It was so uncharacteristic—how sweet Rafe was on you. Clinging to you every chance he got, showering you in his love. Dedicated every free minute he got to you. Every sentence that left his mouth had 'my girl' in there somewhere. He'd sneak away from the boys, family, work—just for five minutes on the phone with you.

The boy was obsessed with you, no doubt about it.

Until, he wasn't. Rafe pulled away with no explanation, not reason in sight. He switched up overnight, and within days he'd pulled the plug completely.

Went straight to work with Ward, parties every weekend with the boys—ignoring you every night, even in that dress he loved so much. Every attempt at temptation went over his head, Rafe barely gave you a second glance.

You couldn't understand it—he'd turned from the perfect doting boyfriend back to the boy everyone knew before he met you. No arguments to blame it on, not another girl on the scene. The Rafe you knew had just vanished overnight.

His willpower was almost impressive, not one thing could tempt him back over to you. It all felt like some fucked up joke, a messed up game he was playing with you. But you were about ready to stop playing.

One last attempt was all you were giving, before you'd reluctantly walk away. A set-up disguised by a sleepover with Sarah. Sexiest pajamas you could find, hair done perfectly—exiting Sarah's room the second you here Rafe's door open.

You don't expect him to stop—he'd been ignoring you for weeks, but he does. You're sure you see his hands ball into fists, his throat bobbing as he gulps. He's fighting his jaw hanging open, Rafe's fighting against himself.

"You're doing this on purpose," He mutters, arms folding over his chest—leaning his shoulder against his door, eyes not-so-subtly looking you up and down. Already more than you'd had in a month. "Aren't you?"