GOOD GRACES  ☕️  ───  II.
SOMETHIN' STUPID

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The days passed, and each morning, Rafe Cameron returned to the café.

Rebeca noticed the changes immediately. Slowly, the shadows beneath his eyes began to fade, the tremor in his hands stilled, and the weight that had seemed to pull at his shoulders lightened. He still wore his usual cocky smirk when he walked in, but now there was something softer underneath it, something almost... human.

He wasn't healed—not by a long shot. She could still see the battle scars, the tension that flared in his jaw when he thought no one was looking. But he was trying, and every day he walked through that door was a reminder of that.

Their interactions shifted, too. There was still the banter, the sarcastic back-and-forth that she'd come to expect from him, but now there were layers beneath it—small moments where their gazes lingered a second too long, where her heart would skip a beat when his fingers brushed hers as she handed him his drink.

It was maddening, really. Rebeca didn't want to admit that he was starting to mean something to her, but there was no denying the flutter of anticipation she felt every time the bell above the door jingled.

It was a Tuesday when everything changed again.

Rebeca had taken her lunch break outside, retreating to the small bench tucked beside the café. It wasn't much—a slab of wood half-hidden by a vine-covered fence—but it was her little slice of peace. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the pavement as she leaned back and lit a cigarette.
She wasn't proud of the habit, but it was one of the few things that helped her unwind after a long shift. She took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl lazily into the air as she stared off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts.

The sound of footsteps pulled her back to reality. She turned her head, and there he was, standing a few feet away with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Didn't know you smoked," Rafe said, his tone casual, but the teasing glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Rebeca raised an eyebrow, exhaling a stream of smoke. "And I didn't know you stalked people on their lunch breaks."

He grinned, stepping closer. "I wasn't stalking. I came in for my usual, and Casey said you were out here. Figured I'd say hi."

"Lucky me," she said dryly, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

Rafe dropped onto the bench beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He looked more relaxed than she'd ever seen him, his usual tension replaced by an easy confidence that made her heart flutter.

"Can I bum one?" he asked, nodding toward her cigarette.

Rebeca hesitated, her fingers hovering over the pack in her lap. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I thought you were trying to quit... everything."

Rafe shrugged, a crooked smile playing at his lips. "I'm not quitting everything. Just the stuff that ruins lives. Pretty sure one cigarette won't kill me."

She rolled her eyes but handed him one anyway. He lit it with practiced ease, taking a slow drag and letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Thanks," he said, leaning back against the bench.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the smoke curling between them as the world went on around them. It was peaceful, almost too peaceful, and Rebeca found herself stealing glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Why do you keep coming here?" she asked suddenly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

Rafe turned his head to look at her, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

"You've got money," she said, gesturing vaguely at him. "You could go to some fancy place with overpriced lattes and perfectly curated Instagram vibes. So why here? Why me?"

Rafe was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the cigarette between his fingers. "Maybe I like it here," he said finally, his voice soft. "Maybe I like you."

Rebeca's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to play it cool. "You like me? You sure about that? Most days, it seems like you're just here to annoy me."

He smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. "That's part of the fun."

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed, and she was grateful for the shadows that hid her reaction.

"Seriously, though," Rafe continued, his tone shifting to something more sincere. "I don't know. This place... it feels different. You feel different. Like, when I'm here, it's not all noise and pressure. It's just... quiet."

Rebeca looked at him, surprised by his honesty. For all his bravado, she hadn't expected him to open up like that.

"You don't seem like the quiet type," she said softly.

"I'm not," he admitted, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "But maybe I want to be. At least for a little while."

Rebeca took another drag of her cigarette, her thoughts swirling as she tried to make sense of the moment. She wasn't used to this—wasn't used to him, or the way he made her feel like the ground beneath her feet was shifting every time he looked at her.

"What about you?" Rafe asked, breaking the silence. "Why do you work here? Why do you stay in this tiny town when it seems like you could do... I don't know, more?"

