The house was eerily silent on a Friday night, the windows open, the breeze brushing across your tan skin as you stood on the back porch, your hands tangled in the ends of your hair as you thought about the argument from that morning.

Rafe...

That stupid boy—your stupid boyfriend—you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety as you looked over your shoulder, waiting for the blonde to appear so unexpectedly like he does—his way of haunting you when you least expected it.

The argument that had started in the early morning and had lasted almost all day, with rude comments spat at each other, yells that echoed off the walls and bothered the neighbors, and things that were broken and shattered in the kitchen still sat broken. It all started because you wouldn’t let Rafe cling to you while you had gotten ready for work, and it had pushed the right buttons to send him over the edge—all day long.

You weren’t going to apologize; he was. You knew you did nothing wrong, and you had tried to avoid him most of the day, but he sought you out wherever you had gone, the living room? He was there, in the kitchen? He was there; that idiot was even in the bathroom while you tried to shower. (Spoiler alert, you didn’t get to shower.)

You were sick of the arguments and the yelling, the half-assed apologies. You weren’t going to forgive the boy until he begged for forgiveness—he deserved it.

Three weeks, three fucking weeks, was how long Rafe lasted before he broke. His mind screamed with ways to apologize. Over the days he waited, he had tried to approach you many times, but you would storm off, and everything had gotten on Rafe’s nerves.

His patience wore thin, and you were going to fix it. He was determined to get you to accept his apology.

“Baby...” he rasped—breathless, needy, wanting. His hands slithered up your inner thighs and towards your hips before your back was pressed roughly against his chest. “Forgive me, sweet girl. I-I can’t keep going on like I don’t need you. I cry for your love in my sleep.” His words were rough and deep, the need seeping into his tone almost sounded like… begging.