The last few partygoers had just exited out Rafe’s front door, leaving you alone with a very drunk Rafe. Kie and Sarah had offered to stay behind with you, to give you a ride home after you got him settled, but you felt a responsibility to him. And you didn’t want to leave him alone, even though he’d been his usual drunken asshole self. Making out with multiple girls and starting fights with anyone who looked at him wrong. He was a mess, but you secretly wanted him to be your mess. Before he’d gotten completely trashed, he and you had been doing your normal dance- where you flirted and joked around with each other, but never quite took it beyond that.

With a sigh, you glance at Rafe. He’s leaning against the wall, barely able to stand up straight. You were clearly going to have to manoeuvre his 6’2 muscular frame down the hall to his bedroom.

“Okay, bourbon boy, let’s get you to bed” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist and letting him lean against you as you half shuffled, half dragged him down the hall. The heat of his body pressed against you, sent jolts of electricity down your spine. You tried to ignore it as you reached his bedroom and basically pushed him down on his bed. You wince when he hits the back of his head against the headboard, but he barely notices beyond a grunt. You walk into his bathroom and fill a glass with water, bringing it into the bedroom and setting it on his nightstand. You sit down on the edge of the bed, taking in the way his chest rose and fell evenly. You’re about to go and crash on the couch when he reaches up and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“So pretty” he murmurs. His blue eyes are open now and focused on your face. “I like you a lot” he says, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck.

“I like you too” you admit. There’s no danger in admitting it to him now. He’s so drunk you highly doubt he’ll remember any of this conversation. You could say whatever you wanted and he’d wake up tomorrow clueless.

“No” he huffs in irritation, his free hand trying to tug you down onto his chest, giving up with a sigh when you don’t easily give in. “You’re it for me. I mean it.” His voice is low and gravely and he looks at you from under hooded eyes.

“We can talk about this in the morning, promise. Right now, you need to sleep off the alcohol.” You reply firmly, tugging his blanket over him. He grumbles under his breath but goes along with it, too drunk to put up much of a fight.

“Fine, but you sleep here” he pats the other side of the bed, and you nod walking over and climbing under the blankets. That seems to satisfy him and it’s not long before you hear him snoring softly. You lay still just listening to him for awhile before you drift off to sleep too.

When the late morning sun hits your face, you groan. You migrated closer to Rafe in your sleep and your head rests on his chest, his arms are wrapped tightly around you. You hadn’t meant to get this close, but it felt right. You yawn, replaying his words from last night. He shifts beside you, pulling you closer.

“Morning princess” he groans, one of his hands going to rub against his forehead. His head was killing him, and his throat felt dryer than the Sahara. He had a vague memory of telling you he liked you last night while you tried to put him bed. A drunken slip. Sober him had been keeping that to himself for months. But now you knew he had feelings for you.