Rebeca frowned, caught off guard by the question. "What makes you think I could do more?"

He shrugged. "Just a feeling. You're smart. You've got that look in your eye, like you're already thinking ten steps ahead. Feels like this place is too small for someone like you."

His words hit her harder than she expected. She'd spent so much of her life convincing herself that she was fine with where she was, with her little corner of the world. But hearing him say it out loud made her wonder if she was just settling for less.

"I don't know," she said finally, her voice quieter now. "Maybe it's easier this way. Less risk, less chance of screwing up."

Rafe studied her, his gaze piercing but not unkind. "You don't seem like the type to play it safe."

She laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "You don't know me very well, then."

"Maybe not," he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "But I'd like to."

The air between them grew heavier, charged with something neither of them wanted to name. Rebeca's pulse quickened as his eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her.

But then he leaned back, breaking the spell, and took another drag of his cigarette.

"You're dangerous, Rafe Cameron," she said, her voice light but with an undercurrent of truth.

He grinned, his expression equal parts playful and serious. "And you're the one holding the matches."

They sat there for a while longer, their cigarettes burning down to ash as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both knew that something had shifted between them.

Something that couldn't be undone.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The café was quieter than usual when Rafe pushed open the door, the bell jingling above him. He stepped inside, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his eyes scanning the room automatically. He knew it was a gamble, coming here unannounced—Rebeca might not even be working today—but he hadn't been able to stop himself.

The last few days had been a blur of emotions, and all he wanted now was to see her. To hear her sarcastic quips, to watch her roll her eyes at his dumb jokes, to remind himself why she'd started to matter so much.

But she wasn't there.

Instead, Casey was behind the counter, her overly cheery voice greeting him before he could make a swift exit.

"Well, look who it is! Mr. Casanova himself," she said, leaning against the counter with a playful grin.

Rafe plastered on a polite smile, already regretting his decision to come in. "Hey," he muttered, his tone flat.

"You here for your usual?" Casey asked, reaching for a cup before he could respond.

"Sure," Rafe said absently, his eyes flicking around the room again as if Rebeca might suddenly appear.

But she didn't.

"Rebeca's not here today," Casey said, her voice taking on a teasing edge. "It's her day off. I'd say you're stuck with me, but I'm way more fun, so you're welcome."

Rafe forced a chuckle, though it was hollow. "Lucky me."

As Casey busied herself with his order, Rafe leaned against the counter, his thoughts drifting to Rebeca. She was nothing like Casey. Where Casey's energy felt shallow, like a performance meant to draw attention, Rebeca's presence was quieter, more grounded. She didn't try to be anything she wasn't, and that honesty was something he found himself drawn to more than he cared to admit.

"She talks about you, you know," Casey said, her voice breaking through his thoughts.

Rafe blinked, focusing on her. "What?"

"Rebeca," Casey said, sliding his cup toward him with a coy smile. "She mentions you sometimes. Says you're, like, her 'project' or something."

Rafe's jaw tightened. "Project?"

Casey shrugged, clearly enjoying his reaction. "I don't know. Something about keeping you out of trouble or whatever. She likes to act like she's above it all, but trust me—she cares."

Rafe didn't respond. He didn't trust Casey's interpretation of anything, and he wasn't about to let her words mess with his head.

"So, what's the deal with you two, anyway?" Casey asked, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning in closer.

"There's no deal," Rafe said quickly, his tone clipped.

"Really?" Casey tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in a way that made him uncomfortable. "Because it seems like you've got a little thing for her. And, I mean, I get it—she's cute in that whole 'I don't care what you think' kind of way. But she's not really your type, is she?"

Rafe bristled at the comment, his irritation growing. "You don't know anything about my type."

Casey smirked, undeterred. "Well, if you ever feel like upgrading, you know where to find me."

The blatant flirtation made Rafe want to roll his eyes. Instead, he picked up his cup, his grip tightening around it.

"Thanks for the coffee," he said, his voice colder than he intended.

