger next to her constantly bumping into her. But Rafe’s steady hand kept her safe from falling. Even when Reilly jumped up and down, cupping her hands around her mouth as she cheered, Rafe kept his hand around her waist.

The game ends with Kildare coming out on top. If Reilly thought the people in the stands were crazy before, it was nothing compared to now. When the kicker successfully kicks the ball through the field goal, everyone erupts in cheers. Kelce jumps into Topper's arms as they both scream. Reilly and Rafe yell, too, with Rafe raising their clasped hands in the air.

Fireworks erupted in the sky, adding to the craziness going on around Reilly. The jumbotron overhead turned blue before giant white words spelling out ‘COLTS WIN!’ Smoke from the fireworks filled the air. A huge blue flag soared through the air before the carrier of the flag began a mad dash onto the field.

The sea of people begins to move, quickly jumping down the bleachers to follow the flag onto the field.

“We rushin’ the field tonight, guys?” Topper yelled over the crowd.

“Hell yeah, we are!” Ophelia exclaims, grabbing Topper with one hand and Reilly with the other, dragging the two down.

Rafe leaps forward before Ophie accidentally drags Reilly down the bleachers, holding onto her as they begin going down the steps and running onto the field.

It wasn’t long before a football player approached Rafe. Rafe dapped up the player with his free hand, keeping his other hand in Reilly’s without faltering. As they talked, Reilly glanced over to see Topper and Ophelia a few feet away, doing the same thing. A few feet past them, Kelce and Delilah were also talking to a football player.

Reilly also took the time to look at how big this stadium was. It was even bigger from the field. The stands went up forever. The fact that this ginormous stadium was so crowded with people was insane to her. She had never seen so many people all together like this before in her life.

Another football player joins his teammate, greeting Rafe and Reilly, and entering their conversation. Rafe’s popularity never ceased to amaze Reilly — everyone knew him. Meanwhile, Reilly had no clue who these two guys were, and they didn’t know who she was either.

“You ready to go?” Rafe’s voice was its usual low and gruff, but still loud enough that Reilly could hear it over the hundreds of conversations happening around them.

Reilly nods back at him, and Rafe says his last goodbyes to the players. Reilly waves bye to them as well, despite barely saying anything to them in the first place. Still, the players waved goodbye back as Rafe led Reilly away. His arm moved around her shoulders, and Reilly reached a hand up to hold onto the hand that hung loosely over her chest.

Rafe waves a hand to catch Topper’s attention. When Topper’s eyebrows rise in question, Rafe gestures his head toward the parking lot. Topper nods and taps Kelce’s shoulder, muttering something in his ear.

Rafe takes this as confirmation enough. He keeps walking, leading Reilly back to the parking lot. The rest aren’t far behind them. Reilly glances back to see Ophelia and Delilah skipping hand in hand as Topper and Kelce walk beside them, hitting each other like kids as they go.

Once the whole group is packed into the car, Ophie speaks up. “Hey, Rafe?”

“What’s up, O?” Rafe inquires, glancing at the blonde girl in the rearview mirror.

“How do you feel about free ice cream?”

Rafe pauses. His shoulders shake as he stifles a chuckle, though he is hiding it terribly. His lips curve into a smile as he looks down in his lap. Reilly looks back at Ophelia, who has a hopeful look on her face. Reilly winks at Ophie, a wide smile overtaking her lips, her way of telling Ophie that Rafe was going to cave. Ophelia smiles back at Reilly, the hopeful look on her face turning to one of joy. Reilly’s face says it all: They were getting ice cream.

Rafe turns on the car and throws it into reverse. “Yeah, okay.” He conceded, though not much (or any) convincing was needed. He pulls the car out of the parking lot and takes a right at the turn, heading for The Prickly Palm.

The drive was nothing but loud rap music, the girls screaming the lyrics to the songs that Reilly played. Rafe, while still paying attention to the road, kept his hand on Reilly’s thigh and watched as she laughed along with the rest of the group. Despite the cooler night air, the windows were rolled down, along with the top. Reilly didn’t notice the cold. She was too into the loud music blaring, dancing, and singing along with her friends, and Rafe’s hand holding tight onto her thigh to notice. She may wake up with a runny nose in the morning, but the moment was too perfect for her to care.

Eventually, Rafe pulls into The Prickly Palm’s empty, dark parking lot. The moment ends, and Reilly already misses it.

Once Ophie stood at the door, using her key to unlock it. The chirping of the frogs was drowned out by Delilah laughing at Ophelia, who kept fumbling with the keys to her shop.

Usually, Rafe would start to get annoyed at the amount of time it was taking, but right now, he stood preoccupied. His head bowed as he looked down at his fingers that played with the ends of Reilly’s hair, gently playing with the soft curls. His eyes zeroed in on the black and brown locks of hair. How was her hair so soft? What the hell was she putting in it?

“Okay, stop,” Ophelia cut off her giggles and pointed a finger at Delilah, who covered her mouth with her hands to muffle her laughs. Ophelia took a big breath and finally entered the key into the lock. She swung open the door and strode in, muttering a thank God, before immediately taking her spot behind the counter.

Once she was at her post, she slipped her apron over her head. “Hi, welcome to the Prickly Palm!” Ophelia’s chipper voice cut through the dead silent shop. She leaned forward on the counter with her elbows, looking between her group of friends. Her sandy blonde hair fell over her shoulders and around her face as she smiled. “What can I get y’all today?”

“What’re your specials?” Topper asks as he looks down at the different ice cream flavors labeled with neat handwriting on the glass.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Rafe mutters under his breath. His hand reaches up as he rubs his face with an annoyed sigh. Reilly stifles a laugh and looks up at Rafe, who lets out a loud, annoyed breath. She leans into him and rubs his back in solidarity before resting her hand around his waist.

“Our specials for the week are the Buzz Peach Beam, Kiwi Krazy, and Rush Raspberry Rave.” Ophelia only encourages her boyfriend as she lists off the specials without missing a beat.

“We’re gonna be here a while,” Rafe kissed the crown of Reilly’s head with a soft sigh.

“I don’t mind,” Reilly shrugged. “I’m having fun.”

— — — – – – - - -

These moments were few and far between lately, so Rafe savored this one while he had it. Ophelia, detailing every single flavor of ice cream they had to Topper. Kelce standing right beside him (as always), listening intently to Ophelia as well.

Delilah was on a barstool a few feet away, taking a video of the boys listening with deep interest in the flavors. Rafe and Reilly had no idea that Delilah had moved on from the boys and was zooming in on them. They were lost in their own world, talking as if no one else existed.

Rafe could not ignore the way his heart leaped in his chest. Yes, Topper’s insistence on always knowing the damn specials at every place they went to was annoying. But despite the pissed-off expression on his face, Rafe was having a good time, too. The whole night was one of the best nights Rafe had had in a while. This wasn’t the first time he had been to a football game with his friends, but this was the first time he had gone with Reilly.

Shit.

“Yeah?” Rafe raised his eyes as he looked at Reilly, a small smile playing on his face. When she nods, he nods back, his eyes shifting away from hers before he admits something: “Yeah. Me too.”

Reilly gasped. Rafe’s eyes snapped back to her at a rapid speed. He felt his body jerk only slightly. But when he saw that Reilly had a huge smile on her face, Rafe had to fight against rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

Reilly clutches her imaginary pearls, a fake shocked look on her face. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is agape, though the corners are still turned up a bit. “What? The Rafe Cameron is having a good time?”

“Shut up.” Rafe was sure his heart had never beaten so hard in his chest. Keeping his cool was getting harder and harder as the days went on, and he didn’t know what it was. Was it his guilt eating him alive or the all-encompassing urge to finally say fuck it — to finally give in to how much he liked her?

In another world, Rafe would have noticed Reilly on his own. He would have gone up to her and taken her out on a real date. He wouldn’t care what anyone thought — not his dad, not his friends, nobody. He wouldn’t feel like someone had tied an anchor to his feet, forcing him to drag along the weight of remorse with every single step he took. He could look at Reilly and not feel a pang in his heart, a new crack forming with every small glance he risked. It was getting harder to keep it down. But this wasn't another world. Rafe chose this.

Something had to change; Rafe had to change something.

But for now, Rafe kept his arm around Reilly, laughing along at every lighthearted joke she made. For now, he’d keep it all down. He’d ignore that anchor, and he’d keep pulling it behind him. For now, but not for long.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER EIGHT. ᐟ

NO ANSWER

JUST FRIENDS MUSIQ SOULCHILD

I’m not tryna pressure you
Just can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you
You ain’t even really gotta be my girlfriend.

5.3k words

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rafe: Come outside.

REILLY NEVER THOUGHT she’d thank God for nightmares. This one woke her up in the dead of night. It came like a storm, with sweat-soaked sheets and her heart beating out of her chest. It took ten minutes for Reilly’s breathing to steady, then another five for her heart to go back to its normal rate. She knew there wasn’t any point in trying to go back to sleep — once she was up, she was up. A shower was probably best for her now, considering her body thought it was running a marathon in ninety-degree weather while she slept. So, Reilly climbed out of bed and clambered toward the bathroom with dragging feet.

The worst part is that she couldn’t even remember her dream. This dream, which caused Reilly to feel like she was dying, this dream that shocked her awake, was now gone. She couldn’t remember anything; not one small detail that could help piece together what could’ve happened. Nothing.

The text came as a surprise to Reilly, who had just gotten out of the shower. The moment she stepped back into her bedroom, her phone lit up with a familiar ding. Reilly almost ignored the text — it was pretty early in the morning (6 am to be exact), she thought it was one of her friends sending her a funny video. But something nagged in the back of her brain, causing her fingers to itch until she finally picked up the phone and read the text.

Her feet were thunderous as Reilly ran down the wooden steps and straight to her front door, only five minutes after reading the message. She gave Beau a quick pat on the head before swinging the front door open and running around the front of the store, toward the parking lot that sat to the left.

And there he was. Rafe Cameron stood with his back against his glossy, black truck. His feet crossed as he stood, staring down at his phone nonchalantly. The sky was only now turning from black to a dark blue, the moonlight being the only light Reilly had. She couldn’t see into the bed of the truck very well due to its height alone, but she did notice a few blankets and pillows piled on top of each other in a giant lump.

Rafe’s head lifts from his phone and his face lifts with it. He pockets his phone and stands straight. His arm moves to the door handle, opening the door with ease. One free hand motions for the seat, beckoning Reilly in. “Get in. We’re going to the beach.”

Reilly thought back to a few weeks ago when she was telling Rafe about the time she got caught sneaking to the beach with Pope. He remembered that? Not even that — he cared enough to recreate it for her?

Reilly’s feet moved forward before she realized it. She briskly moved over to Rafe with surprised eyes, not stopping until her body met his, wrapping him in a hug. She could feel the surprise in Rafe’s body, the way it stiffened at the touch. But she also felt the way his body relaxed and almost melted in her arms. His arms moved around her before long, and Reilly smiled into Rafe’s chest. He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla.

“Rafe, I…” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head. Her eyes moved up to Rafe’s. “I don’t know what to say."

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

She’s beaming at him. He threw a couple of blankets and pillows into the bed of his truck, showed up early in the morning unannounced, probably woke her up… and she’s beaming at him like he bought her a brand-new yacht.

The idea hit Rafe in the face. Once Rafe dropped Reilly off after the impromptu Prickly Palm visit, his mind was filled with a million thoughts—mostly about Reilly.

After he dropped the others off, he was left with his thoughts. He loved it when Reilly was with his friends; he liked how she fit in with them almost too perfectly. But he also liked it when it was just them. Reilly gave him a sort of relief that he hadn’t felt in a while. When he was with her, he felt like he could breathe. And it was all he could think about at this point. Being with Reilly, breathing in the oxygen she offered Rafe, was enough for him to feel like he was choking when she wasn’t around.

As Rafe drove back to his house that night, his eyes shifted to the large beach he was driving toward. He thought back to the last time he’d been on the beach. It was a while; that much he knew. He liked the beach. He should invite Reilly out to go —

And ever since it hit him, the idea hadn’t left Rafe’s brain.

So here he was. Standing outside, waiting for her to come down. He had to admit, his execution could have been better. Texting the girl this early in the morning, only relying on the hope that she was either awake or a light sleeper? Not the brightest idea on Rafe’s part. But, fuck, she looked so pretty. Her hair was tied quickly in a bun on top of her head; her skin was glowing, even in the dark outside.

But it worked. She was now in his truck, basically vibrating in the seat beside him with excitement. Rafe couldn’t help but feel excited, too.

 
“ALRIGHT, hop in the bed,” Rafe said, cutting through the music that played through the speakers. He left the truck running with the music playing loud enough for them to hear, but not too loud.

Reilly laughed. She turned to him with a sly smirk. “Gotta take me back home for that to happen, Cameron."

Rafe smirked. Don’t tempt me, he thought to himself. He shook the thought away. No — this wasn’t just for him. Sure, he wanted some time alone with Reilly, but this was mainly for her. He wanted her to be able to go out to the beach to watch the sunrise again without Mark breathing down her neck, berating her, and making her feel stupid. She deserved to do this again without the judgment — just with him.

The water was calm this morning with no scary dark clouds brewing over their heads. It was calm.

Rafe barked out a laugh as he shut his door. He walked around to Reilly’s side with his hands resting on his hips and his head tilted playfully. He nodded his head beside them, toward the bed of the truck. “The truck bed, smartass.”

He watches as she steps onto his rear tire, using it as a step to swing her other leg over the side of the truck and step into the bed with ease. Rafe was fully prepared to hold her hand to help her crawl in, or maybe even lift her up. But for a moment, he had a lapse in judgment. He forgot who his girl was.

Rafe joined Reilly, clambering in behind her with much less grace. Once he made it beside her with both their backs resting against the truck, his arm found itself around her back, resting on her shoulders. He let out a content sigh as he joined her in staring at the stars. The sun hadn’t risen quite yet, which was exactly what Rafe wanted. He wanted some time to talk under the stars before they watched the sunrise.

“You killed the setup,” Reilly spoke softly, resting her head against Rafe’s chest. “Nobody’s ever done something like this before.”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrow as he listens to Reilly speak. She’s staring out at the black water as she waits patiently for the sky to begin to turn a light blue. This whole thing was last minute, and it only took him about five minutes to do. Nobody has ever taken five minutes to do something nice for her before?

“You kooks, man,” Reilly shook her head with a chuckle as she leaned closer to Rafe. “You’re really not as bad as everyone says you’d be. I’m…” Reilly limply shrugs. “I’m kind of annoyed at myself for being so… uninviting before. My dad always told me this whole pogue vs. kook bullshit is dumb. And I knew it, too. But I don’t know. I guess I got caught up in all of it. So… I’m really sorry, Rafe.”

Rafe’s words got caught in his throat before he could mutter out a pathetic ‘It’s okay.' He swallowed the lump in his throat, and as soon as it went down, another one formed.

He couldn’t speak. He could barely think. He was starting to believe he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was sit there, his arm wrapped around her, and blink like an idiot.

But he couldn’t stay silent. He had to say something. Anything. She couldn’t think something was wrong — she couldn’t think she did something wrong. He couldn’t dwell too much on the fact that she was apologizing for something she had no business apologizing for. Reilly had her guard up from the beginning with Rafe — and she should have. She had a feeling Rafe was going to hurt her. Then, he broke her guard down and made her believe otherwise. She’s starting to trust him; she’s starting to tell him things that she wouldn’t have before. She’s ignoring her gut.

And she was right the whole time.

“Thank you," Rafe choked the words out, spitting them from his mouth. It did nothing but make him feel sicker.

He wanted to puke. This stupid fucking challenge. Every time he forgot about it, every time he was truly happy, something or someone reminded him of it. Then, like a black hole forming in the pit of his stomach, he was snapped back into reality — this wasn't going to last. All of this comfort was going to end someday. Then, he was slapped in the face with the reality that he did this to himself. But not just that.

He did it to Reilly.

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

The sky was washed in a radiant orange and pink, turning the entire beach the same colors. Everything was orange; the water that ebbed and flowed only a few feet away from the truck, the sand beneath them. Birds flew through the sky, chirping among each other happily. It looked like a painting — a backdrop, a scene from a movie. Even though she had lived here her entire life, it still felt unreal to Reilly that this was her life, this was where she lived. Sometimes, it made her forget about the way her life was outside of that moment. Maybe that was why she liked going so much when she was a teenager. She could forget about the shittier parts of life, the Marks and Houstons, and just be with Pope — and now Rafe.

“Thank you,” Reilly’s head snapped up to meet Rafe’s gaze after staring off into space for too long. “For this.”

Rafe cleared his throat. His eyes shifted from her lips back to her eyes. They were so close that Reilly could feel his breath on her chin. He softly shook his head. His fingers gently tilted Reilly’s chin to face him, and Reilly swore she could feel his hand shaking. He dropped his hand once Reilly faced him. Reilly wished he hadn’t. She almost wanted to look away in the hopes that he’d do it again, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t look away from him if she wanted to.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He spoke, his voice slightly strained. “You deserve this.” He opened his mouth like he was going to continue, but he snapped it back shut right after. Reilly barely noticed it, though. Her mind was too occupied by the tiny freckles that dotted Rafe’s cheeks and nose. “Besides, I like being able to do shit for you.”

Reilly’s heart felt like it was melting in her chest. She never thought she'd be here – on the back of Rafe Cameron’s truck, his arm wrapped around her like she was his. She never thought she'd want to kiss him so badly; she never thought she’d feel like her heart was yearning for him even though she was right beside him. But here she is.

Rafe leaned even closer to her, a small smile playing on his face. Reilly let a grin spread across her face in response. The touch that Reilly had so desperately yearned for moments ago had returned, this time in the form of Rafe’s big hand cupping her cheek softly. His eyes were locked on her as the two of them became closer before closing the space between them.

There was a small star inside Reilly’s belly. It stayed mostly dormant and still, to the point that Reilly figured it would be that way forever. But the way Rafe kissed her, the way his lips moved against hers as if he couldn’t part with her. It made that little star in Reilly’s belly burst like she’d never felt before. Suddenly, a supernova erupted inside her, millions of little sparks flying off at once.

Rafe led the kiss, starting off slow and lustful. But that had quickly been replaced by rougher kisses, their lips moving in unison as their hands moved around each other. Reilly’s hands moved from around Rafe’s shoulders down his chest, sliding over his abs. She could feel Rafe smile into the kiss.

He pulls his lips from Reilly’s mouth, trailing down her neck to her chest. His hands gently push her back, allowing her to sink into the pile of blankets and pillows beneath them. He continues to kiss her collarbones, sucking lightly at the skin there. Reilly’s hands find themselves moving to his hair, gripping the root and pulling gently. Rafe groans in reply – a hungry, infatuated growl that makes Reilly’s entire body feel like it's vibrating.

Rafe breaks the kiss apart with his breath heavy on his lips. His breath is heavy as his eyes take in her body, drinking in everything she offers him.

“Take this off,” his hands moved to her shoulders, peeling off the grey zip-up jacket that he had offered her earlier. Reilly sat up a bit to help him peel it off, shrugging the oversized jacket off her shoulders, leaving her in just a tank top. The cool breeze coming off the ocean caused goosebumps to rise on her arms, but Rafe didn’t let them stay long. He lowered back down, kissing her neck, as his hands ran up and down her arms, effectively warming her up a bit. Reilly noticed his kisses were softer when his lips reached her neck — the same side that was still a little sore from her night at Mark’s house. The bruise was already beginning to heal, but that clearly didn't mean anything to Rafe, who handled that part of her body with more care.

Rafe’s mouth moved down towards her chest, closer to the swell of her breasts. He kept his mouth on one spot, sucking and biting there. Reilly let out a whine under him, pulling a little harder on his hair. Rafe gave her one more small bite in retaliation before moving back up to Reilly’s lips.

Reilly noticed there was almost a sense of urgency in his kiss, like if he didn’t do this now, he’d never do it. Desperation heaved from his lips like smoke, spreading and filling as much of the air as possible. His chest rose and fell in time with his breathing, and his eyes searched Reilly’s entire face, analyzing every micro-expression she made. Reilly, however, felt like she had nothing but time — something she'd never felt before. She always felt like she had to hurry through life; hurry through childhood, hurry through high school and college, and quickly get a job. But now, with Rafe, Reilly felt like she had all the time in the world. She could waste time here.

It was silent besides the crashing waves in front of them, and the ever-so-often seagull chirps. “Reilly,” his voice was so low, barely audible over his huffing breaths of air. But Reilly heard him. Somehow, she always does.

“Yeah?” Reilly finally noticed the look in Rafe’s eyes. His eyebrows were pinched and slightly raised, and his mouth was slightly agape. He looked desperate; he looked nervous…

He looked afraid.

“Rafe, what’s going on? Are you—"

“Yeah. Yeah. Just… Just…” Rafe’s hands moved back to Reilly’s shoulders, and he held them tight. His fingers dug into her shoulder as if to make sure she wasn’t going to move. “Just…” He sounded so upset like he couldn't put his thoughts into words. He needed time to think, time to figure something out. She had no clue what that was, but she would do anything she could to help him.

So, Reilly didn’t try to move. She stayed as still as she could.

"Okay," Reilly whispers. Rafe focuses his gaze back on her. She can see the tiniest smile beginning to play on his lips as he listens to her. “I will.”

The small smile turns into a full grin, one that deepens the dimples on his cheeks and the smile lines around his mouth. He leans back forward, and Reilly once again feels his lips on hers.

Rafe’s mouth, which was one furled into a frown, blooms into a wide smile. It is a real one — a genuine grin that feels like one in a lifetime for Reilly. Rafe moves his body, shifting it so he is now lying down beside Reilly. Reilly, taking advantage of Rafe lying down, moves her body on top of his and straddles his hips. Rafe grunts in surprise but welcomes the change, moving his hands to cup Reilly’s ass as she begins pressing her lips against Rafe’s neck. Her lips move down Rafe’s jaw, now taking her revenge in making Rafe go crazy by paying attention to that spot. She feels Rafe’s grip on her waist tighten, and she smirks to herself at the effect she has on him.

She doesn’t torture him for too long, though, moving back to his lips. Rafe’s hands move back to her ass, pushing down a little. Reilly begins to follow his action as she gently grinds herself down on Rafe. She feels his hands move under her loose shorts, his long fingers getting closer and closer to her with every passing second. Reilly desperately wishes Rafe would just do it — flip her over and do it.

Then, Rafe breaks the kiss. And everything is still. His mouth is still, the hand on Reilly’s ass is still, no longer slowly moving. It didn’t even look like his chest was moving anymore, and if he wasn’t blinking up at Reilly, she’d think he was dead. But Rafe was staring up at Reilly as she sat on his lap. Again, he’s clearly thinking about what he’s going to say.

“I…” Rafe trails off. He clears his throat and leans on his elbows. Reilly takes the hint, leaning back before climbing off Rafe’s lap altogether. “We should stop. I should get you back home.”

Reilly feels like all the air has been sucked out of her body. Rafe’s crestfallen body language, with his lowered head and arched back, shows as he picks at a piece of lint on the blanket under his legs. He keeps his eyes there.

“Oh,” Reilly squeaks out as she reaches for the grey jacket. She throws it back on but doesn’t bother zipping it up. “Okay.”

Reilly’s never felt so embarrassed about climbing out of the stupid bed of a truck before. But awkwardly sliding to the end of the truck before hopping off felt so humiliating. She didn’t say a word as she walked around the truck and to the passenger seat, leaving Rafe alone to put everything away.

What the hell just happened?

Reilly played through the entire night (well, morning) with Rafe in her head. She started at the text and ran through the rest of the time up until that moment. The only thing she could think of that was out of the ordinary was the way Rafe kept breaking away from her to look at her. She’d never been with someone who did that before. It made her feel seen, and Reilly didn’t know how she felt about that. To be seen is to be loved, the saying said. But sometimes, being seen meant being perceived. And being seen like that meant being exposed.

Rafe wanted to stop. He pulled away from her, looked her up and down, and said they should stop. Reilly’s mind flashes back to a few months ago when Houston broke up with her, and she had to hold in her groan. She did it again. She told herself she wouldn’t do this — she wouldn’t fall for this type again. And now, she’s in the same situation once more.

At least Reilly knew what was going to happen. She had heard all the talking points before: how pogues and kooks would never work out, how he wasn’t ever really attracted to her anyway. How this was actually a good thing for Reilly. She’d thought over them for weeks on end, going over everything Houston had said to her that night. She’d already been through the hopeful thoughts she kept in the back of her head, thinking (secretly hoping) that Houston would change his mind. He’d come crawling back, pleading that he wanted her back. And Reilly would take him back, pathetically. Now she just has to wait for it to happen again, now with Rafe.

He's silent on the way back. His grip on the steering wheel is iron-tight, with lily-white knuckles wrapped around it. His jaw is just as tight. Reilly thinks he’s going to shatter his teeth.

He lets Reilly out without so much as a 'bye.' She opens the door and steps out, with Rafe pulling out only half a second before Reilly can even close the door.

The rest of the day goes by, Rafe still radio-silent, aside from one text: the game schedule for the week. Reilly sighed to herself after she foolishly snatched the phone with haste before realizing what it was. How could she forget that’s how they met in the first place: Rafe helped her out. She’s the bookkeeper.

TWO DAYS LATER and Reilly’s decided that she hated not knowing more than anything else. She hates not knowing what she did wrong, what it was about her that turned Rafe away specifically. But what could she do, walk up to Rafe and ask him? Hey Rafe, I know I probably completely disgust you now, but can I just ask — what was it about me specifically that did it?

No, she couldn’t show him the desperation that bubbled inside her, pleading to be let free. She had been down this road before, and the last time she obsessed over her thoughts like this, she was humiliated. She begged Houston to tell her how to fix it, how to fix her, but he gave her no answer. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it,” he said. “I can’t do that to you.”

For some reason, that felt like more of a gut punch than anything else he said that night.

Reilly never wanted to feel like that again. So, she would deal with not knowing.

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

Rafe couldn’t sleep. He’d been trying to for an entire day. But every time he closed his eyes, they drifted back open again. And Rafe was stuck staring at the ceiling for a day and a half. The quiet welcomed him at first, the peacefulness tricking Rafe into thinking he could fall asleep. But before long, the quiet started to become so loud. So fucking loud.

Rafe leaped out of bed with a huff. He snatched a random shirt off the hook in his closet and threw it over his head. He slipped on a pair of shoes, grabbed his keys, and slammed the door shut behind him as he left.

Kappa Phi's party is in full swing. Rafe turns off his bike and rests his helmet on the handle. He pockets the keys as he walks up the driveway and through the grass of the giant house. A few people are on the lawn; one kid is puking in the bushes that line the house. Rafe ignores them with only an eye roll as he quickly makes his way up the steps and to the front door.

He doesn’t bother with whoever’s at the door to let him in. He swings the door open and bursts through. His eyes land on the first frat brother he sees, and he grabs onto his shoulder hard. “Where’s Richards?”

The younger pledge stutters a few times before answering that he is downstairs.

The basement is flooded with red light. It washes over the entire room, drenching everyone and everything in that color. Rafe stalks through the smaller group of people, ignoring any and all greetings to him. His eyes are set on Justin, who is at the pool table. He is bent over the table, lining up his shot just as Rafe calls his name.

Justin glances at Rafe for a moment, muttering out, one second before making the shot. He hits the ball into the pocket with a satisfied grin. The girl beside him — a blonde that Rafe doesn’t know the name of — giggles Justin as he wraps his arm around her waist and begins to make out with her. Rafe rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, looking anywhere else as the two deeply make out right in front of him.

Once done, Justin smacks the girl’s ass. “Give me just a minute, babe,” he smiles at her. She winks and turns around to talk to a few of her friends to give the two time to talk.

“What’s up?” Justin asks, leaning on his pool cue.

“I want to end it.”

Justin laughs and leans back on the pool table. “Woah, dude. I love you and all, but I think you should call a hotline for that sort of shit.”

Rafe doesn’t laugh. Justin’s laughter dies down and turns into a deep, slightly annoyed sigh. Rafe can tell that Justin thinks he’s ruining the vibe of the party, but Rafe also knows Justin would never say that. Justin just shrugs instead, asking, “What’re you talking about, Cameron?”

“This stupid shit with Reilly. I’m done.”

This seems to pique Justin’s interest. His head and back straighten, and he looks at Rafe. “Yeah? What, are you catching feelings?”

Rafe scoffs. “Of course not.”

“You’re lying.” Justin stands up straight from the table and takes a step closer to Rafe. “It’s okay, bro. I get it. You’ve been hanging out with her a lot… It’s understandable to think you like her. But dude — you gotta think about the long term. Remember the long term?” When Rafe is silent, Justin shakes his head. “Woah, Heyward got you brainwashed good, huh? Victoria. She’s the long-term prize.”

“Reilly didn’t do anything to deserve this,” Rafe shakes his head. “Victoria isn’t worth it—"

Justin laughs at this, cutting Rafe off and causing him to jump a little at the sudden noise. “Not worth it? To who? You? What about Ward?” The mention of his father’s name grabs Rafe’s attention. “What about how pissed he’d be if you stayed with Reilly? He loved Vic, dude.”

“I don’t care what Ward thinks.”

“Now, you’re really lying,” Justin crosses his arms. “You care about what Ward thinks more than anyone else; you and I know it. So why piss him off more? Is Reilly really worth that? I don’t think she is.” He scoffs and shakes his head. After a second of silence, he raises his hands in fake surrender. “But fuck it, go ahead. Tell Reilly. She’ll leave anyway. That way, I can move in. It’s a win-win — I’ve never minded sloppy seconds.”

Rafe didn’t realize how angry he was until he punched Justin in the jaw. Before he knew it, Justin was knocked back onto the pool table, blood pouring from his mouth; probably bit his tongue, Rafe thinks.

Justin launches up from the pool table with a yell. But he’s stopped before he can reach Rafe by Topper and Kelce, who move in and hold Justin back. They each have one arm as they drag him away to calm him down. Rafe doesn’t watch. His eyes are on the floor in front of him as his mind runs over a million different things; not one of them is about what he just did to Justin. He couldn’t care less about that.

Until Justin lets out one last scream, strained from the struggle of getting out of Topper and Kelce’s arms. He snarls as he yells, “You better hope your soft ass can figure out how to tell your little girlfriend what you’ve been up to, Cameron! Before I have the pleasure of doing it myself!”

With that, Topper and Kelce successfully get Justin out of the main basement and off to a separate room.

