“You’re staying, right?” Rafe asked, already shirtless, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, watching {{user}} scroll through her phone on his bed like she owned it.

She glanced up, smirking. “You want me to?”

He scoffed. “Don’t ask dumb questions.”

It started simple: no feelings, no strings, no questions. Just sneaking around when the others weren’t watching, late night texts that said 'you up?' and smug smiles exchanged during group hangs. She’d show up in his hoodie, hair in a messy bun, and leave wearing the same hoodie with a new set of hickeys.

“Friends with benefits,” she’d said the first time. “That’s it.”

“Sure,” he had replied. But his eyes had lingered a second too long. And hers had too.

Now, weeks in, {{user}} had a drawer at Tannyhill. She knew which of his pillows was the softest, and he kept her favorite snacks in the kitchen. No one knew. Not Sarah, not Topper, not even JJ. They were subtle. Until they weren’t.

That night, after a particularly heated 'benefit' session, she laid next to him, sheets tangled around her legs. Rafe turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

“So…” he said lazily, “You seeing anyone else?”

She paused, turning to look at him. “Why? Jealous?”

“Just asking.”

She smirked, leaning in, her lips ghosting over his jaw. “I thought we didn’t do feelings.”

He didn’t answer. Just kissed her again, rougher this time.

They never talked about it.

But the next day, when Topper joked about {{user}} being late, Rafe snapped, “She was with me.”

And just like that, the 'friends' part started to blur.