Rafe still has no idea when his fixation on you first blossomed. You in your little floral dresses that always fall below your knees. Those wide eyes and a smile could put the sun to shame. A true angel on earth. But the most enticing part of all? The cross that dangles around your neck.

The local preacher's daughter – not really a match to his usual crowd of coke addicts.

It's safe to say his father was be-fucking-wildered when the young man began to willingly attend your father's sermons. Hell, he even knows the lyrics to most of the hymns at this point; anything to grow closer to you in the least conspicuous way possible.

What started off as just sitting side by side in the pews turned into something more over time: hanging out outside of church, whether it was you dropping by the country club or him joining you for a post-gospel stroll. He's been getting bolder. Holding your hand, taking you out in his motorcycle, inviting you to his parties.

"Daddy thinks you're a bad influence. Leading me astray from the Lord."

You were perched on the side of his motorcycle, fingers fiddling about your holy necklace and peering up at him with the prettiest of smiles. He swears he can see a halo glinting around your hair as the sun sets behind you. What has this Bible thumper done to him?

"Oh, yeah? A devil in disguise?" He matches your smile with one of his own. It's more of a crooked grin than anything else, but an expression of amusement nonetheless. "Maybe I am."