All eyes are on Rafe. He can feel them, each burning different holes into him. But he pays them no mind as he finally moves, going straight for his room in the frat house.

He locks his door as soon as he gets in. He goes for his phone next, pulling it from his pocket and unlocking it. His thumb doesn’t hesitate in pressing the CALL button under Reilly’s name. He presses the phone to his ear as he paces and runs his hand over his hair repeatedly. “C’mon Ry, c’mon Ry, c’mon…”

The phone rings and rings and rings. But Reilly doesn’t answer. Rafe throws his phone on the bed. “Fuck!” He continues to pace and pull his hair, this time walking faster and pulling harder. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, his hand is throbbing and red. Rafe looks up and is met with a gaping hole in the wall in front of him.

Fuck, he just wanted to talk to Reilly, but he can’t. He knows she doesn’t want to talk to him, not after their abrupt ending two days ago. Understandably so, Rafe literally called everything off in the middle of their date. But he couldn’t help it. Every time he looked at her, he just saw what he was doing to her. He saw a look of hurt on her face. He saw tears in her eyes. Even though Rafe knew she didn’t actually look like that, all he could think about was that she would soon.

He had to stop. For now. He had to figure out a way to end the challenge without Reilly finding out.

Which is why he wanted to talk to Reilly. She was the smartest person Rafe knew; he knew she’d have a solution. But obviously, he couldn’t go to her for that. He was on his own.

If he fucked this up, he’d never forgive himself. Doing that meant never seeing Reilly again. It was already obvious that Rafe couldn’t go twelve hours without seeing her — losing her would make him go insane. He has to make sure that doesn’t happen; he’d do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen.

The next morning, Rafe decided to bite the bullet and try calling Reilly again. No answer. Against his better judgment, he tried again.

No answer.

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CHAPTER NINE!

PUSH AND PULL

INFRUNAMI STEVE LACY

“Can you come back to me?
‘Cause I was blind to see
That you were right in front of me.”

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RAFE couldn’t stop his fingers from tapping against his steering wheel. The truck's engine was on, yet idle, as Rafe sat in the parking lot for the last fifteen minutes. Nothing played through the speakers. He had turned that off ten minutes ago; he couldn't focus with music playing. He kept going back and forth — on his way out to the truck, the entire drive there, and now: sitting in the parking lot of the Prickly Palm. This is so dumb, but no, it’s not. This won’t end badly, but what if it does? I can’t do this, but I’m going to anyway.

His eyes glance around the small gravel parking lot, mentally sifting through the cars before landing on Reilly’s familiar Subaru. Rafe takes a mental note to thank Topper later.

“I didn’t tell you this,” Topper’s reluctant voice admitted through the phone after a defeated sigh. Topper didn’t know, but Rafe was staring straight into the phone, hanging on Topper’s every word. Rafe had been working to crack Topper for fifteen minutes now and was so close to getting the truth out of him.

"F'course not,” Rafe’s voice was as cool as he could make it, forcing the desperation out of his tone.

“The girls are all at the Palm,” Topper sighed. “For their ‘girl talk.'"

Rafe had weighed his options. He thought about waiting. The idea of telling Topper to relay any information Ophelia gives him back to Rafe, but he also knew Topper's mind was a sieve; not much stuck.

Besides, Rafe can’t let this one wait. He had to do this himself. When has Rafe ever been the type to wait? That was never something he did before — he wasn't starting now.

He steps through the doorway and into the small family-owned ice cream shop. He first realizes that it must be a slow day today because only about six people are in the shop, and three of them are his friends. Since it is already quiet inside, the small bell rang over Rafe’s head as he opened the door, notifying everyone that someone new had entered.

Ophelia, who stood behind the counter, whipped her head around at the sound. Her wide smile turned into a deep frown upon realizing it was Rafe who had walked in. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, doing her best to be intimidating. It didn’t work. She looked like a mouse.

Delilah didn’t look all too pleased with Rafe’s presence either. She didn’t just frown; she had a whole-ass sneer on her face, paired with furrowed eyebrows. Her chin was in her hand with her elbows leaning on the counter of the bar. Her eyes flicked up and down Rafe with a look of disgust as he stepped deeper in, heading towards Reilly. Rafe ignored the judgmental stare and kept his eyes on his girl.

Fuck. She’s so pretty. Her curly hair is down, landing just below her shoulders. She has a clip holding back the top half of the curly locks, with a few strands framing her face. She has on a white, shoulderless shirt with pink flowers decorating it. Rafe liked it when Reilly wore white. She had naturally dark features, so wearing white made everything pop.

What am I, a style expert now? What am I turning into?

But fuck it, Rafe didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything other than this right now. This was number one on his list — she was number one. He’d figure out the rest when he got to them.

He stepped closer to Reilly, his blue eyes staring straight into her brown ones. She was sitting down on a stool beside Delilah and across the counter from Ophelia. She looked confused, but the expression made Rafe’s heart warm in his chest, though he figured that wasn’t supposed to happen; he couldn’t help it. He always had that feeling when he saw her.

“How’d you know I was here?” Reilly asked. Her ice cream was now forgotten, melting inside the small cup.

Rafe scoffs. He gives Ophelia a pointed look. She rolls her eyes in response, muttering her boyfriend’s name under her breath and shaking her head.

Reilly looks to her friend with a raised eyebrow, like Rafe’s. Ophelia’s eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment under Reilly’s glare. She opens one eye and glances at Reilly, who has a slightly annoyed look. “Your boyfriend has a big-ass mouth, Ophie.”

Ophelia grimaces. “Yeah, he does. Sorry, Ry."

Reilly shakes her head at the girl, telling her it’s fine. She stands with a sigh. Rafe forces the muscles in his mouth to stay put, to not turn into a smile as Reilly lets out an exasperated sigh, agreeing to talk to him. Finally, Rafe was going to get a chance to say what he’s been thinking for over a month now.

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

Reilly knew what was happening: Rafe was calling it quits.

This is always how it went. First, it’s a lot of fun. It’s quiet giggles, passing glances, forehead kisses, and secret dates on the beach. Then, it becomes more serious. There’s the stench of expectations, labels that are waiting to get stamped. The guy freaks out, decides Reilly isn’t the girl for him. He’ll lie and say it’s because he isn’t ready for a relationship. About two weeks later, he’ll start dating another girl. Publicly.

She’ll be perfect, with straight teeth and long, flowing hair. She’ll be the opposite of Reilly. And Reilly will have to pretend that doesn’t kill her inside.

Reilly knew it was a matter of time. She’d said she shouldn’t get her hopes up. But she did. She always does. It happens in the back of her mind, the dormant side that she always ignores. Then, when that part finally comes forward again, it becomes all-encompassing. It flicks something in the back of her head every time she thinks of anything. After that, it grows larger and larger until it’s the only thing on her mind. Like a giant blanket covering every other thought besides Rafe.

His stupid eyes that he rolls constantly. His freckles. The gold chain that hangs around his neck and the matching gold signet ring he never takes off. The dimple that imprints itself on his cheeks whenever he smiles.

Stay strong, Reilly, the girl thought to herself as she stepped through the door. She moved down the two steps that led to the parking lot outside of the Prickly Palm. Rafe followed closely behind before taking the lead and guiding Reilly towards his truck. You know how this goes: He’ll let you down easily, say he’s not ready for anything serious. He’ll say you’re a nice girl, and this has nothing to do with you. Get through this, and you can cry at home all night.

The rocks under her shoes crunch as she follows Rafe to the giant black truck sitting outside. When they make it, Rafe leans into the open window of his truck. He shuffles around inside the vehicle before moving out of the window and standing straight again, this time with a flash of color.

Reilly’s eyes lock onto the flowers.

Reilly doesn’t know what to say. Instead, she watches as Rafe moves his weight from one foot to the other, an unusually shy smile on his face, bouquet still in hand. His hair has fallen in his face from leaning in the truck, but he didn’t move to fix it. The dark blond, almost brown locks weren’t tussled back with a bit of gel; instead, they lay flat on top of his head. He wore a plain white shirt with blue jeans. A silver chain rested against his chest, and a pair of dark Ray-Bans hung from his shirt. Everything was tied together with him, like normal. The outfit, mixed with the smile on his face, his hair, and the way the lines around his eyes crinkled as he stared at Reilly, waiting for her to say something…

He hadn't said a word yet, and he was already winning her over.

Reilly still hadn’t spoken. Her mouth had been stuck in a loop of opening and closing like a fish out of water — which was fitting, considering the last month of her life. Rafe, who decided he would break the ice first, spoke up.

“You’re not picking up my calls.”

Reilly looks back down at the flowers. They’re a mix of sunflowers, with white and blue baby’s breath surrounding them. They were simple, but the colors together were gorgeous. Reilly hated that she loved them.

She gently takes them from Rafe’s hand, keeping her eyes on them only as she whispers, “I was trying to give you space. Seemed like you wanted it.”

Rafe lets out a breath. “Look, Lee,” he takes a step closer to her. His hand moves to rest on Reilly’s elbow. The small touch feels like fire on Reilly’s arm, but she doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry… for bein’ so closed off at the beach. I don’t know why I pushed you away like that. But I do know that the second I did it, I regretted it.” His voice is pleading, the words stretching out and reaching for Reilly. They wrap around her like a lasso and pull her deeper into him. And it’s working. He’s taking her, pulling her closer and closer with every word he says, with every step he takes. He's a magnet.

He hasn’t looked away from her once. He doesn’t want to. He can’t do anything to make her think he’s lying (especially since he’s not) — she has to understand what she means to him. She has to believe him. He doesn’t deserve it, and Rafe will work on that part next. But for now, Reilly has to see what he sees.

Her voice was soft, so soft when she spoke. Rafe didn’t think he had ever heard her so quiet before. “Did I do something?”

It was like she was scared to ask, like the question itself was too pathetic to even ask aloud. But her mind had been flooded with questions since that night, and Reilly needed answers. At the very least, she needed closure. She was grieving. Mourning something that wasn’t even dead. But it felt natural, like second nature, as if it were something she'd always done.

“What?” Rafe’s voice is clipped. He’s taken off guard, shaking his head frantically and stopping himself three separate times from gently holding Reilly’s shoulders with both hands. His grasp is firm when he speaks. “Did you do something — No. No, of course not. I guess… I guess I got too into my head. I’ve never cared about someone like this before, and I freaked.” He shrugged as he continued to slowly shake his head, as if he didn’t have a straightforward answer.

Reilly didn’t say anything. She could see Rafe piecing his thoughts together in his mind one by one, trying to find the right words to say. She knew that feeling. Even though she knew where this was going, she couldn’t bring herself to frustrate him further.

So, she waited for Rafe to continue. She waited on bated breath for him to tell her that it’s done — that whatever they had was over.

“You could never do anything wrong, Lee,” he half-jokes, cracking a small smile. He peers down at her, even though she’s clearly avoiding looking at him. “You’re good. Hell, you’re too good.”

He’s rambling, throwing anything at the wall and hoping it sticks. Just look at me, baby. He’s staring a hole into her forehead as he leaves the air empty, saying nothing else after that.

Reilly finally looks up at him, and Rafe swears his breath catches in his throat.

God, her eyes are so beautiful.

“So, what do you want to do, Rafe?” she asks, her voice smooth like honey. She squints from the sun beaming in her face as her head tilts up to him. Everywhere around them is silent, except for the chirping birds and crashing waves behind them.

The smile had yet to leave Rafe’s face. In fact, it got wider as he said, “I want to be with you, Reilly.”

This certainly was not what Reilly was expecting.

She’d been preparing for three days now, talking herself up to take the hit and move on like she always did. But since Rafe blindsided her with this, Reilly had nothing to go on. She hadn’t prepared for this. She didn’t have a cute, witty comeback for him telling her he wanted to be with her.

She actually had to say what she felt. Unfiltered, unpracticed.

Reilly swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her brain was running a thousand miles a minute. She knew what she wanted to say, but she had just given herself a lecture about getting her hopes up. She’s only hurting herself if she does this and it ends badly. Rafe has no risk in doing this. It’s all on her.

Still, her mouth curls into a smile.

“I want to be with you, too.”

The words left her mouth before she could even process them. She didn’t even hear herself say it, but she knew she did. She especially knew she did when Rafe’s face morphed into that of pure happiness, his teeth showing from the wide grin on his face. His hand shot up to rub his mouth as he pondered his next question. “So… you're saying I can be your boyfriend?”

Reilly laughs and nods. She can’t hide the excitement on her face. “Yes, you dumb idiot.”

Rafe steps closer again and wraps his arms around her waist. He pulls her into him. Reilly rests her hands on Rafe’s chest as she looks at him. “Yeah?” Rafe smirks, tilting his head a bit.

Reilly giggles. “Yeah.”

God, he can’t hold back anymore. He doesn’t need to anymore. So, Rafe leans his head forward, pressing his mouth against Reilly’s and kissing her deeply. Reilly’s hands shoot up from Rafe’s chest to around the back of his neck to hold herself steady. His mouth finds hers, and both of their lips move in unison against each other.

The hunger in his kiss translated itself into the way he groaned and moved his hand to the back of Reilly’s head, kissing her even deeper.

No matter how hard she’d tried to deny it, no matter how hard she tried to convince Ophie and Lilah that she was fine, Reilly missed Rafe. She’d missed talking to him on the phone, or him texting her out of nowhere just to check up on her. She missed that same feeling she had the day he surprised her with the sunrise date.

Her cheeks felt sore by the time the two separated. The smile on her face was so wide that she probably looked insane, beaming up at him the way she was. But Reilly finally didn’t have to miss him anymore. The nagging of unanswered questions in the back of her head was finally put to rest.

Rafe’s smile matches hers. He rests his arms around her shoulders and draws her close, wrapping her in a hug. Reilly mirrors him, pressing her face against his chest. That familiar, comforting scent of sandalwood and vanilla fills her nose as she breathes in. Rafe’s chest vibrates under her, and she peers up, half-expecting him to be making fun of her for smelling him. But instead, his eyes are locked somewhere else, off toward the shop.

Reilly follows his gaze. Through the blinds are two pairs of eyes, one light blue, wide, but still clearly smiling. The second pair of eyes is dark brown, narrow, and deep in thought as they stare at the two. Once Rafe and Reilly both catch them staring, the pair of blue eyes ducks out of the way, moving out of view. The brown eyes, however, don’t falter. Like, the owner isn’t being weird at all.

“Think they still wanna kill me?” Rafe mumbles. His arms are still around Reilly as he looks back down at her.

Reilly shrugs. “I guess we’ll see. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“Me? Scared?” Rafe scoffs and shakes his head. He kisses her forehead, something that he seems to like doing. “Nah. I ain’t scared of shit.”

Reilly barks out a laugh and finally steps away. She grabs his hand, very slowly leading him back to the shop. “Okay, Mr. Tough Guy. Whatever you say.”

“I’ll let you get back to your girl time,” Rafe teases as he follows her. They walk up the few steps to the shop. Rafe turns to face Reilly before opening the door, a smirk on his face. “I’ll call you later, alright? I’d appreciate it if you picked up this time.”

Her hands push against his chest lightly, which only makes Rafe’s smile widen. A bubble of a laugh escapes his mouth as he grabs hold of her wrists and pins them to his chest. “One more,” he whispers, moving closer for one more kiss.

Reilly obliges (because, of course, she will) and gives Reilly one more kiss. He opens the door, allowing Reilly to step in. He offers a wave to the blonde and brunette sitting on the other side of the shop and closes the door behind him.

Rafe steps down the stairs with a different feeling. It was like every step he took was springier. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. Hell, it felt like his arms were swinging more than they had when he walked before.

He felt lighter. Like the bricks meticulously placed on his back had all been lifted. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way — maybe when he was a kid and his mom took him to the aquarium for the first time. Or when he won his first baseball game. Whatever it was, Rafe welcomed it. It wasn’t a frequent occurrence, and he didn’t want to push it away. Not anymore. He’d been pushing all his life.

He pushed away his friends. He wanted nothing to do with any of them. They entered his life during a rough time — the roughest time — and Rafe didn’t see the point in having people around him. They were just going to leave. But they dug their way under his skin and made a home there. They weren’t going anywhere, and now, Rafe couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if he didn’t have them.

It hurts more, Rafe noticed. Pushing people away was starting to hurt him — pushing Reilly away hurt him. The pull in his chest never faded in those few short days without talking to her. It was deep, from his center. His fingers twitched to grab his phone and call her. His legs groaned and ached, begging him to stand and take him to her.

He didn’t want to push anymore.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER TEN

SPEECHLESS

NOW PLAYING…

RECKLESS ABANDON FREX

“Reckless abandon.
 That’s how I feel when you’re holding my hand.
You’re so fucking sweet, I can’t stand it.
Oh, you make me feel so romantic.
Can’t stand it.”

4.6k Words

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THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR snaps Reilly back into reality, pulling her eyes off of herself in the mirror after checking herself over for the sixth time. A defeated sigh blows past her lips as her stomach swoops low. I guess it’s now or never…

She already felt like she had been sweating bullets for the past hour. Her heart jumped through her chest at every beat. Her fingers shook, making eyeliner and mascara almost impossible to apply. Somehow, she managed to get herself ready and hopefully presentable enough for where Rafe was taking her. He hadn’t given her much to go with, only instructing her to "wear something nice and blue."

Reilly’s heels click on the old, wooden floors as she steps down the stairs and to the front door. She twists the handle and swings open the door without even giving herself a moment to breathe. Ripping the band-aid off is always the best option.

Oh, Jesus Christ…

Rafe is standing there, leaning against the doorframe. His focus is on his wrist as he nonchalantly rolls his sleeve up. He looks up at Reilly with a smirk before letting his eyes trail down over her. His eyes roll over her as she moves closer to him, giving him plenty of time to check her out. She couldn’t help but feel her heart leap with anxiety — the dress was tight enough around her stomach to see the extra fat that sat there. Her ‘pudginess’ was one of Reilly’s biggest insecurities, despite the feigned confidence she walked around with. But it’s not like she could just say ‘never mind,' turn around, and walk back inside. She could do this. Fake it ‘till you make it, Ry.

Reilly raised her hands up a bit, giving Rafe a twirl. “What do you think? It’s definitely not what I’m used to, but Lilah pretty much dragged me to the cashier to buy it.”

The dress was a gorgeous royal blue that reached down to Reilly’s mid-calf. The top half was tighter fitting, but it flowed out around her hips. Delilah’s fashion-centered eye had caught the dress at some fancy store on the mainland. But no—Delilah also dragged Reilly up with a surprisingly tight grip on her wrist.

“’Dragged you,’ huh?” Rafe repeated.

“It was almost a hostage situation.”

“Oh, I bet, knowing her.” Rafe grabs her hand, insisting she twirl one more time for him. When she obliges with a laugh, Rafe whistles low under his breath. “I mean… You clean up nice, Heyward; I’ll give you that.”

Reilly rolls her eyes as Rafe chuckles jokingly, saying he’s just kidding. Rafe kisses her temple twice before finally letting her go, allowing her to turn the key and lock the door behind her. He puts his hand on Reilly’s back and guides her to the shiny black Mercedes. It stands out like a sore thumb at her house—and really, it stands out anywhere on the cut.

“Seriously, though,” Rafe’s voice is low. He clears his throat and unlocks the car, the beep beep cutting through the sound of the water only a few yards away. Reilly can tell in the way he trails off; he’s trying to tell her something. So, instead of climbing into the car, she turns and leans back against it, allowing Rafe some more time to get his thoughts in order. She presses her back against the car and looks up at him. Her arms cross lazily as she waits patiently for Rafe to collect his thoughts.

He takes a breath and scratches the back of his head. “You look beautiful, Reilly. For real.”

Reilly feels the heat crawl up from her belly, up past her neck, before staking claim on her cheeks. Her gaze falls from him and towards the ground, and she subconsciously begins to kick around the rocks there. How he continued to make her blush like this needed to be studied. She never felt weak in the knees like this with Houston.

“Thank you,” Reilly stepped forward, allowing Rafe to open the car door for her. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, handsome.”

Now it was Rafe’s turn to blush, except his was much more noticeable. A slight tinge of pink formed on the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he shook his head before Reilly could truly capture it. “Shut up.” He waits for her to sit before he gently shuts the car door. Reilly watches as Rafe shakes his head to himself with a small smile and begins walking around to the other side of the car.

Reilly wasn’t lying or saying it just to say it: Rafe looked good. Good was an understatement. He wore a blue suit jacket with matching pants and a white shirt under it. Barely peeking under the white undershirt was a gold chain, matching the usual gold signet ring that sat on his index finger.

It was simple, but goddamn, it was effective.

The car roared to life once Rafe had settled into his seat. LED lights of every color began dancing around the dashboard and floorboard of the car before finally settling on a deep red. The giant screen between the two flashed to life as well, an automated voice welcoming Rafe and asking where his destination was.

Rafe ignored the voice, though, because his eyes were on something else.

“What, are we in the DeLorean—?" Reilly starts, but she stops when she notices that Rafe hasn’t looked away from her since he sat down. She smiles at the dopey look on his face, the lopsided smirk plastered on his mouth. “What?” she laughs.

Rafe shakes his head. “Nothing, I just—I almost forgot I can kiss you whenever I want now.”

His lips were on hers before Reilly knew it. His hand raised up to hold the back of her head, his fingers tangling themselves in Reilly’s curly hair. Reilly could feel Rafe smiling as he kissed her, and it didn’t take long before she matched him, the two giggling to themselves after only a few seconds.

“Okay, okay,” Reilly pulled back first, a true laugh escaping her lips now. Rafe chuckled and shifted the car into drive.

“SO HOW MANY CARS do you have?” Reilly’s voice breaks through the brown noise of the drive and the soft music playing.

Rafe taps the steering wheel as he thinks. “Uh… A few. I’ve got the Mercedes, the Bronco, and the truck. And the dual-sport bike, too.”

Reilly swore his voice sounded shaky. Like he was nervous to answer her question, or more like he was embarrassed to answer. Usually, Reilly jokes about how rich he is, but it’s clear that Rafe is more than aware of how rich he is, and he doesn’t want to talk about it right now.

“What’s a dual-sport bike?”

As Rafe goes into the differences between motorcycles, dirt bikes, and dual-sport bikes, Reilly can’t help but lose focus. He was too pretty — the skin around his eyes crinkled from the smile in his words. His left hand was on top of the steering wheel as his right one stayed on top of her thigh. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he spoke. The arm of the suit was tight around his forearm, clearly from the size of his arms. His lips were —

“You still with me, Ry?”

Reilly blinked. “Yeah, why?”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “I said I can take you out on my bike sometime. I just have to buy you a helmet first.”

“That sounds fun! JJ never lets me ride with him.”

Despite her disappointed tone, Rafe snorted. “Good. The idiot would probably crash and kill you.”

“Jesus, morbid,” Reilly groaned.

“Come on, I said it’s good he didn’t do that!” Rafe laughed, squeezing Reilly’s thigh, causing her to laugh along with him.

“Anyways,” Reilly clears her throat and moves past that conversation. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about it —” Rafe snorts, but Reilly chooses to ignore that too, rolling her eyes instead. “And even though I love all of them, I think the Bronco is my favorite."

“Yeah?” Rafe asks, peering over at her. When she repeats him, he nods. “The Bronco’s your favorite. Got it.”

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

That settled it. Rafe could never get rid of the Bronco.

It had been on Rafe’s mind lately, the thought of selling it. For a while, when he looked at the car, all he could see was Houston and Victoria. It had been driving him crazy, to the point of driving the truck or the Mercedes instead.

But now, as Reilly sat there beside him looking so jaw-droppingly beautiful, Rafe knew he was never going to sell the Bronco. It was her favorite, after all.

It’s funny how something Reilly said out of the blue like this held so much importance to Rafe. How speaking her mind randomly held so much weight in Rafe’s decision-making. Reilly had no clue how much leverage she had on Rafe’s thoughts already — she had no idea that she was the final judge, jury, and executioner in Rafe’s mind. Whatever Reilly says goes, as far as Rafe was concerned.

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

“I can’t believe you did that to me,” Rafe grunted as he held onto Reilly’s hand, helping her out of the car.

“Rafe, I said I was sorry,” Reilly exited the car and shut the door behind her. “It’s just a habit—"

“Yeah, well, you better unlearn that shit fast, got it?” Rafe kept his voice low. He placed his hand on her back and gently pushed her forward, leading her toward the valet, who stood outside the restaurant. Despite the dark tone of his voice, Reilly knew he was half-joking. She let out a small laugh at his face, hard as stone and stuck in a frown. “You don’t open doors for yourself anymore.”

“Got it!” Reilly nodded her head, sarcasm dripping from her words as Rafe handed the valet his keys, the valet handing him a ticket in return. Rafe thanked the man before leading Reilly into the restaurant. Rafe told the hostess his last name before she guided them deeper in.

Reilly had never been in such a fancy place in her life. The lights were so low, Reilly didn’t know how the waiters and waitresses didn’t trip all the time. It was quiet too, with the only thing playing being soft music by a man at a piano in the corner. The downstairs area was more of a bar area, judging by the people who stood with each other, talking and holding drinks, some swaying to the music.

The hostess leads Rafe and Reilly upstairs, to the restaurant part of the building, and toward the back corner to an empty table. Reilly couldn’t help but feel like every eye was on her as she walked past them, though she knew that couldn’t be true. Nobody knew she was an impostor in this place; it wasn’t that obvious — it couldn’t be.

After sitting down at their table and ordering their drinks, Reilly finally has the time to look around at the restaurant. Plants hung from pots on the ceiling, most of them having fairy lights attached to them, giving the place a small amount of light. There was a smaller, more personal bar with patrons chatting among themselves. The place was beautiful, and it was obvious that only the best of the best came here.

Reilly tried to let out a quiet breath, though it came out shaky. Her fingers began playing with themselves under the table. Her heart felt like it was beating faster and faster every second as Reilly looked around. What was she doing here? She didn’t know the first thing about being in a place like this. The fanciest place Reilly has ever eaten at was the Cheesecake Factory; she should not be here.

“This guy sucks,” Rafe’s voice cut through Reilly’s spiraling mind like a knife through Jell-O. She blinked, turning her attention back to Rafe.

“Huh?”

“Whoever’s playing the piano. He sucks.”

“Oh,” the corners of Reilly’s mouth perk up. She feels a laugh bubble in her chest and lets it out as she shakes her head. “Are you secretly a prodigy piano player or something?”

“Or something,” is Rafe’s answer. His elbows are on the table with his hands clasped together, his gaze locked onto the pianist, who sits downstairs at the instrument. Reilly follows his gaze to him. His back is severely arched, and Reilly can see the sweat dripping from his dark hair.

“Is his back supposed to look broken?” Reilly asked, her eyes still stuck on this tortured piano player.

“Hell no,” Rafe replied without thinking. He shook his head after a beat, finally tearing his eyes away from the apparent train wreck that was the piano player. “God, I hope he’s done soon. One thing I can’t handle is an idiot trying to pull off Rachmaninoff.”

“Wait, were you not kidding about the prodigy thing?” Reilly leans forward with wide eyes.

Rafe smiled, leaning back in his seat for a moment before sitting back up. “Yeah, I was fucking kidding, Ry. Could you imagine me — a piano prodigy? Nah.” His voice died down for a moment before quickly adding, “But my parents did make me train for years.”

“No way!” Reilly covered her mouth with her hands to muffle her exclamation. It wasn’t perfect, with a few people sitting closer by giving her a weird look, but Reilly did her best to ignore them. She leaned forward now, keeping her voice down. “How long?”

Rafe shrugged, doing his best to downplay it. “Started at five, stopped at eighteen. Why?”

“Let me get this straight,” Reilly sat up in her chair, clearing her throat quietly for effect, causing Rafe to chuckle. “You played the piano for thirteen years? Like, lessons and all that?”

“Yeah. Concerts, too.”

“Competitions?”

“A few.”

“Did you win any?”

Rafe’s cool façade shifted to smugness at the question. Reilly groaned, rolling her eyes as Rafe raised his hands to his sides with a laugh. “What? I was pretty good!”

“Yeah, of course you were,” Reilly concedes, laughing along with him. "You're good at everything.”

“No, I’m not,” Rafe’s voice was light and airy, something Reilly wasn’t used to hearing from him, but God, she loved hearing it. His voice usually felt weighed down by a block of concrete. Angry. Tired. But now, it felt feathery and loose, like he was floating. Content. Happy.

“Okay, what’s one thing you suck at?” Reilly asked genuinely, tilting her head expectantly.

Rafe ponders for a moment, but Reilly can tell he already has the answer — he's just trying to decide whether to tell her or not. His eyebrows are furrowed in deep concentration, but the flirty smile on his face fought off any seriousness he tried to portray.

After a moment, he takes a breath. “I can’t sing.”

“Oh, duh,” Reilly nods. “Tell me something I don't know.”

“Wait,” Rafe holds his hands out in front of him and squeezes his eyes closed, deep in thought. “Do I look like I can’t sing or something?”

Reilly laughed, with a shrug. “I guess since you put it that way, yeah—"

“Wait, how did you mean it before?”

THE ENTIRE DINNER went just as smoothly, which was surprising, considering Reilly and Rafe were the loudest people there by far. Neither of them noticed, or if Rafe had, he didn’t care. Reilly didn’t realize how loud she was being until the two finally stopped talking for a moment and listened to the near silence of everyone else around them. But that wasn’t until after the check had come and gone.

The valet ran off with Rafe’s ticket, stating to the pair that he’d be right back. Rafe, with one arm around Reilly’s waist, pulled out his phone while mumbling something about the ‘fucking Dodgers’ under his breath.

Reilly rolled her eyes at his words, already knowing his favorite team had let him down somehow. Before she could ask what they had done this time, a voice sounded near her, causing a shock to run down her spine and to her toes.

“Well, what do we have here?” Mark’s voice cuts right through any semblance of comfort Reilly had. Her once relaxed body had jolted, now straight and stiff as a board. Her arms wrapped around herself, and her body leaned closer to Rafe’s, like they were on autopilot.

Mark moved into Reilly and Rafe’s line of sight, like a monster hiding in the shadows before stepping into a streetlight. He was close to a monster, with crooked, yellow teeth and menacing eyes that looked almost yellow under the lights.

“How’s it going, Rafe?” Mark’s smile was more of a sneer. Reilly wasn’t surprised at all that Mark greeted Rafe first, completely ignoring her as if she weren't there. “What a coincidence, running into you here! You look pretty dapper in that suit, man, I gotta say.”

