THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

080; looking for him

Later that afternoon Myra found herself on her old bike, peddling around the other side of Kildare Island. Figure eight, the place where she didn't belong but a certain someone did. That someone of course being none other than Rafe Cameron himself, the kook prince. She had been looking for him for the past hour without any luck. She had gone by Barry's place first, but it was quiet. The dark haired boy had been out, so Myra quickly made her way across the bridge that divided the two parts of the island.

Rafe's big mansion home wasn't as still as Barry's small trailer home. People were out in the garden and swimming in the pool. She assumed the younger looking girls splashing around to be Rafe's little sister and some of her friends, and of course a family like his had gardeners working for them. Trimming the bushes and watering their huge green lawn. Myra had gazed around, seeing the sunlight flood through each and every window. All except one at the back, which had the curtains pulled together and the blinds shut. She assumed that room to belong to Rafe, the black sheep of the Cameron family.

Myra was soon on her way again, not wanting to stop by the front door to knock. She wouldn't know how to explain who she was or why she was even there. She wasn't nicely dressed enough in her worn out denim shorts and old t-shirt that his parents or whoever opened the door would believe that she was just another kook girl from the club. No way. So with that lie out of the window, Myra set her sights on another building where she would often find the oldest child of Ward Cameron - the island club.

It didn't take Myra long to reach her destination. She parked her bike outside of the large building before she walked inside, seeing another pouge girl working the front desk. She was a few years older and sometimes worked during the summer. Myra rushed around the place, not wanting to stay around for too long since she was supposed to be off today. Rafe wasn't tucked away reading in the lobby or out playing golf by the green courses and he seemingly wasn't down by the pool area or the spa either. The tennis court was filled with girls and the squash court too. No Rafe in sight. Myra didn't have much luck until she walked into the restaurant. There wasn't a lot of people in there at this time, but down by the bar sat a boy with a familiar face.

Myra walked over towards the corner of the bar with fast steps. He hadn't seen her yet. He was mindlessly staring down at the drink in his hands, a double shot of some expensive old whiskey. Myra saw the way he was slowly swirling the dark rusty brown liquid around in the heavy glass with his right hand. He seemed to be lost in a deep thought, sitting there all alone. So she pulled the empty chair next to him out, sitting down to face him.

"Hey Rafe"

Rafe looked up, seemingly surprised to be seeing Myra there. Especially dressed in her normal clothes. She looked pretty, he thought. Casual, perfectly suited for their hot summers. But yet again, he didn't mind her in her uniform either. "Hey pearl" he spoke, his voice a little groggy. "What'cha doing?" Myra asked, her gaze flickering from his face to the glass in his hands and back. "Uhm, I'm just... having a drink" Rafe trailed, fiddling with the rim of the heavy glass, "you're not working today?". Myra shook her head, "nope". Rafe nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey as he took the information in. Myra watched him, seeing the way the alcohol hit his lips with such ease. Rafe was an avid drinker, that was for sure, cause he didn't even flinch by the bitter harsh taste of the alcohol.

"Are you alright?" Myra asked lowly, leaning forward a little as to seek contact with the tall boy. Rafe looked back at her as he placed the glass down on the bar counter before him. "Mhm, yeah" he answered shortly, as if it was obvious. Why wouldn't he be, he thought. Ugh. Such an unnecessary question. He didn't want to go into it any further. Instead he lifted his glass, gulping down another mouthful of the alcohol, letting it burn on his tongue. It was a good sensation, a slightly numbing one.