For Your Love // Rafe Cameron X Reader

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

The sun was hotter than you'd expected in the day that followed. Summer was well and truly here and the sweltering heat made you feel sticky and gross. You showered in the morning, cold water to help stave off the warmth, and changed into yet a pair of denim shorts and a pale green tank top that was cropped to sit at your waist. Sandals would be hard to drive in so you put on a pair of flats instead and head out for the day.

You were heading off Island to Charleston so you could meet some florists for the event and have a look at some new clothes for it on the famous King Street, known for its shopping venues. 

After packing some water for the trip - a necessity in this heat - and grabbing your bag, you hop into your car and set off. Dad was working of course. So it was a day for just you to enjoy yourself; even if it was for work-related reasons.

Your music was blasting and sunglasses block out the blaring sun as it rises closer to midday. You're halfway to the ferry when a popping sound sends your car swerving and you slam down on the breaks, glad that nobody was around you to crash into. The car feels a little lower on one side and you curse loudly as you pull off to the side of the road. You had a popped tire. You think. 

Stepping out onto the roadside confirms your suspicions and another F-bomb flies free before you can stop it. "Piece of shit." You abuse the car more verbally, huffing as you lean back against it. 

Well, what the fuck were you going to do now? Change a tire? Yeah, right.

You google it anyway to see if it would be easy, but decide it absolutely would not be. You look back the way you came. Then the way you were going. It would take just as long to get back as it would to get to the ferry. 

The sun beams down on you and you're already missing the air-con so you get back inside and switch it back on while you decide what to do. You rest your head on the steering wheel, cursing your poor luck as the cool air whips over your face.

The blaring car horn startles you and you fly back in your seat, heart racing from the shock as you look out of your rolled-down window. To your side was none other than Rafe Cameron in an expensive looking four-by-four, window rolled down and an amusement to his cool stare. He switches off the engine and steps out, heading your way. 

His forehead held a layer of perspiration, hair falling lazily around sharp features. He was wearing a plain white crewneck and navy blue shorts, a thin silver chain hanging around his neck. 

"You okay?" He asks, eyes scanning the car for obvious damage that he wouldn't find since the popped tire was on the other side. 

"Peachy." You grumble, your bad mood at your predicament taking over your attitude. "Popped tire. Waiting to decide if I wanna go home and call a garage or walk the rest of the way. Unless you know how to change a tire?"

"God, no." He grimaces. "Where you headed?"

"Charleston." You sigh, grumpy enough to give up on the idea altogether at this point. You needed to call a mechanic - not that you even knew any - and delay your little adventure until tomorrow it seemed.

"What the hell kinda business you got in Charleston?" He snorts, forearms leaning on the nook of your open window. He smelled good. Really good. You wondered briefly what aftershave he must use. His lips were parted with a lazy grin, gaze fixated on you like he really gave a damn about what you had to say. 

All for show, you were sure. 

"Florists. And, maybe a little shopping." 

"Cool. Hop in." He nods toward his car and you frown. You don't need to ask, he already guesses the words before they have a chance to fully form in your mind. "I'll take you there. I was just gonna head out on the boat anyway, this gives me somethin' to do."