Snow On The Beach // R.C.

1.18

I wake up in my own bed this morning. At first, I'm confused by the foreign clothes on my body (and the lack of underwear beneath). But when I see the red and white polka dot dress laying across the end of the bed and all the shopping bags littering the floor, everything comes rushing back.

    Pink cheeks.

    Freckled shoulders.

    Lazy blue eyes.

    Rafe's mouth on my most sacred of places.

    I stare at the white and blue wallpapered walls for a moment, swearing they swirl and crash like the waves of the ocean, the ones that swirled and crashed into Rafe and I last night. For the first time...ever—I find myself wishing I didn't have my internship today. I'm usually always game for a distraction from my life. But today, I find that I want to live it.

    Sitting up, I brush my hair out of my face, finding that my hands smell like salt air. They smell like Rafe's hair. I fight the urge to bring them to my face, deeply inhaling. Then I almost slap myself silly. I don't know what Rafe and I are. Friends might be the closest thing to the truth. Might be the easiest label to use. Either way, I definitely do not need to be obsessing over what shampoo he uses.

    Get it together, Cecilia, I mentally shout at myself.

    Reaching for my phone, I discover a text from John that's from yesterday afternoon:

Here's Johnny

Came by Lord Farquuad's. U weren't there. Everything good?

    I decide to text him back.

Don't be salty Ward fired you. I'm fine. Was out with a friend.

Who?

Rafe.

LOL

    I bite back a smirk. He doesn't believe me.

Where have you been staying?

    It takes him several minutes to respond.

On a mission. Gotta go.

What does that mean?

Hello?

John?

    My last few messages won't go through. He must have turned his phone off, that little son of a bitch. Deciding not to worry too much about it (though I very much am worrying too much about it), I get out of bed and head straight for the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and cleaning myself up a little, I head downstairs to make some breakfast. I take the stairs a little quicker than usual, nearly tripping when I reach the spot I was sprawled across last night.

    "Woah, Sissy," Ward chortles when I practically barrel into him at the bottom. I hadn't even seen him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

    Shit. I'm wearing Rafe's clothes. Crossing my arms over my chest, I hope he doesn't notice.

    "Kitchen," I slowly say. "I'm really hungry, yeah."

    "She had a late night."

    Whirling around, I spot Rafe sauntering down the stairs, a shit-eatting grin plastered across his face. I can't decide whether I want to punch or kiss it off.

    "Yeah," I say as I spin back to face Ward. He looks oblivious. "Didn't get a chance to eat much last night. I'm starving. Might make cinnamon rolls." Rafe appears next to me, his hand discreetly brushing mine. "Does anyone want cinnamon rolls?" I cough.