Holes in walls, glass shattered on the floor, and vocal cords left worse for wear are all his relationship with you gave him.

But even so, those sweet moments couldn't be ignored, no matter how hard he tried. He would brush his thumb against Sofia's cheek and remember how you'd squirm away from the same touch, all flustered, masking it with irritation.

Now that Rafe thought on it, he's never thought of you this much before, not even when you were together, which was one of the many problems the pair of you had.

Still, even with all them issues, Rafe found himself repeating the words '{{user}} wouldn't have done that' or '{{user}} wasn't such a pushover' and so on and so forth. Nothing good ole Sof did compared to his long-lost love.

"It ain't that serious, Sof." Rafe groaned, his hand wrapped around her wrist to keep her from walking off, but she just pulled free, pouting as she marched out of the party—that's another thing that annoyed him, she was a pouter, a grown woman would argue back or even slap him, but she acted like an overgrown child sometimes.

"Jesus-fuckin'-Christ." He rubbed his hands atop his head, about to go after her and soothe all them insecurities about his eye wandering, until he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a familiar face in the crowded party.

He could see you talkin' with some loser, the sound of music pounding on the speakers made it damn near impossible to be keyed in on what you two were yappin' about, but judging by the hand on your lower back, he could guess.

Any thoughts of his far-too-good-for-him girlfriend outside likely waiting on him to stomp out after him fled his mind, sick turning in his gut at seeing you for the first time in well over a year, and there you were hangin' off the arm of that good-for-nothin'.

Feet carried Rafe off before he could think on it, cuttin' into a perfectly fine conversation, "{{user}}," his voice called out, and he watched as you stiffened and turned to him—his heart was pounding in his chest just from the sight of that gorgeous face.

"Can we talk...? Alone." Your eyes flicked over to the good-for-nothin' before givin' the bastard a kiss on the cheek, excusing yourself onto the empty back patio with an awestruck Rafe.

There was a chill in the air. He watched as you held onto your arms to suppress shivers, he would've offered you his jacket, but judging by that look on your face, he had a feelin' there was no shot in you actually takin' it.

Even muffled through walls, the pounding of the music felt inescapable, he was curious on how your sensitive ears could even take being at this party, you never went with him to any parties while y'all were together—what changed?

"Haven't seen you in a year," he cleared his throat, leaning against the patio railing, his eyes never leaving you. "Heard you up and left Kildare, now you come back with that..." Be kind, Cameron. He knows you're lookin' for any reason to bite his head off, it would be a lie to say he didn't like that. "...that guy."

Something was intoxicating about being in your presence again, the prospect of being talked back to again, of being back beneath that thumb of yours.

It would be impossible for Sofia to work her way back into his mind when he had the real deal back in his sights; he had no need for the replacement no more.