ROT WITH ME

xviii - rafe

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RAFE

Rafe poured himself a cup of black coffee, the steam billowed heavenward, stinging his eyes a bit. He wafted it with his hand, bringing the bitter drink with his other set of fingers to his naturally pinkish lips, slightly stained with the juice of cherries he had consumed mere minutes ago.

Thinking of her. It wasn't like he'd never fallen for someone else before. The feelings he had for June were similar to any other girl that had captured his attention. Yet it was so very different in an ineffable manner. But he was hopeful, on his knees praying that the different meant she was the one. His one.

He wanted her so badly that all he could do was think about what he could do to win her over when she wasn't present. Rafe didn't know the exact moment he'd started to think of her as more than just a friend.

Who was he kidding?

He'd never seen her as a friend.

In the very beginning, his infatuation with her appearance drew him to her. Then the second time they met, he hadn't recognized her in the dim lighting of the pub and thought eliciting reactions from her was funny. Pushing her buttons was entertaining. Leading to him lying about certain things to further prove some twisted point of his. As he reflected back on it, he realized he had been cruel.

The mishap between Theo and Alara folded as quickly as it had unfolded. And when he said that they were adults and could sort it out on their own. Rafe wished he'd meant it because if he had he wouldn't have antagonized her even more. Even going as far as acting like he didn't remember the night their paths had first crossed. Keeping it a secret owing to his shame for pouring out his deepest, darkest secrets. Even hating her a little because she'd witnessed who he used to be.

June had met Rafe at his worst. And being around her again, brought it back out. But it wasn't her fault, it was an issue he had to work on by himself if he wanted to be with her.

And he did and he would.