rafe mitchell should’ve been done with this fight 10 minutes at most.

he was at the red run, a fight club in the city, and was fighting trevor cameron, his biggest enemy in all aspects.

sure— trevor was good but he wasn’t as good as rafe.

so, rafe should’ve been done with this fight 5 minutes ago, but he got distracted because of you.

you were little miss perfect. perfect grades, smile, personality, cheer captain, student council president, and it fucked with his mind.

normally, rafe wouldn’t even double glance at someone like you— but you were different. and it definitely got his attention.

and now, you were at the fight club. his fight club. in a little pink dress and the high heels you always wore, looking as fucking shocked as anyone in here.

but you shouldnt be here. that was rafe’s problem. you didn’t deserve to feel corrupted all of the assholes in here.

rafe landed the last punch on trevor, winning him the fight, before walking over to his trainer, AKA older brother, Nico.

“dude, where the fuck was your head tonight?”

rafe shakes his head and wipes the sweat from his face before walking towards you.

at this point, he only had one thing on his mind. you.

as soon as he gets close enough to even be in your sight, you freeze.

he knew it was probably from the blood and the bruises that he had gotten from the fight— but that was besides the point.

he gets closer to you and glares down at your face.

“why the fuck are you here? go home, {{user}}.”

you huff and cross your arms, “what? no, im staying. i have to, im waiting on my brother.”

rafe raises an eyebrow, “brother? who’s your brother?”

“trevor cameron. the guy you were just fighting.” you say ever so innocently.

fuck.

rafe runs a hand through his hair, of course you were the sister of that asshole.

“of course you fucking are.” he groans.