Rafe was not soft.

Not soft at all. He never had been. He’d always seen himself as a hit-and-run kinda guy. Never been a relationships man. Hookups, parties, hangovers, drugs—his entire life revolved around those four things.

But then he met you. Final-boss girlfriend; the softest, sweetest lil’ soul, wide eyes and broad smiles, all teeth and sparkly eyes. Always getting upset over minor inconveniences, having to be babied by a man in your life.

Rafe had always been a creature of chaos, moving through life like a hurricane, leaving a trail of half-lived moments and fleeting connections in his wake. His reputation as the guy who didn’t stick around was as solid as his self-image: tough, unyielding, the type of person you couldn’t rely on for more than a good time. Fuck, what had you done to him?

The first time you smiled at him—really smiled, like you saw him, all of him—it shook him. Your eyes were wide, full of life, full of trust, and for the first time, Rafe felt that maybe he didn’t want to be alone in his wild, reckless world. Maybe he wanted more than just a string of shallow moments.

And when you got upset over the smallest things, like a spilled drink or a forgotten phone charger, he found himself wanting to protect you, to be the one who made it better.

Tonight, you lay quietly in his arms at a family dinner, lazy and half asleep while he spoke to Topper and Kelce.

“Dude, you’re so whipped.”

And that comment leaving Topper’s lips had him thinking. Was he whipped? Who had he become in the time you’d been together? He’d changed as a person, and as much as Topper and Kelce found that ridiculous due to his past, he found himself liking the responsibility of a girl. He liked the control he had.

Gross. That was disgusting to even think of.