Rafe nods.

Mark, who was definitely expecting more of a reply than that, only nods back awkwardly. He moves on to Reilly, the temporary, beaten-down look on his face turning back into a confident smirk. “Hey, Reilly.”

“Fuck off, Mark.”

Mark only chuckles in reply, but Reilly notices that the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It is almost uncanny when Mark does that. Reilly used to wonder if anyone else noticed it. Now, she realizes that the specific smile is a privilege that only Joy (and now Reilly) gets to see.

“You and your brother’s fuckin’ attitudes, man. For no reason, too. All I said was ‘hey. ” Mark chuckles darkly as he shakes his head. His eyes move away from Reilly and toward the road.

Reilly leans forward, garnering Mark’s attention once again. “And I’ll say it again. Fuck off, Mark.”

Mark’s body stiffens as he turns to her, finally looking at her dead-on. Rafe, who also notices the sudden change in Mark’s body language, pushes Reilly further away from Mark, keeping his body slightly between them.

Mark’s eyes catch the action. He snorts. “Jesus, kid. You’re actin' like she’s helpless or something with you hidin’ her behind you like that.”

“Who’s hiding?” Reilly tugs away from Rafe, albeit ineffectively, with Rafe holding her tighter.

When Mark only smirks down at her in reply, Reilly can feel her body getting hotter. She wasn’t going to cause a scene; she just didn’t want to look scared of him. She didn’t want to run away again. Of course, having Rafe there to back her up didn’t hurt, either.

Rafe’s hand collides with Mark’s shoulder, pushing him away. It wasn’t a hard push, but it was just enough for Mark to take a staggering step back. Rafe keeps his eyes on Mark, not blinking. “Leave her alone.”

“What’s your problem, man?”

“The problem is,” Rafe starts slowly, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay. "If I ever see you within twenty feet of her again, you will be shitting out your teeth for the next week.”

The shift in Mark’s face is even more drastic this time. Reilly watched as his expression went from cocky to confusion to dejection to nervousness to anger. All while staring directly at Reilly. His fists clenched at his sides, even shaking as he choked out, “I get it. You ran off to your little kook boyfriend over a small, stupid argument.” His eyes shifted to Rafe. “What’d she say? Did she tell you everything? Or did she make me out to be nothing but a piece of shit like she usually does?”

“She didn’t have to tell me that you’re a piece of shit.” Rafe’s voice is steady, calm, the perfect opposite of Mark’s shaky, desperate voice. “I don’t give a fuck what she did or said. If you ever touch her again, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

Nobody speaks after that. The only thing that can be heard is the soft music coming from outside the restaurant. Even Mark stays silent. His face stays deadly still. Even when the valet returns shortly after, Mark doesn’t say a word as Rafe and Reilly walk away, back towards Rafe’s car.

It lasts until Reilly gets inside, and Mark yells Rafe’s name once more. Rafe’s eyes close shut as he lets out an annoyed breath. When they open, they land on Reilly. “Stay here.” He softly instructs.

“Don’t,” Reilly faltered. It was almost pathetic, the way she begged Rafe not to let Mark get to him. This is what he did; he poked and prodded until he found something that got to you—something that made you tick. This was Mark’s last resort; his final Hail Mary to finally find something to latch onto Rafe.

They had such a wonderful time tonight. And, of course, Mark was going to be the one to mess it up. Like with everything else in Reilly’s life these days.

Rafe gives her one more look. His eyebrows relax, and his eyes soften. He’s listening to her. He’s about to shut the door, get into the driver’s seat, and drive away with her without another word to Mark.

But that gets ruined when Mark adds, “How’s Barry been? Talked to him lately?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens again. His eyes hardened, and his eyebrows scrunched up. “I’ll be right back.” Then, he shuts the door and turns. Reilly watches as he walks back to Mark with a rigid posture. The light, airy, content Rafe is gone, and the angry, temperamental Rafe has returned.

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

“What the fuck is it gonna take, Mark? Huh? What can I do for you to leave us the hell alone?” Rafe barked as he strode towards Mark’s apathetic stance. He only stops when he’s right in front of Mark, who shrugs in response.

“I asked you a question," Mark replies with a smirk that Rafe wants to punch clean off.

The entire night had gone exactly the way Rafe wanted it to. The restaurant had the table booked and ready on time, the food and drinks came out perfectly, and Rafe didn’t say anything that made him come off as a major asshole. The night flew by, their conversation taking the two off into their own little world.

On top of that, Reilly looked almost too beautiful; Rafe had been at a loss for words upon seeing her walk up to him. Rafe wasn’t rendered speechless often, but when he watched her spin around for him with a wide smile, all he could think to say was that she cleaned up nice. Then, he called her Heyward. Rafe wanted to kick himself when those stupid words left his mouth, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He later redeemed himself (hopefully) when he told her she looked beautiful, but that didn’t even seem like enough. Rafe didn’t pretend to know anything about hair or makeup, but he did know that whatever Reilly did, she did it perfectly. Just like with everything else she did.

So, Rafe would be damned if Mark was going to fuck this up for her. He was already pissed that Mark had the balls to walk up to them, but he wouldn’t let it get past this point. Not when everything else had gone off without a hitch. Not when Reilly looked so beautiful in the seat of Rafe’s car, waiting for him to get back to her.

Rafe shakes his head. “My shit with Barry is none of your business. None of this is any of your business. Whatever you’ve got with me is with me. Leave Reilly out of it.”

Mark snorts and takes a step back. He crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Yeah. I’m sure you wouldn't…"

Rafe understands this was a trap. Mark wanted Rafe to ask. But Rafe couldn’t help but fall for it. “You’re sure I wouldn’t what?”

Mark smiles more at himself now, still shaking his head. His shoulder shakes as he chuckles. He waves his hand in Rafe’s direction. “Never mind. Go on, go back to her. I’m sure I’ll be in touch.”

It’s Rafe’s turn to scoff, shaking his head and turning away from Mark. Like he said, Mark wasn’t going to ruin this night. Rafe wasn’t going to push for a problem. For now, it seemed like Mark was finished antagonizing them. “Whatever.”

Once back in the car, Rafe revs the engine a couple of times before peeling off, a cloud of smoke and dust in his wake. His hand finds Reilly’s immediately, grasping onto it tightly.

They sit in silence as he drives, thankfully allowing Rafe some time to cool down. He guessed Reilly was giving that to him on purpose. He looked over to her once to make sure she was okay and was relieved to see that she looked fine, just staring out the window as they drove.

Rafe looked back at the road.

“Rafe?” She finally breaks the silence.

Rafe glances over at her, once again checking that she wasn’t upset. “Yeah?”

“Who’s Barry?”

Rafe had a feeling this question was coming. Mark did that on purpose, too — bringing up Barry in front of Reilly, someone she hadn’t met. Rafe never had the intention of introducing the two to each other, but that got immensely harder when Mark mentioned Barry’s name. It didn't matter. Reilly was never going to meet Barry; Rafe would make sure of that. Rafe sighs, tapping the steering wheel with his thumb anxiously before shaking his head with a soft smile. He looks back at Reilly once he stops at the red light, turning his body to face her as he responds. “Don’t worry about Barry, baby. Barry’s nobody. Okay?”

“Okay.” Reilly nods and looks down at their intertwined hands. Her head snaps back up as she asks, “Are you okay?”

Rafe can feel his heart clench in his chest. His eyes hadn’t left her, the same soft smile on his face. He nods and squeezes her hand reassuringly. “You ain’t gotta worry about me, pretty girl. Yeah? I’m alright. I promise.”

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“You make me forget that I was out for breaking hearts.
How far can we take it?
Passenger inside my car.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER EVELEN!

BE

NOW PLAYING…

HIGH CAFUNE

“I’m over the line
Still sane, I’m feeling just fine
So much better than I am most of the time.”

2.7k words

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THE BOAT IS STILL THERE. Reilly can see it, far away in the black water. It ebbs and flows along with the unpredictable sea beneath it. The voices are still calling. Reilly can hear them and their unintelligible yells. They’re louder. But Reilly can’t understand them. She tries. She strains her ears and tries to drown out the sound of the waves crashing around her. But she can’t comprehend any of it. Whenever she hears something she thinks she understands, the words leave her brain with a puff of smoke. They’re familiar. But every time she tries to put the face to the voice, it does the same.

The ladybug is back. Reilly almost misses its grand entrance from being so focused on the boat. But it flies around in its usual loop, moving around in her face before taking purchase on the knot, where it was last time. The yells might as well be completely gone; all Reilly’s focus is back on the small bug, once again gathering her full attention.

And the knot is still there, under the ladybug’s tiny feet. Reilly gave up on trying to break free. She doesn’t see the point in it anymore since she knows what will happen when she gets one part untied: it will just form back again while she’s not looking. They’ll snake around each other, going back to their original form.

So, Reilly doesn’t move to work on the knot. She doesn’t move at all. She stares down at the ladybug as she listens to the sound of the ocean behind her. It’s peaceful here. She didn’t see that the first time. She was so worried about getting loose that she didn’t take the time to just be. Maybe she’s going crazy; maybe she’s supposed to be getting free. But Reilly didn’t want to, not now. Now, she just wanted to… be.

The ladybug moves from the knot to Reilly’s hand. The rope tugs from the wall, pulling Reilly’s leg straight and dragging her closer to it. The sudden jerk startles Reilly, but she doesn’t scream or panic. She just looks back at the small bug, watching as it settles into her hand. Reilly wonders if it’s happy to be there. She wonders if it was as scared as she was at first, and if it’s as content as Reilly is now. She hopes so.

She almost forgot about the giant, unsettling wall of darkness that looms in front of her. It’s still in its eternal state, spanning across the entire beach and as far as Reilly can see. It’s still eerie and silent, with no sound coming from it. Just the same, nothing is coming in or out.

The voices are still behind her, even louder, almost louder than the water. Reilly still can’t understand them. She doesn’t want to anymore. She doesn’t try. It’s the same as the knot — there is no point in trying to listen. It’s getting her nowhere.

As the ladybug walks around on her hand, Reilly smiles.

When her eyes open, the smile is still there.

REILLY GLANCES AROUND the crowded room of the Island Club. People are everywhere, most of them wearing pastel-colored polos and khaki-colored pants. Reilly somehow makes out her person, who happens to be wearing a collared blue Lacoste shirt and cream-colored pants. Beside her are Ophelia, Topper, Delilah, and Kelce as they talk among each other. Ophelia and Delilah have light orange mimosas in their hands, each taking a sip every few seconds.

Reilly walks out to meet them on the terrace. She had gotten a text a few minutes earlier from Rafe, telling her to meet them there when she had a few extra minutes to spare. Reilly finished up with her last round and walked into the main lobby of the club, a place she rarely went during hours. It was weird being there while it was busy — most of her time was spent out on the green, not inside with the rich people. It looked a lot different with the lights on compared to the dark, desolate area that it was during closing hours.

Her arms wrap around Rafe from behind. His sentence stops mid-sentence as he raises his arms and turns his body to see her better. Reilly looks up with a coy smile. “Hi.”

“There’s my girl,” Rafe pipes up. His body bends forward as he leans down to give Reilly a quick kiss, which she takes happily.

The past few hours had been unforgiving. Reilly felt like she barely had two seconds to sit with herself and breathe. Getting the text from Rafe telling her to meet him in the main building caused Reilly’s heart to almost leap out of her chest. The smile hadn’t been wiped off her face, even on the short drive back to the club. Even seeing Rafe standing there with perfect posture, leaning against the railing of the balcony outside like he owns the place, Reilly couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he sees in her. But she’s not questioning it — she’ll take this in stride.

Reilly glances over at the girls, who stand in front of her with matching smug smiles. Reilly ignores their expressions and points out, “I’m surprised they got you two out here, considering it’s before eleven.”

“Trust me,” Delilah pipes up. She takes a sip of her mimosa and moves a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “The only reason we’re here at this ungodly hour is for you.”

Delilah is wearing a white sundress with light pink flowers. Her makeup was only lightly done, but still done expertly, showing off her natural tan and glowing skin. Her dark brown hair was down around her shoulders, with a claw clip holding the top half out of her face. The look on her face is one of pure entertainment — she is loving whatever this is.

“Me?” Reilly’s eyes move to Topper and Kelce next, who have identical, agreeing expressions on their faces — akin to two of the three Stooges.

“What’s going on?” Reilly asks, still looking between the rest of the kooks.

“The girls said we’re all going to Rafe’s lake house on Lake Norman this weekend,” Topper finally answers, crossing his arms and letting out a breath. He looks annoyed, judging by the shaking of his head and huffing, but something is off about it. Reilly raises an eyebrow at his body language — usually, Topper would give any excuse to go out and get drunk. But this time, he was making it seem like he was going out of his way for this to happen.

Ophelia clears her throat and gives Topper a pointed look, her blonde hair falling in her face for a moment before she moves it back.

“He’s lying,” Ophelia confirms Reilly’s suspicions. “It was the boys’ idea. You remember their little ‘guy night’ a few nights ago?” When Reilly nods, Ophelia mirrors her and clicks her tongue. “Yeah. You have that night to thank.”

“Is that why you texted me at two in the morning, begging me to go somewhere because you wanted me there? But when I asked you what you were talking about, you didn’t tell me?” Reilly, who was still under Rafe’s arm, looked up at him with a teasing smile on her face.

Rafe, who had been looking at Reilly’s confused expression with a puppy-like smile, finally speaks up. “Shut up.” He smirks, poking Reilly’s side, successfully making her giggle. She pushes him away, but as always, Rafe’s grip is like a vice. He stops his attack short, though, probably because he doesn’t want to come off as ‘too soft’ in front of the others.

“Friday is mostly for us to chill. Saturday is family day; just us. Rafe’s hauling his boat, and Kelce’s gonna grill. I’m bringing s’mores!” Ophelia adds, interrupting her boyfriend as she rambles about the itinerary. Topper doesn’t look annoyed, though. He’s shed his fake nonchalance and is now just as excited as Ophie, almost vibrating beside her as he listens to her talk.

“Babe,” he chirps, lightly tapping Ophie’s shoulder. “Tell her about the fireworks.”

Ophelia rolls her eyes. “And Topper is bringing his illegal fireworks.”

“No, they’re not illegal. They’re state-of-the-art rocket-level Black Mamba fireworks. They’re expensive as hell, but they’re the real deal.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Ophelia shakes her head, but is still smiling at Topper’s antics.

“Real deal, alright,” Kelce adds under his breath as he looks at Delilah, who has a small smile on her face. “Real illegal deal.”

“Anyways,” Delilah stops the argument that was most likely going to start between Topper and Kelce. “Sunday night is the party. We’ll drive back sometime on Monday.”

Reilly’s eyebrows furrow. “A party on a Sunday?”

“Kooks don’t give a damn what day a party is on. We could throw one tonight, and it’d still be a full house,” Kelce answered.

Reilly nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions like she so desperately wants to. Do none of them have jobs? How can they drop everything and leave? Envy creeps under her skin like small pinpricks. She does her best to shove it down, but the idea of sleeping in as late as she wants, never having to worry about work (or money) makes her feel almost sick.

“Sounds like fun.” Truth be told, it had been a while since she had taken some time for herself. It was long overdue. She needed an excuse to let loose for a while now, and now she has it — sitting in front of her like food on a platter. An entire weekend with her friends, an entire weekend with Rafe... That was just what Reilly needed. However, there was one obstacle. “I’ll just have to see if I can take off.”

“At the shop?” Rafe finally speaks up. His voice is gruff, almost like he grunted through his words. His eyebrows lowered as he listened to her speak, the wheels in his head already beginning to spin.

“No, I can take off there, no problem. The Island Club says I have to request off a month ahead of time,” Reilly explains, pulling out her calendar to see if she can weasel her way into taking off. If she can get Parker and Ariel to take over her shifts for Friday and Saturday...

Rafe scoffs, interrupting her thoughts. Reilly watches as he whips his phone out of his pocket and taps on the screen while he mutters, “I’ll take care of it.”

Reilly glances at Ophelia and Delilah. Her eyebrows rise along with her eyes as she shoots them a look that asks, ‘What the hell does that mean?’ Ophelia shrugs with a knowing look — she knows what that means, but she’s clearly not going to elaborate.

Delilah was no better, with a smirk and a wink as she sipped her drink. They were leaving Reilly to her own devices, letting her figure out what that meant on her own.

The group is silent as Rafe taps around on his phone. The only thing that can be heard is the chatter of the club members around them and the clattering of dishes, plates, and glasses inside.

Rafe’s phone dings again. He looks down at it, reads over the text, and pockets his phone again — his facial expression not changing once, meanwhile. His arm goes right around Reilly again, only saying, “You’re sure you can take off at your dad’s?”

“Considering he tells me to take off all the time? He’ll be overjoyed.”

The problem is more about telling him where I’m going and who I’m going with.

Bobby Heyward was an understanding man. He was patient. He wouldn’t refuse Reilly being with a bunch of kooks; he’s not controlling like that. He trusts Reilly as his daughter. She just has to convince him that she’ll be okay. He worries about both Reilly and Pope, but he worries about Reilly more. She remembered overhearing Bobby telling his brother, Reilly’s uncle, that she’s hardwired differently than Pope. Something in her brain was different from his. He said it scared him.

Reilly was only fifteen when she heard that, but she never forgot it. The way he said it, with a crack in his voice... He wasn’t lying. She scared him. And that broke her heart. She didn’t know what was different. How could she fix it if she didn’t know what to fix?

So, Reilly stuck to her routine. Work, school, work, softball, work. She worked herself half to death most of the time. She didn’t have time to do much of anything else, which meant she wouldn’t scare her dad anymore. He wouldn’t worry anymore. It was a sacrifice, but it was necessary. Whatever her dad saw in her, she didn’t want to see it in herself. This was the easiest way to keep that part of her at bay.

Going out of town to a kook’s lake house was not in Reilly’s routine. She had no clue how Bobby would react.

After talking for a few more minutes, Reilly’s walkie-talkie went off, signaling that a coworker needed something. The group said their goodbyes to her, Ophelia and Delilah, saying they couldn’t wait for the trip. Rafe walked Reilly out of the building toward her assigned beverage cart parked outside.

“So,” Reilly started slowly. She swung their intertwined hands back and forth as they walked at a sloth’s pace. “You gonna tell me how you ‘took care of’ my time-off request?”

“I texted Owen,” Rafe answered matter-of-factly without missing a beat. “Told him you’re taking off next Friday through Monday and that you’ll be back on Tuesday.”

“Is that it?”

“That’s it. He said it was fine.”

They stopped at the cart. Reilly turned, leaning back against the built-in cooler in the back. Rafe stayed standing forward, facing her. Reilly couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his middle, resting her chin on his chest as she looked at him.

“Is this what it’s like to have a boyfriend that everyone is terrified of?”

Rafe smirks. “Everyone?”

“Well, except for me, of course.”

Rafe leans down to reach the shorter girl’s lips and kisses her. He stands back up straight. “Yeah, yeah. Just you, though.”

THE PORCH LIGHT was the only source of light that Reilly had upon getting home. She ended up working overtime, meaning she pulled back into her driveway at one in the morning. Needless to say, she was exhausted.

Today was busy. After she went back to work, she barely left the green. She didn’t pass by one group that didn’t want something. She made pretty good tips: $250 from cards and an extra $117 in cash. She didn’t even need to exaggerate her laughs at their obvious flirting; the men were feeling generous today without it.

But still. It was a lot. Especially in the heat, where the sun drained every ounce of energy Reilly had left by the time she pulled into her gravel driveway.

She passed by Pope’s room on the way to hers, cracking open the door and peeking in. The lights were off, casting the entire room in a dark shadow. If Pope were here, he’d be awake, either reading, studying, or watching some anime. Reilly flicked the light on anyway, and of course, her gut was right. He was nowhere to be seen; probably out with the pogues somewhere.

Reilly flicked the light back off and shut the door behind her.

Thank God she didn’t fall asleep in the shower. She definitely nodded off but caught herself on the wall before she fell. That was a good indicator that she was probably clean enough.

She walked back into the bedroom with dripping hair and a slightly wet T-shirt. Her feet dragged as she moved to her bed and sat down. As she tied her hair up, she glanced down at her phone that lay beside her on the bed.

reilly

hey jayj, whats up?

haven’t talked in a while and i wanted to see if u were free sometime soon?

imy ):

Seen 2:47pm

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWELVE

TAKE CARE

NOW PLAYING…

GLOCK SIX 6LACK

I got my hand on my glock,
posted on the block
I might just let off a shot
at anyone tryna kill her.

4.9k words

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“WHAT’RE YOU DOIN’ UP, BABY? Bobby Heyward’s utterance sounds from the living room. He’s where Reilly knew she’d find him, in the shop at the front desk. He’s sitting in the creaky chair with a newspaper in his hands in front of him, his body leaning back comfortably. The compact TV mounted to the wall in the upper corner plays a random MLB game that he’s not paying any attention to. Dodgers versus the Angels? Nobody here would care about that. Besides Rafe, he was a Dodgers fan.

Bobby looks at his daughter for a moment before returning to the paper. “You’re not on shift today.”

Reilly lets out a breath. It’s now or never. “You’ll be happy to hear that I’m taking some time off next week. I’m going out of town.”

“Really?” Bobby can’t hide the joy in his voice. He sets the paper down on the surface in front of him now and turns to face Reilly fully. The chair creaks again as he sits up. The smile on his face is wide. It’s the same smile Pope has, and one of the many times they look alike. Bobby laughs, “You? Taking time off? Never thought I’d see the day. Where you goin’?”

The answer hangs in Reilly’s mind. She could always rip the band-aid off and tell him like it’s no issue, but for some reason… the words won’t come out. She shifts her feet, moving her head to observe the ground where she stands. “So…”

“Hey.” Reilly looks at her dad. The warmhearted expression is still there, but there’s also a tinge of seriousness, too. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. C’mere.” He pats an empty place on the desk, beckoning her to sit.

“Don’t you tell me all the time not to sit on the desk?” Reilly asks as she moves around to hop on top of the front desk, where she sits a lot of the time.

“When has that ever stopped you?” Bobby laughs as Reilly rolls her eyes with a small smile. “Now. What’s goin’ on?”

The dam breaks. Everything spills out of Reilly’s mouth. They tumble and roll off her tongue in broken sentences as she tries to piece everything together. How she met Rafe, how she started volunteering at his games, and how they’ve been hanging out more and more lately. She tells him about Ophelia and Delilah, Topper and Kelce. She tells him that they’re nice, nicer than she assumed. They include her in things; they don’t judge her for not having as much as they do. They work around both of her work schedules.

But Rafe is back on her mind before too long. The word-vomit doesn’t let up when it comes to him, either. She tells Bobby everything about him — he’s a pitcher for the baseball team, he drives a motorcycle, and he wants to work with the ocean instead of the family business. She tells Bobby about how Rafe surprised her most of all. He was caring, strangely patient, and he listened to her. He was a lot deeper than she’d originally thought.

Bobby nodded as she spoke. She knew Rafe would be embarrassed by the amount of information she voluntarily told her dad, but she trusted him more than anyone else in the world. Besides, she doubted Bobby even cared — right now, he was letting her babble on about whatever she needed to. It was clear that she needed this — she needed to get everything off her chest.

The only thing she kept to herself was her newfound relationship with Rafe. Something inside her wanted to keep that, just for her, just for now. Obviously, Bobby would have to know sooner or later. But for now… Reilly wanted to keep this little secret hidden to herself and Rafe. Even just for a second, it felt nice to have something for her.

Well, she and the other kooks who knew. But that was it.

“And now, we’re going to Rafe’s lake house on Lake Russell.”

God, how long had she been talking? It felt like hours, though she doubted it. Still, she felt out of breath, like she had just finished running a marathon. She let out one final huff, waiting for him to say something.

Bobby hadn’t said a word the entire time, instead taking in all the details Reilly was spewing. He stayed silent, processing everything before he said anything.

Right before Reilly was going to ask if he was okay, Bobby spoke.

“Are you excited to go?”

Reilly nearly rolls her eyes at the question. Of course, she was. She’d just yapped about it for at least ten minutes without stopping. She couldn’t wait to leave the Outer Banks for a while, to go hang out with her friends that she was coming to love. She couldn’t wait to have more time with Rafe, just the two of them.

Reilly still answered. She nodded a few times before saying, “Yeah.”

Bobby replies as soon as she answers, his next question on the tip of his tongue. “Does he take care of you?”

The question sounds innocent: Does Rafe take care of her? Does she make sure she’s okay? Does he check up on her? That was Bobby’s main priority when approving Reilly’s friends. Did they truly care, even when things got hard? And Reilly knew the answer to that was yes; Rafe did take care of her. Even as a friend, he made sure she was good.

But the question didn’t sound like Bobby was just talking about it as a friend.

His tone had shifted. It sounded deeper, more serious. He looked just as serious as he stared at her with a neutral face, awaiting her answer. Did he know? Could he tell? She wasn’t that obvious, was she? When she spoke about Rafe, how great he was — she didn’t let it slip, right? The truth was, she kind of forgot everything she said. She was speaking so fast, rambling out anything that popped into her mind, that she couldn’t keep up with herself.

Still, she didn’t think she had let it slip that she and Rafe were dating. If Bobby knew, it was because he had figured it out on his own.

So, Reilly nodded again, with a small smile. “Yeah. He does.”

“And are you happy?”

For some reason, Reilly doesn’t have to think nearly as long to answer this question. It pops into her head as soon as it registers, and Reilly nods for a third time. “I think… I really am.”

Bobby raises his hands with a chuckle. “Then, okay. Have fun, and text me if you need me.”

A grin spread across Reilly’s face. When Bobby stands from his chair with cracking knees, Reilly hops off the desk. Her arms move around her father’s shoulders as he pulls her into a hug. Bobby squeezes her tight and rubs her back as he turns his head to whisper into her ear, “I love you, alright? I know I raised you right. I don’t care who you’re with — who your friends are. Because I know who my daughter is.”

Reilly nods into his shoulder as he speaks. She takes in his scent, the same cologne he’s worn for years. It’s one of the gifts she gets him for his birthday, and every year he pretends to be surprised.

“Please don’t tell Pope,” Reilly requests as the two pull apart. “He won’t take it as well as you did.”

Bobby shakes his head. “I won't, baby. Not my story to tell. But you should tell him sooner rather than later.”

“I will,” Reilly moves away from the desk towards the front door of the shop. “I just have to figure out how. He can be a little… is ‘uptight’ the right word?”

Bobby barks out a laugh as he takes his seat once again. “Yeah, that’s it. I've always wondered where he got that from.”

“YEAH, I’M PACKED…” Reilly lies as she looks through the mess of clothes lying on the floor and not in her suitcase. She sighs.

“Convincing,” Rafe chided from the other side of the phone.

“No, I’m almost done,” Reilly explained as she began folding her clothes and putting them in her suitcase. “I’ve got everything picked out; I just need to pack them. And I need to get a few things from Mark’s.”

It was true. Enough days had passed, and now it was the day before the trip. Everything had been planned, and everything was ready, except that Reilly hadn’t packed yet. It wasn’t surprising; Reilly was a procrastinator with most things. She’d been putting off packing, mostly because she was also putting off a visit to Mark’s house.

“Sounds good,” Rafe replied. He stayed quiet for a beat longer before adding, “I’ll drive. When do you want to go?”

“Rafe, it’s okay, really. Mark shouldn’t be home, and it won’t take me long. It’s just a few things; you don’t need to go out of your way for that,” she protested as she folded.

She hears Rafe scoff. “I literally live a five-minute drive away from his house, baby, remember? Besides, you’re my girl. I don’t want you around him by yourself.”

Despite the warmth that crept into her chest, Reilly still felt uneasy. She didn’t want Mark and Rafe to get into it again, not right before their trip. Rafe getting hurt or in trouble, right before the trip, was not ideal, and the easiest way for that to happen was by going to Mark’s house.

Reilly knew denying wouldn’t do anything. Rafe was stubborn, one of the hardest-headed people she’d ever met. He’d be going with her one way or another.

So, she doesn’t argue. She doesn’t say anything.

Rafe smacks his gum. She can hear the smirk on his face as he says, “Great. Text me when you’re ready to go, okay? No rush. Bye, girlfriend.”

It was a stupid joke that Rafe started up, calling Reilly ‘girlfriend’ out of nowhere. How’s it going, girlfriend? Want something to drink, girlfriend? I’ll see you there, girlfriend. Reilly knew it was just a tease, but one time, Rafe asked her why she never called him ‘boyfriend’ back. Since then, she started answering him as that every once in a while. It made Rafe smile.

Reilly rolls her eyes but replies, “Bye, boyfriend.”

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

After he hangs up, Rafe puts his phone in his bat bag and turns to Topper. His best friend’s mouth is wide open, with his hands resting at his sides.

Rafe groans. “What now?”

Topper’s mouth shuts. He clears his throat and shifts his feet as he says, “I’m starting to think this isn’t a challenge anymore, Rafe.”

Rafe’s hands rose by his sides, palms facing up. The words, “It took you that long, dumbass?” were on the tip of his tongue, but Topper interrupted him before he could say them.

“I’m kidding. You’re obviously so far removed from that; I think you forget about it sometimes.”

Rafe freezes. His eyes land on the bucket of baseballs a few feet away, the stitching becoming more interesting to him at the moment.

Topper lets out a loud laugh and claps his hands together once. “No! No way. You do? You forget?” He keeps laughing, whipping his head back as he turns around and walks toward his bag, grabbing his glove. “Shit, man, I was joking. If it were me, it’d be weighing me down every day. Especially if I actually liked the girl. I mean, fuck, Rafe—"

His words die in his throat when Topper looks back at Rafe.

Rafe’s face was stone-cold. His expression hadn’t changed since Topper began laughing. Where before the stitching of the baseballs was his main focus, it was now Topper who was joking about something that was affecting Rafe.

It was weighing him down. Rafe felt like every step he took was a journey. Every time he thought about Reilly, his heart dropped into his stomach. It was killing him more than he let on.

Topper rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “Sorry.”

Rafe groans in response, bending over to grab a ball from the bucket. He begins to toss the ball into his glove a few times, warming up his wrist. “I don’t know how she did it, Top. You remember a few months back? I had no interest in her. God, the shit I was sayin’ about that girl. And then — bam — now I’m —” He stops himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

The boys walk out of the dugout and onto the field. Rafe takes the mound while Topper goes to home plate. Topper takes his usual squatting position while Rafe begins his windup. He throws the ball lightly, since he’s just starting. Topper catches the ball with ease and throws it back.

