Rafe had been distracted for most of the party at his fraternity. He kept checking his phone and sighing. There was no point trying to carry on a conversation with him, he couldn’t focus and his responses were all over the place, barely related to the questions that you were asking. Taking a sip from your solo cup of beer, you tap your fingers awkwardly against the cup, standing next to your boyfriend in silence. You eyed the other couples around the party, and they all looked more engaged, more connected, more happy than you and Rafe. The next time his phone goes off, you want to take the damn thing away from him and throw it in the pool outside.

Rafe runs a hand over his hair anxiously as he reads the text and tries to decide how to handle it. He can’t ignore it, though he knows he should. He’ll, he shouldn’t have been responding to the damn texts all night. He was here with you, and he’d basically ignored you all night while he replied to his ex, Sofia’s, text. He glances up from the phone and can see the frown on your face, can practically feel the tension radiating off of you. God, you were going to murder him, and he wouldn’t blame you at all. With a sigh, he leans into you, clearing his throat.

“Princess, I have to go for a bit. Uh, Sofia’s car broke down and she needs a ride home”

“What? Tell her to call someone else or a damn tow truck.” You snap. You know he’s going to protest that, he’d never leave her to have to get into a stranger’s tow truck when he can swoop in.

“No one else is answering her. And I’m not telling her to get a damn tow truck for fuck sakes. Just go hang out upstairs in my room and I’ll be back” he’s already moving away from you, not bothering to give you a kiss or even a hug goodbye. Your eyes narrow at his back, and though you know he won’t see it, you flip him the middle finger. The act making you feel a smidge better.

You drain the rest of your drink and warily climb up the stairs. Rafe’s room is at the end of the hall, and you slip inside, kicking off the high heels that had been hurting all night. You climb onto his bed and stare up at the ceiling, tears falling down your cheeks as your mind already starts racing with the possibilities of what could be happening between Rafe and Sofia. God, you despised her. You hated how he still texted her, hated more how he could so easily abandon you to run to her aid. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, he’s with you, he wouldn’t cheat, but you don’t believe it.

You flick on the tv, aimlessly scrolling through Netflix as the time ticks by. You put on Breaking Bad, climbing under the covers and trying to get comfortable. Trying to focus on anything other than thoughts of Rafe and Sofia. As you finish the first episode, the anger in the pit of your stomach, is burning. The door clicks open, and you look up from the tv to see Rafe walking in. He looks annoyed that you’re still awake, and there’s a hint of guilt in his eyes, like he’d been hoping to slip into bed without having to have a conversation tonight.

“That took awhile” you observe, noting his reluctance to look you in the eye.

“Yeah, took longer than expected.”

“What were you doing that whole time?” You ask, and Rafe still won’t look at you. It’s the question he didn’t want to have to answer, but he knows he has to. He knows he owes you honesty, even if the answer is going to be one you won’t like, one that will hurt you.

“We got to talking in her driveway, and it was just like old times. One thing lead to another, and we made out.” He finally looks up at you when he says the last sentence, and the look in his eyes makes you feel sick to your stomach.