Rafe wanted to cross the line of being just your friend.

Despite being best friend since the two of you were five and the fact that you always very literally let him know that you weren’t interested, Rafe somehow just couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

Whether it was an arm slung around your shoulders, fingers playing with the strands of your hair or his hand conveniently slotted in the back pocket of your jeans, he was always touching you in some way. You didn’t resist it though, his touch was surprisingly welcome.

He’d get even touchier when jealous, and he’s most often get jealous around Pogues - especially JJ Maybank - and your closest friends.

There was a party at the Boneyard, the music blasting from the speakers and several drinks flowing in the red solo cups. You were there with some of her friends, just catching up, when you felt a familiar presence behind you, a hand sliding in the back pocket of your jean shorts.

“Hey,” Rafe said flatly, not very happy about the fact that you were there with her other friends and not him.