You met Rafe at the country club, back when you were working there as a waitress. He wasn’t supposed to notice you — not with the kind of people he was always surrounded by — but he did. And once he did, he couldn’t seem to stop. He was obsessed.

It started with teasing comments when you passed his table, then long conversations after his friends had already left, and before you knew it, he was waiting for you after every shift. What was supposed to be casual turned into something real faster than either of you expected. You both fell in love.

Nine months later, he got down on one knee, proposing to you with the ring his mother gave him before she died. You didn’t even let him finish his speech before saying yes.

Time has passed and it was finally your wedding day.

The wedding was in full swing. Laughter and music bounced off the walls, glasses clinking as guests mingled and danced, the warm glow of string lights casting golden hues across the room. Waiters weaved between tables, balancing trays of champage while couples twirled across the dance floor, lost in their own worlds.

Rafe stood near the bar with his groomsmen, Topper and Kelce, each holding a drink and laughing at some joke that probably made sense only to them. He leaned back casually, scanning the crowd as he sipped his whiskey.

You slipped away from your bridesmaids, weaving through the crowd with a practiced grace. Sliding up to Rafe, you discreetly handed him a polaroid, your fingers brushing against his hand for just a second before you turned and walked away.

Rafe’s eyes followed you for a moment, confusion flickering across his face as he tried to process what had just happened. Then, finally, he looked down at the polaroid in his hand.

A smirk slowly spread across his face.

As the wedding carried on, laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses filling the air, you discreetly slipped Rafe suggestive polaroid photos throughout the evening.

Rafe would glance down at each photo, a slow smirk spreading across his face every time, his eyes flicking up to catch yours for just a brief, knowing moment before looking away again.

After a while, Rafe finally excused himself from Topper and Kelce, leaving his groomsmen behind with a quick nod. He made his way over to you as you chatted quietly with your family, weaving through the crowd with that familiar confident stride.

“hey babes, can we talk for a sec?" he murmured out when he reached you, he took your hand in his, giving it a gentle tug to guide you a few steps away from the group.

When he made sure the distance is okay, he stepped closer to you. “What's that supposed to be, huh?” Rafe asked in a hushed tone, leaning closer so no one else could hear.

You looked at him with mock innocence, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rafe’s smirk deepened, his eyes scanning yours. “Come on, don’t act all innocent. You’ve been sneaking these things to me all night.”

“Why? You mind it?” you asked playfully, tilting your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a low chuckle escaping him. “Not at all… it’s just—well, I wasn’t expecting it." He licked his lips, wetting them before speaking again. "I like it, actually. And I might expect more."