“You have to tell her.”

“I know I do,” Rafe replies with a smart tone. “I just don’t know how.”

When Topper catches the next ball that’s thrown to him, he stands. “Well, if you’re serious about her, then it needs to be before Midsummer’s. Midsummer’s is technically the end of the challenge, and if you wait to tell her then, then it’s like you’re ending the challenge.”

“And ending Reilly,” Rafe mumbles back as Topper speaks. He catches the ball that Topper throws and walks back to the mound. “Got it.”

“It needs to be just you and her. Maybe the lake house — she and Ophie have been texting nonstop about it, so I know how excited she is. She’ll be happy when we’re there, in a good mood, you know? That’s probably a good time to do it.”

Rafe nods as he takes in everything Topper says. He ponders it for a few moments, thinking of the times that they’ll be alone while at the lake house. Surely, they’d have enough quiet time to tell her. He looks up at Topper, who’s staring at him with his usual ‘dumb puppy’ look as he waits for either agreement or a counter.

Rafe looks at him. “How are you a smart dumbass?”

THE TRUCK pulls into the driveway of the large house. Rafe had turned the loud music down not to disturb any of the neighbors. His eyes land on a bright red Ferrari that is parked in the driveway. He turns to Reilly with a raised eyebrow.

"Not supposed to be home, huh?”

Reilly ignores him as she exits the car. Rafe makes an audible grunt of agitation at her opening her own door, but he doesn’t say anything as he walks along with her to the front door.

“Just… ignore him if he says anything.” She instructs as she types in the four-digit code to the front door.

“I won’t be doing that, but it’s cute that you think I would,” Rafe responds with ease as he crosses his arms.

The automatic padlock chirps when Reilly presses the code correctly, and she listens as the door unlocks. She doesn’t open it. Her hand sits on the handle as she turns to look at Rafe, a disapproving expression etched on her face.

Rafe huffs and looks away. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get your shit and go.”

It’s eerily silent inside. Rafe had never been in the house before, but he expected Mark’s strung-out ass to be yelling and screaming or something. Instead, they were met with a creepy silence, one that any person would wish to fill with anything else. The couch is a perfect white, not a stain to be seen. The kitchen was just through the living room, similar to Rafe’s own house, and that was also in pristine condition. Everything seemed to be exactly where it should be. Even the chairs that sat at the island looked like they were the same distance from each other. The generic photos that hung on the wall were also perfectly symmetrical. It was hard to believe a piece of shit like Mark owned this place.

As Reilly leads him up the staircase, Rafe grumbles, “I still think I should have just bought you a new suit.”

“That’s dumb,” Reilly answers from ahead of him. Rafe doesn’t argue.

Reilly’s room was a lot less decorated than Rafe thought it would be. He’d seen her room before, the plants that stood in almost every corner, the posters and pictures on the walls. This room, however, looked bland in comparison. Only a few framed pictures were to be seen. There was a desk and a vanity against the wall, but they barely had anything on them. Her bed was neatly made — the pillows fluffed to perfection, proving how little Reilly actually stayed there. The room was spotless. It didn’t look lived in.

“Can’t believe we made it without getting stopped,” Reilly said as she moved around her room, grabbing the few things she needed.

While she did that, Rafe looked around. As he did, his eyes landed on a picture frame on the vanity — a broken frame. Inside the frame was a picture of the Heyward family. A younger Bobby Heyward, holding baby Pope. Beside Bobby was a younger Joy, holding baby Reilly. Rafe had to do a double-take, thinking Joy was Reilly for a moment before he realized Reilly was in Joy’s hold. Reilly and Pope looked to be about one or two. Of course, Rafe’s eyes stayed on Reilly — her wide, brown eyes seemed to be something she had always had. Her hair was in its natural state, curly and everywhere. Bobby and Joy had huge, optimistic grins on their faces as they held their kids in their arms.

Pope and Reilly both look confused, probably not used to a camera before. Rafe can see the similarities in the twins more here than he can now. They have the same eye shape. The bridge of their noses is different, but the ends match perfectly. They have the same facial shape.

But, God, Reilly looked more like Joy than she did her own twin. No wonder Rafe mistook Joy for Reilly at first glance. Everything was the same; Reilly was an exact copy of her mother. Reilly got everything from Joy: her hair, her skin, her eyes, her mouth, her nose, her chin. Rafe smiled softly at the picture.

An array of books, strewn out on the ground beside him, catches his attention next. His eyes move from the books to a bookshelf that had been knocked over on its side.

Rafe closes his eyes, his mind taking off at the sight. Before he knew it, he was imagining what had happened to cause a bookshelf to knock over. The bookshelf itself was bigger than Reilly; it would take a lot to knock it over, especially if it was filled with books.

It was clear to Rafe that Reilly hadn’t been back here since the fight. This was her first time back. Everything else had been cleaned since then: there was no dust on the mirror, the bed was made to perfection, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be seen. But the books were still all over the floor. Rafe could see a hole still in the wall. The picture frame was still broken.

Rafe knew Mark didn’t clean the room himself. So, Mark had his cleaner do their usual routine and specifically told them not to clean the broken glass or the books on the floor.

For some reason, that pissed Rafe off. But he couldn’t imagine how Reilly was feeling.

He didn’t ask. Maybe he would later, but for now, Rafe just wanted her to get her things together so he could get her out of here and far away from Mark. Rafe saw the trashy red Ferrari outside; he knew Mark was there.

Of course, the door behind Rafe creaks open just as he thinks that, revealing Mark Reeves in the doorway. Beside him was who he assumed was Joy, Reilly’s mother, and the same woman from the picture. She obviously looked a bit older, maybe around forty. She had smile lines around her eyes and flicks of gray throughout her black hair.

Mark clears his throat, finally gathering Reilly’s attention. When Reilly finally snaps her head at him in surprise, Mark doesn’t smile.

Joy, who’s standing behind Mark, looks over his shoulder. “Hi, honey.”

Before Reilly can reply, Mark cuts her off. “What do you think you're doing?”

Reilly shrugs. “Getting some things. We’re going out of town for a few days.”

Joy’s smile widens. “Oh, that sounds fun!” Her eyes move from Reilly to Rafe. Her hand rises as she waves. "Hello there. I’m Joy. The twins' mom.”

“Hey. I’m Rafe.”

Rafe can tell Joy is high. By the look on her face, Joy is floating right now. She’s smiling, but her eyes are half-lidded. She’s speaking, but her words are slow and deliberate. They’re quiet and wispy, like she’s not all there.

He can see that Mark is high, too. But where Joy is… well, joyful, Mark is angry.

“Where are you going?” His voice is clipped as he watches Reilly stuff things into her backpack.

“We’re going up to Lake Russell. My family owns a house there," Rafe answers for her, allowing her more time to finish packing rather than answer.

Mark snorts. “A lake house. Yeah, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun there.”

The sarcasm is dripping from his tongue, suffocating the room in an awkward silence. Reilly breaks the silence as she zips her bag and huffs out, “Whatever, Mark.”

She shoulders her bag and moves to stand beside Rafe. She looks up at him. “I’m ready.” Her hand moves around his bicep, squeezing tight; she’s not just done; she’s ready to go.

Rafe nods and moves his hand to rest on the small of her back, allowing her to go first.

Joy shuffled to move out of the way, but Mark stayed solid in the doorway, leaving Reilly standing in front of him, waiting for him to move.

Rafe, however, is eye-level with Mark (he even has a few inches on Mark) and is standing right behind Reilly. His chest is pressed to her back, ready to move her out of the way if Mark makes a move. His eyes are locked on Mark, telling him to move with his face alone.

“Mark…” Joy’s feeble voice can be heard from further back.

“Shut up," Mark orders back, his eyes not moving from Rafe’s.

Reilly snapped at the tone he had used. “Do not talk to her like that.”

Rafe moves before he realizes. His hand reaches up to grab onto her forearm, but his eyes don’t leave Mark’s. His face stays stern, showing Mark that he isn’t fucking around. If he wants to start something, Rafe has no problem finishing it.

Mark’s eyes finally look to Reilly, as if just now realizing she is there. “How cute. Now that you’ve got the big, bad boyfriend… You think you can tell me what to do.” The laugh bubbles from his chest and booms throughout the house. Rafe catches Joy taking a step back out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t let him forget what happened the last time you talked back to me like that, girl.”

Rafe’s had enough. “Back up.”

Mark’s eyes don’t leave Reilly’s for a few more moments. The suspense of not knowing if he was about to blow his lid or not was tense in the air. Rafe kept his arm on Reilly, and he didn’t take his eyes off Mark.

He finally moves. He takes a step to the side and moves his arm out, gesturing for the two to walk through. Rafe doesn’t hesitate to gently push Reilly through.

Reilly reaches for Joy, pulling her into her arms. Rafe can faintly hear Reilly tell Joy, “Call me if you need me, okay?”

Joy pulls back from the hug. Her eyes are sad as she looks at her daughter’s face, which almost pleads. Joy gives Reilly a melancholic smile, tears gathering in her eyes, and shakes her head ‘no.’ She rubs Reilly’s shoulder before motioning for her to go.

Rafe takes this as his chance. He grabs Reilly’s wrist and gently pulls her away, giving Joy one more glance.

“Rafe,” Joy’s voice stops the two once more. Rafe turns to Joy. “Take care of her.”

Rafe nods once. Then, he turns with Reilly to head down the stairs.

He opens the front door, letting Reilly exit first. As he steps through the threshold, Mark’s voice rings through the large house.

“He can’t be with you every second of the fucking day, Reilly!”

Rafe feels his body kick into gear as he pushes Reilly forward and down the steps, back to the truck. His fingers itch, and his legs ache to turn around, to retaliate against the clear threat that Mark just yelled. But he wants Reilly out of there more than that.

The sound of screeching tires, firing gravel behind the car as Rafe steps on the gas, is all she can hear. Besides that, it’s silent. Reilly kept her eyes on her lap in front of her, twisting and wringing her fingers around. Her tongue searched for a piece of skin on the inside of her cheek, and once she found one, her teeth began pulling until it gave. Her leg began bouncing at a quick pace.

She doesn’t know how long it has been since Rafe’s large hand has rested on her quivering knee.

“You’re not going over there again. You can’t be alone with him anymore.”

“Pope is usually there.”

“He was supposed to be there last time, and what happened, Reilly?” His voice is harsh, but it isn’t raised. “What if I weren't there this time?”

Reilly flops her head back against the headrest with closed eyes. Her hands move to rub over her face. He’s right. She knows he’s right. She doesn’t like thinking that the only reason Mark didn’t touch her was because Rafe was there, even though obviously that’s why. If she were alone… She doesn't even want to think about it.

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” Reilly lifts her head back up and straightens her back. She turns her body to face Rafe, whose eyes are still on the road, but have turned to look at her while she adjusts. His hand stays on her no longer shaking knee, and Reilly grabs it to hold in her hand. “We’re about to have a great weekend with our friends. I don’t want to be thinking about him the whole time.”

Rafe keeps his mouth closed for the next few seconds, seemingly thinking over what Reilly said. His teeth begin attacking his bottom lip before he replaces it with his left thumb instead, biting the cuticles around his nails like he did when he was angry. When the light turns green again, his hand goes back to the steering wheel, and his lip is back between his teeth.

“You’re right,” he nods, turning to look at Reilly. He lifts her hand and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss there. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Don’t apologize,” Reilly stops Rafe before he can continue mumbling. “We’ll talk about it when we get back, okay? I promise.”

Rafe nods, the smallest, softest smile on his face. “Just wanna make sure you’re good, you know?”

Reilly could feel her heart squeeze in her chest at the confession. He didn’t know how much that meant to her — hell, he was probably embarrassed to say something so genuine, so real. She could tell by the way he didn’t turn to look at her when he said it. He kept his eyes ahead of him.

It was blatantly clear to Reilly at this point: all Rafe wanted to do was protect the people he cared for. He would go to any length to make sure his people were okay; Sarah, Ward, the kooks… and now Reilly. She understood the feeling, too. The dread she felt, the sinking hole in the pit of her stomach that never went away when she found out what Mark had done to her mom all those years ago… the feeling never went away. It grew stronger every time Reilly left that house each month.

Rafe was feeling the same thing right now. The urge, the itch to reach out, grab that person in your arms, and never let go until you know that they’re okay. Until you know that they're safe. Reilly felt that feeling all the time. She knew what it was like to be ignored in that moment, too. Joy always went back to Mark, no matter what Reilly said, no matter what Mark did.

So, instead of ignoring Rafe the same way she knew Ward did, she didn’t push back. She squeezed his hand tighter before lifting it to her lips. She mimicked Rafe’s actions and kissed the back of his hand before lowering it back down to rest on her leg.

“I know.”

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

GOOD TALK

NOW PLAYING…
CHERRY COLA DEVON AGAIN

I get fucking sick without you
Dirty, dizzy, doubled over
I can’t sleep, can you come over?

6k words

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rafferty

I miss u

:(

reilly

stop texting me, ur driving.

(i miss u too)

Barely after Reilly’s text was sent, another came in—this time from Topper. It was a photo of Rafe staring down at his phone with one hand on the wheel, rather than on the road ahead of him. Only part of Topper's face was visible, a pair of wide eyes in the corner of the screen. He had just taken the picture, mid-Rafe texting Reilly while driving. A message followed the picture, ‘We may die!!!!!’

Reilly smiled to herself and switched back to her messages with Rafe. ‘Stop texting and driving. ’ The only reply was a thumbs-down reaction. Reilly rolled her eyes and locked her phone, knowing no matter what she said, Rafe would be Rafe.

Glancing out her right-hand window, she saw the trees blur as their car traveled down the road. Just yards away, the beach shone in all its blue, gorgeous glory.

It was kind of ridiculous; Rafe texting Reilly that he missed her. They had only been on the road for an hour. Still, Reilly found it endearing, another part of him that revealed itself with time: a little bit clingy.

Reilly thought back to when the trip plans were being completed. The group had decided that the girls would all ride in Delilah’s Jeep, and the boys would drive in Rafe’s truck. It made the most sense; Delilah’s Jeep had the most room for the girls’ things, and Rafe would haul his boat. Everyone had thrown around ideas. Topper suggested everyone pile into the truck. According to him, all their things would go into the bed, and of course, they’d haul the boat behind them. Rafe grunted under his breath that a three-hour ride would take them about five with all that weight.

So Topper offered to rent a car. An RV, or something, he had said, with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Obviously, that idea got shot down, too. So the original plan stuck: Girls’ car, boys’ car. Instead of all piling into one vehicle, they all had room. Still, Rafe was not excited about the arrangement. The entire time Reilly was on the phone with Ophelia and Topper on speaker, Rafe sat. He sank into the couch with his arms crossed, a pitiful pout on his face. When they all said their goodbyes, Rafe kept his arms around Reilly until she had to peel herself off him.

She had no clue what had gotten into Rafe. This is not the longest they’ve been apart, not by a long shot. Reilly still had work, softball, and school. Rafe had all those things, plus fraternity events and Cameron Development. The two went for a considerable amount of time without seeing each other.

But that Friday afternoon, when the group began splitting into their respective cars, Rafe was more annoyed than usual. When Topper threw his arm around Rafe’s shoulders, Rafe shoved him off. Then, as he climbed into the truck after begrudgingly hooking the boat up to it, he grumbled under his breath. Reilly couldn’t quite make out the words, but she didn’t have to be a mind-reader to get the gist.

But Reilly kissed him goodbye. It was soft, short, and sweet, but Rafe pulled back with a dopey smile on his lips and half-lidded eyes. “I’ll see you there, pretty,” He spoke gently. Reilly’s shoulders lowered in relief at his relaxed nature. That was all she needed to see. Now she wouldn’t be so anxious the whole ride there, wondering if Rafe was going to fly off the handle at Topper and Kelce on the way. His sigh of content and slow blinks told her everything she needed to know.

DELILAH HADN'T GONE UNDER EIGHTY MILES PER HOUR the whole time they’d been in the car. Ophie had turned the volume knob up to combat the whistling wind, and now all three girls were screaming the words to every song that played. The sunroof over their heads had opened fairly quickly into the drive, causing all their hair to whip around wildly from the wind.

Ophelia unclicks her seatbelt. Reilly watches as Ophie climbs onto the seat and sits on her knees for a moment before raising to stand, sticking her upper body out of the sunroof. Delilah barks out a laugh and cheers, and Reilly finds herself unclicking her seatbelt. She follows Ophelia, climbing up and sticking her upper body through the sunroof.

Ophie cheers as Reilly joins her, both of their arms raising in the air. Reilly can’t hear a thing from the overwhelming, whooshing wind, but she can hear Ophelia’s high-pitched laughing beside her. Her blonde hair is everywhere, and Reilly is sure her hair is in a similar state.

Somehow, Reilly can hear a blaring horn behind her, snapping her out of her Perks of Being A Wallflower fantasy. She feels Ophelia grab onto her arm after they both jump from the sudden noise. The girls whip around, and Reilly can feel Delilah ease off the gas, decelerating the car a bit.

Instead of a siren and lights like Reilly was half-expecting, she and Ophelia are met with a giant, glossy black truck on their tail. The horn honks again. Reilly can see Topper in the front with the toothiest smile. Behind him is Kelce, his phone in his hand with the flash on. Beside them is Rafe.

If Reilly didn’t know him any better, she’d think Rafe was slightly annoyed. But even though they were going seventy down the interstate, even though the wind was causing a major hindrance in her vision, Reilly could still see the faintest smirk on his face. Reilly raises her arms, waving at him with a laugh. Rafe shakes his head and lets his smirk turn into a real smile. His hand raises from the steering wheel, and he waves back.

Reilly wondered if she’d ever stop getting butterflies from him. She hoped not.

A loud “Whoo!” somehow breaks from the deafening wind, catching Reilly’s eye. To Rafe’s right, Topper is now sticking his body out of the window, almost sitting on the edge. His right hand is in a fist as he pumps the air, yelling unintelligible words and whooping.

Ophie and Reilly crawled back in the car, both laughing hysterically as they settled back in their seats, Delilah stepping on the gas again.

This was something Reilly hadn’t felt in a while. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been out with friends like this. Not just parties and ball games, but an actual adventure. It had to have been months. She didn’t realize how much she missed it.

She tried to ignore the ache she felt for the pogues. She didn’t just miss the adventure, she missed them, too. She wondered if she called them, if they’d answer? Or would the phone just ring and ring before eventually dropping, asking her to leave a message at the beep?

She couldn’t blame them if they didn’t answer.

“ARE WE SURE THIS IS IT?” Reilly asks, leaning forward, between the two front seats. All three girls can see is a long, gravel road that’s lined with huge trees.

“That’s what it says,” Ophelia confirms beside her, glancing back down at the phone with the directions. “It says to keep going up this road.”

Delilah lightly taps on the gas, pushing the Jeep deeper into the woods. The sun barely peaks through the trees, allowing only a few sunspots to appear on the road ahead of them. Besides that, it's completely dark. Delilah’s Jeep turns on the headlights by itself from the change of light, despite it being two in the afternoon.

“Creepy,” Ophelia shudders, albeit unnecessarily. All three of the girls were already creeped out enough by this part of the drive.

Eventually, the trees thinned out. The natural trail turned into a smooth, paved driveway. The sun began to shine again, and the girls each took simultaneous sighs of relief.

“Thank God that’s over,” Delilah muttered. “I was waiting for Jason Voorhees to pop out at any second.”

“Don’t say that!” Ophelia cried out, lightly smacking Delilah’s arm.

“Thank God we didn’t take your car, Ophie,” Reilly chuckled. “Poor thing wouldn’t have made it through that road.”

Ophelia’s frown shifted at Reilly’s words, spreading into a smile. “Herbie’s tough, but…” She giggles. “Yeah, no. He wouldn’t have made it.”

Herbie was Ophelia’s Volkswagen Beetle, named after the movie. A pale pink, and exactly the type of car Ophelia looks like she would drive. The cushions had fuzzy pillows on every seat, ones that matched the steering wheel cover. It didn't look anything like the racecar by the same name, but Ophie had always said that she would get her own Beetle — and its name would be Herbie.

Finally, the driveway opens into a larger driveway, big enough to fit a ton of cars. Rafe’s huge truck and Delilah’s Jeep didn’t even take up a quarter of the driveway. The boys are already out of the truck, taking their things inside.

By the time Delilah shifts the car into park, Rafe is already at Reilly’s door and pulling the handle. He swings the door open, and Reilly almost expects him to start yelling about the sunroof moment. However, Rafe simply blinks, and a small, shy smile plays on his face. Reilly can only smile back for a moment before Rafe’s hands are around her wrists, pulling her from the car. He wraps her in a tight hug, reminiscent of a man who is just coming home from war. Reilly wouldn’t be surprised if he dipped her back and kissed her.

He didn’t. Instead, he gently placed Reilly’s feet back on the ground and kissed the soft spot between her jaw and neck.

“Missed you,” He mumbles, quietly enough that the others can’t hear. But not out of humiliation. It felt like he was talking to her, and his words weren’t meant for anyone else. Just her, for Reilly only. Rafe intended to do that: Make Reilly feel like she’s the only woman — hell, the only person — in the world.

“What, after I made you put your phone down and quit texting me while driving?” Reilly moved her arms around Rafe’s shoulders, hands clasping behind his neck. Rafe leaned away from Reilly with a raised eyebrow, keeping his large hands on either side of her waist.

“Are you seriously giving me a safe driving lecture?” The tone of his voice rose, playful, but pretending to be serious. “You? The girl who stuck her body out of a moving vehicle. A speeding vehicle, mind you.” Rafe pointed an overly obvious glance at Delilah as she walked around the car, to Rafe and Reilly’s side. Delilah rolls her eyes as she pops the trunk.

“For real, though, Lilah,” Kelce spoke up, walking up behind his girlfriend and grabbing her things. “Did you think we were chasing you? You didn’t go under eighty-five the whole way.”

Delilah scoffed. “A girl can’t have a lead foot anymore?”

They continued walking up the pavement towards the house, playfully bickering as they went. Leaving Reilly and Rafe at the car by themselves. Finally alone.

Rafe pressed one more kiss to the top of Reilly’s head — something he loved to do, she was figuring out — before moving on to the car and getting her bags. Once he’s got them out, he closes the trunk shut and moves back beside Reilly.

Reilly couldn’t take her eyes off the house. It was tremendous; Of course, it was, it was a Cameron house. The first thing that she noticed was that instead of the lake being at the back of the house, it was at the front. The driveway ended at the side of the house, transitioning into a sidewalk that led to the stairs and front door. A fork in the sidewalk would veer you down a different set of stairs, leading right to the water. Off the walkway sat a large boat dock with a few chairs sitting on it. The slipway was on the opposite side of the driveway, on the other side of the house. Sand lined where the water met the grass.

Windows lapsed around the entire house, allowing anyone inside to have a perfect view of the lake. If there were windows in the back (which Reilly guessed there were), you would have a gorgeous view of the hundreds of trees that spanned the backyard. The house was two stories. A giant patio wrapped around the front of the house, towards the side. Reilly guessed that one of the rooms had access to the patio.

Reilly could only think of one word to describe the lake house: “It’s beautiful.”

Rafe chuckled. “Yeah?” He glanced down at her with a lopsided grin before leaning down to grab Reilly’s things. “Wanna see the inside too, or are you good out here for a bit?” He asked with a sarcastic scoff, taking a few steps ahead of Reilly and peering back at her.

Reilly rolled her eyes but nodded, following her boyfriend up the sidewalk to the front door.

Just as she imagined, the inside was flooded with natural light from the huge windows. Maybe that made the house look so much bigger on the inside. Cream-colored couches sat in front of the windows, a light brown coffee table between them.

Rafe rambled off the sleeping arrangements (as in, who sleeps where). Topper and Ophelia would have Ward and Rose’s room, and Kelce and Delilah would get Sarah’s room. Meaning Rafe and Reilly would get Rafe’s room.

Rafe’s room at the lake house was about how Reilly would imagine it. The bed sat against the wall opposite the door. The blankets and pillows, stuffed and fluffed to perfection, invited Reilly in, despite her not feeling tired. To the left of the bed was the patio that Reilly saw outside, closed off by a sliding glass door. As far as décor went, there wasn’t much, but that didn’t surprise Reilly. Rafe didn’t have a lot of decorations in his room on Figure 8 either, besides a few family pictures. He once told her it was because he couldn't 'ruin the walls'. The rule was most likely even stricter here.

As Reilly took in her shared room for the next three nights, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the pit in her stomach. It wasn’t just regular nerves; It was anxiety. Small, the size of a golf ball in Reilly’s belly. It was the kind of anxiety that didn’t feel like regular nervousness. It felt like Reilly was anticipating something, like she was waiting for the ball to drop. It felt good being here, and she couldn't help but feel like something was going to come in and ruin it all.

Reilly takes a deep breath. You’re not in trouble. Nobody is mad at you. You’re not in danger. You’re safe.

Reilly wasn’t sure when this started — the feeling that something bad was going to happen at any moment. But she did know that saying those few sentences a few times over would help calm her down. She didn’t know when it started, but she did know when it had gotten worse: The night she ran away from Mark. Panting the words out loud as she ran to Rafe’s house didn’t help, either, because… Well, she was in trouble. Someone — Mark — was mad at her. She was in danger, and she wasn’t safe.

Besides that night, the words worked.

Reilly felt the pit in her stomach loosen, untying itself and dying down for now. She hoped, prayed to God that the feeling would go away; She didn’t want to feel this way for the whole weekend. Nothing bad was going to happen. She was on vacation with her boyfriend and her friends. What could happen? As she placed her things down and moved out on the patio, she took one more deep breath. The breeze blew in gently, allowing every breath she took to be one of fresh air. It felt like the Earth was trying to help her breathe, too. Reilly appreciated it. She’d take all the help she could get.

THE SUN was beginning to set, tucking away under the horizon, evolving the light blue sky into pink and orange. The fire had already started, with the group sitting in lawn chairs around it. The fire felt great against the rapidly cooling temperatures. The breeze that once felt good in the heat was now starting to cause goosebumps to rise on Reilly’s arms.

They didn’t have much time to cook. They had spent most of their afternoon unpacking. So Topper decided to order pizza for the group instead, even offering to get it since there was no way a pizza place would deliver to their location. Kelce went with him, leaving the girls and Rafe outside to watch the fire. Rafe stood, grabbing a long stick and stoking the fire a few times, listening as Reilly talked to Ophie and Delilah about whatever was on their mind. It was mostly Ophie describing a dream she had a few nights ago, one in which she found a baby raccoon and raised it.

It's only thirty minutes before Topper bursts through the back door, yelling out to everyone. “Food’s here!”

“Thank God,” Delilah hopped up from her chair. “I’m starving.”

Before she could stand, Rafe spoke up, “Don’t get up. I’ll get your plate.”

Reilly smiled at him, thanking him, when her phone dinged in her lap. She glances down, and she swears her heart drops into her stomach.

jj !!

Hey dude. I miss u.

Come 2 the chateau??

Fuck. A high-pitched ringing takes over Reilly's ears, followed by the loud ba-dump, ba-dump of her heart. She can faintly hear Ophelia talking to Delilah, still about the raccoon. But nothing is computing in Reilly’s brain as she reads the text over three more times.

She’d been waiting. Days, Reilly had been waiting to hear back from any of the pogues, but JJ most of all. He was her closest friend, they grew up together. It felt like every day, Reilly would wake up and check her phone, hoping JJ would reply to any of her texts. And every day, a part of her was disappointed when she didn’t see one.

So, why today of all days? Why this weekend? It was like JJ had a ‘bad timing’ gauge. If that was the case, that thing must have been blaring like hell, because this was indeed the worst possible time for him to invite her over. Any other day, and Reilly would be ecstatic. She’d agree immediately, jump up, and go. But now, she was hours away with her secret kook boyfriend and secret kook friends.

Reilly locks her phone, deciding to shove the problem away for now. She could get away with not answering for a few days, right? The rest of the pogues could — hell, they did all the time.

But JJ was nothing if not persistent. Her phone dings again a minute later.

jj !!

Helloooo earth to ryyyyy

Where are u?

Reilly huffs and locks her phone again.

Ding. Ding. Dingdingdingding —

Fighting back a groan, Reilly finally opens her phone and texts JJ back.

ry

hey sorry!! im out with friends tonight ):

i hope you have fun tho!!

Before she can even think to ask herself if that did the trick, her phone starts ringing, answering the question for her. Might as well answer before JJ sends the cops out on a search party.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” JJ’s voice crackles through the receiver. He must be at the Chateau now; that place had the worst cell reception. She could hear rustling and what sounded like a door closing, most likely the front door that led to the porch.

“I told you, I’m out with friends.”

“What friends? We’re your friends.”

“Gee, thanks, Jayj,” Reilly rolls her eyes, leaning back in her seat. She glances up at Ophelia, who now has tears streaming down her face. Delilah’s hand was on her back, rubbing smooth circles there.

“I just wish I could adopt a raccoon in real life, Lilah,” Ophie sniffles softly as she moves her hair from her face. “Why can’t I?”

Reilly’s attention moves back to her phone as JJ replies, “You know what I mean.”

She did know what he meant. He meant that the pogues were her only friends, and if she wasn’t with them, then she had to be alone. But obviously, that was too harsh. Reilly really wasn’t looking for an argument — not this weekend. So instead of mouthing off, she sighs.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

JJ stays silent. She can’t even hear breathing from him. She waited for him to say something — anything. But JJ kept quiet.

“Good talk. I gotta go, JJ, but I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you.” She peels the phone away from her cheek, ignoring JJ’s yells of protest, and hangs up.

She looks up to see Rafe walking back towards her, two paper plates in hand. One drink was under his arm while the other was in his free hand.

As he walked, Reilly couldn’t help but take in how good Rafe looked. He was dressed comfortably, but still found a way to look good. He had on a white Kildare U t-shirt, light brown cargo pants, and a backwards cap. The most basic, easy outfit ever, and somehow Rafe Cameron made it look mouth-watering.

As he walks closer, Rafe whistles as he nods his head up, gesturing for Reilly to stand. She does so, allowing Rafe to take a seat where she once was. Once he’s settled, Reilly feels his hands grab her waist, pulling her down on his lap.

He hands Reilly her plate, muttering, “You’re not gonna believe what they did.”

Reilly looks down at the contents of her plate and nearly bursts out laughing. Instead of just pizza on her plate, it was also accompanied by two egg rolls and a few crab rangoons.