He turned to leave, but Casey called after him, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Tell Rebeca I said hi!"

Rafe didn't respond.

As he stepped outside, the fresh air hit him like a wake-up call, clearing some of the frustration that had built up inside him. He took a sip of his coffee, the familiar bitterness grounding him, but his thoughts were still racing.

Casey's words had been grating, but they'd also reminded him of something important: Rebeca wasn't like everyone else. She wasn't shallow or self-serving or looking for the next thing to fill the void. She was real.

And that terrified him.

Rafe had spent so much of his life surrounded by people who only cared about surface-level things—status, appearances, fleeting pleasures. But Rebeca saw through all of that. She saw through him. And for the first time, he didn't feel like running from it.

He didn't want to run from her.

With that thought, Rafe made a decision. Tomorrow, he'd come back. And this time, he wouldn't just hope to see her—he'd make sure she knew exactly how much she mattered to him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The atmosphere in the café had shifted subtly since that afternoon on the bench. Rafe still came in every day, and Rebeca still handed him his usual espresso, but now there was something almost electric between them. A quiet tension that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to ignite with the slightest spark.

The flirty banter was still there—Rafe teasing her about the way she made his coffee, Rebeca rolling her eyes at his exaggerated reactions—but there was also something new. Something deeper. When their eyes met across the counter, neither of them could pretend it wasn't there anymore. It wasn't just the shared sarcasm or the lingering glances. It was something else entirely, something Rebeca couldn't name.

But for now, neither of them spoke of it aloud. They danced around it like two people afraid to break the fragile thread that tied them together.

But it was a Friday evening when Rafe surprised her again.

Rebeca was finishing up her shift, the last of the evening crowd trickling out as she wiped down the counter. She was lost in thought, absently pushing a rag across the surface when Rafe strolled in, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face. But today, there was something different about him—he wasn't leaning against the counter with his usual self-assurance. No, today he seemed almost... nervous? It was a strange look for him, and it made her pause.

"Closing up early tonight?" he asked, his voice smooth, but she noticed the slight tension in his posture.

"Yeah, got some plans," she replied, a little distracted. "Why?"

Rafe hesitated, looking at her for a moment before pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. "So, you've probably heard about Topper's party tonight, right?" His tone was casual, but there was something almost pleading in his eyes.

"Yeah, I've heard the rumors," she said with a smirk, wiping her hands on the towel and leaning against the counter. "What, you want me to show up and witness all the drama firsthand?"

Rafe chuckled, but the sound was laced with something almost vulnerable. "Actually... I need a favor." He took a breath, then let it out slowly, like he was building up to something. "I don't want to go alone. Not tonight."

Rebeca raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "And you need me for what exactly? To make sure you don't get into a fistfight with Topper?" She threw the towel over her shoulder, feeling that familiar spark of playfulness between them.

"No," he said, his voice low, as he moved a step closer, lowering his gaze slightly. "I need you to keep an eye on me. Make sure I don't... relapse."

Rebeca blinked, the weight of his words settling between them. The playful teasing had disappeared, replaced by something much more serious. She saw it in his eyes—vulnerability and a rawness that made her heart tug.

"Rafe..." she started, her voice softer now. "I didn't know you were still—"

He waved a hand, cutting her off, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "I'm not. Not anymore. But Topper's place? It's... bad for me. I don't want to go back to that shit. And I trust you. I know you're not gonna let me screw up." His eyes met hers with a sincerity she wasn't used to seeing from him, and for the first time, she saw him as more than just the cocky guy who walked into her café every morning. She saw the person beneath the facade, someone who was fighting demons, just like everyone else.

Rebeca's chest tightened, and for a moment, she was silent, thinking. She wasn't sure what it was about him—maybe it was the way he'd looked at her when he said he trusted her, or maybe it was just that damn grin of his that always made her weak—but the idea of him going into that party alone, surrounded by temptation and the chaos that always followed Topper, didn't sit well with her.

