Pretty When You Cry ୨୧ Rafe Cameron

twenty one

Isla spent over an hour sitting in Rafe's room waiting for him to return. She had nothing to do in there, it was incredibly boring. She was drunk enough that it hardly mattered though, that she could make up random stories in her head and count floor planks and be entertained. When the buzz left her she got extremely annoyed.

Rafe came in eventually, holding a pink sundress, 'put this on, let's go get icecream at the pier.'

Another dress. Another lousy fake date. Couldn't he just give her some sweatpants for once?

'Didn't we already do enough today?' Isla asked, 'your dad put you up to this too?'

'No actually, I thought you might be hungry. And it's nice down there at sunset. But whatever, if you're gonna be like that we don't have to.'

'No I'll go,' Isla changed her mind. Being stuck up in this room all night wasn't something she wanted either. She put on the dress and tied her long curled hair up in a ponytail. Once again, Rafe was waiting outside the door when she came out.

He couldn't help but smile at her. She was pretty, she was always pretty. For once he actually pitied her. As much as he believed he didn't do anything wrong, that she wasn't in the right and he was, he felt bad that she was in this situation. She was a good person with a life ahead of her, and she didn't know it, but she wasn't getting that million dollars.

'Ready?' Rafe asked, snapping himself out of the negative train of thought he was headed down.

'Yeah,' Isla replied obliviously.

The car ride was silent. Rafe's mind stirred with anxious thoughts, while Isla made a silent resolution to herself to simply try and stop sulking.

As they strolled along the pier, the ocean breeze blew around Isla's ponytail, and the scent of saltwater filled her nostrils. Despite the picturesque setting, she couldn't get rid of the knot of anxiety in her stomach as if gnawed away at her despite her thoughts.

Rafe bought them each an ice cream cone, and they found a bench to sit and eat their treats. Isla's thoughts drifted as she licked her ice cream, her thoughts a mixture of resentment and uncertainty.

'You know,' Rafe said suddenly, breaking the silence that had filled the air between them, 'I never really wanted any of this.'

Isla was surprised. She figured Rafe was enjoying this, her suffering, having her wrapped around his finger. She glanced up at him. She was also shocked by the sincerity in his voice and expression. 'What do you mean?'

'This whole situation, like the deal with you, me, my dad.. it's just fucked up. I didn't expect it,' Rafe admitted, his gaze fixed on the horizon— the beautiful beach and the sun setting over the ocean, casting a golden glow on the pier and a glimmer of light on the sea.

Rafe was saying this stuff because his dad had told him just earlier that the 'deal' part of this situation was a hoax, false pretences. She was doing all of this just to keep her friends safe, who should be anyways. It wasn't a deal at all, just a plan.

Isla couldn't help but feel just a twinge of sympathy for Rafe, despite it all. She thought he was as evil as Ward, but maybe not.

'You should be sorry, you know,' she murmured. Her voice was barely above a whisper. This comment didn't even come off as rude, Rafe was completely aware that it was true.

Rafe turned to look at her, his eyes searching here's for something she couldn't quite identify. 'I know,' he said softly. 'And I'm sorry, believe it or not.'

The realness of his apology caught Isla off guard. She'd expected him to be more callous, more indifferent to this turmoil he'd created for her. But in that moment, she saw a tiny flicker of something genuine in his eyes, which was unusual for Rafe nowadays. She felt almost hopeful, but then she remembered that hope was a dangerous thing for her in her situation.