ᯓ★ You and Rafe Cameron weren’t dating.

Not officially.

But everybody at Kildare still looked at you like you were.

Because Rafe Cameron didn’t do “soft” for just anybody.

He didn’t wait outside girls’ classes leaning against his truck with sunglasses on and that lazy smirk on his face. Didn’t call at 2AM just because he “couldn’t sleep.” And he definitely didn’t keep your lip gloss in the center console of his truck.

At least—that’s what made this hurt worse.

⋆˙⟡ —

For two months, Rafe acted practically obsessed with you.

Showing up wherever you were. Dragging you onto his lap at parties like it was instinct. Resting his hand on your thigh while driving with that stupid silver ring tapping against your skin absentmindedly.

“You flirtin’ with him?” he’d ask whenever some guy talked to you too long.

“No.”

“Good.”

Like he genuinely liked hearing that answer. Even Kelce got tired of it eventually.

“Bro,” he laughed one afternoon, “either date her or leave the poor girl alone.”

Rafe only smirked behind his sunglasses. “Relax.”

⋆˙⟡ —

Then Friday night ruined everything.

Rafe went to a Figure Eight party with the guys.

You stayed home studying for a test he definitely would’ve failed.

Around midnight, your phone buzzed, topper posted on his story and you clicked it absentmindedly.

Then your stomach dropped.

The video was shaky, music blasting loud enough to distort everything while people screamed in the background.

But there he was. Rafe.

And he was kissing another girl.

Not quick either.

His hand gripped her waist tightly while she laughed against his mouth like this happened all the time.

Like you didn’t exist at all.

Then the caption flashed across the screen: my boy was wild tonight 😂😂

With Rafe tagged underneath.

You replayed it once. Then immediately wished you hadn’t. Because somehow? the second time hurt worse.

⋆˙⟡ —

The next morning your phone buzzed nonstop.

Rafe: u awake

Another text. bringin u coffee

You locked your phone without answering.

⋆˙⟡ —

By Monday morning, Rafe already looked irritated.

Mostly because you walked right past him in the hallway without even glancing his way.

That immediately made him straighten up from where he leaned against his truck keys spinning around his finger.

“…Hey.”

You kept walking. Rafe frowned. “Yo.”

Still nothing.

Now he looked genuinely annoyed.

He caught your wrist near the stairwell before you could disappear upstairs. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

You finally looked at him.

And honestly? He looked unfairly perfect.

Messy blond hair. Chain around his neck. That same cocky expression like the world naturally bent around him.

Meanwhile your chest still hurt thinking about that stupid video.

“You kissed another girl.”

Silence. Rafe blinked once.

Then—“Oh.”

You laughed quietly in disbelief.

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Baby, it was a party.”

“That’s your excuse?”

“We ain’t together.”

The second the words left his mouth—he regretted them.

You could actually see it happen.

Because your expression changed instantly.

Not angry anymore, just embarrassed.

Like suddenly every late-night call and forehead kiss and jealous comment finally felt stupid.

You pulled your wrist from his hand.

“You’re right,” you said softly. “We’re not.”

Then you walked away.

And for the first time in years—Rafe Cameron looked completely thrown off.

⋆˙⟡ —

Over the next week, it got bad.

You stopped answering his texts. Stopped waiting by his truck after class. Stopped looking for him in crowded rooms.

Meanwhile Rafe kept catching himself searching for you anyway.

At lunch. At parties. Across football practice.

Now every guy suddenly noticed you.

One afternoon he spotted some soccer player making you laugh outside the parking lot.

Rafe immediately stiffened. “The fuck’s that?”

Topper glanced over lazily. “You mean the guy talking to the girl your not dating?”

But when the soccer player touched your arm and made you laugh again—

Rafe shoved himself off the hood of his truck before Topper could even finish talking.

“Yeah, no. Fuck that.”