There were certain things that you just had to accept as Rafe’s girlfriend. He had a past. He’d made a lot of bad choices. And before you, there had been a long list of girls that he’d used just for the bodies. Most nights you were satisfied that he had cared enough about you to want to be better. Most nights you remembered all the ways that he had proven himself to you. He wasn’t the guy he had been then, he’d grown and he’d changed. He loved you.

But then there were nights like tonight, were you watched him slip into old habits. The way a conversation would stray over into flirtatious territory, or the way his hand would linger just a little too long on another girl. And your insecurities would bubble up to the surface. You’d start to wonder if he’d slept with that girl before, if she knew what he looked like in the throes of passion.

You’d needed a break from the thoughts watching him socialize were creating in your head, so you’d stepped into one of the bedrooms and overheard a conversation you wished you hadn’t. A group of girls discussing Rafe and what he was like in bed, wondering how long it would be before he was single again.

You’d bit back a scream and stormed out of the room, your whole body shaking with anger and jealousy. The bitter taste of your insecurities made you want to choke. Eyes focused on where Rafe stood with yet another group of girls, you stomped over to him.

“We need to talk” you snap as he turns around to you, the smile dying on his lips.

“What is it, baby?” He runs a hand through his hair, his tone weary. He knows nothing good ever comes from the words ‘we need to talk.’

“How many?” You ask through clenched teeth, knowing you’re probably not making any sense.

“How many what?”

“How many girls did you sleep with before me?” It’s a question you’d long wondered what the answer was. You’d just never had the nerve to ask it before. But anger had a way of giving people courage.

“Baby, just forget about that whole period. I was an idiot back then. I was a stupid jackass before I met you.” His words should’ve been enough to silence your fears, but you were beyond that so you pressed on, forcing the issue.

“No. Give me the number. I need to know. I can tell you mine. One. Just you”

He groans, tugging on his hair in annoyance. When he opens his mouth, his voice is full of irritation.

“I don’t want to do this” he finally says, his eyes weary. “It’s a stupid question and you’re only going to get pissed off at the answer”