DEVIL

1.4 | Lust

Lust; noun: "an intense desire for sexuality, money, or power."

"Poetry?" A voice called her. "Or, can I call you 'Poe,' yet?" Rafe Cameron asked, slowing his gaze from a slight jog to a saunter, as he put his hands in his pockets. "How about you don't call me at all?" Poetry amused, earning a hushed laugh from Rafe. "You'd miss me too much." Rafe noted. "I haven't missed you yet; you haven't really given me the chance to." Rafe mock-gasped as he placed his hand over his heart. "What ever do you mean?" He exaggerated his already evident southern accent.

"You kinda stalk me," Poetry told him. "I'll stop if you tell me to," Rafe replied, holding his hands up in defense. Continuing to walk beside Poetry, he leaned closer to her ear, adding, in almost a whisper, "but, I don't think you'd want that, would you?" Poetry slightly stammered a bit, looking away as she moved her hair out of her face; Rafe smirked as he fell into step behind her.

"At least let me carry that box for you," he offered, already attempting to take it from her. "How do I know you won't throw it over the dock?" Poetry countered, tugging the box closer to her. Rafe shrugged. "You'll just have to trust me, I guess."

"Never trust anyone that says 'trust me;' it's an obvious rule." Nonetheless, Poetry handed the box over to Rafe; her arms were starting to get tired, after all. "You didn't drive here?" Rafe queried, prompting Poetry to shake her head in response. "Why would I drive when the weather's so nice?" Rafe chuckled, already knowing the irony of her sentence. "North Carolina has some of the most unpredictable weather I've ever seen. It might be sunny for two hours straight, only to start storming like it's the apocalypse within the blink of an eye."

"The sky is perfectly clear, Rafe. I think it's fine," Poetry said with a laugh, unwilling to believe just how fast the weather could change. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Poetry and Rafe made it back to her house and sat the groceries down. Poetry still had plenty of time until Eridanus would get home from school, so she agreed to walk around town with Rafe.

Rafe insisted on driving, but Poetry convinced him to walk around. "So, why didn't you text me?" Rafe questioned as they walked side-by-side. Poetry only shrugged. "I didn't really see a reason to. I figured I'd see you again," she replied. "And what if you didn't see me again?"

"Then I guess I would've texted you." Rafe smirked, having already expected that to be her answer. Noticing this, Poetry added, "don't let it go to your head."

"Okay, then text me; right now," Rafe insisted smugly. "You're right beside me. There's literally no need to text you." Rafe shrugged before leaning forward, opening the door to a shop, allowing Poetry to enter first. "Doesn't matter. If you text me, I'll have your number."

"Why would I want you to have my number?"

"Do you want me to follow you around in person all the time?"

"Maybe I don't mind it," Poetry replied, this time, sporting a smirk of her own. Rafe's brows lifted momentarily, as his footsteps slowed. He quickly fell back into step with Poetry. Almost as soon as they left the shop they'd previously entered, a downpour begun. Rafe only glanced down at Poetry with a smug grin, as if to say "I told you so."

Poetry briefly and instinctively held her arms over her head as if to guard herself from the rain, while Rafe remained still. "What's wrong? Is Poetry Rain not enjoying this weather?" He taunted with his lips curved slightly upwards, remembering her middle name. "Can't we go inside somewhere?" Poetry asked, having to shout a bit, due to how loud the rain sounded against the cement sidewalks and mainly tin roofs on the old buildings.