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note: this one shot is connected to my book 'good graces', but it can also be read as a stand alone !

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Eight months had passed since the worst day of Rafe Cameron's life. He didn't like to think about that day often, but when he did, it wasn't the machines or the sterile hospital room that stuck with him. It was the feeling—the hollow ache of failure, the weight of knowing he had come so close to losing everything. Worse, it was the look in Rebeca's eyes when he woke up, red-rimmed and glistening with tears, full of fear and relief all at once. That look haunted him more than anything else.

It wasn't just the overdose itself that left its mark. It was the aftermath—the long days in rehab, confronting parts of himself he'd tried so hard to ignore. He remembered the anger that boiled inside him, anger at himself, at the world, and even at Rebeca for sticking around when he felt like he deserved to be left behind. But every time he thought he might push her away for good, she found a way to bring him back. Her letters, scribbled on scraps of notebook paper, had been his lifeline.

"Rafe," one began, her handwriting slanted and a little messy, like she'd been in a hurry. "If you're reading this, it means you're officially bored enough to open a letter from me. Congrats! But seriously, I'm proud of you. Every single day you're proving how strong you are. (Yes, I know you're rolling your eyes right now, but don't even try to deny it.) Keep going, okay? You've got this."

Another one had made him laugh in spite of himself: "I was going to write something super motivational here, but then I remembered how much you hate that cheesy stuff. So instead, here's a reminder that you still owe me a proper date where we don't argue about who's paying the bill. Spoiler: it's me. Deal with it."

Her words had been the thread that tied him back to her, back to the life he was trying to rebuild. And now, that life felt real in a way he hadn't thought possible. Rafe had come a long way since those early days. He was now a very successful real estate agent in Figure 8, his career taking off in ways he hadn't imagined. The island had opened doors for him, the properties and deals flooding in as he built a reputation for himself. But the truth was, none of his success meant much without her.

Rebeca, on the other hand, still worked at The Bean Box, her smile the brightest thing in the shop. She loved that place, the small café filled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of quiet conversations. Rafe often joked that she was practically part of the furniture there. But he admired it too—the way she had found her rhythm in that little café, her passion for it as strong as his for his work. She wasn't just happy; she was fulfilled, and that was something Rafe could see and respect.

Mornings were their own kind of magic. He'd wake up to find Rebeca sprawled across the bed, her hair a wild mess and her face tucked into the pillow. She had this habit of reaching for him in her sleep, her fingers brushing against his arm or curling into his shirt. When she finally stirred, it was always with a groggy smile, her voice husky as she mumbled something like, "Coffee first, then talking."

They'd end up in the kitchen together, her perched on the counter while he made toast or poured cereal. She'd steal bites of his breakfast and tease him about how he couldn't make scrambled eggs without burning them. It was in those little moments—the stolen kisses, the way she'd laugh at her own jokes, the quiet comfort of sharing space—that he felt most at home.

Now, standing in their shared bedroom on Figure 8, Rafe couldn't help but stare at her as she got ready. Rebeca stood by the mirror, adjusting the ties of her olive-green halter top. The fabric clung to her in a way that made his head spin, and the delicate lace detail along the edges only added to the effect. Her jeans hugged her hips perfectly, and those olive ankle boots gave her an effortlessly cool edge that he found completely unfair.

He didn't even realize he'd moved until he was behind her, his hands settling on her hips. "You're actually trying to kill me, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough.

She glanced at him in the mirror, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "It's a halter top, Rafe, not a crime scene."

"Debatable," he said, leaning down so his lips brushed against her bare shoulder. Her skin was warm under his touch, and he let his hands slide up to rest lightly on her waist. "How am I supposed to think about anything else tonight when you look like this?"

Her breath hitched, and she turned to face him, her fingers instinctively resting against his chest. "You're not exactly subtle yourself, Cameron," she whispered, her voice catching on his name.

He smirked, dipping his head so their noses brushed. "Good. I don't want to be subtle." His hands traveled up her sides, his thumbs grazing the soft fabric of her top as he pulled her closer. The air between them felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and the pull of their connection. When their lips met, it was slow at first, almost tentative, but it quickly deepened, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of her neck.

