You slide the loose brick in place to prop the roof access door open, remembering Topper’s warning before that the door locked automatically when it closed. You might need some space from Rafe right now, but you did not need to deal with the annoyance of being locked up on the roof all by yourself. Your cell phone battery was dead, and the pounding music behind you pretty much ensured no one would’ve heard you banging.

You move towards the edge of the roof, peering over the railing. There was a nice breeze being up this high, and it was helping to calm you down. You watched the people milling around on the sidewalk below. You wondered how many of them were involved in messy situationships. Hopefully, most of them were smarter than you.

Taking a gulp from the tequila bottle you’d swiped on your way up here, you wrinkle your nose as the liquid burns all the way down. A few more big gulps of that and you’d be well on your way to forgetting what it felt like to watch Rafe flirt with and kiss Sofia.

You had felt like a fool. Rafe wanted you to be his, constantly told you that he was the only man you were to call baby. But the same rules didn’t apply to him. He could kiss a hundred girls in bars, and that was fine according to his rules. It was just the way he was, he always told you. You wanted to say that was a bullshit excuse and not an actual reason for his behaviour. But of course you didn’t, because you were a foolish idiot when it came to him. And you stuck around.

You hear the door being pushed open behind you, and you ignore it wanting to be left alone. But then you hear it loudly click close and you whip around, hoping beyond hope that you were hearing things. But nope, the door was firmly closed, and by it, making his way over to you, was Rafe.

“Oh my god, Rafe! Do you know what you’ve done? That door locks automatically! Please tell me you have your cellphone.” Your voice is laced with panic as you look between the guy you were trying to avoid, and the closed door. Shitty, shit, shit!

“What? You’re overreacting, princess. We’re fine” he waves away your concern, his tone dismissive. He strolls over to the door, ready to show you how much you were overreacting. He tugs on the door handle, tries again and then the smirk on his face fades, as he realizes the door is indeed locked and he left his phone downstairs.

“Happy, now?” You snap at him, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him. If he thinks you’re going to talk with him, he has another thing coming.

“Look, someone is going to notice I’m not at the party. They’ll come up here looking for me in no time.”