"Alright, fine," she said finally, her voice more reluctant than she meant it to be. "I'll go. But we're going as friends, got it?" She raised an eyebrow, teasing him even though her heart was pounding a little faster than usual.

"Friends, huh?" Rafe smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You sure you want to be just friends? Because, you know, I'm pretty charming when I want to be."

Rebeca rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Please. Don't flatter yourself. You're lucky I even agreed to this."

He leaned in slightly, that signature smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not flattered, I'm grateful. But if we're going to be friends, I think you owe me a little more than that. Maybe a drink when we get there?" He was being deliberately coy now, the playful edge back in his voice.

Rebeca gave him a pointed look, trying not to let the heat in her cheeks show. "Just don't expect me to babysit you all night, okay?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said with a wink, his voice dropping low, teasing. "But if I'm being honest, you might be the one who needs a little supervision around me."

She laughed, shaking her head as she grabbed her bag from behind the counter. "You wish."

They walked out together, the door chiming softly behind them. The evening air was cooler than she expected, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of excitement—and maybe a little apprehension—as she followed him to his car.

Rafe drove with the radio playing quietly in the background, the tension between them simmering as he kept stealing glances at her from the corner of his eye. They didn't talk much on the drive, but the air in the car felt charged, each of them caught somewhere between casual indifference and something more.

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Rafe parked his truck on the shoulder of the gravel driveway, the distant pulse of music already echoing through the air. The house ahead of them was lit up like a beacon, every window pouring neon hues into the night as voices and laughter mingled with the thumping bass.

"Topper always throw raves, or is this a special occasion?" Rebeca quipped, glancing toward the house.

"Special occasion," Rafe replied with a smirk. "It's Friday."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

He jumped out of the truck first, moving around to open her door. She arched a brow at him as he offered her his hand to help her down.

"What a gentleman," she teased.

"Don't get used to it," he shot back, but the flicker of warmth in his eyes softened the sarcasm.

The walk to the house was casual, though Rebeca couldn't help noticing how naturally he moved through the crowd once they stepped inside. People greeted him with nods or claps on the back, and while he was polite, he never lingered. It was almost as if he was keeping his focus on her.

"See? Not so bad," Rafe said, leaning close to speak over the music.

She gave him a wry smile. "Yet."

The night unfolded better than she had expected. They drifted through the rooms, Rafe pointing out a few of the more over-the-top partygoers with dry, sarcastic commentary that had her stifling laughter.

"Why is that guy wearing sunglasses inside?" she whispered at one point, motioning toward a guy sprawled across a couch like he owned the place.

"Because he's a Topper wannabe," Rafe said, grinning. "It's kind of a rite of passage at these things."

Rebeca smirked, her gaze flicking to him. "What's your rite of passage, then?"

Rafe shrugged, leaning against the wall beside her. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The air between them shifted slightly at his words, the playful banter dipping into something warmer, heavier. Rebeca looked away, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was standing.

"I'm going to grab a drink," Rafe said, his hand resting lightly on her lower back as he guided her through the crowd. She could feel the heat from his touch through her jacket, and it made her breath hitch.

She fucking hated that she noticed it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The night felt lighter, freer, than Rebeca had anticipated. She wasn't sure if it was the buzz of the party or the way Rafe kept her grounded with his steady presence, but she found herself relaxing into the rhythm of it all.

They ended up outside by the fire pit as the crowd inside began to dwindle. The crisp night air was a welcome reprieve from the packed, overheated house. Rebeca crossed her arms, leaning back against one of the wooden benches that circled the fire, while Rafe sat next to her, elbows resting on his knees.

"You're quiet all of a sudden," he said, glancing at her.

She shrugged, watching the flames dance. "Just thinking."

"About?"

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. "Life. Everything."

He chuckled softly, his voice low. "That's vague."

She tilted her head toward him, her lips quirking in a small smile. "You don't strike me as the philosophical type, Cameron."

