THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

082; mean girls

Rafe's dirtbike stood parked outside of a large two story mansion looking house on one of the largest streets of figure eight. Inside of the house Rafe roamed around, his arm snaked around Myra's waist as he led her along. Face after face passed by, she didn't know anyone so she just followed Rafe wherever he took her.

After a few minutes Myra found herself in the living room, sitting on the couch next to Rafe and some of his friends that all looked older. She sunk back, gazing around. She had some kind of drink in a clear plastic cup in her right hand. A pinkish liquid that tasted like chemical cotton candy and a hint of lemon. It wasn't great, but Myra assumed that kook girls didn't drink beer. She would've been just fine with whatever beer honestly, but she hadn't told Rafe that for she had barely spoken a word since they got there.

Myra slowly sipped on her drink as loud music was blasting in the room. A loud and cheerful conversation broke out around her, but she didn't participate. Rafe did however, laughing loudly. "Shots?" his voice called out after a while, but it blended right into the noise. Myra didn't react, biting down on the edge of her cup, tasting the nasty plastic on her lips. "Hey Myra" Rafe called out, grabbing her arm to get her attention before he repeated himself, "shots?"

Myra's thoughts returned to the here and now as she looked back at Rafe, seeing his blue eyes shine in the dim light of the large room. "Oh uhm yeah" she mumbled with a faint nod of her head. Shots could help her loosen up little, she thought. Rafe smirked, pulling her up so quickly that she almost spilled her drink. Myra downed the last of it as Rafe once more dragged her through the crowded house, making their way towards the kitchen. It was larger than Myra's small kitchen back home on the cut, in fact it might've been bigger than her whole house. She leaned against the kitchen island as a sigh escaped her lips. "These kooks man" she mumbled to herself, causing Rafe to lean down towards her. "Huh?" he asked as he was trying to open a bottle of tequila. "Nothing" Myra hummed, brushing it off. "What?" Rafe asked a little louder, clearly not having heard her. "It's nothing, it's not important" Myra repeated herself, standing up on her tippy toes to get closer to him so he could hear her better. "Mhm" Rafe hummed as he nodded his head, opening the bottle in his hands. He raised the bottle to his lips, taking a big gulp of the alcohol before he began to pour it into a bunch of shot glasses that some blonde haired girl had placed out on the kitchen counter.

"What the fuck is he doing here with her?"

Myra turned around as she heard a snarky sounding voice. She recognized the voice, she just couldn't pin point who it belonged to. Until she saw her face, Meghan. The girl who was at every stupid kook party that Rafe went to. The girl who would often play tennis with her dad at the island club and enjoy expensive facials down at the spa with her mother. She acted like a sweet innocent angel, but Myra could see the entitled stuck up darkness within her eyes. She was stuck on Rafe like a piece of gum at the bottom of his shoe. He didn't seem to care much about her as a person, but he seemed to enjoy the way she would bat her  long mascara clad eyelashes towards him. He liked the attention she gave him, and the fact that she would always buy whatever drug that he was selling.

Meghan's words hadn't been directed towards Myra, that was clear as day. The older girl was talking to another blonde haired girl, one who looked just as snarky and stuck up. "Who?" the girl asked, to which Meghan rolled her eyes. "That pouge girl" Meghan blabbered on, nodding her head towards Myra who pretended not to hear them, "she's like what? Sixteen... seventeen?"

Myra caught the sight of Meghan's friend shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know" she spoke, slurring her words. "She's just a little baby, ugh, what is she even doing here?" Meghan continued. "I don't know" her friend repeated, "do you think Rafe brought her?". The mere thought of it seemed to infuriate Meghan. "If he did, it's just for her to carry some of his goods, that's all pouges are good for" she muttered. "I'm sure she followed him here like some kind of psycho stalker" Meghan's friend tried to assure her. "Probably" Meghan agreed, grabbing some lipgloss from her bag before she applied it to her already overly glossy lips. Myra watched as the older girl smacked her lips, gazing towards Rafe. He didn't seem to notice. "I bet she's like a drug addict" Meghan's friend added. "Oh yeah" Meghan agreed again. "And besides, she sooo ugly, I mean look at her" the friend went on. Meghan laughed loudly, "yeah she is, oh my god"