She broke the kiss first, her cheeks flushed and her breathing uneven. "We're going to be late," she murmured, though her hands stayed on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

"They'll survive," he replied, his voice rough as he leaned in again, capturing her lips in another kiss. This one was hungrier, filled with all the things he couldn't quite say out loud. His hands slid down to her hips, pulling her firmly against him as he let out a low, almost involuntary groan. Rebeca's fingers tangled in his hair, and he felt the way her body softened against his, her breath coming faster as their kisses deepened.

"Rafe," she murmured, her voice half a plea and half a warning as she broke away just enough to look at him. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes dark with something that made his chest tighten. "We really are going to be late."

He exhaled sharply, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes as he tried to steady himself. "You're making it really hard to care, babe" he muttered, his hands still lingering on her waist, his thumbs brushing slow, deliberate circles against her skin where her top had ridden up slightly.

She laughed softly, the sound a mix of exasperation and affection. "We'll have time for this later," she promised, leaning in to press a quick, teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth before stepping back. The loss of her warmth felt almost unbearable, and he groaned in protest, making her laugh again.

Rafe watched her as she grabbed her earrings and purse, every small movement she made feeling like a kind of torture in the best way. He grabbed his leather jacket from the bed, shrugging it on as he kept his gaze locked on her. Even now, with her hair slightly mussed from his hands and her lips still curved in that teasing smile, she looked like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Fine, fine," he said with a dramatic sigh. "But for the record, if John B, JJ, or Pope even look at you funny tonight, I'm starting a fight."

"You're ridiculous," she said, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

"And you love it," he shot back, grabbing her hand as they headed for the door. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he gave her a quick, playful tug that made her stumble into him for a brief second. He caught her easily, his grin widening. "See? Proof."

Her laughter echoed down the hallway, a sound that felt like home. And as they stepped out into the night, Rafe couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd come. Eight months ago, he'd been on the brink of losing everything. Now, with Rebeca by his side, he had everything he could ever want.

By the time they arrived, later, the bar was alive with music and laughter. The Pogues were already gathered at a corner table, drinks in hand and their usual banter in full swing. Rebeca lit up as they approached, her smile widening at the sight of their friends. Rafe, as always, felt a pang of gratitude for how easily she fit into this world—a world he'd once thought would chew him up and spit him out.

They settled in, Rebeca sliding into the seat beside Kiara while Rafe took the one next to her, his arm draping casually across the back of her chair. As the night went on, the drinks flowed freely, and Rebeca's laughter became brighter, looser. She leaned into Rafe, her head resting on his shoulder as she giggled at something JJ said, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the room and the wine she'd been sipping.

"Having fun?" Rafe murmured, his lips close to her ear. He couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at his mouth as she turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, tilting her head up to press a quick kiss to his jaw. "You're cute when you're all protective, you know that?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His fingers lingered for a moment, his touch gentle as he traced the curve of her cheek. "You've had, what, two glasses now?"

"Three," she corrected, holding up three fingers with a proud little grin. "But who's counting?"

"I am," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Not that I'm complaining about tipsy Rebeca—it's adorable, honestly—but I'm making sure you don't end up dancing on the table."

She laughed, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. "You're no fun."

"Sure I am," he countered, leaning in so his lips brushed against her temple. "But I like you better when you're not at risk of falling off furniture."

Rebeca pouted but didn't argue, her fingers playing absently with the hem of his sleeve. As time wore on, Rafe stayed close to her, and when the night finally settled into a comfortable rhythm of drinks, jokes, and the kind of camaraderie only the Pogues could create. JJ, as expected, was already halfway into his third beer when he launched into a wild story about sneaking into Tannyhill last summer.

"And then," JJ said, gesturing animatedly, "Topper's dog starts barking like crazy, and there's me—barefoot, holding a freakin' antique vase like it's the Hope Diamond—while Sarah's yelling at me to just put it back!"

Rebeca burst into laughter, leaning into Rafe's shoulder as her giggles spilled out. "Did you actually make it out with the vase?" she asked, her voice warm and teasing.

"Of course I did," JJ replied with an exaggerated wink. "I'm nothing if not resourceful."

"Resourceful?" Pope snorted, crossing his arms. "You tripped over a flowerpot on the way out and nearly broke your leg."

"Details," JJ said, waving him off, his grin unrepentant.

Rafe couldn't help but smile as he watched Rebeca, her cheeks flushed from the laughter and the wine. She nudged Kiara, who was smirking over the rim of her drink. "Tell me JJ didn't actually try to sell it."