"Guess I've got layers," he shot back, a flicker of mischief in his eyes.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the crackling fire filling the space between them. Rebeca couldn't help sneaking a glance at him, the way the firelight flickered across his face, softening the sharp edges of his jawline and the intensity of his gaze.

And then he turned, catching her staring.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, his tone quieter now, more serious.

"Not really," she lied, though her heart was suddenly racing.

He leaned slightly closer, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're a terrible liar, Rebeca."

She opened her mouth to retort, but the words died in her throat as their eyes locked. The space between them felt impossibly small, the air charged with something unspoken yet undeniable.

It wasn't the first time this had happened, this almost moment. But this time, it felt different—heavier, like a line was about to be crossed.

"I should probably—" she started, but her voice was barely a whisper, and she didn't move.

"Probably," he echoed, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before flicking back up to her eyes.

For a moment, neither of them moved. And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Rafe leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek as he whispered, "Tell me to stop."

But she didn't.

His lips brushed hers tentatively at first, a soft, fleeting touch that sent a shiver down her spine. And then he kissed her fully, deeply, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw as he pulled her closer.

Rebeca melted into him, her mind going blissfully blank as the world around them faded. The warmth of his lips, the rough scrape of his stubble, the way his thumb brushed gently against her cheek—it was intoxicating, overwhelming, and perfect all at once.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting close as they tried to steady themselves. The fire crackled softly, the only sound between them for a long moment.

Rebeca's heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She blinked up at him, her lips still tingling from the kiss, her mind spinning as she tried to process what had just happened.

"That..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That," he repeated, his tone low and rough, like he was still trying to catch his breath. His hand lingered on her jaw, thumb brushing over her skin like he wasn't ready to let her go.

She didn't pull back, even though every instinct told her she should. "You kissed me."

"Yeah," he said simply, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. "I did."

"And..." she swallowed hard, her gaze searching his. "What was that? I mean, why did you—"

"Because I wanted to," he interrupted softly, his blue eyes locked on hers. "Because I've wanted to for a while now."

Her breath caught, her heart doing an erratic flip at his confession. "Rafe..."

"I know," he said quickly, as if he already knew the objections forming in her mind. "I know it's complicated. But tell me you didn't feel that too."

She hesitated, her thoughts a tangled mess. Of course she'd felt it—the chemistry between them, the pull that had been building for weeks. But admitting it felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff, and she wasn't sure what was waiting for her at the bottom.

"I..." She bit her lip, looking away. "This wasn't part of the plan."

His laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating. "Yeah, well, neither was you."

Her head snapped back to him at that, her eyes widening.

Rafe leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair as he looked at her. "I wasn't supposed to—" He broke off, exhaling sharply before starting again. "You weren't supposed to mean anything. But you do."

The raw honesty in his voice made her chest ache, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and something much deeper.

"You're not playing fair," she said finally, her voice shaky.

"Good," he said, his smirk returning, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. "Because I don't want to play games with you, Rebeca."

The weight of his words hung between them, heavy and real. She wanted to respond, to say something, but before she could, the sound of laughter and voices spilled out from the house, breaking the spell.

Rebeca pulled back slightly, her hands dropping to her lap as reality came crashing back in. "We should..." She gestured vaguely toward the house, though she didn't move to stand.

"Yeah," Rafe said, though he made no effort to move either. Instead, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering for just a moment. "But this conversation isn't over."

She nodded, her throat too tight to form words.

As they finally rose and started walking back toward the house, Rebeca couldn't help but steal a glance at him. The easy smirk he usually wore was still there, but there was something softer in his expression now, something that made her heart flutter despite herself.

And she knew, without a doubt, that nothing between them would ever be the same.

Later that night, the air was colder than Rebeca expected as they drove back from the party, the streets quiet except for the occasional hum of passing cars.
When they got out, Rebeca immediately hugged herself tightly, her arms wrapped around her torso in a futile attempt to stay warm. She hadn't dressed for this kind of chill.

