Rafe didn't like letting you get drunk.

Okay, that was a lie.

You weren't even that fond of alcohol, it was more of a habit you had picked up from him when you two went to parties together.

Translation? You'd drink half of his beer if he convinced you with enough kisses.

The two if you had only been dating a few months, and he had already turned you into a proper kook Princess. He brought you around to every party attached to his hip, his hand only straying from your waist when he was offered a line or red cup filled with some mystery alcoholic substance.

Admittedly, you had never even been that into parties before him. Sure, you would go to the constant events in figure-eight, but it was all different now that you were dating Rafe. He paraded you about, making you the star of the night. Every night.

He had his... faults, sure. But most of the time, he acted like the perfect boyfriend.

"What's going on in that pretty little head, hmnn?" Rafe pulled you against his chest as you both made your way through his house — which was littered in the rubbish made from the current celebration being thrown. He followed your eyes to where his two best friends, Kelve and Topper, were indulging in a shared game of drunken ping-pong. "You 'wanna play beer pong, baby?" He let out a drunken laugh, giving your waist a playful squeeze. "What happened to that good-girl nature of yours, hmm?"

Gone. He was quite the bad-influence boyfriend.