Kiara rolled her eyes. "Oh, he did. And you don't even want to know who he tried to sell it to."

"Okay, okay, enough about me," JJ interrupted, raising his glass. "Let's talk about how our boy Cameron over here has officially gone soft." He turned his gaze to Rafe, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You used to be all brooding and mysterious, man. Now look at you—smiling like a lovesick puppy."

Rebeca raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she fought back a laugh. "Lovesick puppy, huh?"

"Don't encourage him," Rafe muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed a small smirk.

"I'm just saying," JJ continued, leaning back in his chair. "You're whipped, dude. And honestly? It's kind of beautiful."

Rafe shot him a glare, but it lacked any real heat. "You've had too much to drink."

"Never," JJ replied dramatically, holding his beer aloft like a trophy.

Rebeca turned her attention back to Rafe, her fingers brushing against his arm as she gave him a mock-serious look. "Is it true? Are you whipped?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping low enough that only she could hear. "If I am, it's your fault," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.

Her cheeks flushed deeper, but she laughed softly, shaking her head. "Smooth, Cameron."

The time was passing fast, and Rafe's attentiveness didn't waver. He noticed when Rebeca's movements became just a little more languid, her laughter a little more free. When she stood to stretch, teetering slightly on her heels, he was immediately by her side, a steady hand on her waist.
At one point, when Rebeca wandered off with Kiara and Sarah to check out the flashing lights and pick up the vibe of the impromptu disco night in the corner of the bar, Rafe caught John B watching him with a knowing smile.

"What?" Rafe asked, raising an eyebrow, annoyed — but secretly knowing what he was implying.

John B shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Nothing. Just... you're different these days."

"Different how?"

"Lighter," John B said after a moment, his tone genuine. "Like you've got something worth holding onto."

Rafe glanced toward Rebeca, who was now laughing with Kiara as they swayed in time to the pulsing beat, the colored lights glinting off her hair. The sight of her—carefree and radiant—made his chest ache in the best way. "Yeah," he said quietly, almost to himself. "I do."

When Rebeca returned, her eyes bright and her smile infectious, she tugged Rafe toward the section of the bar that had been cleared for dancing. A makeshift disco ball spun overhead, casting shimmering patterns across the walls, and a small group of people moved to the upbeat music.

"Come on," she said, her voice teasing. "You can't just sit there all night."

Rafe groaned but let her pull him up, his protests half-hearted at best. Her hands found his, guiding him into a slow, easy rhythm. He wasn't much of a dancer, but with Rebeca, it didn't matter. Her laughter filled the space between them as she spun in his arms, her movements loose and joyful.

"You're terrible at this," she teased, stepping closer so their bodies were nearly flush.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he shot back, though his grin was soft.

She leaned up on her toes, her lips brushing against his ear. "You're cute when you're trying, though."

His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her just a little closer. The music thrummed around them, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room.

As the sensual guitar riff of "Obsesión" by Aventura reverberated through the bar, the air seemed to thicken, drawing everyone toward the dance floor like a magnetic pull. But for Rafe, the world shrank to a single point—Rebeca. She was the only thing that existed in that moment. She took a slow step toward him, her eyes glinting with something dangerous, something charged with an unspoken promise. Her smile was soft, yet it held a spark that made his breath hitch, leaving him momentarily speechless.

"This one's different," she murmured, her voice low, teasing, an invitation he couldn't resist. Her fingers slid effortlessly around his wrist, and before he could respond, she tugged him toward the center of the floor, her movements smooth and purposeful. Rafe couldn't help but notice the way the light played in her eyes, the faint spark of mischief that sent a jolt straight through him.

The beat was slow, deliberate, pulling them into its rhythm. Rebeca moved with it effortlessly, her hips swaying with a kind of sultry confidence that made Rafe's pulse quicken. She turned, her body aligning perfectly with his, and before he knew it, she was close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from her. The space between them seemed to shrink with each beat of the music, and Rafe found himself hyperaware of every inch of her—the press of her body against his, the scent of her perfume, the way her skin felt warm under his touch.

"You're not getting off that easy, Cameron," she teased, her voice barely a whisper as her fingers traced the back of his neck, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine that he couldn't hide.