"You're shivering," Rafe muttered, stopping abruptly beside her. Before she could protest, he was shrugging off his leather jacket.

"Rafe, I'm fine—"

"Just take it," he interrupted, draping it over her shoulders in one smooth motion. His hands lingered for a moment, his fingers brushing her arms as he adjusted the fit. "Can't have you freezing on me."

She stared at him, her heart doing that ridiculous fluttering thing it had started to do whenever he was close. "Thanks," she murmured, slipping her arms into the sleeves. It was warm, and it smelled like him—woodsy, clean, and just a hint of something darker that she couldn't place but had come to associate with him entirely.

When they finally reached her building, they lingered on the doorstep, neither of them wanting to end the night. But the tension between them was different now. Charged.

And that kiss...

Once inside, Rebeca kicked off her shoes and draped the jacket over the back of a chair before collapsing onto her bed. She fell back against the pillows, her mind replaying the moment over and over again.

Her lips still tingled, and her heart hadn't slowed down. She pressed her fingers lightly to her mouth, as if to confirm it had actually happened.

He kissed me.

It felt like she was drunk, though she hadn't touched a single drop of alcohol. Her mind was hazy with the memory of his hands on her waist, the way he'd leaned in, hesitant at first, as if testing the waters. And then the way he'd pulled her closer, his kiss deepening like he couldn't help himself.

It was so different from what she'd imagined—more intense, more consuming. She'd been kissed before, sure, but never like this. Never like she was the only thing that mattered in the entire world.

Her chest tightened at the thought, a giddy, weightless feeling bubbling up inside her. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to call someone and scream about how her life had just been turned upside down by the most confusing, infuriating, beautiful boy she'd ever met.
Instead, she rolled onto her side, hugging her pillow close as her mind drifted back to the way he'd looked at her afterward. Like he'd been holding his breath the entire time.

For once, she didn't overthink it. She just let herself feel it—the happiness, the excitement, the strange, dizzying joy of it all.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafe let out a slow breath as he closed the door to his room, leaning back against it for a moment. His heart was still racing, his head spinning in a way that felt equal parts overwhelming and exhilarating.

He'd kissed her.

Not almost kissed her, not hesitated and held back like before. He'd actually kissed her.

His fingers grazed his lips as he crossed the room, collapsing onto his bed with a low groan. He could still feel the warmth of her against him, the way she'd melted into the kiss like she'd been waiting for it as long as he had.

The hunger he'd felt in that moment was unlike anything he'd experienced before. It wasn't just about wanting her—though God, did he want her. It was deeper than that. Like he'd finally found something that made sense in his chaotic, messy world.

And the way she'd looked at him afterward, her eyes wide and her breath shaky... He'd never forget it.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration and exhilaration warring inside him. He wanted to see her again already, to kiss her again, to pick up right where they'd left off. But at the same time, he knew he needed to tread carefully.

Because this wasn't just some fleeting thing for him.

He didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, she'd gotten under his skin. She wasn't like anyone else he'd ever met—sharp and funny and unapologetically herself. And when she'd kissed him back, it felt like the world had finally stopped spinning, just for a moment.

He exhaled sharply, pulling out his phone.

Just as Rebeca was starting to drift off, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She reached for it, squinting at the screen.

raf-e-spresso 🕶️
sweet dreams trouble
don't freeze without my jacket

She stared at the message for a long moment, her lips curving into a smile so wide it almost hurt.

Trouble.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but she didn't reply. Instead, she hugged the phone to her chest, her heart feeling too full for words.

She fell asleep like that, Rafe's jacket still hanging on the chair, and his words echoing in her mind.

━━━━━ author's note !
second chapter out and sooner than i thought !!!
but to be honest i already had everything planned for the plot so it was just a matter of time 🤭
and can i just say...BOY WAS HUNGRY !!! he wanted that cookie so bad omg i'm feral

let me know what you think and give a little star 🌟 if you like! interact pls i would really appreciate

thanks for the attention 💗