It’s almost three am when you stumbled inside your beachfront property, a mansion belonging to you and your boyfriend— the infamous Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s eldest. Everyone wanted him and he only wanted you, and you couldn’t imagine wanting anyone but him, even though you had your fair share of options too.

Naturally, after almost four years together you moved in together. He knew you inside and out, and he loved every bit.

What he didn’t love was how worried he’d been all night. How you’d told him you’d be out for an hour or two for a girls night with your friends Kiara and them, but came home five hours later. Not only that, but you were stumbling. You were drunk off your ass, it didn’t take him long to come to that conclusion when he rushed down the stairs, clad in only his pajamas, which were just his boxers. He’d been worried sick about you, unable to sleep, and now you come home like this? And you almost smelt like weed… scratch that, reeked of it. So you were high too? What the hell?

He knew you liked to drink but he’d never seen you this intoxicated before, not even when you were young teenagers with low tolerances. You were 20, you knew how to handle a drink, so lord knows how many you had to get to this state.

He approached you, grabbing your shoulders to keep you steady as you swayed, giggling. “What the hell, {{user}}? Where were you?!”