“Those idiots stopped at a Chinese restaurant on the way home,” Rafe explained as Reilly laughed. He let out a chuckle along with her. “Knew I should’ve gone with them.”

“Quit acting like this isn’t funny,” Reilly spoke before taking a bite of an eggroll. Rafe chuckles again, nodding along with her in agreement.

The fire continued to crackle throughout the night. Whenever it got close to dying out, Topper would squirt gasoline into it, and the flames would burst back to life again. Even as the sun completely vanished under the trees and past the horizon, when lightning bugs began to waltz around them, when the temperature dropped enough that Rafe had to grab an extra hoodie for Reilly… Nobody felt tired. Reilly certainly didn’t. She felt as if she could sit out there with them for the rest of the night, until the sun peeked back up over the lake.

After a few more minutes, Ophelia’s voice drops low as she tells the group that the time has come, smirking as she pulls out a bag of marshmallows from the tote by her side. She digs back through the tote before pulling out the rest of the ingredients.

In between the sound of crunching from the graham crackers, the group manages to plan out the next day. It’s as easy as Kelce asking if they can take the boat out for the day, and Rafe agreeing, to which Kelce fist pumped excitedly. Reilly giggled as she thought to herself, What else did Kelce think they were going to do at a lake house?

Her eyes catch Rafe as he sticks his marshmallow as deep into the fire as the stick can go. He pulls it out after a few seconds, bringing it closer to him and watching as the soft, squishy food turns black, bubbling and oozing. Rafe only blows out the flame when every inch of the marshmallow is charred black, then lets it cool before sandwiching it between two pieces of chocolate and crackers.

Reilly’s face scrunches at the sight. “I can’t believe you eat yours burnt like that.”

“You mean you can’t believe I eat a s’more the way it’s supposed to be eaten?”

“You’re supposed to lightly toast it, not burn it to a fucking crisp,” Topper cuts in with a bark of a laugh. He smushes his s’more together and stuffs the entire thing in his mouth. He grumbles out another sentence, though seemingly nobody would be able to understand. Besides Ophelia, apparently, who rolls her eyes at Topper’s manners and takes a sip of her drink.

“He said ‘the marshmallow is supposed to be gooey, not taste like bark’,” Ophelia translates, Topper nodding along with her as she speaks.

“Topper, your girl can understand that shit?” Rafe shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer and sitting back in the chair. Since Ophie had brought out the s’mores, Reilly had moved from his lap to the arm of the chair instead, giving them both room to move closer to the fire. But now, since everyone seemed to have their fill of the gooey snack, Rafe’s arm moved back to Reilly’s waist. His arm snaked around her slyly before yanking her back down, Reilly letting out a small yelp as she landed back in Rafe’s lap. Rafe doesn’t think twice about it, though. He continues speaking. “How often do you speak with your mouth full like that?”

Topper shrugs. “I ‘on’t know.”

Ophelia’s head tilts to the side dramatically as she shoots Rafe a look that answers his question for him. Topper catches the glance and swallows. “What? Just means we’re comfortable with each other, that’s all.”

REILLY BLINKS, trying her hardest not to let her eyes drift closed. Her head rests on the space between Rafe’s shoulder and neck. She breathes in through her nose, taking in his scent. She could still smell his cologne, but it was starting to drown under the smell of the fire. Rafe had been tending to the fire as the night went on, either spraying gasoline on top of it, throwing logs or twigs in, or rustling the burnt logs amongst themselves to stoke it. Ashes from the fire had spread onto his shirt, Rafe haphazardly brushing them off before continuing his job. That being said, much of the smoky firewood had left its mark on Rafe. The two smells together worked well, causing Reilly’s eyes to flutter shut at the comfort.

“You tired?” Rafe’s voice was soft, but unexpected, causing her eyes to snap open. Rafe had kept his volume down for the past thirty minutes, barely even speaking at all.

She blinks a few more times and shakes her head in reply. She feels his shoulder shake lightly as Rafe mutters, “You’re lying.” His lips find their way to her forehead, stamping a kiss there. Then, he pats her thigh twice. Reilly, knowing what that means, stands from his lap.

Rafe follows behind her, standing from the low chair. He lets out a huff and places his hand on Reilly’s waist. “Alright, we’re callin’ it a night.”

Before the group can wish them a good night, Reilly points a finger at them. “Y’all have to go to bed too, I don’t want to feel like I’m missing out on anything.” She jokes.

“I don’t know what the hell you could be missing out on,” Rafe grumbles under his breath as he walks slowly behind Reilly, making their way to the house. “But you heard her. Good night, guys.”

As they walk up, Topper shouts, “Yo, Rafe, don’t forget we have to go into town and stop by a few stores tomorrow!”

“And we’re gonna go shopping while they’re gone, Ry!” Ophie calls out next.

“Just let me know when you’re getting ready!” Reilly instructs, to which Ophie gives her a thumbs up. She feels Rafe wrap his hand around her wrist, pulling her behind him before Ophie can say something else that would slow them down.

The bed was just as comfortable as it looked. The duvet was huge and fluffy, just like the pillows, and Reilly swore she would sink into the bed if she wasn’t careful.

But her anchor had his arms wrapped around her tightly, holding her close. If she sank, he’d sink right with her. Something told Reilly that neither of them would mind very much if that happened.

“I’m glad you invited me, Rafe,” Reilly whispered into his bare chest. She lets out a long, relaxed breath.

“Honestly?” Rafe whispers back. “I wasn’t going to let you say no anyway.”

Reilly moves her head to look at him. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn, so all Reilly could make out were the hard edges of his body, but also the soft curves that met them there. As her eyes adjusted, she’d be able to see his face in a bit more detail.

Her eyes flick down to his lips for a while—too long, because Rafe’s mouth quirks up into a smirk.

“What’re you thinking about?” His voice is like honey, music to Reilly’s ears.

“We’re finally alone,” She replies after thinking for a moment. A lot of her time with Rafe was spent out in the open: parties, games, hanging out with the other kooks. The only alone time they got was in Rafe’s car or at Reilly’s job.

But now, they were finally alone together.

“Been wanting me to yourself, Heyward?” Rafe’s arm tightens around Reilly’s waist as he speaks.

“What, like you can’t say the same, Cameron?”

Rafe stays silent. His eyes move back and forth between Reilly’s eyes, then move to her lips. Reilly can see the gears turning in his head before he says, “You’re right.”

His body moves at the speed of sound. Reilly blinks, and Rafe is on top of her, leaning over her. His lids are low, eyes raking over Reilly’s body under his. His gaze moves back up to face. “Let me show you how much I wanted you.”

His lips collide with hers, and it’s completely different from Rafe’s usual slow, soft kisses. This one was more primal, sharper. He moved quickly, attacking her lips with his own. Soon enough, Rafe began using his tongue during their kisses, entering her mouth with each one. A guttural groan rumbles low in Rafe’s throat as his teeth take hold of Reilly’s lower lip. He pulls away slightly, stretching her lip gently before releasing it.

He begins his attack on Reilly’s neck next, taking the flesh between his teeth and biting hard enough to leave a mark. Reilly’s eyes squeeze shut at the sting, her hands moving up to grasp at his hair. He kisses the spot next, sucking over the bite — washing away the pain with pleasure. She almost forgets his hands, which were running up and down her thighs, squeezing and rubbing. His fingers reach the hem of her sleep shorts and slowly make their way higher before landing on her ass.

“You’re so soft,” Rafe moans in her ear as he kisses his way down her neck, towards her chest. “You feel so good, baby. So good.”

“Rafe,” Reilly sucks in a breath, wishing she could find a way to tell Rafe that she wants more.

“What is it, pretty? What do you need?” Rafe asks quietly, still kissing Reilly’s chest. His hands move from her ass to her torso, moving under her shirt and up towards her breasts. When they find their target, his hands move to envelop them, squeezing. Reilly can’t help the small moan that escapes her lips, though not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

“Where d’you want me, baby girl?” Rafe asks patiently, his eyes locked onto hers. He looks so good as he looks at her through his lashes, waiting for her to respond. He’s leaned up slightly, so the silver chain around his neck dangles onto her belly, tickling the bare skin.

“More,” Reilly whispers. She can feel her heartbeat in her throat. “Please, more.”

Rafe leans forward, his face now over hers, arms moving to cage Reilly under him. His voice is soft as he says, “You want my mouth?”

She can only nod hastily, her breathing picking up. Rafe shakes his head in response. “No, you gotta tell me. Say it.”

Reilly can’t even think twice about the awkwardness of his words. She just repeats him with a quickness: “Want you.”

Rafe smirks. “Good girl.” His hands slowly make their way back down her body, pressing light kisses as he goes. His fingers hook around her shorts, and he drags them down her legs before throwing them on the other side of the bed.

His eyes snap back up to Reilly, who’s watching his every move. Her lower lip is between her teeth, and her chest is rising and falling with her breaths.

Then, his face is gone, vanished between Reilly’s thighs. She has to bite back the moan that starts deep in her throat, swallowing the noise and letting out a breath instead. Her hands move back to Rafe’s hair, gripping the locks between her fingers. Rafe growls at her touch, pulling her closer to his mouth for better reach. His mouth moves over her, lips curling around her clit before making his way down to her opening like a starved man. His hands hook around Reilly’s thighs, pulling them apart even further.

“Taste so good,” Rafe peers up at Reilly as he takes a few breaths. His head leans against her thigh, presses a chaste kiss there. “You’re so perfect. My pretty baby.”

Heat crawls into Reilly’s cheeks, and she can’t help but think now she’s blushing? His head has been buried between her thighs for a minute now, and his calling her pretty causes her to blush?

She can only think about it for a second, though, because Rafe is back on her before too long. This time, he’s added his thumb, rubbing and twirling around her clit as he continues to lick stripes on her. Reilly has to release her hold on his hair with one hand to cover her mouth and his touch. She feels Rafe reach up with his free hand, pulling her hand back down to rest on his head.

The small star in the pit of her belly was expanding, getting larger and larger. Reilly’s fingers grip tighter on Rafe’s hair, her way of telling him that she’s getting close. She didn’t dare speak; Too terrified she’d be too loud if she did.

Rafe doesn’t let up on her, even as she continues to pull tighter on his hair. He keeps his mouth on her, licking and sucking as his thumb rubs quick circles on her clit.

The wave doesn’t take long to crash over her, pulling her under as her legs tighten around his head. Rafe keeps his mouth still, sucking every bit of her dry. It isn’t until she’s completely down that Rafe pulls back, crawling back up to her and flipping onto his back, pulling her on top of him. His arms are tight around her body.

Reilly thought she was tired before. Now, she was actively fighting to keep herself awake. It was proving to be harder than she thought, with Rafe’s hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

“That prove anything?” Rafe asked, going back to the conversation before. Let me show you how much I wanted you.

Reilly hums. “You’re certainly making a case for yourself,” She teases.

Rafe chuckles. “Oh, I see. You need more proof. I can do that.” He lets out a long, relaxed breath. “As many times as you want.”

Reilly doesn’t fight the sleep that washes over her. Rafe’s steady breaths, the way his chest goes up and down, rock her to sleep. His hand continues to rub her back as she falls. Again, Reilly wouldn’t be upset if they sank into the bed while wrapped together. Because they were finally alone together.

๑ ‧ ˚₊ ꒷ ︶ ଓ ︶ ꒷꒦ ⊹ ๑ ‧ ˚₊ ꒷ ︶ ଓ ︶ ꒷꒦ ⊹ ๑๑ ‧ ˚₊ ꒷ ︶ ଓ ︶ ꒷꒦ ⊹ ๑ ‧ ˚₊ ꒷ ︶ ଓ ︶ ꒷꒦ ⊹ ๑

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NO GOING BACK

NOW PLAYING…

JUNA CLAIRO

I don’t even try
Don’t have to think
With you there’s no pretending

You know me, you know me
And I just might know you, too

6.3k words

๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑

THE BOAT IS GONE. The yelling that Reilly was so accustomed to had vanished, leaving her on the dark beach with nothing but the ocean behind her and the darkness in front of her.

Who knew you could miss something as feeble as unintelligible, distant voices? The yells were comforting at this point — something Reilly knew she could count on. The silence was eerie, now the only thing Reilly could hear was the sound of the crashing waves behind her. They felt louder. Were they closer?

Before Reilly can peer behind her, the familiar speck that is the ladybug flies around her. It loops around a few times, catching Reilly’s attention before it lands, once again, on Reilly’s hand. Where the contentment of the voices faded, the insect filled that void.

Reilly smiles. “You’re here.”

She basks in the comfort. The voices were gone, now all she had was this small red and black insect. Something that couldn’t even speak, and it had Reilly drawn into it like a moth to a flame.

The bug’s wings spread, taking Reilly by surprise. Its wings begin to flutter at a rapid pace as it begins to fly back into the air. It does a few more loops in front of Reilly, making sure it has all Reilly’s attention.

Then, at the speed of light, the ladybug darts off. Straight into the darkness that still sits full of menace in front of Reilly on the sand.

Reilly’s heart drops. It was gone. Nothing was here anymore. The boat in the ocean, and now the ladybug… Both vanished.

Reilly was completely and utterly alone.

Tears spring in Reilly’s eyes, clouding her vision. Her breath hitches a few times as she tries not to cry too loud, though she didn’t know why it mattered. Nobody else was out there to see or hear her cry.

Her head drops, back down to her ankle, and she sucks in a gasp.

The rope. The rope that had been tied around Reilly’s ankle every time before, was now fully slack. The knot was still there; the rope was still tied around her foot. But instead of the rope being pulled tight, and even pulling her closer… It was loose. It was as if whoever was pulling on the other side had given up and dropped the rope.

Reilly could get up. She could stand to her feet and turn the other way. She could untie the rope. Now would be her chance. She can find the faces that match the voices that called out to her. She could, at the very least, walk down the span of the beach.

Reilly stands. She dusts the sand from her clothes. She turns around, looking at the pitch-black water a few feet away. Her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for a small dot in the water that could indicate the boat. But the vast sea is empty.

She turns back around, back towards the darkness. Her foot lifts into the air before landing in front of her, taking a step closer. Her breathing picks up. She didn’t know what was on the other side, which was the scariest part. The idea that if she walked into the darkness, if she followed the ladybug, it could end in pain. Sadness. mad.

But she had to know. Even though she knew she’d wake up soon, the thought that she could take this moment to walk into the vast unknowingness drove her. She had to do it. She’d never forgive herself if the next time she came here, she was stuck again. Tied to the rope, unable to move on her own. Or if the next time she closes her eyes, she has a different dream. Or worse, no dream at all.

So, Reilly takes another step. And another. Until she’s right in front of the large shadow, one step away.

“Don’t hurt me, okay?” She whispers to whoever could be listening on the other side.

And Reilly steps into the shadow.

HER EYES blink open, letting her adjust to the sun that shines through the curtain and into her face. Reilly breathes calmly. Peace. Reilly was so used to waking up to the sound of her alarm blaring next to her face, so the sound of birds chirping instead felt abnormal. But a good type of abnormal.

Her limbs stretch out as she lets out a yawn, second nature. Her eyes flick to the glass window that leads to the patio. She can see the lake from the bed.

Reilly sits up in bed, and that’s how long it takes for her to notice that Rafe is gone. She glances around the room as if he’d appear out of thin air. When he doesn’t, she checks her phone.

She sees one text from her dad, asking if she’s having a good time. She replies quickly with the truth: She was having a great time. It’s only been one day, not even twenty-four hours, and Reilly didn’t want to leave.

The door opens and in walks Rafe Cameron. Reilly would never get over seeing him walking towards her. He carried himself with a type of confidence that made him look even sexier than he already was (which had to be hard to do).

“Hey, good morning, pretty.” Rafe’s holding a tray of food as he walks over to her, waiting for Reilly to sit up fully so he can place it on her lap. The plate is full of food: Eggs, bacon, toast, and some fruits.

“You made this?” Reilly asks as Rafe kisses the top of her head. Her stomach rumbled at the smell alone.

Rafe snorts. “Nah, Ophie did. But I made your plate.” He mutters in a cute tone. He walks around the bed and flops down beside her, soft enough to not knock her tray around.

Reilly ruffles his hair. “You did a good job.” Rafe smacks Reilly’s hand away from his hair with a smirk.

“You’re lucky you’ve got that food on your lap,” He mutters as Reilly begins to dig in, stabbing her eggs a few times with her fork.

Reilly ignores his light threat, instead asking, “Is everyone else up?”

Rafe opens his phone, tapping the screen a few times as he nods.

“What?!” Reilly yelps, snapping her head towards her boyfriend. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Rafe quickly locks his phone back and sets it down beside him. He sits up, turning to Reilly and holding her head still by cupping her cheeks with his hands. He pulls her closer, kissing her forehead again. “Because we are on vacation, remember? You’re on vacation right now. You can sleep for however long you want. We all know you need it. Besides, it’s only ten-thirty. You’re good, baby.” His thumb caresses her cheek with gentle ease, every stroke calming her nerves.

Reilly can’t help but smile. She nods, and Rafe lets go of her face, allowing her to continue eating. When she does, Rafe goes back to his phone, scrolling mindlessly as she eats. Every few seconds, Reilly glances over his shoulder, watching whatever video he is watching. It was mostly things to do with golfing, boating, or bikes — boring stuff, but seemingly very interesting to Rafe. So, Reilly didn’t mind.

After a few minutes of Reilly taking her time to eat, enjoying her time with her boyfriend, Rafe turns his head. His eyes are glued to his phone, but his mouth is wide open. Reilly rolls her eyes and stuffs her fork in his mouth, allowing him a bite of her eggs. He chews for a moment and shakes his head.

“I wanted some bacon.”

“Oh, sorry,” Reilly chides, grabbing a piece of bacon and sticking it in front of Rafe. He takes a bite and chews happily, his head turning back to his phone and scrolling. “I forgot I was a mind-reader.”

Once Reilly had enough to eat (possibly too much — she felt like she was going to pop), she set the tray down on the bedside drawer and lay back in the bed. Beside her, Rafe locks his phone and turns to her.

“Hey, Ry?”

“What’s up?” Reilly was already watching him before he locked his phone. She watches as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Gathering his thoughts.

“Look, there was just… Something I needed to tell you—"

A light knock on the door interrupts Rafe. His eyes snap shut, squeezing tight from frustration. Reilly watches as Rafe looks at the door, probably trying to figure out what he is going to do. Reilly wouldn’t blame Rafe if he didn’t say anything. They could pretend to be asleep, still. Just for a bit longer — long enough for Rafe to say what he needed to say. That’s why Reilly didn’t say a word. She didn’t answer the door, or call out to whoever was on the other side. She stayed silent, waiting for Rafe to make the call.

His eyes finally look at her. She doesn’t ask, she doesn’t need to. Her face says enough: It’s up to you.

Rafe offers a half smile as he answers, “It can wait.” He looks back at the door, yelling for the knocker to come in.

The knocker was Ophelia, who bounced in with a warm smile. “Good morning, y’all! Topper wants us to take the boat out for the day. Rafe, you in to drive?”

Rafe glances at Reilly, giving her a similar look to the one she gave him moments before. Your turn.

Reilly grins at Ophie with a nod. “Sounds like fun. We’re in.”

Somehow, Ophie’s smile widens even further. “Yay! Topper’s gonna run to the store so I can make sandwiches. Is there anything specific you want?”

Reilly shrugs. “Not really — If you get roast beef, I won’t be mad, though.”

Ophie nods with pursed lips, determination clear on her face. Her perfectly curled blonde hair falls in her face, and she brushes it out of the way as she types in her phone. Behind her, Topper walks through the door. His arms wrap around her torso as she continues typing. His head rests on top of her head.

“Morning, Ry,” He greets Reilly with a wink. “Y’all ready for a kick-ass boat day?”

Rafe ignores him completely, opting instead to pull Reilly back, nuzzling his face into her side as she talks to Topper.

“Good morning, Top,” Reilly replies as Rafe moves himself even closer to her, clearly not paying attention to anything else. Reilly rests her hand on his side as she tells Topper that she may need an hour and a half before she’s ready — she needs a shower.

Topper grumbles. “How’s three sound?”

Ophelia, now done typing on her phone, giggles. “Delilah and Kelce take a lot of time getting ready. But it doesn’t matter — we’ve got all day to get out there.”

“True,” Reilly pats Rafe’s back before gesturing down to him. “It’s probably gonna take me an hour to get him out of bed, anyways.”

Rafe grumbles something that Reilly can’t hear into her thigh, curling himself further onto her. He’s moved himself to the front half of his body lying on her lap, his arms wrapped around her thighs as best as he can. His legs are sprawled out behind him.

“No, no, buddy, you’re coming with us to the store!” Topper moves past Ophelia and rushes toward Rafe. His hands grasp onto Rafe’s torso, pulling him away from Reilly. Rafe groans, smacking Topper’s hands away.

Of course, this turns into a wrestling match. It’s mostly Topper trying to subdue a now pissed-off Rafe, but failing, with Rafe slapping Topper consistently. Every time Rafe fakes a hit from the left, Topper falls for it and blocks it. Then, Rafe smacks him with his right hand. Before long, Topper decides enough is enough, and tackles Rafe. Reilly takes this as her motivation to get out of bed, hopping up before either boy could tackle her by mistake. She moves to stand beside Ophelia, both girls watching with crossed arms as Rafe and Topper continue to fight on the bed.

A loud thud startles the girls, both snapping their heads in the direction of the noise. Kelce rushes in, jumping in the bed and just swinging at whoever. Delilah, who was trailing behind him, stops when she reaches Ophelia and Reilly. Her arms were already crossed as well.

“He heard them fighting and sprinted across the entire house,” Delilah explained, needlessly. It was obvious that Kelce would only join in for the fun of it.

A few more seconds go by. The room that used to be occupied by only two was now filled by the entire house. The only sounds that could be heard were soft thumps of fists and palms slapping skin, followed a few seconds later by a groan or an ‘ow.’

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” Reilly muttered, taking a step closer to the warzone. She figured they would fizzle out by now, slowly get tired, and die down. She was wrong; If she didn’t stop them, they would keep going until there was a winner. Reilly clears her throat. “Alright, Rafe!” She yells out over the grunts and groans from the boys.

She watches as Rafe immediately stills, causing Topper to stop as well. Kelce, who didn’t really have a reason to be fighting anyway, stopped since the others did. Rafe then pushes both boys off him with shocking strength. Kelce and Topper flop onto different parts of the bed before standing to their feet along with Rafe.

Rafe walks to Reilly and pulls her into a hug. “We’re gonna go to the store. Take a shower, and if you think of anything else you want, text me. I’ll see you when I get back.” He leans down and kisses her once, two, three times before pulling away. He grabs the tray of leftover food from Reilly’s breakfast and walks out of his room.

With that, Reilly turns back to the rest of the group, who are staring at her with astonished faces. “You guys okay?” When the group only nods as a response, Reilly’s eyebrows furrow. “Okay… I’m gonna go take a shower.”

The others only nod again. Reilly slowly turns and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Topper is the first to speak when he’s left alone with Delilah, Kelce, and Ophelia. He turns to look at them with an equally confused face. “What the hell just happened?”

AFTER A REFRESHING SHOWER and a change of clothes, Reilly skips down the stairway and to the living room. Delilah and Ophelia are already standing in front of the large wall of window, looking through it, out towards the water.

“What’s up?” Reilly asks as she steps closer. Her eyes land on their entertainment for the moment.

“Our idiots are trying to get the boat out onto the water.” Delilah narrates while Reilly watches.

It really is a sight to behold. Topper is in the driver’s seat of Rafe’s truck, head sticking out of the window as he tries to back the boat down the ramp and into the water. Kelce stands beside the bed of the truck, yelling frantically and waving his arms around as Topper moves the boat in.

Rafe stands a few feet away. His arms are crossed with his head down. His left foot is tapping against the ground at a furious speed. It’s clear he’s trying his hardest to stay calm, but also wants to crash out on Topper for being so careless with both his boat and truck.

Reilly chuckles and shakes her head. “Let’s go make sure nobody gets run over.”

Ophelia nods in agreement, turning and bending down to grab her beach bag.

Outside, the sun is beaming down directly on top of the group. Reilly’s thankful she remembered her baseball cap as she placed it firmly on her head. By the time they make it to the ramp, the boys have successfully managed to get the boat into the water. They make their way onto the dock and walk down to the end, where the boat sits.

“Welcome in, welcome in,” Kelce greets the girls as they step on, offering a hand for each of them. Delilah is the last on the boat, gently jesting about how Kelce is such a gentleman.

Reilly makes her way to Rafe, who sits in the driver’s seat, getting the boat ready. She watches in amazement as Rafe goes through everything before turning on the boat. Once the boat roars to life, Rafe gently taps the gas to shift it away from the dock before they go. Reilly smiles to herself, guess those boating videos come in handy after all.

Rafe glances up as Reilly approaches. He pulls her closer to him, sitting her down on his lap. His eyes are covered by his sunglasses. He smiles a pretty smile, and Reilly mirrors it. Despite the hot, humid temperature, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else besides on his lap.

“You look pretty,” Rafe confesses, moving a curly strand of hair away from Reilly’s face.

“Thank you.”

Rafe nods with that same smile before turning to the ignition. His eyes track to the others, all standing around. Topper leans over, digging through the cooler already. Rafe rolls his eyes and orders them to sit down or hold on because they are about to go.

He keeps one hand around her waist, holding her steady on his lap.

“You know,” Reilly says as she leans slightly closer to his ear. “I’ve been wanting to get my boating license for a while now.”

Rafe smirks with a small nod. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got a world-class boater for a boyfriend.”

A loud churning noise sounds from inside the boat, paired with a jarring halt, causing the group to shoot forward. Thankfully, they hadn’t gained much speed yet, so they didn’t go far. Rafe had his hand grasped tightly on the steering wheel, keeping him in his seat. Thank God he was holding onto Reilly, because if he wasn’t, she’d probably launch the furthest.

“Dammit, Topper!” Rafe barks, his hold on Reilly tightening for a moment before letting go. His fingers move to the different switches on the boat. “I told you to check the fuel, tell me you checked the fuel —”

“Relax,” Topper groans, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. “You know she takes a second to kick in. Hit the gas again, let her breathe, then punch it.”

Topper doesn’t fully finish his sentence before the boat kicks back in by itself. Rafe mumbles under his breath as the group collects themselves, sitting in their seats.

“Hey,” Reilly’s fingers gently hold onto Rafe’s chin, and she turns his head to face her. His lips are formed into a frown that is more reminiscent of a pout. Reilly lifts his glasses from his face, resting them on top of his head. “Chill. We’re good. Right?”

Rafe closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. He nods and opens his eyes, landing back on the girl. The corners of his mouth ticked up in a smile as he answered, “Yeah, baby. We’re good.”

“THIS IS A GOOD SPOT. We’ll chill here for a bit,” Rafe’s voice sounds over the music that played through the speakers. “Gotta watch out for land, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Topper mockingly shoos Rafe away with his hand as he stands. Once he’s to his feet, he doesn’t hesitate to sprint to the end of the boat, jumping over the railing and into the water with a holler. Kelce isn’t far behind him, also hollering as he launches himself in.

Reilly and Rafe both move to the seats near the front of the boat, where Delilah and Ophelia sit. At some point during the ride, Delilah had somehow rolled a perfect blunt. She grabs it from its spot behind her ear as Reilly and Rafe take a seat, lights it, and takes a hit.

“Did you do this during the ride?” Reilly asked as Rafe leaned forward to take the blunt from Delilah.

Delilah shrugs in response. “It’s a gift,”

Rafe blows out a puff of smoke in the opposite direction of the girls. Instead of passing it, he simply lifts the blunt closer to Reilly’s lips, holding it as she takes a hit. Reilly does so, breathing in the plant and holding it for a few seconds before blowing it out.

Ophelia digs around in her beach bag, grabbing a few shooters from the bottom. She hands them out, giving one to each of them — apart from Topper and Kelce, who were still in the water doing God knows what.

“This is for you,” Ophie sings as she hands Reilly a small bottle.

“Jesus, y’all are trying to get her fucked up?” Rafe half jokes as he reads the label of Reilly’s drink.

Reilly chuckles, shaking her head. “One hit and one shot aren’t going to fuck me up, Rafe.”

Ophie wraps a small hand around Reilly’s wrist, pulling her up to stand with her and Delilah. They clink their small bottles and throw them back. The cold, yet warming alcohol causes Reilly to shiver once she drinks her shot. She feels something cold touch her thigh, and she looks down to see Rafe, holding a Twisted Tea against her thigh. It took Reilly a bit too long to realize he was giving her something to chase it with.

Reilly takes the already-opened can from her boyfriend’s hand and takes a few sips, washing down the potent taste. She’d never even heard of this drink before, and probably for good reason: It was strong. Reilly’s best friend was JJ Maybank — she could hold her liquor. But this was way stronger than anything she’d had before. Maybe Rafe was right: This very well could get her drunk.

But fuck it. Like Rafe said that morning, they were on vacation. You didn’t drink alcohol to not get drunk, right? That’s the whole point. It’s not like she had work in the morning.

So, Reilly decided that she’d let a little loose for the first time in months. She was going to have fun on this trip, dammit. She wanted this trip to be unforgettable.

THE NEXT HOUR had turned into a diving competition between Topper and Kelce. The judges were, of course, the girls, who were tasked with giving them both a rating out of ten after each dive. This, similar to the wrestling match earlier, turned into a competition. Both boys tried to outdo each other with every jump, rating each other once they came up from the water.

Reilly sits on one of the two seats attached to the back, facing the end of the boat where Topper and Kelce stand. Delilah sits on the seat beside her, with Ophie sitting crisscrossed on the floor between them.

“Topper, you didn’t do a full backflip!” Reilly argued back to Topper, who had thrown a fit over her most recent rating. “You landed on your head, bud. That’s not a ten.”

“But a four?!” Topper argued back, his hands moved to his hair, tussling the blond locks with frustration.

“I gave you a four because I appreciate the ambition —”

“You’re killin’ me, Ry,”

“Hey, Reilly!” Kelce’s voice interrupts their argument. Both their attention moved to Kelce, who was back in the boat, near the driver’s seat. “Your phone’s ringing.”

After she successfully stands without falling into the water herself (she’d had a few more shots), Reilly glances at the screen before answering. “Pope? You okay?”

“Where are you?” Her brother’s voice rings through the phone.

