rafe always did love when your brother invited him and his friends over, even if just to do something as simple as watching sport and drinking beer, because you would be there.

his best friends little sister. his guilty pleasure. with a wicked tongue and short temper, who drove him crazy in all the right ways. you would prance around your house in those silk pyjamas that can barely classify as clothes with your nails and hair always done to perfection, and rafe’s cerulean gaze would linger a second too long.

because, of course, you are completely and utterly off limits.

tonight, he’s sat on the couch with his friends, next to your brother as they watch the football with a bored expression on his face. but when he hears dainty footsteps padding down the stairs, a small smirk plays on his lips.

you enter the living room with a frown on your pretty face, eyes zeroing in on your brother.