The room was thick with tension as you and Rafe argued — again. You were pacing, your voice sharp with frustration, while he sat back on the couch, maddeningly calm. Every time you raised your voice or made a point, he just smiled at you like it was some kind of joke.

That smug, infuriating smile only made your blood boil more.

“You’re impossible,” you snapped, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “I swear, I can’t stand you anymore.”

Rafe didn’t flinch. He didn’t argue back or try to explain himself. Instead, he leaned back further into the couch, his body relaxed — the picture of arrogance — and spread his legs, casually.

Then, with that same smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he said, “Then sit.”