Reilly glances around the boat. Topper still stands on the end of the boat with Kelce, most likely thinking of new diving ideas for the girls to rate. Ophelia and Delilah were also talking as Ophelia typed on her phone. Then, Rafe, who sat on the long seat on the side of the boat, had his eyes fixated on her. Reilly gives him a soft smile as she answers, “I’m out of town with some friends. Everything okay?”

“What friends?”

Reilly sighs. Of course, she could expect the same response as JJ from her brother. They all grew up together, after all.

“My other friends, Pope.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

How much time do you have? Reilly wanted to reply. Because I’ve barely seen you for the past few months. Because whenever I text, you don’t answer. Whenever I go into your room, you’re not home. Because I blame myself just as much, if not more than I blame you, and I’m scared that it’s too late. I’m scared that if I were to try again now, you all would pretend I didn’t exist.

Because I’m scared that I’ve lost you.

But she keeps all of that inside, breathes out a sigh, and says, “I don’t know.”

It’s Pope’s turn to sigh. She can practically see him running his hand over his hair as he thinks of what to say. She could see him kicking the dirt at his feet as his mind ran over a thousand different sentences.

But she couldn’t predict what he was going to say.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Pope’s voice sends a shock through Reilly’s system. “We’ve been kinda… Distant, lately? And we’re all sorry. We miss you, sis.”

Reilly’s heart leaps into her throat. She feels like someone has dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. She nods a few times before croaking out, “I miss you guys, too. So much.”

“When you get home, we’ll all hang. Okay?” Her brother’s voice is music to her ears, laced with excitement. Even though she knew how much she missed them, she still couldn't grasp how euphoric it felt.

She beams. “I’d love to. There’s so much I need to tell you guys.”

And so much she had to think about. Was she going to tell them the whole story? It was eating her alive. It had been eating her alive, and then she told her dad, and it went a lot better than she could have hoped. But Bobby was not Pope, despite their similarities. And Bobby was sure as hell not JJ, who Reilly knew would have the worst reaction by far.

She had no way of knowing exactly what he’d say, but Reilly could already hear a few words thrown her way. The main one is a traitor.

After hanging up, Reilly puts her phone back with her things and turns around. Rafe hadn’t stopped looking at her since she took the call, and his eyes were still on her as she turned. He sends her a look. You good?

Reilly smiles at him and nods briefly before returning to the edge of the boat, taking a seat and hoping that Rafe won’t ask any questions. At least not for now.

They hadn’t talked about making their relationship ‘public’ yet. The conversation lingered in the back of her brain, running over a million different ways it could go. It kept her up at night. Tossing and turning in her sheets, eyes snapping open whenever she imagined something embarrassing.

She always started with the worst-case scenario first. That would be Rafe telling her that he wanted to keep their relationship a secret. If that happened, she’d have to pretend that she was okay with it. But she knew deep down that her heart would break into pieces. She’d tough it through for a while before ultimately deciding that she’d break up with him.

Scenario number one would be Houston Matherly all over again.

Then, she imagines the opposite, scenario number two, in which Rafe is ready to tell everyone. As in everyone. When it came to the Cameron sisters, Reilly assumed that they wouldn’t care as much. Sarah herself is dating a pogue, and Wheezie seemed to be indifferent on most things at her age. Rose, Rafe’s stepmom, probably wouldn’t be too excited, but Reilly didn’t know her enough to care about her. She did, however, care what Ward Cameron thought.

Reilly didn’t even want to guess what Ward would say. Her first thought was that he would force them to break up, telling them that under no circumstances were they to see each other again.

Okay, so there aren’t any ‘worst-case’ and ‘best-case’ scenarios. It was starting to sound like both scenarios equally sucked.

THE SUN was just beginning to set, barely touching the horizon line. Reilly brings her cup to her lips, takes a sip, and sets it back down beside her. Her legs dangled off the edge of the boat. She’d been there, sitting at the end of the bow, for a few minutes. Everyone else splintered off into their bubbles for the last hour. Topper sat with Ophie in a huge floatie tied to the boat, so they didn’t drift away. Ophelia buried herself in her book as Topper rested his hands behind his head, eyes closed.

Kelce and Delilah were sitting together at the helm, sitting together. They were passing a blunt between each other as they talked, laughing out loud every few minutes.

Reilly took a hit of her vape and blew out the smoke. She really should quit that soon. She started when Mark got released from jail, right after she found out. Reilly remembers when she first got the news, how she snatched the small device out of JJ’s grasp and hit it. She later felt bad for not asking, so she made JJ drive her to the closest store so she could get her own. Luckily for her, not many places on the cut checked IDs.

It was a nasty habit, but God, did it help. Back then, and even now.

A shadow looms over her head, blocking the sun out. Reilly notches her head up, smiling at Rafe as he stands over her. Rafe nudges her shoulder with his knee gently before leaning over to sit beside her.

He lands close, his right thigh just grazing her left. He leans forward and Reilly follows, pressing her lips to his for a quick kiss. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, probably noticing the small shivers that ran through Reilly’s.

Rafe’s smoky voice ends the serene silence. “We’re gonna leave soon, okay? Wanna see if Top and Kelce have any more bursts of energy they need to get out.”

A bubble rose in Reilly’s throat as she thought to herself how true that was. The two had only given up on jumping in the water two hours ago after Rafe had bitched that they were causing the boat to drift. After that, they opted to stay in the lake, swimming around. The only breaks they took before now were to eat some chips and down a few more beers. It was a good idea to wait a little longer to see if they had any more energy to burn. Even though they were both in their 20s, they were also like children.

Reilly nods, leaning over and resting her head against Rafe’s shoulder. She mutters to Rafe that she’s fine with that.

“You serious about getting your boating license?” Rafe asks after a few more moments of silence. “Because you’re gonna need a boat for that."

Reilly gasps dramatically, slapping Rafe’s thigh. “We have a boat!”

It’s Rafe’s turn to laugh, his head moving to look down at her. His glasses were sitting atop his head now, so Reilly could see his blue eyes, wide at her proclamation. “That shit-kicker HMS Pogue is not a boat, baby.”

Reilly shakes her head with a small laugh. “My dad has a boat. It’s in the garage, smartass.” She decides she’ll leave out the fact that it’s definitely not fancy, and also older than she is. She didn’t need to add that part; It’ll still get the job done.

“Alright, whatever,” Rafe concedes. His hand moves to Reilly’s thigh, tracing small patterns on the skin there as they both look out into the horizon.

The silence was comforting. It usually was with Rafe. She’d found that just being with Rafe made her feel more comfortable. She couldn’t remember if she felt the same a few months ago when they had first met. She didn’t feel uncomfortable. She remembers feeling nervous. But that wasn’t new — hell, she felt nervous now.

Wait, why did she feel nervous?

You’re not in trouble. Nobody is mad at you. You’re not in danger. You’re safe.

As the feeling began to die down, her mind landed on one question that she hadn’t ever asked before. And now… Now, she knew if she didn’t ask, it would never leave the back of her head. She doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to do or say anything that could ruin this day. But she could keep herself up another night with more questions than she did the night before.

So, Reilly shifted a bit, scooting a little closer to Rafe. She peels her eyes away from the sunset and turns her head up to Rafe. His eyes move to her next, looking at her with patient, waiting eyes.

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

“How did we get here?”

Rafe swallows. The cooling temperatures outside didn’t seem to have any impact on his body, which now felt like it was on fire.

What the fuck? What the fuck do I say to that? Where the hell did that come from?

Does she know?

Rafe feels Reilly nudge his torso. He blinks, putting on his most charming smile, and shakes his head confusedly. “What do you mean?”

You’re such a piece of shit. You know exactly what she means.

Reilly doesn’t hesitate. Rafe wishes she’d wait a few seconds before answering. She was always so on top of things, she knew exactly what to say. While it was a trait that Rafe liked a lot about her, sometimes it was annoying. He wasn’t like that. He needed time to think before speaking — If he didn’t, he’d say something he didn’t mean.

“I mean… How did we get here?” When Rafe only gives her another confused look, Reilly smiles and explains. “Okay, so… Two months ago, we didn’t talk. Now I’m on your boat at your family’s lake house. You know what I mean?”

Rafe’s grin drops when Reilly looks back at the sunset. Fuck, he needed to tell her soon. Every time he thought he’d come close, either he’d change his own mind or someone else would interrupt. But he was running out of time. He needed to do it before Justin did.

But Rafe had been piling it on thick, continually telling Reilly that this was her vacation. Even if he told her the truth now, and if he could convince her to stay with him, he’d ruin the trip at the very least. How selfish would he be if he told her now, during it?

Rafe made himself sick when he thought about what he’s done to her — What he’s doing to her right now. He’s a hypocrite and she doesn’t deserve any of this.

He feels disgusting as he shrugs, pretending like Reilly Heyward just fell into his lap one day. Pretending like he didn’t plan it all out.

“I don’t know,” Rafe lies. “Guess I just got lucky.”

He's appeased Reilly for now, and Rafe thinks he may throw up over the side of his boat if they don’t leave soon. He’s never felt seasick in his life — he was raised on the water — but he assumes this is what it’s like. Too bad it’s not really seasickness that's making him feel this way.

“Ophelia’s been asking me every day if I’m going to Midsummers or not. Have you thought about it?” Reilly switches the topic. Unfortunately, this topic is just as bad (if not worse). Rafe knows what Midsummers means. Back when he first made this dumbass decision, the challenge was supposed to end at Midsummers. He was going to take Reilly, and parade her around in front of Victoria and Houston. He was supposed to make Victoria feel jealous. That was the whole point. To make someone jealous.

Then, after Midsummers ended, Rafe was supposed to dump Reilly. Knowing himself, he’d probably make it brutal. Maybe tell her that he never had feelings for her, that he doesn’t want to be with a pogue.

All of the things Houston told her.

There was no fixing this. There was no going back in time and changing his mind, saying ‘no’ instead. There was nothing he could say to make this better, either. No matter what he does say, he's going to be another Houston to her. The thought was enough for Rafe to want to jump into the water and never swim back up. He'd rather float to the bottom of the lake than do this — hurt Reilly.

Even though he ‘ended’ the challenge, Rafe knew he would be going to Midsummers alone. After he finally confessed, that would be it.

Once again, Rafe knows he’s taking too long to answer when Reilly speaks again. “I don’t have to go if you think it’s too soon.”

“No,” Rafe shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

“What are you thinking about, then?”

Rafe stays silent. A million thoughts are all running through his head at the same time, and he’s not able to grab one. He can't take another hour to answer her again, either. So, he smiles instead, kissing Reilly’s head.

“Just thinking about what color we should wear.”

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

          GUILTY & CALM

NOW PLAYING…

GRAVITY BRENT FAIYAZ, TYLER, THE CREATOR

She hold me down like gravity

4.1k words

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TURNS OUT, ILLEGAL FIREWORKS ARE ILLEGAL FOR A REASON.

After returning from the lake, the group had split into their rooms to rinse off and change clothes. Reilly was the last to finish getting ready. As she stepped into the backyard, the smell of burnt charcoal and cooking meat greeted her nose. Kelce stands at the grill with an apron tied around him, bold letters saying ‘Mr Good Lookin’ is Cookin’ on the front. The fire had already started, once again becoming the hub for the friends to sit around for the night.

Kelce finished the food soon after, and everyone ate around the fire again. There was a moment when everyone fell quiet, too focused on eating to say a word. Instead, the sound of everything around them suddenly became even louder, more prevalent.

Crickets and frogs were already beginning to chirp. The water softly crashed against itself, loud enough to be heard from the backyard. If you listened closely, you could hear the faint sound of boats speeding around on the water.

But all the serenity of that moment disappeared when Topper returned outside with the fireworks.

Rafe had told Topper that he was going to hurt himself. He said it when Topper first told them he was going to get them. He said it again on the way there. And he said it a third time as Topper rushed past him, deeper into the yard to set them up. Every time, Topper brushed Rafe off with a wave of his hands.

The loud boom of thunder claps over their heads as Topper’s bends down. He glances up for a second before getting back to work, muttering, “Shit, I need to hurry,” to himself.

“Or you shouldn’t do it at all,” Rafe replied under his breath, though the words are only loud enough for Reilly to hear.

“Alright, you guys ready?” Topper exclaimed, looking to the others once more for confirmation. He doesn't look long enough for an answer. Instead, he flicks the lighter to life and lights the fuse without warning.

The sky lights up as the fireworks whistle and launch into the air. Once it reaches its highest point, it explodes, turning the dark sky into different oranges and pinks. Ophie is the first to cheer, clapping her hands and giggling. The others follow in suit, all giving Topper credit where it’s due — The fireworks did look cool. Even Rafe claps along with a satisfied nod, still skeptical, but a little more on board.

Topper, fueled by the positive reinforcement, lights another with a gleeful smile.

The next few minutes are filled with laughter and cheers after every explosion. The rain is still holding off, seeming to wait until the last firework before it lets loose.

Kelce is next to light the fireworks. The way he stumbled over like a baby deer to the launch point should've told the group what they needed to know. But hindsight is 20/20. Kelce bends over and lights the fuse, his body swaying back and forth as he does so.

The familiar sizzle and crack of the fuse sounds. Kelce shoots up and takes off, running in the opposite direction of where the others stand.

It takes Reilly a moment to notice that Kelce knocked over the explosive when he ran. The first thing she hears is the sound of screaming. Not Ophie’s usual squeal of delight, but instead a frightened scream.

Reilly’s eyes land on the knocked-over firework that is now pointed directly at her. Suddenly, she feels Rafe’s hands move to her shoulders, pushing her out of the line of fire. The fireworks let out a loud whistle, and it shoots off. The backyard lights up as it speeds through the yard, past the others. It gets a small amount of airtime, but its travel gets cut short when it collides with a lawn chair and falls to the ground.

By now, Rafe has his arms secured around Reilly as they both watch in anticipation, waiting for the fireworks to explode —

BANG!

It lets out the loudest sound that Reilly’s ever heard in her life. Reilly hears Ophie shriek from the sudden noise. Reilly turns her head away from the bright light as Rafe tightens his hold on her, ready to pull her away if any debris gets close. Reilly catches Delilah and Kelce in a similar position, Kelce holding Delilah behind his body, shielding her.

After what feels like an eternity, the whistles and bangs soon fizzle out, leaving the group of friends back in the darkness. It’s eerily quiet as everyone stands, perplexed by what the hell just happened. Reilly, whose back is against Rafe’s chest, can feel his once labored breathing begin to even out as he calms down.

“Everybody okay?” Kelce is the first to speak. His voice is shaky as his eyes shift around the group anxiously.

“What is wrong with you, you fucking idiot?!” Rafe yells as he stomps over to where Kelce stands. His hold on Reilly’s arm drops as he stalks to Kelce, eyebrows furrowed and eyes dark. Though when Rafe reaches Kelce, he doesn’t hurt him. His fists, which were once clenched tight, open. His hand grabs hold of the back of Kelce’s head, and he pushes him over. Rafe’s arm locks around the back of Kelce’s neck, pushing and pulling him around with a chuckle.

When Rafe lets go, Kelce laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head as everyone sounds off, saying they’re okay. Topper grabs Ophelia's head and smooths her hair out, a small smile on his face.

“No fireworks after beers anymore, baby,” Delilah’s hand moves to Kelce’s back as she speaks.

“Dude,” Topper bursts out in a laugh, slapping Kelce on the back. “That was insane! We gotta turn that into a game or something!”

“Dude!” Kelce’s eyes widen. His mouth curls into a wider smile.

Reilly decides she won’t tell them that there already is a game that involves shooting fireworks at one another. Matter of fact, it was a game played by pogues on the cut every July 4th. Instead, she keeps it to herself; No point in giving them any more ideas.

THE RAIN STARTED as soon as they made it inside. The group was allowed one more warning, this time by way of thunder and lightning, and they took that as their sign to go ahead and pack it up for the night.

The rain pelted against the many windows of the house. The only light source (other than the lightning that lit up the whole room every minute) was the small lamp that sat on Rafe’s bedside dresser. The only sound was the rain beating against the roof and the thunder that crashed across the sky.

Rafe walks out of the bathroom, now changed into a pair of sweatpants. He flops on the bed beside Reilly.

“Look at these pictures that Ophie took,” Reilly beamed, turning her phone for Rafe to see. It was a photo of the three girls together on the boat. Their arms are around each other’s shoulders, their hair wet and tangled from the water. Reilly has Rafe’s hat plopped on her head, her wild curls puffing out from the sides. Ophie’s blue eyes are closed from the wide smile she has on her face. Her freckles look darker from being out in the sun, matching her sun-kissed skin. A lock of Delilah’s wet hair is stuck to the side of her face, but she still smiles widely with her left arm in the air. Reilly remembered how hard it was to gather them for the picture. They were all pretty deep into their drinks — mix that with an already rocking boat, and you’re in for a hard time.

But they succeeded. It’s not a ‘perfect’ picture by any means. Ophie’s eyes are squinted shut, Reilly’s hair is everywhere, and Delilah was moving so much that her body looked slightly blurry. But it was already Reilly’s favorite picture of them. Their friendship had bloomed about as perfectly as it could have. Their personalities were different. Ophelia was the sweetest of the bunch, always smiley and optimistic. Though sometimes, her optimism could turn into naivety. Delilah was the hot-headed one. She either loved you or hated you, and she'd let you know which one without hesitation.

And Reilly was just Reilly.

Rafe leans closer with a smile and wraps his arms around her waist. He rests his head on her shoulder as he scrolls through a few pictures from the day.

She lands on one of her and Rafe. They’re sitting on the chair outside, in front of the fire. Reilly is back on her lap, with his arm around her, hand resting on her thigh. They’re both mid-laugh, and Reilly wishes she could remember what they were laughing at. That one had become her favorite picture of them together. Both happy and smiling, both having a good time.

“When was that?” Rafe’s voice is soft.

“Last night.”

“Send it to me.”

As she does, Rafe begins to settle into the bed, moving the covers over his legs. The sound of thunder and rain settles into the room as Reilly scrolls through the rest of the pictures that were shared in the girl’s group chat.

“Can I be honest?”

Reilly locks her phone as soon as she hears the question. She looks at Rafe, whose head is still placed on her shoulder. His fingers are busy playing with the hem of Reilly’s shirt, thinking about his words carefully.

“I’d prefer it,” Reilly jokes.

Rafe blows out a breath. He moves his arm to rest behind his head, now lying on his back. His eyes move up to Reilly, the soft glow of the lamp only on one side of his face as he mutters softly, “I don’t really want to throw a party tomorrow. I’d rather it just be us. I know it sounds insane coming from me —”

“That doesn’t sound crazy at all,” Reilly shakes her head. She hated interrupting people, but she couldn’t let Rafe continue. She understood the feeling; she’s sure everyone in that house understood it. Sometimes it felt like going out, especially throwing a party, felt like a performance. Constantly performing was tiring.

Rafe didn’t have to perform around them. He must have felt so relaxed and free this weekend. The fact that he had to end it with the stress of hosting must be heavy on his mind.

“I kind of agree with you,” Reilly continues. Her fingers reach to move away a few strands of hair that fell in Rafe’s face. His hand catches hers, and he brings it to his lips, pressing a few easy kisses there. “We can always cancel.”

“God,” Rafe groans aloud, closing his eyes. “I’d be obliterated if I cancelled a party the morning of.” He replies, running his hands over his face.

Reilly rolls her eyes with a small smile at the dramatics (obliterated, really?), but she doesn’t argue.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun,” Rafe confessed. Reilly stays silent as he speaks; she didn’t want him to stop. She liked this Rafe, this slightly drunk and very truthful Rafe. It took a lot to get him to open up when he was sober, so him volunteering to tell-all? She’d take it. “Just with you guys. On the boat, the bonfire.”

“Even the fireworks?” Reilly snickered.

“Yeah, I mean, before we almost died? Yeah.” Rafe chuckles. His shoulders shake as he does so, the harsh lines of him looking softer for a moment. Reilly likes those moments, the times when he doesn’t look so indignant. Those small, tiny moments when he looked content, free.

“You deserve it,” Reilly’s hand moved to Rafe’s cheek. Her thumb moves back and forth, gently against his cheekbone. “Fun, that is.”

“I don’t feel like I do.” Rafe shakes his head. His eyes are off, looking everywhere except for her. She didn’t mind. He tended to do that when he thought hard about things. Whatever made him feel better, she’d allow it. “I’m a bad person, Reilly. I’ve done some really shitty things. So, I guess I feel… guilty. Whenever I have a good time, I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Everybody does bad things,” Reilly insisted. “Doesn’t mean they’re all bad people.”

“Yeah, but you’re good,” Rafe turns his head, now looking at Reilly. His eyes are sad. Remorseful, though unnecessarily. “Too good for me.”

“You’ve said that before. It’s not true.” Reilly hates it when he says that. She hates the thought of being ‘too anything’ for anybody, whether it was meant as a compliment or not. Houston used to say that she was too smart for him, and it always stung a part of her that she didn’t know she had. Still, she doesn’t know why those words made her so annoyed. She just knew it made her skin crawl, and it made her want to shrivel herself into a ball until it was taken back.

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

She has no idea how true it is, the fact that she’s too good for Rafe.

Reilly said that good people do bad things, but do good people do this? Did good people hurt others this way? Do good people ignore the thought that tells them to stop?

Rafe apologizes under his breath, telling her again that he isn’t good at talking.

“You can just say what you’re thinking. Even if it’s bad.” Reilly answers, optimism dripping from her words. She shrugs. “Or you can think about it more, put it all together, and you can tell me when we get home. That way, it’s just you and me, nobody else around. You can tell me whatever it is you wanna say.”

Rafe feels like his heart is going to explode from his chest, similar to the fireworks outside. He’s never had that option before — hell, he didn’t even know that was an option. He was so used to the fast life; Have an answer now or you’ll ruin everything. But Reilly wasn’t like that. She would just sit and listen to him, to anything he had to say. She isn’t begging to know exactly what he thinks in that moment — she’s giving him time to put it all together.

Her patience may be the one thing that could help Rafe.

Rafe already knew that he wildly preferred being with her. She calmed him down just by standing next to him. Whenever the boat stopped working, and Rafe almost blew his lid, it was Reilly who slowed his heart rate back down. Simply by saying, “We’re good, right?”

Even later that night, when Kelce had almost killed them with the fireworks. As Rafe made his way over to Kelce to kill him, a voice in the back of his mind told Rafe to calm down. Instead of taking him to the ground like he initially wanted to, Rafe wrestled Kelce around like an older brother would to a sibling. Reilly wasn’t even around to do it — he’d done it by himself.

Rafe had never practiced calming down like that before. Usually, he’d throw something or send his fist through the drywall.

It was as easy as that. Rafe swore that if he was mad, all Reilly needed to do was grab his hand, and the red that clouded his vision would melt back into their original colors. His world would disappear around him, and there would only be Reilly, holding his hand.

It was happening. It had been happening for a while now that Rafe thought about it. But now, he was caught up. He could see it every time he closed his eyes; he could feel it the moment he woke up in that moment. He heard it in the way he spoke to her, the way he looked for her every time he went somewhere.

He was falling in love with her.

Rafe wasn’t scared. He always assumed that whenever it happened, he would be terrified. He’s seen what love does to people: It rips them apart, leaving them alone with nothing but a whiskey glass in hand. He’s seen his father up at night, alone in his office, holding back gut-wrenching sobs with tears streaming down his face. Rafe told himself that he’d never fall in love. He didn’t believe it was written in his DNA. If it was, it died the same day his mother did.

But here he was.

If anything, this only solidified that he can’t be without Reilly. He needs her. She may not need Rafe; that much was obvious, but fuck — he needed Reilly. He needed her like he needed air. He wouldn’t be able to breathe if he didn’t have her.

Rafe pulls her closer, slotting his lips into hers. He hears her gasp, and he breathes it in as he kisses her.

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

Rafe tugs Reilly’s shirt up and over her head, laying her back down once it’s peeled off her body. His mouth latches onto her nipple as soon as his eyes land on them, and Reilly can’t hold in the moan that erupts from her lips. Her hand shoots up to the back of his head, and her fingers embed themselves in his hair, pulling lightly at the roots. His mouth lets go with a pop, and his lips start to kiss up her chest, to her throat, chin, and finally end at her mouth.

He kisses her like he’s starving. A large hand grasps onto her face, desperately holding onto her. Reilly’s hands slowly trail down towards the waistband of his sweatpants. Her fingers hook under the fabric, and she begins to slide them down. Rafe seems to think she’s going too slow, judging by the way he begins to shuffle them off and kicks them away once they’re to his ankles.

He mimics her actions next, pulling down her panties and throwing them with his sweats, leaving them both naked. Before she can even think about feeling flustered, Rafe’s mouth is on her clit, tongue moving over it with expertise.

Reilly’s hand shoots to her mouth, muffling her moan as best as she can. Her friends were spread across the house pretty well, but the fear still lingered in her mind that they’d all hear everything.

Rafe chuckles into her, the vibration against her doing nothing to help her keep quiet. He pulls away, using one hand to spread her thighs apart a little more. She feels the pad of his finger circle over her opening a few times before entering slowly.

The stretch is slow and minimal, but it still feels so good. Rafe’s fingers are bigger than hers, so while it felt similar, it was so fucking different. Reilly’s eyes slowly close shut, and her head hits the pillow at the feeling.

“So fucking wet,” He whispers to her only. He kisses her thigh as he begins to work his fingers into her.

Reilly can’t answer. Her thoughts are already split into two: One, his fingers, and two: Trying to keep quiet.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he keeps fingering her. As Reilly’s breath begins to speed up, he follows, moving quicker. A thumb moves to her clit, once again rubbing the small bud to work her up more.

Reilly’s eyes snap open at the new sensation. Her head lifts, and she looks down at him. “Rafe —”

“Yeah?” Rafe picks up his speed even more. He presses another kiss to her thigh and says, “You gonna come, baby?”

Reilly nods, still not fully trusting her voice yet. She can feel her legs beginning to tremble involuntarily as she writhes in pleasure. Rafe doesn’t stop; he doesn’t slow down or speed up. He keeps the same pace, gently coaxing her to her climax.

“C’mon, baby. Come for me,” Rafe whispers with a smile, nodding at Reilly. He watches as she breathes, her breasts rising and falling as she tries to hold herself together. “Come for me, baby.”

The crash washes over Reilly, consuming her fully. She feels Rafe’s fingers leave her, replacing them with his mouth. He moans into her as she comes, giving him all of her.

When her breathing slows, Rafe moves back up. His hands grasp onto her face again, moving a few wild pieces of hair away. When their mouths meet, Reilly’s legs wrap around his torso, holding him even closer.

His hands move to her hips, and he adjusts her, laying her flat on her back. He grips his cock in his hand and strokes it a few times, then nestles it at her entrance. He rubs the opening there a few times, coaxing whines of protest at his teasing.

Rafe chuckles, “I know, I know. Be patient, yeah?” The sound of crinkling interrupts him as Rafe tears open the foil package and slips the condom on.

“Please,” Reilly begs, her hands gripping onto the hair that sits at the back of his neck. Her eyes are wide, pleading as she tries her best to be patient.

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He nods down at her, knowing he wouldn’t move until he gets a response. When she nods back, muttering a soft, okay, he presses his mouth onto hers, swallowing her moans as he starts to push into her as slowly as he can.

Reilly’s hands move to Rafe’s arms, and she holds tight as Rafe begins to move into her. She pulls away from the kiss and bites her bottom lip, her eyes squeezing shut from the stretch.

“You okay?” Rafe pauses, looking down as Reilly starts to adjust to his size. When she nods, ushering him to keep going, Rafe obeys and slowly continues. “So tight, baby. M’Almost there.”

“Don’t stop,” Reilly pleads, shaking her head with wide eyes. “Please don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping,” Rafe shakes his head back. He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Just don’t wanna hurt you.”

When Reilly nods, he smiles. “You’re so good at taking me, baby. Look at you. You’re so pretty.” Reilly can feel the heat move to her cheeks as she smiles shyly. He was literally inside of her, and calling her pretty made her blush.

Rafe seems to notice the same thing. He smirks. “Oh, you like that? Like it when I call you a good girl?” He pushes in more, knowing Reilly didn’t have to answer. He knew the answer.

Reilly doesn’t have time to muffle her moan. Once Rafe bottoms out, it’s let free, though possibly drowned out by Rafe’s. He looks completely blissful. His hair is everywhere, and his eyes are half-lidded. But he doesn’t move. He keeps his eyes on her, waiting for her to tell him to move. Until then, he won’t move an inch, no matter how fucking amazing it felt.

Reilly’s eyes move to his, and their gazes lock into one another. Brown and blue stare deep into each other. Blue wordlessly asks, and brown wordlessly answers. Rafe moves, slowly grinding his hips in and out.

The night was filled with sweet nothings whispered between them, mixed with heavy breaths and passionate hands. Rafe’s touches were soft, patterned, aware, like everyone was for a reason. Nothing was out of place with him, and everything was purposeful. Reily had never been on fire before, but she imagined this was what it felt like. Even after they were done, with sighs and butterfly-like caresses, Reilly still felt as if her body was aflame.

Still, she felt oddly calm. She was used to Houston ushering her out of his room immediately after. Or quickly throwing on his clothes and leaving by himself without another word.

But Rafe didn’t move. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. He kissed her head and rubbed her shoulder with his thumb. His breathing had evened out, and his eyes slowly started to blink closed, and Reilly had never felt so at peace before. It was euphoric.

Those same thoughts kept playing over and over in her head as her eyes shut. She nestles deeper into Rafe’s chest, and she’s so calm. The rain and thunder had stopped at some point, now replaced once again by the chirps of crickets and frogs through the open window. The lamp was off, sending them into a pit of darkness. There was nobody else around. To Reilly, this was peace personified.

It was perfect.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

               THE PARTY

NOW PLAYING…

DARK RED STEVE LACY

Something bad is ‘bout to happen to me
I don’t know what but I feel it comin’.
Might be so sad, might leave my nose runnin’
I just hope she don’t wanna leave me

1.1k Words

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“IT’S PARTY TIME, BITCHES!” A loud cheer echoes from outside the lake house, the sound carrying through the trees. Delilah opens the door all the way with a smile, letting the large crowd shuffle into the house. Kelce stands beside her with an arm around her shoulders, greeting the people he knows as they walk in.

In the middle of the crowd, Delilah spots a familiar face. He shoots a dazzling smile her way, and Delilah rolls her eyes in reply, glancing at Kelce. “Great, Houston showed.”

