You weren’t supposed to move on. Rafe had never even considered that you would. It didn’t matter to him that he’d left, that you’d broken up, you were meant to be waiting for him because you were his. The fact that you’d moved on made him furious. The fact you’d moved on with Topper, that his friend had taken advantage of his absence to move in on his girl made him want to tear Topper apart with his bare hands.

He had one goal in mind for tonight’s party, to get you back. He didn’t care how he had to do it, if he had to carry you out of the party and lock you in his room to convince you, he’d do it. Because there was no way he was letting Topper have you. Not his girl. Not ever.

He’d made a beeline for you as soon as he saw you alone by the speakers, he’d grabbed you by your slender wrist and tugged you against the wall, using his size to keep you there, and block you from any prying eyes. He’d be damned if anyone was going to interrupt this.

“What the hell Rafe?” you rub at your wrist, half surprised to see him, half annoyed. “I’m here with Topper, he’s just getting us drinks” You look around the room, half expecting Topper to show up any second. And though you should welcome that interruption, you find yourself hoping it doesn’t happen. You never were one to think logically when Rafe was around.

He scoffs, his grip on your wrist only growing tighter. You were supposed to be the one person on his side, always in his corner. It felt wrong to have you turn on him. Especially wrong that you’d abandoned him for another man.

“What does Topper do for you? Write you love letters? Hold your hand in public?” He’s mocking you now. Mocking the things you’d asked for that he’d never been able to give.

“Holding my hand is like the bare minimum. Of course you’d mock it. Mock me” you glare at him, your eyes narrowed.

He smirks, enjoying the way your tone and expression made it clear how annoyed you were. It was so easy for him to get a rise out of you, and he couldn’t help but push you further.

“Oh come on, sweetheart. You and I both know that I’m not the hand holding kind of guy.” His hands press against either side of your head on the wall, his expression is dark and intense. Like he’s eyeing up his prey. “I’m the guy who spends the whole night making you forget your own name. The guy you come screaming for. But I guess Topper can hold your hand. How exciting for you”