THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

093; soulmates

Myra painted colours in Rafe's gloomy grey heart, that was clear as day for anyone to see. He was like a overcast evening while she was the sunset that slowly overtook it.

Rafe laid in the sand on the beach, his hands behind his head. He gazed to his right side, seeing Myra laying so close to him. His girlfriend, the pouge girl he had once seen sitting in Barry's kitchen with a jar of peanut butter in her hands. He couldn't believe it. Asking her to be his girlfriend, it was something he thought he wouldn't ever do. His father's words of caution rang loudly inside of his mind, reminding Rafe that he should stay as far away from Myra as he possibly could. Rafe almost always listened to his father with a great deal of respect and a hint of fear. He didn't want to disappoint him. He didn't want to go against his wishes or good advice. Yet this time it was almost as if every part of him wanted to do so, just to spite his dad. Matter of factly, this was the best Rafe could do when it came to keeping his distance from Myra. A mere millimeter. He couldn't stay away from her, he didn't know why. Besides Rafe figured that what Ward didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Myra was looking up at the dark night sky. Rafe's gaze danced over her pretty face in the darkness. She was glowing like an angel, more so than before. There was something special about the way the light of the moon hit her skin. There was something new in the way her blue eyes lit up. He allowed his gaze to linger on her for a moment, taking his time to paint a picture in his mind. Hundreds of them. Things he wanted to see with her by his side, things he wanted to experience with her. The mountains he would climb and the oceans he would swim across. He then drew in a deep breath, slowly letting the air go from his lungs as his gaze wandered up towards the sky where Myra was looking. The heavy clouds from before were starting to part, allowing the moon and the stars to take their place upon the late night sky. The dark canvas belonging to the universe, the ever changing picture. Rafe was sure that he would forever remember how the sky looked like tonight though, it would never change in his mind. Myra looked over at Rafe, a curious expression upon her face. "What are you thinking about?" she asked. Rafe's gaze travelled down from the sky, across the dark sea before them and then back to her. "You" he hummed, enchanted by her presence. Myra smiled, a flush of pink rushing across her cheeks. "What about me?" she asked lowly, her hands clasped together on top her her stomach. Rafe inched closer as his gaze locked onto her. "I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen" he confessed, feeling his heart thud loudly inside of his chest. "Really?" Myra asked as she rolled onto her side, plopping her right elbow down into the sand. "Yeah" Rafe assured her with a nod of his head, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Myra smiled again, not able to hold it back. "What about all your girls back at the island club?" she asked in a intrigued manner, resting her chin in the palm of her hand as her eyes scanned over Rafe. He scoffed. It was a mixture of playfulness and cockiness, which wasn't usual for him. His voice rang out into the chilly air strongly, "they've got nothing on you"

He had called girls beautiful before, sure. Probably hundreds of times. It was such an easy thing to let slip to get whichever girl he was in conversation with to melt. It was one of his many tricks to get them to follow him back home or to the closest restroom. A bad habit of his. So yes he had called plenty of girls beautiful before, but he had never meant it. It had never felt like this. Many of them had been traditionally good looking pretty girls. Like the cover of a magazine with perfectly styled blonde Hollywood curls, glossy lips and long eyelashes. Tall girls with long legs and petite girls with plump lips. They would've loved them in Milan or Paris, but Rafe used them like they were disposable. None of them made him feel like Myra did. None of them looked as beautiful as her. It didn't matter that her hair was tangled in a few places. It didn't matter that she had bruises and scabs on her knees or a light purple tint underneath her eyes. She still enchanted him more than any other girl at the club had managed to do. "That's sweet" Myra commented, seemingly holding back a little. "It's true" Rafe assured her, a simple shrug of his shoulders. He was being honest but Myra didn't seem to believe him. She let her blue eyes scan over him like she was trying by to figure him out, her eyebrows slightly raised. "Is that so?" she questioned. "Yeah" Rafe breathed, rolling onto his left side to face her. "Really? Are you sure you're not just saying that to get into my pants?" Myra asked. Rafe sighed as he shook his head. "No pearl" he muttered, "I mean I do want that, but that's not why I'm saying it... you really think that lowly of me?". Rafe sat up, dragging his hands through the sand. He pulled his knees up, letting his forearms rest on them as he gazed out at the dark water before them. "No, I'm sorry Rafe" Myra urged as she sat up too. She laid her hands on his left shoulder, looking up at him. "It's whatever" Rafe snarled, not looking back at her, "I know what you think of me, I'm just some rich kook playboy". Myra sighed. "I mean I've heard stories, yeah" she confessed, inching closer so that she was sitting next to him, "but I don't think you're like that, not anymore at least"