Houston steps through, nodding politely to the couple, who half-heartedly acknowledge him.

Behind him is Victoria, whom Delilah sends a very obviously fake smile to. Victoria sends an equally phony smile back, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and stepping past her. She approaches Houston and wraps her arms around his middle as he talks to a few friends.

“Fucking bitch,” Delilah mutters, closing the door after the stragglers who were left made it inside.

Upstairs, Reilly sits at the end of Rafe’s bed. She watches Rafe as he stands at his bedroom door, willing himself to open it.

It’s clear that his words from last night were true: He did not want to go down there. When they had woken up, still wrapped around each other, Rafe had whispered that if he could just stay in his room all night with her, he would.

Reilly smiled sadly when he said that. She wished he’d forget it all, and do it — Forget about expectations for once, and do what he wanted. But she knew he couldn’t; Or at least, he believed he couldn’t.

Finally, Rafe takes a final deep breath and turns his head to Reilly. “You ready?”

Reilly stands to her feet and steps to him. Her hand slots into his like a perfect puzzle piece. Her mouth opens, deciding to give Rafe one more out: “You know, we could always just sneak off somewhere? Take the boat out again or something?”

Despite the last chance she gives him, Rafe shakes his head, eyes sad. His free hand rests on the doorknob, and for only a moment longer, it’s just them. Just Reilly and Rafe.

Then, Rafe opens the door. The once muffled music becomes clear. The LED lights flash from downstairs. Rafe’s hand tightens in Reilly’s grasp, and they walk out together.

SO FAR, SO GOOD. That’s what Reilly says to herself as she and Rafe make their way through the house. Rafe, with one arm around Reilly, greets the guests as they walk through. She offers every one of them smiles, ignoring the confused look on their faces. It wasn’t a secret, their relationship, but it was new. And it definitely was unexpected. Nobody saw Rafe Cameron dating a pogue girl, so being with one so publicly… A likely cause for confusion.

They stopped at a certain group, Rafe talking with them for a little while. Reilly recognized some of them as his frat brothers, and a few as his teammates.

Out of nowhere, she feels Rafe’s arm drop from her shoulders. His hand moves to her hand, and he grips it tightly. When Reilly looks at him, his eyes are locked on something else across the room. She tries to find it, find whatever it is that’s stopped him in his tracks. But as she looks around, she finds that there are too many people around them. Rafe was taller than a lot of the people here, making it much easier for him to see. Reilly didn’t mind it most of the time; she liked that she had someone to help guide her through the densely packed crowd. Now, it was a little annoying.

Rafe steps forward, excusing himself from the group and leading Reilly away. He stops in front of Topper and Ophelia, who stand off to the side with a different group. Rafe grabs Topper’s arm roughly and pulls him away.

“Topper…” Rafe’s voice is low — he’s pissed. “Why the fuck is Justin here? Didn’t I tell you not to invite him?”

“I-I didn’t!” Topper protested, his head shaking furiously at the accusation.

“Hey, Topper!” A girl with curly blonde hair cheers from a few feet away. She waves and sticks out a thumbs up. “Thanks for the invite! This party is sick!”

“Well, if you didn’t want Justin here, you messed up by telling Bailey,” Ophelia states with a shake of her head.

“What do you mean?” Rafe’s eyes snap down to Ophie.

“If I had to guess,” Ophelia crosses her arms. Her eyes trail away as she thinks. “Bailey probably told Anna, who told Gracie, who told Victoria, who told Houston, who told Justin.”

“Fuck,” Rafe’s hand moves to his head, anxiously gripping his hair.

Reilly felt her heart drop. Are Victoria and Houston here too? The weekend had gone off without a hitch, and those two were huge hitches.

Topper is apologizing profusely, telling Rafe that he didn’t mean for Justin to show. That he wasn’t thinking when he invited Bailey. Rafe shakes his head, his own way of telling Topper that it’s okay.

Rafe turns to Reilly, leaning lower to make sure she hears him. “I don’t want you anywhere near him, okay? Just stay with me the whole night.”

“I was already going to do that,” Reilly answers, a small smirk playing on her face, showing she was only half-joking. She can tell Rafe is serious. While she doesn’t want to push that, she has to ask: “What’s going on? I thought you two were cool.”

Rafe stands back to his full height. “We had a falling out. Just… Don’t talk to him, okay?”

“LET’S GO get some air?” Delilah speaks loudly into Reilly’s ear to combat the blaring music that plays over their heads. As soon as Delilah mentions it, Reilly suddenly feels the beads of sweat forming on her lower back. She takes a breath, but it’s hot, humid, stuffy. So, Reilly nods, following Delilah and Ophelia to the backyard.

The girls had been dancing in the center of the crowd for a while now. Justin hadn’t approached Reilly once — she’d forgotten he was even there.

Rafe had let his shackles down, too. Reilly noticed his overly aware eyes scanning around the room for even a sign of Justin. But Justin had kept his distance, keeping to his main circle of friends, and Rafe started to calm down shortly after that. His shoulders dropped, and his head stopped swiveling around every minute.

Stepping through the door and into the cool night was exactly what Reilly needed. The breeze was ideal at a time like this. She breathes out a relieved sigh, leaning forward on the banister that overlooked the backyard. The twinkle of fireflies catches her eye, one landing beside her hand. It felt oddly familiar sitting there.

“Hey, Reilly.”

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

               FOR THE SAKE OF THE CHALLENGE

NOW PLAYING…

PLACEBO EFFECT  D4VD

I know what we had
It was make believe, oh
A placebo

2.7k words

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“IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN,” The smile on Justin’s face is mischievous, sly, bordering on malicious as he walks up to the group. He gives a small nod to both Delilah and Ophelia, but it isn’t long before his piercing eyes lock back onto Reilly.

He doesn’t look like the same Justin. The same Justin who talked Reilly’s ear off at the baseball games was not the one standing in front of her right now. Despite her inebriated state, Reilly still took note of the red flags that shot up in the back of her mind.

“Yeah,” Reilly answers, her voice trailing off. She manages to shoot a glance at Ophie and Delilah, who look just as put off as she is.

Reilly blinks. How did she get out here? Her memory was hazy, too hazy to remember agreeing to leave the house, let alone the walk outside. What happened only three minutes ago was now foggy, distant.

Rafe’s voice creeps into her mind. His exact words: Stay with him the whole night. Reilly knows Rafe doesn’t want her to talk to him. But what was she supposed to do? She had already messed up by leaving Rafe without saying anything. She put herself in this mess… Now she just has to bear down and get it over with.

As soon as she could find a way out, she’d take it.

Reilly nods with a small smile. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Yeah, we should hang out sometime,” Justin shrugs, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. He shifts his weight between his feet. “If you want.”

Reilly’s heart jumps in her chest, but not from excitement. Her eyebrows furrow, and she has to fight the nervous laugh that bubbles in her chest. “I’m not sure what Rafe would think about that.”

Justin snorts. “Why the fuck would Cameron care?”

He sounds different. The sudden switch in his voice from carefree and happy to defensive and angry was apparent as soon as he opened his mouth. Reilly takes half a step back from his tone alone.

Reilly’s eyes narrow. “Because we’re dating.”

Justin’s body stills; He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. His face has turned to stone, like a man who has had the misfortune of meeting Medusa. Seconds that feel like minutes pass, and his face morphs into a gleeful smile. Suddenly, a loud bark of a laugh escapes his mouth, causing Reilly to jump. Reilly can tell it’s all forced: The laugh, the smile.

But the expression he had before, the angry look on his face, was real.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Justin gasps between laughs. His head shakes as his laugh begins to die down, drowning them back into silence. The only sound to be heard is a few voices around them and muffled music from inside.

“What?” When Justin shakes his head, Reilly presses. Her chest feels like it could cave in at any second. Justin wasn’t saying this for no reason — even if he wasn’t trying to admit it, his careless words had a purpose. “What are you talking about? What does that mean?”

Delilah speaks up, moving to stand beside Reilly. “If this is more of your stupid bullshit, Justin, you can end it now. We’re trying to have a good time.”

“Yeah, and some of us have had more fun than others,” Justin rolls his eyes and looks away. His arms cross as he stares at the ground ahead of him.

“What does that mean?” Reilly asks again. She wondered how much she would have to pry to get it out of him. It seemed like he was talking in circles, trying to figure out if he should say what was on his mind or not.

Justin’s smirk drops, and he turns his head to face Reilly again. “Wait… He… He hasn’t told you?”

“Who hasn’t told me what?”

Justin sighs, eyes snapping shut. After a moment, he opens them again and nods. “Look, I’m only telling you because you don’t deserve this." Justin reaches a hand out, placing it firmly on Reilly’s shoulder. “You’re way too cool to be led on like this.”

“Justin.” Delilah demands. “Now.”

“Listen,” Justin takes a deep breath. He drops his hand from Reilly’s shoulder and stuffs it back into his pocket. “A few months ago… Victoria cheated on Rafe with Houston.”

Reilly nods, this she knew. A part of her wished that was it; Maybe Justin believed that to be some sort of secret? But Justin continues, and the slight relief she felt before vanishes.

“Rafe was in the dumps about it, for sure. So… He came up with an idea: See if he could get anyone to go out with him, and after Midsummers, he’d call it quits.”

“Why would he do that?” Ophie’s voice is skeptical. She had already stepped forward, too, standing on Reilly’s right.

“Why do guys do anything, Ophelia?” Justin shrugs with a small shake of his head. “He wanted to boost his ego again. Remind everyone who he is.”

The sinking feeling that had started to bloom deep in Reilly’s chest suddenly expanded. A black hole swallowed her body, drowning her in a sea of darkness. Everything around her faded into black. The sound of faint music that bumped from within the house turned into white noise. Any voices that spoke around her morphed into gibberish, a foreign language that she couldn’t understand. The periphery of her vision had shrunk, a giant black cloud blurry the edges of her sight.

All of it. Every part of it. When he asked her out more than once, it was because he didn’t want to lose. He’s persistent. Every time she rejected him… Every time, he came back again. Back then, Reilly wondered what it was about her that made him want to pursue her so badly. Now, she knew. It was a challenge to him. A bet to win.

All of it.

But Rafe, determined as always, found a way in: Her volunteering hours. He preyed on it, and it was a cake walk from there. He had her wrapped around his finger the moment she got into that car all those months ago, and she had no idea.

All of it was fake. It was all a show, a performance. For laughs. For an ego-boost.

Those words played in her head over and over. Everything else was gone from her mind. Just those same words.

None of it was real.

When he laid her down, when he took every part of her. When he kissed her gently, molding their bodies into one.

It wasn’t real.

“Wow,” Like nails on a chalkboard, another voice pokes through the white noise and snatches Reilly, yanking her out of her dissociative state. Victoria stands behind Justin, having heard everything. Her arms are crossed over her chest, a smirk playing on her face. “I had no idea. But I can’t say I’m surprised.” She chuckles and tosses her hair behind her shoulder, and her eyes land on Reilly. Victoria’s eyes flick up and down, and her lips curl into a (fake) pout. “You didn’t think the kook prince would really want a pogue, did you?”

Reilly’s eyes drop to the ground, locking on a stray cigarette that had been abandoned. Victoria giggles, “Oh… you did.”

A gentle nudge against her shoulder causes Reilly to take a step to the side. She looks up to see Delilah, holding Reilly’s arm, dark, brown eyes narrowed in Victoria’s direction. “We’re leaving.”

Shoving through the crowd was never Reilly’s strong suit — that much was obvious. But now, with tears clouding her vision and overstimulated by the people and music, Reilly didn’t care. She pushed her way through, Ophelia and Delilah keeping up easily.

She’s greeted again by the wall of cold air that outside brings, but this time, it isn’t as relieving. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of here, but Reilly knew she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t act like she didn’t hear what Justin had said, and no matter how much she wanted to believe that it wasn’t real… She knew it was. It made too much sense, and Justin had no reason to lie.

Rafe had never cared about Reilly a year ago. He never even looked her way twice. But she shoved her own gut aside. She convinced herself that it was real this time, and that it wasn’t anything like Houston.

She was wrong.

“I’ll drive us,” Delilah offers as the girls quickly walk through the packed driveway.

“I can get her things from the room,” Ophelia adds with a nod.

“Reilly!”

A cold shock runs through Reilly’s body. Her muscles turn stiff, and her heart feels like it's jump-started. Even though her body almost moves out of habit, she doesn’t turn around at the voice. She can’t. If Reilly sees him right now, she’s liable to break down.

“I’m leaving, Rafe,” Reilly replies, sniffling and wiping away the one stray tear that has escaped.

“What’s going on?” His voice is closer. Reilly can hear his footsteps getting louder as he paces forward, but she can’t move. She’s stuck waiting for him, waiting for something to snap her out of it. A hand gently grasps her arm, but Reilly jerks it away, finally turning to face him.

Rafe’s eyes are confused. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his head is tilted slightly, like a puppy. But he speaks again, and Reilly just wants to cry more. “What happened?”

Reilly’s head begins to shake back and forth, and she takes in a breath. “You really thought I wouldn’t find out?”

“Find out what, Ry?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know about your stupid fucking challenge, Rafe.” Reilly steps back, feeling the need to create more space between them. “It’s over. Sorry that I ruined it.”

“Who the fuck told you?” Rafe’s eyes darken, and if this were a different situation, Reilly would feel a little intimidated. But instead, she felt anger bubble inside of her. This was why he didn’t want me near Justin, she thinks to herself. Rafe knew if Justin were alone with Reilly, he would tell her the truth. He’d lose.

“Who told me?” Reilly asks. She can feel her body temperature rising. “You’re worried about who told me?!”

“Reilly, tell me who told you.”

“How long were you planning on keeping this up?” Reilly barked out, taking a quick step forward. No longer was she scared to cry — the tears had escaped minutes ago. Now, she wanted answers. She was sick of being in the dark, of thinking she had all the answers and having none. “After you showed our texts to your friends? After you told them we had sex and joked about how pathetic I am to believe you?"

Rafe’s eyes snap shut, and he shakes his head furiously. He’s reminiscent of a child being told something they don’t want to hear. “Stop, stop. Please. You — You don’t have the whole story, baby —”

“Really?” Reilly pushes. “I have the part where I was picked to be a part of your little game to go out with you, fall for you, then get dumped after Midsummers. What exactly am I missing?”

“I see how it looks. I promise, I do. But I didn’t know how to stop it once it started. I didn’t expect it to get this far, and I sure as hell didn’t expect to feel anything —”

Reilly can’t help the chuckle that escapes her mouth. “Oh, sorry I screwed up your plans.”

“You really think you’re just a game to me? Fuck, listen…” He takes a long breath. He reaches to scratch the back of his head. His eyes can't stay still, looking around him at everyone except her. Reilly’s been around Rafe long enough to know that he’s trying to find the words. She’s used to staying silent, giving him the time to think of everything before he says it.

"You can just say what you’re thinking. Even if it’s bad. Or you can think about it more, and you can tell me when we get home. That way, it’s just you and me, nobody else around. You can tell me whatever it is you wanna say."

She’s given him nothing but time, all the time in the world to tell her the truth. Now, standing in front of her with one chance to finally tell her everything… Rafe’s asking for more time.

But Reilly can’t find the patience anymore.

“Bye, Rafe,” She sighs when Rafe doesn’t speak. She turns back to Delilah and Ophelia, who are standing behind her, waiting for her unabatingly.

“I was a piece of shit, I know that!” Rafe calls behind her, stalking forward to stop her. Reilly turns once more to see a pleading, guilty face.

I’m a bad person, Reilly. I’ve done some really shitty things. So I guess I feel… guilty. Whenever I have a good time, I feel guilty.

“I won’t lie to you,” Rafe shakes his head. “I thought it was a good idea. But then… Then, you looked at me, and you saw me, Reilly. You actually fucking saw me. Not the ‘kook prince’, not the druggie that everyone talks about. Not the frat brother, the baseball player, not even Ward Cameron’s son. You saw me. And God, it… It fucked me up. I don’t even know when the challenge ended and you started, but it did. Way before we both probably think. I just… I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Tears streamed down Reilly’s face, leaving wet marks on her cheeks. She was sure she looked a mess, mascara running down her face. Hair wild from stressed hands gripping the roots. But she didn’t mind. It wasn’t like she’d ever see him again.

“I told you everything. I-I gave you everything, Rafe. You knew how hard it was for me to—” Her words catch in her throat, but she pushes through it. “After Houston, you knew… And you didn’t care. You did this to me, Rafe. Why?” A sob escapes her throat, bubbling up and exiting through her mouth. “What did I do to you?”

“You think I don’t hate myself for what I did to you? From keeping this from you? Because I do, okay? I fucking do. Every single day, I woke up sick to my stomach, and I wanted to say it — to just fucking say it, but I couldn’t. Because I’m a goddamn coward when it comes to you, Reilly Heyward.”

Another sob wracks through Reilly’s body at Rafe’s words. It was impossible to decipher what was real and what was fake. Justin had shifted her entire world on its axis, now Rafe was trying to shift it back, and Reilly felt like she was going to be sick from it all.

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But she couldn’t listen anymore. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and Reilly couldn’t keep up. It was too much.

“I can’t do this right now,” Reilly raises a hand, as if pleading for Rafe to stop. “Please, just… Leave me alone.”

“I can’t just let you go, please —”

“I should’ve known,” She starts, taking a step closer to Ophelia and Delilah, who are still standing awkwardly behind her. “The worst part is, you didn’t do this because you had to. You didn’t do it for money. Why would you? You just did it because you were bored. You needed to kill some time. You did it just to prove that you could. This was all pointless.

“So I hope you’re happy,” She nods, slowly making her way back, further away from Rafe with every second. “You get what you wanted: You can go back inside with your friends, with Victoria, whatever you want. You can leave me the fuck alone.”

“Can I at least make sure you get home safe?”

“No need,” Reilly calls behind her. “I’ll be okay. I always am, remember?”

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BAD RELIGION

NOW PLAYING…

BAD RELIGION FRANK OCEAN

It's a, it's a bad religion
To be in love with
Someone who could never love you.

3k words

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RAFE’S HANDS TWITCH as he watches her go. His chest lurches forward as he watches her climb into the back seat of Delilah’s car. A small voice tells him to move, to run after her and keep begging until his voice is gone. But, for some reason, his legs locked in place — turned to stone. Rafe was now nothing but a statue, a shell of a person as he stood in the massive driveway, alone. The aching guilt that sat deep in his stomach was the only reason Rafe knew he was still alive.

He didn't think he would ever move. The girls were long gone by now. His only source of light was from the moon that peeked through the branches of the surrounding trees. Chirps and croaks from crickets and frogs surround him. Their songs are in time with the thud of Rafe's heartbeat in his ears. He didn't know how long it had been. He didn't care. He stayed still, despite the harrowing pain that had settled deep within him.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to have one more night — he was supposed to give her one more night. But he turned away for half a second, he took his eyes off of her for one fucking second… And everything fell apart. Now, she was gone.

You got what you wanted, she hissed out, holding down the hiccups that fought to escape.

But he didn’t. He didn’t get what he wanted at all. He didn’t want Victoria back; he never did. Rafe gave up on that stupid challenge almost as soon as it started.

Reilly was right: It was all pointless. The challenge was over, and Rafe lost. Not only did he lose, he lost the only person that he wanted — the only person he needed — down with him.

Finally, Rafe's hands move from his sides to the top of his head. His fingers grip his hair, pulling at the roots. His breathing quickens. He can feel the soft tickle of a tear running down his cheek. His feet move next, finally kicking into gear. But Rafe has no direction — nowhere to go. His only source of comfort is gone, and deep down, he knew he'd never have her again. So Rafe only takes a few steps forward before stuttering to a stop again.

A cry breaks out from Rafe's mouth. His fists clench, and tears continue to fall. Mutterings of desperation fly from his lips, words of apologies and bargaining and pleading. I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, baby. I'll do anything — please, just don't leave me alone.

The only response he gets is from the frogs and crickets that croak and chirp around him.

THE RIDE HOME  was silent. Reilly hadn't said a word since she left Rafe alone in the driveway. She didn't dare turn around when Delilah peeled off. Her eyes stayed squeezed shut until her head began to hurt and she was sure he was out of sight.

What just happened?

Words jostled around in Reilly's mind, but she couldn't piece them together. So much had happened within the last ten minutes that she couldn't keep up. It felt like the time she'd fallen off the back of the HMS Pogue after JJ had gunned it a few years ago. Reilly still couldn't remember falling off. She only remembers blinking and being back on the boat, towel over her shoulders and surrounded by terrified teenage Pogues.

This felt almost exactly like that. Reilly didn’t remember getting home. But she blinked, and there she was: On the couch, Ophelia and Delilah shuffling behind her, bags in their hands. They plop the bags on the floor and shut the door behind them, swallowing them in darkness. A light flickers to life over her head, but Reilly doesn't bother looking to see who turned it on. Her eyes are too busy glued to a spot on the floor in front of her.

The open space beside Reilly dips down. Someone, either Delilah or Opelia, takes a seat beside her.

She doesn't have to look when Delilah's smooth voice speaks up. “Rafe kicked everyone out after he went back inside. The boys are still there with him.” That's all she says. Which is good, because that's all Reilly wanted to hear. Any more and she'd break down.

Reilly didn't want to care, but she did. She wanted to know if he was okay, even if she knew she shouldn't. Even if everything started as a lie on his part, it was all real to her. He hurt her, he took her heart, and trampled over it. Still… She was grateful for the small update. Rafe was inside, safe with his two best friends. That was good. She didn't have to worry about him running off and doing something stupid.

The next few minutes are apology-filled. Both girls gushed their hearts out to Reilly, begging her to know that they had no clue about the whole thing. If they did, they would have told her as soon as they found out. Reilly brushed them off as best as she could, already knowing this to be true. They found out at the same time Reilly did; it was clear by their reactions.

Her phone buzzed for the fortieth time since she left. She glanced down, seeing Rafe's name and face once again lighting up the screen. Reilly didn’t know how she kept her phone on for so long. Possibly, since she was almost comatose the entire ride home, she didn't even notice it buzzing. But now that she was home and had real distance from Rafe, it was the only thing she wanted to do. Reilly unlocks her phone and opens Rafe's contact to block the number.

Right as Reilly taps his contact, her phone begins to ring. Her vision floods with nothing but that picture.

The picture she'd loved so much, the one of them in the backyard of the lake house. Mid-laugh, Rafe's hand was sitting securely on her thigh. Reilly still couldn't remember what it was that made them laugh so hard, but now, she didn't want to remember. She wanted it all gone. The memories, the laughter, the feelings… She needed it gone.

A cold tear finally crawls down her cheek. Her hand begins to tremble, and her chin follows suit, wobbling involuntarily. Everything was rushing to the surface. All of it was coming to its peak, and Reilly wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it bottled in. If she could, she'd let it all out right there. She'd scream until her throat was raw, until no sound could come out anymore.

God, how she wished she could do that. Instead, her shoulders shake as she declines the call and blocks the caller.

A hand from the left falls on Reilly's opposite shoulder. Delilah's thumb rubs soft circles there. She kisses Reilly's cheek, whispering that it's going to be okay. Ophelia's hand wraps around Reilly's back as she drops her head to lie on Reilly's shoulder.

Nobody else speaks. They don't need to. Everything that needed to be said was said. Ophelia and Delilah were there, and they'd make sure Reilly would be okay. No matter what happened with Rafe, they weren't going anywhere.

Reilly can't fight back the sob that escapes this time.

FOURTEEN DAYS GO BY. At least once a day, Rafe finds himself pressing the ‘call’ symbol under Reilly's picture. He'll press the phone to his ear, waiting eagerly and praying that maybe he'll hear her voice again.

But every day for two weeks, as soon as he presses that button, the call drops.

The night she left, Rafe got the undeserved relief of hearing Reilly's voice. Even if it was through her voicemail, telling him that she'd call back as soon as she could. It was still her voice.

But three hours later, on the millionth call, all Rafe got was three beeps.

Rafe texts, but the bubble turns green and bounces back as soon as he presses send.

On day fifteen, Rafe tries one more time.

Beep beep beep. Silence.

Rafe’s breathing picks up. His heart begins to pound in his chest, drowning everything else out. His fists unclench, and he drops his phone on the ground, but they clench back right after. His hand shoots up to his hair, and he pulls hard.

He really had no contact with her. He had no clue where she was, who she was with, or if she was safe.

Rafe’s vision begins to blur, like the Earth just flipped over. He feels his body begin to lean, and he sticks a hand out to grab onto his dresser to steady himself before he falls.

What if she’s with Mark? Or Justin?

He knows it’s ridiculous; Reilly hates Mark, and she didn’t particularly love Justin. But the idea alone had sparked off, splintering Rafe's mind into different branches of thought. All different realities, while not likely, are still possible.

Rafe’s breathing doesn’t slow. Even after he reels his hand back and punches through the wall, drywall debris crumbling and dusting over his wrist, it doesn’t calm him down. Pain was usually the thing that snapped Rafe back into reality. Not this time.

He knows what could help — who could help. He thinks about calling again. He knows she won't answer; he always knew she wouldn't. The small sliver of hope that stayed alive in his chest pushed Rafe to pick up his phone and try one last time. Even if it was just her voicemail, he'd take that. He just needed to hear her voice.

Beep beep beep.

Rafe's hand shakes as he pulls the phone away from his ear again and opens his dialpad.

He doesn’t even need to scroll down to the contact. He knows the number.

A FIRM HAND CLAPS RAFE’S back, startling him out of his zoned-out state. Rafe blinks and turns his head to see Topper beside him. Topper's eyes are laced with sympathy as he squeezes Rafe’s shoulder before letting go. Rafe takes a sip of his drink and offers a nod to Topper.

“What’s up?” Topper asks, leaning against the bar.

Rafe shakes his head as he looks around the crowd. Midsummers was the same every year; The same people chatting with the same other people. The same fancy dresses and nice purses. Bright colors and fake laughs, and annoying music. The only thing that interested Rafe right now was the drink in his hand.

A part of him hopes he’ll spot Reilly somewhere in the crowd. He knows he won't.

A familiar ticklish sensation from his left nostril alerts Rafe. He sniffles twice and raises a thumb to his face as discreetly as he can, wiping just under his nose.

Of course, Topper notices — he's got his slow moments, but the guy was in law school. Topper's eyes widen slightly as he shifts his weight between his feet and looks around. "Dude… You didn't."

Rafe doesn’t reply.

“Rafe —”

“Now’s not the time, Top,” Rafe interrupts him, taking another drink. “I needed something to fix it, okay? Just a few days.”

“’Fix it’?”

“Fix the…” Rafe trails off. Something to fix the pain. To fix the emptiness. He doesn't say his thoughts out loud. He just clears his throat instead, muttering, “You know what.”

Topper sighs and shifts his weight between his feet. “Look, if you want to fix it, then it’s not by doing this again. How the fuck is that going to fix anything?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Topper throws his head back dramatically. His hand reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He barks out a laugh. “The moping is insane. Look, you’re my best friend, so I’m gonna say this: Either suck it up, or go get her.”

“Woah, somebody’s high." A sickly familiar voice bellows from behind the two.

Just what Rafe fucking needs. He didn't need to turn to see the face that matched the voice — he knew that voice anywhere. Rafe didn't even see Mark approaching; He must have been so out of it that he completely missed it.

Mark stops just in front of Rafe and Topper. His arms are crossed in leisure, a loose smirk on his face. He chuckles as he gets a good look at Rafe's eyes.

“What the fuck does it matter to you?” Rafe growled. The floating feeling began to vanish, leaving Rafe back on the ground.

Mark’s presence alone pissed Rafe off enough, but blowing his high?

“Just wondering what Reilly would think about that,” Mark chuckles. He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a sip. “You know… That you’re still very much addicted to coke. I’m guessing you’re still selling, too, right? Pretty dangerous gig you got there. Way too dangerous for her. God, if Pope and Bobby were to find out? She’d really have no choice but to call it quits.”

Every word spoken was like a spark. It did nothing but shorten Rafe’s fuse. By his last word, Rafe was ready to end this whole thing. His eyebrows knit together, and his jaw was so tight he thought it might break. His drink was left abandoned on the bar, and his fists were clenched by his sides. He was sure that if he spoke, his words would come out in chopped syllables from his body being wound so tight.

But before Rafe can even test it out, he feels a pair of hands grab his forearm tightly.

“Rafe,” Ophelia is out of breath. Her chest and shoulders rise and fall as she attempts to catch her breath. Her eyes land on Mark, and realizing he’s in earshot of her, she pulls Rafe away. Mark calls out after Rafe, spewing more threatening words, but they're in one ear and out of the other. Something was clearly wrong, and that was more important than anything Mark had to say.

Once finally out of earshot, in an empty corner of the huge tent, Ophelia takes in another breath before speaking.

“It’s — I heard — and Houston said — Justin —”

She's frantic, words stuck together and ripped apart as she explains whatever it was she saw. Rafe grabs hold of Ophie’s shoulders, gently holding her still, doing anything he can to calm her down. “Oph, take a breath. What’s going on? Slow.”

“I heard that Justin was talking to Houston about Reilly.”

Rafe's heart drops. “What about Reilly?”

“Justin, he said… He was upset that Reilly didn’t want to go to Midsummers with him. He — He said that she doesn't know what she wants, and that all she needs is a little pick-me-up to get her feeling in the mood."

Her eyes squint shut as she flinches at her own words, most likely disgusted with what she had to repeat. Topper pulls her closer to his body to comfort her.

Rafe looks around the crowd again. He hasn’t seen Justin once.

Before he can think, Rafe’s hand shoves into his pocket, digging out his keys. He looks to Ophelia, but his eyes are almost going through her as he barks out, "I'm leaving. Let the others know to keep their phones on in case I call."

Ophelia’s phone is already in her hands, Reilly’s location pulled up. She looks up at Rafe. “She’s at Alpha Sig."

Rafe felt like he was levitating from moving so fast out of the ginormous tent that most of the crowd was under. He slinks his way through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone too hard. If this were a regular frat party, Rafe wouldn’t mind knocking a few people down. But still, even in his frantic, high state, he knows he can’t do that here — not surrounded by so many people of high status.

“Rafe!” Ward Cameron's voice shouts from behind Rafe. It doesn't matter; Rafe doesn't miss a beat, not stopping once to look at his father. Rafe didn’t even see Ward, didn’t notice him in the rush to get to the car. But it didn’t matter now, none of it did — the only thing that mattered now was Reilly. He had to get to her. Ward could fuck right off for all Rafe cared.

