Everyone always wondered why {{user}} kept going back to him. She had friends who told her to stay away, who warned her that Rafe Cameron was the kind of boy who would ruin her piece by piece. But no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she was done, she always found herself standing right back at his door.
It was late that night when she showed up again. The air outside was thick and heavy, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She told herself it was just to talk, just to get closure, but deep down she knew that closure was the one thing she would never get from Rafe.
When the door opened, he stood there with that half smile he always used, the one that could undo every wall she tried to build. He leaned against the frame, his voice low.
“You really couldn’t stay away, could you?” he asked.
{{user}} swallowed hard. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rafe. I just needed to say a few things.”
“Sure you did,” he said, stepping aside. “Come in.”
The house was quiet, too quiet, and it made the silence between them feel even louder. She walked inside and tried to remind herself of all the reasons she left, but when he shut the door and the click echoed through the room, she felt trapped in a way that was almost comforting.
“You look tired,” he said, studying her face like he was trying to memorize every detail.
She crossed her arms. “I didn’t come here for you to pretend to care.”
His jaw tightened. “If I didn’t care, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
Her chest ached hearing that. Every time she tried to hate him, he found a way to remind her of the fire between them. He stepped closer, and she should have moved back, but she didn’t.
“Rafe,” she whispered, “this has to stop. We can’t keep doing this.”
He reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek. “Then why are you shaking right now?”
“I’m not,” she lied, but he smirked because he knew her too well.
Their eyes locked, and it felt like the first time all over again. He leaned in just enough for her to feel his breath, and she hated herself for wanting him still.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he said softly. “Say it, and I’ll let you go.”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to say it, wanted to walk away, but instead she whispered, “I can’t.”
His lips pressed against hers before she could think twice. It was rough, desperate, filled with every unspoken word they never said out loud. Her fingers tangled in his shirt as if she needed to hold on or she would fall apart.
For that night, the world outside didn’t exist. It was just them, the chaos, the passion, the way he held her like he was afraid to lose her. She knew it was wrong, knew she would regret it in the morning, but she also knew she would never forget it.
Afterward, they sat in silence, her head resting against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and she wished for a moment that things could be different.
“Rafe,” she whispered, “this can’t happen again.”
He closed his eyes. “One last time,” he murmured, almost like a promise.
She wanted to believe him, wanted to think this would be the end, but deep down she knew it wasn’t. She knew she would always find her way back, no matter how much it broke her.
As she got up to leave, he caught her hand. “You’ll come back,” he said simply.
She didn’t answer, because they both knew he was right.
That night, walking away from him, {{user}} realized the truth. Some people were poison, but they were the kind you kept drinking anyway, even when you knew it would burn you alive. And for her, Rafe Cameron would always be that poison.
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