"I wasn't planning on it," he growled, his voice rough with need as his hands found her waist, pulling her closer. His fingers splayed over the curve of her hips, and he held her firmly as they began to move together. There was a quiet intensity between them now, the kind that felt almost dangerous, like a storm waiting to break.

Rebeca's movements were hypnotic. Her hips rolled in time with the beat, a slow, deliberate rhythm that left Rafe utterly captivated. When she stepped closer, their bodies pressed flush against each other, he couldn't contain the low groan that slipped from his throat. He could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric, could feel her every breath, every shift, every subtle movement. It was almost too much.

"Trying to throw me off my game?" he muttered, his voice thick with desire as his hands tightened instinctively on her waist, pulling her closer with every shift of her body.

She laughed softly, her breath warm against his neck. Her lips brushed his ear as she leaned in, her voice dropping into a whisper that sent a bolt of heat shooting through him. "You're doing just fine, Rafe. Just keep up."

Rafe's body reacted before his mind could catch up. He adjusted his position slightly, sliding his hands lower to her hips as she turned in his arms, her back pressing against his chest. She fit against him like she was made to, her movements fluid, almost mesmerizing. Every sway of her body sent electric sparks through him, and his grip on her tightened, pulling her even closer. He bent his head slightly, his lips brushing dangerously close to her mouth, his breath mingling with hers in the air between them.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and Rafe's heart slammed in his chest as the magnetic pull between them grew irresistible. He couldn't hold back anymore. His lips descended on hers in a kiss that was raw and desperate, as though they had both been holding their breath for too long.

At first, the kiss was hesitant, slow—a tentative exploration of want—but it quickly deepened, turning urgent and hungry as they both gave in to the tension that had built between them. His hands slid to the small of her back, pulling her even closer as the kiss grew more feverish. She responded with equal intensity, her hands sliding into his hair, tugging him closer, drawing him into her. The world around them faded into a blur—the music, the crowd—until there was nothing but the feel of her lips, the taste of her, the pulse of her body against his.

Rafe groaned into the kiss, the sensation of her lips pressing against his, of her tongue meeting his, sending a rush of heat through him that left him breathless. Her movements were fluid and urgent, matching the intensity of the kiss, as though she couldn't get close enough. Every shift of her body against his sent shockwaves of desire through him, and his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, as though there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

When they finally broke away, gasping for air, Rafe's forehead rested against hers, his chest heaving, still feeling the lingering heat of the kiss. He couldn't stop the satisfied grin that spread across his face, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "God, Rebeca," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, still trying to catch his breath. "You drive me insane."

She smiled, her hands sliding up his chest as she leaned in close, their foreheads almost touching. "Only for you, Cameron," she whispered, her voice soft but heavy with that same undeniable intimacy.

As the song's final notes played, Rafe barely noticed. He was too lost in her—the way her eyes lingered on his, the way her fingers brushed over the back of his neck, holding him close to her. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on him, and when she finally broke the silence, her cheeks flushed, lips curved into a soft smile, she said, "I think you might survive the rest of the night after all."

Rafe smirked, his hands still resting at her waist, reluctant to let go of the pull between them. "Only because you're here," he replied in a low voice, letting the moment linger as long as he could.

As the night wore on, the energy of the bar began to wind down, but Rafe's focus remained entirely on Rebeca. She was undeniably tipsy now, and every sway of her body, every little laugh that escaped her lips made his pulse race. She was charming in the most effortless way, but tonight, with the alcohol loosening her up, she was even more captivating than usual. He couldn't stop glancing at her—how her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and the way she leaned into him with that little smirk on her lips.

"You're a little wobbly there, babe," Rafe teased, leaning in close, his breath brushing against her ear as he wrapped a steadying arm around her waist. "Need me to carry you?"

Rebeca shot him a playful look, her lips curling into a grin. "Oh, so now you're offering to be my personal chauffeur?" She took a small, exaggerated step to the side, clearly testing her balance. "I think I've got it. I'm a pro."

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "A pro, huh? You sure about that?" His hand slid down to her hip, his thumb tracing the fabric of her dress as he pulled her in a little closer. "You're more like a beautiful disaster, Becks."

She laughed, her body leaning into his, and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of his shirt. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she said, her voice a little slurred but laced with teasing. "But you're not wrong. Maybe I do need a little help."

