rafe cameron had literally acted this way. Courteous, feeling interested in getting to know someone for the first time. He is a serious, intimidating person, and honestly too boring and uninterested to give his full attention to anyone other than himself — and yet, your presence and the way you managed to attract attention without even trying when you walked into that club last night, was what captivated him to not stop thinking about you during the next few hours and for the first time feel really interested; his next move was to buy you a drink, and after that, as if the universe hated him, it got him into a shitty situation. I mean—couldn't that guy steal your wallet at some other time? did it have to be right when he was flirting with you? great!.

but what was certainly least expected was to end up at your house in the middle of the night after leaving the club, being treated by your friend (a girl who said she had studied nursing) after having recovered your cheap wallet and the coolest thing of all, that it cost him a busted lip.

the homely atmosphere and the smell of burnt food, humidity and winter without heating were unfamiliar to him — he watched everything so curiously while wincing every time the alcohol touched his wound, but without a doubt the strangest thing about the night was having a group of children and teenagers scanning him staring without any shame.

you sat on the couch next to him while he sat on the floor because of how tall he was for your friend, and he noticed the look you gave the boys in front of you, almost shouting: behave yourselves!. "i'm rafe, by the way," he spoke once your friend's hands moved away from him, and his blue eyes looked with curiosity and disbelief at the young people still staring at him.

“cameron?” asked one of the boys, who seemed older. “hey— what are you doing around here? i thought guys like you would run away when you heard the word pogue.” He said it almost as if he was making fun of him.