Ward yells again, gathering the attention of some of the partygoers. “Rafferty Daniel! I swear to God, you better not be leaving —”

Rafe presses the unlock button of his key fob, the familiar beep beep of the truck answering. He flings his body into the car and slams the door shut behind him, cutting off Ward's shouts of protest. The truck roars to life, the rumble loud enough to be heard over the entire party.

He sped through every light, no matter what color it was. It was a fifteen-minute drive to Alpha Sig, but he could cut it down to half the time if he tried.

Rafe doesn’t believe in God. His mom used to. She used to dress him and Sarah up in their best clothes and fix their hair to perfection every Sunday morning. Rafe was always put in a perfectly ironed suit with matching dress pants and a bowtie. He always wore a pair of shiny black dress shoes. He could barely walk in them since they were so slippery. But his mom always praised him for how handsome he was, so Rafe sucked it up for her.

They'd go as a family. Rafe and Ward in their suits, Sarah and baby Wheezie in ruffles and matching patterns. Rafe believed going to church with her family was his mom's favorite thing. So naturally, it became his favorite thing, too. He'd get up extra early to pick out his suit before gently shaking his mom awake, telling her it was time to get ready for church.

Rafe used to believe in God. But when Julie died, everything around her died along with her.

But still, Rafe found himself praying as he drove. Praying to God that Reilly was okay. His eyes darted around for a sign, for any harbinger that his prayers were answered. His foot pressed harder on the gas when he was met with nothing, and Rafe kept praying. Praying that when he got there, he wouldn't find anything he didn't want to find.

Praying to God that he wasn’t too late again.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINETEEN

             ALPHA SIG

NOW PLAYING…

NEVER FELT SO ALONE LABRINTH, BILLIE EILISH

I thought you were my new best friend
Wish I knew better then
Who knew you were just out to get me?

3.5 k words
 

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TWO WEEKS didn’t seem like a long time when you take a step back—fourteen days out of three-hundred and sixty-five. But for Reilly, those two weeks were filled with nothing but continuous, never-ending thinking.

Week one was silent. She didn’t do much. She reluctantly dragged herself out of bed every morning, got dressed, went to work, and went home. She didn’t talk much. She noticed that she was less chatty with the golfers at the club, resulting in fewer tips. Reilly didn’t care. She just felt grateful that she didn’t run into Rafe on the green somewhere. She thought about it, though, late at night when she couldn’t sleep (which was every night). Reilly thought about how she’d react; What she would do, or say. Every result she came up with was followed by humiliation. Thank God he never came. Or, if he did, it was when she was off.

Sunday morning rolls around, starting the beginning of week two. Reilly found it ridiculous to keep track like this. She wondered how long she would do it. Knowing her, she wouldn’t lose track until after six months.

Reilly doesn’t roll out of bed on Sunday morning. Thankfully, softball season ended, and Reilly didn’t have work today. The thought of leaving the house for anything other than work was terrifying enough. So naturally, Reilly didn’t plan on leaving the house at all on Sunday. It was pathetic, but she felt as if she stepped out of the house, she’d be met with judgmental faces and snide remarks.

So, Reilly didn’t leave. Until the next day.

Monday, at exactly twelve, her phone rings. When Reilly glances down to see who it is, she’s surprised to see a picture of her brother on the screen. She answered immediately, pressing the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, what’re you up to right now?” Her brother’s voice cracks through the phone.

Reilly looks around her room. She sits alone, a pizza box sitting on the bed in front of her crossed legs. Her TV that was playing a black and white show from the 50s was paused, even though she’s seen the show a hundred times. “Uh… Not much. What’s up?”

“Wanna come hang? We’re at JB’s place.”

The rest of week two felt like all of last year. Reilly spent all her free time with the pogues again, her friends re-welcoming her with open arms. They didn’t ask any questions, though Reilly knew they wanted to; Especially JJ. She knew they would ask eventually — but for now, she'd revel in the odd, misplaced happiness that she felt.

Nights were late again. Instead of turning in for the night at nine o’clock, Reilly stayed out with the pogues. Early nights turned into night-surfing and smoking on the beach. Days didn’t feel as long anymore, now that she had something to look forward to again.

Justin had been texting Reilly every once in a while. Ever since the night that he told her the truth, Justin had been there, checking up and making sure Reilly was okay. Reilly had appreciated the concern, along with Delilah and Ophie, who also checked up.

Those two still apologized profusely every time they all met up. Reilly had to start telling them that if they apologized again, she’d have to resort to violence. Obviously, the threat was empty, but her point was still made.

They tried not to talk about him. Reilly knew how hard it must have been — they’ve known Rafe since they were teenagers. It was hard for Reilly, too. Holding herself back from asking about him, seeing if he was okay, proved to be more difficult than she thought.

Wednesday morning, Justin had shown up at Reilly’s front door with an offer.

“I can take you to Midsummers,” He insisted, a shy smile playing on his face.

Reilly found the proposal strange, but she whittled it down to just him trying to be nice. She rejected him as softly as she could, telling him that she didn’t really feel the need to go at all. She thanked him for the offer and left it at that.

Justin had taken the rejection well. He nodded, pondering for a moment before opening his mouth. “If you wanted… We could go somewhere else, instead?”

THE ALPHA SIG HOUSE wasn’t as big as the Kappa Phi house at all, but they sure were acting like it.

People were everywhere. Reilly didn’t know how Justin was able to drive through the crowds of people. But somehow, he parked without any casualties. She guessed this wasn't his first time doing this.

The entire front lawn was loaded with people standing around, drinking. Looking through the window, Reilly could see that the inside was worse. She didn’t know how anyone was able to move in there. They had to be at capacity — they had to be well past capacity. But once she and Justin made it to the front door, they were let in with no question.

“J-Rich!” A voice yells from within the house. A man strides up to them as soon as they set foot in the house. He was of average height, with black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a gray tank top and a gold chain around his neck. He daps up Justin with a bark of a laugh. “Been a minute, bruh, where you been?”

“You know,” Justin chuckles. “Around.”

Justin looks nervous around this guy. Like they’re on okay terms, but if Justin says one wrong thing, he could be in a lot of trouble. Looking at the guy, Reilly doesn’t see what’s so scary about him. He just looks like another wannabe hardass to her.

Justin waves a hand to Reilly, gesturing to her. “This is Reilly. Ry, this is Barry.”

Barry. Where had she heard that name before? It seemed so close, but every time she almost remembered, the music or stuffy air snatched it away. It was too overstimulating to think at all in there. Deciding that it must not be a big deal, Reilly offers a smile to Barry.

Barry’s smile widens. “Shoo-wee!” He yells, clapping his hands together twice. His eyes rake over Reilly before moving back to Justin. “I see you brought along a fine little side piece. I’m with it, J-Rich, I see you.” Barry takes a step closer and sticks his hand out for Reilly to take. She places her hand in his, and Barry kisses the top of it before letting go. “Name’s Barry, but you can call me papi.”

“I’ll pass.” Reilly takes a step back, ready to look for the drinks, but Barry steps in front of her, blocking her view.

“Woah, hold on a minute,” He puts his hands in front of him. “It’s alright. We’re all good here. Like I said, name’s Barry.” He grabs a solo cup from the stack and sticks it under the keg. He fills it to the top before handing it to Reilly. “I got some weed if you’re down to smoke with us later?”

“I’m good,” Reilly brings the cup to her lips and takes a sip. “Thanks, though.”

“Let’s go say what’s up to some friends, yeah?” Justin finally speaks up again, leading Reilly away from Barry. I don’t have any friends here, Reilly thinks to herself, but she keeps it in. She didn’t mind any excuse to get her away from Barry. Even though he wasn’t scary, he did give her a creepy vibe.

Justin guides Reilly deeper into the house. He stops at a door that looks like it’s built directly on the wall, but when he opens it, they’re met with a long set of stairs. Justin goes down first, allowing Reilly to choose if she’d follow or not. Where else was she gonna go?

They both walk down, revealing a large basement that was fully decked out. Two sofas sit opposite each other, with a few random chairs sprawled around the room. A ping pong table sits on the other side of the room, with two people playing a game. It looked like beer pong at first glance, but after looking closer, it seemed to be more like… Cocaine pong? One guy leans down and snorts the line he just made. After finishing, he snaps back up and cheers, the guy across the table cheering along.

“It’s a roulette game,” Justin explains as they reach the bottom of the steps. “Some of he cups have sugar or salt in them. Others have coke. You're supposed to keep a poker face, but eventually that part goes away."

“Seems pretty dumb,” Reilly mutters under her breath, quiet enough that nobody other than Justin can hear. The last thing she needed was more drama, especially at a place like this.

“That’s because it is,” Justin replies. He places a hand on Reilly’s shoulder and guides her towards the couches. The couch on the right is taken, so Justin and Reilly take the empty couch that sits across from them, to the left.

Reilly notices a group of girls in the corner, waving their arms and dancing — clearly fucked up. They’re wearing next to nothing, yet they’re still dripping sweat. Reilly wonders if it’s from the drugs, the dancing, or the fact that they’re in a stuffy basement. Probably all three.

Justin takes a seat on the leather sofa, with Reilly sitting beside him. As he chats with his friends about topics that Reilly has zero interest in, she drinks from her cup. It was beer, which Reilly hated, but she had to admit that it was doing the job. Her body felt looser as she drank the gross liquid. Before long, her thoughts were more like clouds, forming for a moment before drifting away in the wind.

Beside her, Justin flicks his lighter and sets the flame against a blunt that Reilly didn’t even know he had. He offers her the blunt, indifferent expression on his face. He didn’t seem to be pressuring her — just offering it in case she wanted a hit.

Reilly knew she should have thought about it harder than she did. Even as she places the blunt between her lips and takes a hit, she thinks to herself, I really didn’t think hard enough about that. But, again, like a cloud, the thought leaves as soon as she has it.

Besides, if anything, the weed may do her good. Calm down her nerves. She wasn’t used to being surrounded by so many people she didn’t know, but she wasn’t supposed to be so uptight. She needed to take a breath.

You’re not in trouble. Nobody is mad at you. Nobody wants to hurt you.

She played the words over in her head a few times and took a deep breath. She can faintly hear Justin next to her, saying, “There, you go. Just relax.”

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —

She doesn’t notice when Justin leaves. She didn’t even know she had closed her eyes. But when she opened them again, she was still in the basement.

Alone.

Reilly did her best to lift her head, but every time she mustered the strength, it fell right back against the couch. It was as if her head weighed a million pounds.

Her brain felt like mush. Every thought felt like silk, like every time she grabbed onto it, it fell right through her fingers. All she could think was that two hits should not have hit her this hard. Something else was going on.

Beads of sweat appear on her forehead. She felt like her skin was on fire. Reilly didn’t know if her legs could carry her, but she knew she needed to get out of the hot basement and out into the cold air. More than that, she needed to go home.

Reilly gathered all the strength she could and leaned forward on the couch that she had sunk into. She steadied her feet under her and pushed herself up. The basement twisted and turned as she stood, but somehow, Reilly managed not to fall over. Her feet drag behind her as she walks, but it’s better than nothing. Finally, her hand finds the railing of the steps, helping her keep balance as she pulls herself up the stairs.

Reilly’s hand weakly grabs at the knob. She has to readjust her grip three times before she can turn the knob and walk through the door. She begins to shove past the partygoers, using their bodies to keep herself upright. The loud rap music warps into muffled, distorted sounds. Her legs feel like jello. Her vision begins to blur as she stumbles through, causing her breathing to begin to pick up. She tried not to panic, but every step took more strength than the last. She didn’t know how much time she had before she lost consciousness. All she needed to do was make it outside.

A black blob begins to border her vision. It closes in fast, obstructing most of Reilly’s view. She keeps pushing forward, blinking (albeit slowly) to try and slow the sensation.

Reilly blinks the blob away and looks for the front door. It’s not far away, but the crowd of people blocking it would be her hardest obstacle.

She wasn’t going to make it. The border was closing fast, and Reilly couldn’t see anything in her periphery. Her breathing was slowing, her body now impossibly hot. The tunnel vision had zeroed in on the door, on the target that Reilly wasn’t going to reach.

She wants to cry. She wants to scream for everyone to move out of her way, to let her out. But her voice is trapped in her throat, like it always was.

“Woah, woah,” A voice says. Reilly's body halts to a stop when a pair of hands grasp her shoulders. The face is blurry and absolutely unrecognizable, but still, Reilly freezes. No matter how many times she blinks, she can’t make out any facial features. “Did you take something? Huh?” The voice asks, urgency dripping from every word.

Reilly can barely shake her head, but she manages to.

“Did you smoke? Drink?” The hands that were once on her shoulders move to her face. They hold tight, lightly shaking Reilly — an attempt to focus her. It doesn’t work. She’s so far gone, every word spoken was barely understandable to her. “Hey — look at me. Gotta tell me, baby. Did you smoke or drink?”

Reilly nods.

“Both?”

She nods again, her eyes slowly drifting to a close. But the voice is demanding, sharp enough for them to open again. “Fuck. Who was it?”

“Barry called me ‘the side piece, ’” Reilly blurts out, her head beginning to loll to the side, all of a sudden weighing a ton again. She would have fallen over if the strong hands hadn’t held her in place. “Is that true?”

— — — – – – - - - – – – — — —  

Rafe clenches his jaw. His hands would’ve clenched too, if they weren’t currently the only thing holding Reilly up. His gaze is laser-focused on Reilly, who, despite being high out of her mind, looks terrified. She probably doesn’t even realize how scared she looks. Her eyes are wide, like she’s trying to keep her eyes open. Beads of sweat dot her forehead, causing the baby hairs that sit there to curl and frizz from the humidity.

Rafe’s heart breaks at her state. “Hey,” He taps her cheek as light as he can. Her eyes open only slightly before closing again. “You’re okay now, okay? I’m right here. C’mon.”

She’s barely conscious. He wraps his arm around her and lifts her, helping her walk to the front door. Rafe’s hand reaches out, shoving away anyone who stands in their way.

Upon making it outside, Rafe unlocks his truck the second his eyes land on it. He lifts Reilly and places her in the passenger seat with ease. He pulls the seatbelt across her body and clicks it into place, eyes never leaving her.

Her eyes are open. Her breath is quick, chest rising and falling like she just finished running a marathon. Her body still radiates heat — Rafe can feel it steaming off of her.

Rafe peels his eyes away from her and presses the button on his key fob. The engine rumbles as it turns on, the AC already blasting — hopefully it’s enough to keep Reilly cool for now. He’ll run a cold bath when he gets her home if he needs to. He just needs to get her home, away from this.

Rafe shuts the door and starts walking around the car. But as he’s moving, his eyes catch two figures standing outside of the Alpha Sig house, by a nearby tree. They stand together, passing either a cigarette or a blunt back and forth, talking. Rafe almost ignored them, but the sight of a tied-back bun caused him to stall.

Rafe’s eyes squint at the people. A familiar laugh erupts from the shorter figure, and that’s all Rafe needs to hear.

Rafe’s moving before he can rationalize it. He’s never walked so quickly in his life, almost sprinting towards the pair.

“Shit, what’s up, Country Club?” Barry smirks once his eyes notice Rafe.

Justin stands off to the side, eyes wide and terrified. Rafe sees Justin take a half-step back.

“What’s up, Cameron?” Justin laughs nervously. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Why aren’t you at Mid —”

Rafe didn’t stop moving, even when he was uncomfortably close. His hands raised, and before he knows it, Rafe shoves Justin hard. Justin’s back slams against the brick wall with an agonizing groan.

“Which one of you am I killing?” Rafe fumed. He looks between Justin and Barry, waiting for either of them to say something — anything that could help him help Reilly.

And so he knew which one to kill.

He waits a decent amount of time. But neither spoke a word. Justin’s body shook as he kept his gaze set on Rafe. Barry just looked entertained. A smile donned his face the moment Rafe walked up, and it never dropped. Not even when Rafe shoved Justin against the wall.

“Somebody better say something now,” Rafe’s threats are clipped, his tone low. “Was it in the weed? Or the drink?”

Barry barks out his signature laugh. “You know I don’t do that shit, Country Club. If it was the weed, shit wasn’t mine.”

Rafe knows he’s telling the truth. Barry was the most well-known dealer around (besides Rafe). If someone smoked his stuff and it was laced, Barry’s entire business is down the drain. Rafe wished the reason was a bit more moral, but he knew it wasn’t. That was the reality: If Barry could successfully lace his weed to make the high a little better, he’d do it. The only reason he hasn’t is because an overdose or a paranoid rampage would fall back on him.

Rafe pushes Justin back again, his back thudding against the wall for a second time. Justin lets out another whine, eyes screwing shut in pain.

“You'd better make sure the next words out of your mouth are the truth, Richards.”

Justin’s lips tremble as he attempts to speak, but all that comes are pathetic stumbling of words, gibberish that has no meaning. Rafe’s fist connects to Justin’s jaw with a sickening crunch. Blood splatters as Justin’s head whips to the side, body crumbling under his legs. Justin lands on the ground with a thud, his hands raised over in front of his face.

Rafe doesn’t even have to hit him again. As soon as he leans over, Justin yelps.

“The weed! It was the weed, okay? Fuck! It’s laced!”

Rafe knew the likelihood of Justin lacing a blunt and giving it to Reilly was high. But hearing him confess, taking in every syllable and consonant that left his lips... Rafe’s hands shook. He wanted to press his thumbs into Justin’s eyes as hard as he could. He wanted to take every finger and break them one by one.

“You gave my girlfriend laced weed?” Rafe can’t hold down the rage that bubbled in his belly and flowed out of his mouth. He forces out his next question with conflict, his words clipped. “What was in it?”

“K,” Justin stuttered out. “I-I didn’t know you two were back together, she never said —”

Justin’s words are cut off by Rafe’s fist, this time cracking his nose. Justin falls back again, his body landing on the ground, and this time, lying still. Rafe stands back to his full height, his eyes landing on Barry, who stands in the same spot. Barry’s smile isn’t as wide, but it’s still stuck in a smirk, one eyebrow raised. Barry nods in satisfaction with crossed arms. He doesn’t say a word.

Rafe turns back to the car. Enough time was wasted on Justin.

He needed to get Reilly home.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY

            WORST NIGHTMARE

NOW PLAYING…

IF ONLY THE MARIAS

I can’t say goodbye
Even when I try
Why’d I even leave?
You tell me

2.6k words

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BIG, BROWN EYES stare forward. They blink slowly. Dazed. Scared. They’re confused and unable to focus on anything. They drift around, searching for something stable to stick onto. Reilly didn’t say a word on the way back home. Rafe could barely keep his eyes on the road — his neck would be sore from looking back and forth so many times. He kept his lights on bright and his foot on the gas, barely letting up. His only thought was getting her home as quickly as possible. He needed to be able to keep his eyes on her without any distractions.

She’d only gotten worse since Rafe got back into the car and sped off to the cut. She couldn’t keep her head up. Any time she lifted it, it fell back against the window like a one-hundred-pound bobble-head. The second Rafe pulled out of the parking lot, she groaned, sick from the motion. After Rafe pulled into the driveway of her house, he tried his best to help her walk to the door, but it was obvious she wouldn’t make it. After making it halfway, Rafe finally decided to carry her in. He could hear Beau on the other side of the door, growling and snarling at what seemed like a home invasion. But the moment Rafe opened the door, the barking turned into silence.

Six minutes and thirty-nine seconds. That’s how long Reilly’s been on the couch, head propped up on a pillow. Rafe only knows because he keeps glancing at the clock that hangs from the wall above the living room TV. It ticks and tocks, ticks and tocks — like it’s mocking Rafe. Tick-tock, you did this, tick-tock. Tick-tock, you can’t help her. Tick-tock, this is your fault.

Rafe shoots up and stalks to the kitchen. His eyes land on a dishrag that hangs over the stove handle. Rafe snatches it and flicks on the water, making sure it’s as cold as possible before running the rag under. When the rag is adequately damp and as cold as possible, Rafe moves back to Reilly. He places the cloth on Reilly’s forehead, eyes staying on hers to watch her reaction. Her breaths, which were already quick, escalate more from the shock of the sudden chill. Her eyes, which stayed fixed on the ceiling above her, seemed to brighten with reality, as if the cold shock had snapped her back.

Rafe places a hand on her cheek, moving her head so he’s in her line of sight, instead of the ceiling. Her eyes land on his, and thankfully, her body stills. Her breathing slows — it’s only slight, but it’s enough for Rafe to breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Hey, hey,” Rafe smiles and brushes a lock of hair away from her face. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, alright? I’m right here.”

Reilly doesn’t answer. He figured she wouldn’t. The rag did seem to help her, but she wasn’t at the end of this yet.

Rafe’s seen it all before: the sweating, cotton-mouth, the confusion.

The first time he saw it, it was at Kappa Phi. A brother, a freshman like Rafe at the time. The kid was fucked out of his mind, crying, hyperventilating, and definitely hallucinating. At the time, Rafe didn’t know what to do. He’d seen people in the same state at Barry’s trailer, sprawled across rotting, old couches and dirty floors. But they didn’t have people poring over them, making sure they were okay.

So, Rafe watched. With careful eyes, he kept every note tucked away in the back of his head for next time. After two years, he definitely had experience.

Still, Rafe never thought he’d have to use it for her. Never for her.

Most of the time, a person who’s laced is going to overheat. Sweating up a storm was normal. Rafe had already shucked Reilly’s shoes and socks off, along with her jacket, leaving her in a tank top and jeans. He decided he wouldn’t take her jeans off until absolutely necessary. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

Rafe knew the confusion would come next. When her mind is finally back in reality, when the glaze over her eyes has washed away. She’d be awake, but not fully oriented. Rafe would have a lot of explaining and re-explaining to do. But he didn’t mind. The delirium usually happened right before the come-down. So, Rafe would clarify over and over again, as much as she needed him to. As long as she was okay in the end.

A snort sounds from beside Rafe. He looks to the floor, and there’s Beau. Beau’s eyes flick back and forth between Reilly and Rafe, seemingly analyzing the situation in front of him. It’s insane, Rafe knows it is, but he swears he can see worry in Beau’s eyes as he carefully watches them.

“She’s okay, buddy,” Rafe affirmed in a gentle tone, hand coming to pat Beau on the head. Beau leans into Rafe’s hand, a long, floppy tongue licking his lips. “We just gotta get her through it, that’s all.”

Beau maneuvers around Rafe and leaps onto the couch, in between Reilly’s feet. He turns a few times, finding the perfect spot, before landing between her legs, chin resting on her shin. Reilly doesn’t react, but Rafe knows that Beau being there would give her a bit more ease, even if it is subconscious.

She can probably drink now, Rafe thinks to himself. He once again shoots to his feet as soon as the thought enters his mind.

But as soon as he stands, he hears the softest, tiniest voice behind him. The voice is hoarse, yet to Rafe, it’s laced in silk. It’s only one word, but it’s the one sound he’s been dying to hear for the past two weeks.

“Rafe.”

For fourteen days, Rafe’s been waiting to hear her say his name. Fourteen days of calling and getting nothing but three beeps. Now, she’s here. She’s asking for him. She’s calling his name.

But he can’t stay to listen.

Rafe keeps his voice gentle. “I just need to get you something cold to drink, baby, you’re burning up.” His lips snap shut after the pet-name slips from his tongue.

“Don’t leave.”

Rafe glances from her to the kitchen, then back to her. “I’ll be thirty seconds, sweet girl, I promise. Can you count to thirty for me?”

Reilly stays still as she thinks. She blinks once, twice — slow, languid blinks, mulling over Rafe’s ask. Rafe was impressed by her ability to focus on his question. He half expected her mind to wander off, giving him time to run to the kitchen.

The moment Reilly faintly nods, Rafe is gone. He moves around the couch, towards the kitchen, and straight to the refrigerator.

It’s childish, making Reilly do something so elementary like count to thirty. He sounds like he’s calming down a two-year-old who’s mid-tantrum. But the task should keep her awake and focused. Enough to keep her mind off the high while he’s gone.

When he returns, she’s still counting under her breath. He can hear a faint, “Twenty,” as he kneels back down, twisting off the cap to the red Gatorade that he found in the fridge.

“See? Only twenty seconds. Told you,” He jokes, tilting the drink to her lips. When she’s had enough, pulling away from the drink, he pulls it away and sets it on the coffee table by him. “How do you feel?”

It looks as if Reilly is looking through Rafe, not at him. She blinks again and swallows. Her mouth opens. “Like… I don’t know if I’m dreaming or not,” She replies. Her words are soft and quivering, and even though Rafe knows she isn’t cold, his instinct still tells him to wrap her up in a blanket. Take her in his arms, tell her everything he's been dying to say for two weeks.

Rafe nods, wringing his hands together. “Does it help if I tell you whether or not you are?”

“No.”

Rafe nods. Reilly doesn’t know what she’s saying, but he does. He knows exactly what she means.

She can’t trust him anymore.

He tries to push the thought away, to store it somewhere so he can think about it later. Now isn’t the time to feel sorry for himself. Besides, she’s right. Why should she trust him? He lost that privilege a while ago. He never deserved it to begin with. Everything she gave him, every piece of her that Rafe puzzled together, was because of a game. Even in her delirious element, Reilly wouldn’t forget that. Rafe shouldn’t be allowed to, either.

Still, his hand rests on her thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth, back and forth, to the point that it might have been comforting him more than Reilly.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, knees situated on the hardwood floor, watching Reilly start to come down. Back and forth, back and forth. He can’t feel his legs, but Rafe would be damned before he moved an inch. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

RAFE’S HEAD SITS in his hand, elbow digging into the couch beside Reilly’s arm. His opposite hand was still on Reilly’s thigh, keeping her tethered to him. Her breathing had finally slowed down, now back to normal. The washcloth on her forehead was ditched a while ago, and thankfully, she had stopped sweating.

They stayed there for another hour, in the dimly lit, dead-silent living room.

“Can I go to my room?”

Rafe’s head snaps up, head straight from its relaxed position. He mumbles a small, “Yeah, of course,” as he sits up. His knees and legs ache from staying still on the hardwood floor for so long, but Rafe ignores the throbbing as he stands to his feet.

Beau leaps down from the couch and is already making his way up the stairs. Smart ass dog.

Rafe maneuvers his arms under Reilly, and he lifts her. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, her head resting on his chest. She breathes out a sigh of relief and Rafe feels his heart both flutter and break simultaneously. He moves up the stairs, trailing after Beau, who stands at her door with a wagging tail, waiting for Rafe to let him in.

As Rafe sets Reilly on the soft bed, his mind begins to run a million miles per hour — even though he only has two options now. He can either stay or leave. Rafe knows what he wants to do if it were up to him. But it wasn’t up to him. It didn’t matter what he wanted.

Reilly reads his mind, deciding for him as she softly mutters, “Can you stay?”

“Yeah,” Rafe’s fingers are already clasping onto the buttons on his shirt, undoing them with ease and peeling the shirt off his back. He crawls into the bed next to Reilly and pats the bed for Beau to jump up by her feet.

His arm moves around her head before he can stop himself. Even though he’d gone so long without seeing her — no golfing or eating at the Island Club, no impromptu visits to the shop — his body still moved on autopilot when it came to her.

He can’t help but think that it’s the same way with her, too. Her head finds his chest again, her warm cheek pressing against him with ease.

They stay silent, the only sound being Beau, who snores by Reilly’s feet. Rafe can feel Reilly’s fingers tapping against his chest. He’s not sure what she’s doing, but he can only assume it’s her way of keeping herself grounded as she slowly comes down.

“You doing okay?”

“Still high,” Reilly mumbles into his bare chest. “But better.”

Rafe’s eyes shut in relief. His biggest fear, besides everything that had happened that night, was Reilly overdosing. He knew two hits wouldn’t be enough for that to happen, but the far-off fears terrified him the same as any rational one. Especially if it came to Reilly. It was obvious that Rafe didn’t want anything to happen to her ever, and tonight… Tonight, everything happened to her. Rafe had to fight to push the guilt out of his head. He had plenty of time to mope; now was not that time.

Rafe nods, squeezing Reilly’s arm — just to make sure she was there, in his arms.

“Dunno what kinda weed that was, but it knocked me on my ass,” Reilly mutters. Somehow, she manages to speak in a light, joking tone. The tone Rafe loved hearing. Her words were still garbled, strung together, but they were much clearer than before.

“I’ve seen you smoke weed before,” Rafe shakes his head, speaking partly to her and partly to himself. But when he looks down at her, her head is turned up, eyes set on him. Her eyebrows are furrowed, confusion clear on her face.

“What does that mean?”

Rafe shakes his head at her this time. This was nothing that she needed to worry about now. Rafe was already worried he’d said too much — Reilly was too smart for her own good, surely she’d figure out what he meant. For now, he’d rather keep her here, in his arms, shielded from the outside world. “Just close your eyes. We’re good.”

Reilly listens, shutting her eyes and letting out a soft huff. The ocean waves outside crash against the bank. It’s peaceful being here. Rafe wished it were under better pretenses. That way, it wouldn’t feel as bittersweet.

Justin fucking Richards. Rafe swore to himself that he’d never let Reilly get anywhere close to this part of his life — the part that was filled with drugs and bad, hostile people. But here she was. Dragged into the middle of Rafe’s biggest nightmare. God, if only it were just a nightmare. Rafe could wake up from a nightmare. He had been for a while now; Eyes snapping open, drenched in a cold sweat, breathing like he ran a marathon. He couldn't wake up to this.

He knows he can’t stay here. It’ll hurt, fuck, it was going to hurt so badly. Peeling himself away from her, tucking her into the bed, giving Beau one more pat on the head... All of it was going to result in a hole that Rafe couldn’t patch up. Not without help.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Reilly mutters so quietly that Rafe thinks she’s sleep-talking. When he peeks down at her, he sees that her eyes are still open, though half-lidded.

He doesn’t reply.

“You broke my heart, Rafe,” Her voice cracks as she speaks, and Rafe wishes he could piece all of her together again. Tears form in his eyes. Rafe blinks a few times to clear them away, but they instead fall down his cheeks. He doesn’t move to wipe them away — he wouldn’t dare. Not with the only person he’s wanted to hold in his arms again. He keeps them there, souvenirs of a mistake he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fix.

Reilly sighs. “I really liked you. And you broke my heart. But I… I can’t be alone right now. Is that okay?”

“That’s okay.”

If it wasn’t decided before, that was the final gavel. He’d stay until Reilly’s eyes lulled to a close, until her breaths were steady and even. Then, he’d leave for good.

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