"Oh, I'm more than happy to help," Rafe said, his voice low and playful, the intensity of the moment catching him off guard. Every little touch, every glance, made his heart beat faster. He loved this—being close to her, teasing her, the natural chemistry that seemed to build between them with every passing second. "You're lucky I'm around to keep you from making a fool of yourself."

Rebeca leaned in, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Her breath was warm against his skin, and her lips almost brushed his cheek when she spoke. "I'm pretty sure you like making me blush. You're always so quick to point out how cute I am when I'm tipsy."

Rafe grinned, locking eyes with her as he leaned in just slightly. "You're cute when you're tipsy, but you're even more fun to tease. It's like I get to see a whole new side of you. I think I like it," he said, his voice dipping low with a hint of challenge.

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Oh, you like it, huh?" she teased back, her fingers brushing against his chest as she stepped even closer to him. "Well, you're not the only one who knows how to play games."

Rafe chuckled, a shiver of excitement running through him at her challenge. "I'm just getting started, Rebeca. You might regret this," he said, his hand finding hers, threading his fingers through hers as he led her toward the door.

Rebeca leaned into him, a slight giggle escaping her lips as they walked. "I'll take my chances."

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Rafe kept his arm around her, guiding her carefully as she leaned into him. He couldn't help but glance at her—every little movement of hers was driving him crazy, the warmth of her body against his making everything feel so electric.

"You sure you're okay, princess?" he asked, his voice dripping with playful concern as they made their way to his car. "Because I'm not carrying you, you know. You're lucky I'm giving you a ride."

Rebeca shot him a sly smile. "Well, maybe I just want to be close to you," she said with a wink, her voice teasing as she leaned into his side. "You don't mind, do you?"

Rafe's heart skipped a beat at her words, but he masked the sudden surge of desire with a smirk. "Oh, I don't mind at all," he replied, his tone smooth and low. "But if you keep this up, I'm gonna have a hard time keeping my hands to myself, Rebeca."

She laughed softly, her gaze drifting to him as they reached the car. "Promise you won't be too much of a gentleman?" she teased, her voice playful but carrying that unmistakable tension.

He opened the door, leaning down just a little to meet her eyes. "Oh, I can promise you this," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "I won't let you get away without making sure you know just how much you're driving me crazy tonight."

Rebeca's lips curled into an amused smile, but there was something in her eyes that made Rafe's chest tighten. She was flirting with him, yes, but there was something deeper in her gaze, something that told him she was just as caught up in the moment as he was.

Once they were in the car, Rafe's attention remained entirely on her, his eyes flicking to her every so often as she leaned back against the seat, her fingers brushing her lips absentmindedly. He was hyper-aware of the heat radiating between them, of the subtle electricity that crackled in the air whenever they were close. He wanted to touch her, to pull her closer, but instead, he kept the banter going, feeling the tension grow thicker with each passing minute.

"You know, I think I'm getting a little spoiled," Rafe teased, glancing over at her as he pulled onto the road. "Not everyone gets to be this close to me and get this much attention. You must be special."

Rebeca laughed softly, glancing at him with a knowing smile. "Oh, I'm well aware," she said, her voice rich with flirtation. "You're not that hard to get close to, Cameron."

He shot her a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a half-smile. "That's true," he said, his voice dropping lower. "But the way you're looking at me tonight makes me think you might just be starting to realize how much you want me around."

She met his gaze head-on, her expression playful but serious. "I think you might be right," she said, her voice a little breathless as she shifted in her seat to face him more fully. "But you're not the only one who can play this game, Rafe."

The words hung between them, charged with a tension that neither of them could deny. Rafe's hand brushed against hers on the gear shift, a spark of contact that sent his heart racing. He couldn't wait to see where this night would take them—he had a feeling it was going to be something unforgettable.

"Just wait," he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation. "You're gonna be begging for more before the night's over."

As they pulled up to the apartment, Rafe's heart swelled with something deeper than desire. He wasn't just captivated by her tonight—he was falling for her in ways that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. He wasn't sure what the future held, but he knew he wanted it to be with her.

Cause he was whipped around her fingers.

━━━━━ author's note !
here i am like promised !!!

this one shot is just some little moments between the two of them, but i had to give a final closure to my babes cause they deserve it so much! 🩷 this way i can finally say goodbye to rebeca and rafe.

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

thanks for the attention 💗