You're sitting on Rafe's bed, watching him lose his absolute mind over some stupid video game, and honestly? This is not how you pictured spending your evening. Your hormones are doing that fun little dance they do once a month, turning you into a clingy mess who just wants attention from her boyfriend. But said boyfriend is currently having what can only be described as a complete meltdown over pixels on a screen.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Topper?!" Rafe shouts into his headset, fingers mashing buttons like his life depends on it. "You had ONE job—watch the fucking corner!"

You shift on the bed, letting out what you hope is a very obvious sigh. Nothing. Rafe doesn't even glance your way. Your skin feels like it's buzzing with restless energy, every nerve ending screaming for Rafe.

"Rafeyy," you call softly, but he's too busy screaming at Kelce now about strategy or whatever.

So you do what any rational, hormonally-charged girlfriend would do — you slide off the bed and pad over to his gaming chair. Without ceremony, you plop yourself right onto his lap.

"What the—" He tries to peer around you at the screen, and you can feel the tension in his muscles as he attempts to keep playing. "Babe, I can't see."

"Good," you mumble, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in that cologne that makes your brain go fuzzy. Your lips brush against his skin, and you feel him shiver slightly.

His character dies. Again.

"Jesus Christ!" Rafe actually tries to move you aside. The audacity. "Why are you being so freaking weird and clingy since yesterday?"

The frustration in his voice stings, but you're too wound up to care about his tone right now. You've been dropping hints all day ; touching him more, wearing that tiny tank top he likes, practically throwing yourself at him but apparently your boyfriend has the observational skills of a brick wall.

"I'm not being weird," you protest, though you totally are and you both know it.

"Dude, Rafe, you still there?" Topper's voice crackles through the headset.

"Yeah, yeah, just—" Rafe's trying to multitask, one arm loosely around you while his other hand still grips the controller. "Just... dealing with something."

You can't take it anymore. The subtle approach clearly isn't working with Mr. Oblivious here. "I'm ovulating," you blurt out.

The controller goes completely slack in his hands. His entire body goes still beneath you, and when you pull back to look at his face, his expression has shifted into something that makes your stomach flip.

"What?" His voice is lower, rougher.

"I'm ovulating," you repeat, slower this time. "You know, when my body basically turns into a—"

"Oh." His hands are suddenly very still on your waist. "Oh, fuck !"

"Rafe? RAFE!" Kelce's voice screams from the headset. "Where'd you go, man?"

Without breaking eye contact, Rafe stands up, lifting you with him like you weigh absolutely nothing. His hands are firm on your thighs, holding you against him, and the casual display of strength makes your head spin.

"Rain check, boys," he says directly into the mic, already walking with in his arms. "Something way more important just came up."

The last thing you hear before Rafe yanks off the headset and shuts down his setup is Topper’s exasperated voice: 'Did this mf really just ditch us for—' But you don’t catch the rest, because Rafe’s already laying you down on the bed crawling over you with that look in his eyes — the one that makes your breath catch and your thighs press together.