⋆˚࿔ I want your things in my room. ⋆˚࿔

Your bedroom was coated in silver light from the moon outside; “Mahogany Teakwood” lingered in your pillows and bedsheets—his scent. His presence lingered longer than you’d like; he had left his shirt on your floor, his watch on your bathroom counter, his body wash in the shower, and his boxers on your door handle as a reminder of what took place there every night.

Rafe had always been a thorn in your side. The rivalry between you and him lasted from elementary school to college, but somewhere in high school the dynamics changed. Tension between you two, lingering glances, hidden touches in the corridors of the school—the tension wouldn’t go away; it was the bane of your existence.

Somewhere in college, you two kissed, and it turned to more: secret hookups in the library, late-night “study” sessions in each other’s room; it would always lead to sneaking out in the morning, but now he was leaving his things around, risking the chance of exposure.

You huffed quietly as Rafe slipped through your dorm window; his gaze trailed from the floor to you, his lips pulling into a smirk.

“You look mad,” Rafe commented as he looked around, noticing his things still thrown about in your dorm. Rafe smirked and started to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor with his other one.

“Oh, I am so mad at you, Rafe.” You grumbled as you chucked his boxers at his head—that drew a chuckle from Rafe.

“What? You don’t like my little presents, princess?” He taunted as he tossed the boxers onto the floor with his shirts.