The Lines We've Crossed

ONE

The next morning, the house was unusually quiet. The boys had stayed over, crashing wherever they found space. I tiptoed around, trying not to wake them as I went to the kitchen to make coffee. The events of the previous night played on a loop in my mind. Rafe's unexpected kindness and the way he looked at me—different, in a good way—lingered like a pleasant ache.

As the coffee brewed, I leaned against the counter, lost in thought. My quiet morning was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. I turned to see Rafe entering the kitchen, looking surprisingly alert compared to the rest of the guys.

"Morning," he said, his voice still husky with sleep.

"Morning," I replied, offering a small smile. "Coffee?"

"Please," he said, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

I poured two mugs and handed one to him, our fingers brushing again. I quickly pulled my hand back, feeling that same electric tingle.

"Thanks," he said, taking a sip. "Last night was... interesting."

I chuckled. "Yeah, it was."

Rafe studied me for a moment before speaking again. "You really surprised me, you know."

"How so?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"The way you took care of everyone. You stepped up when the rest of us were useless. It was... impressive."

I blushed, feeling both proud and embarrassed. "Well, someone had to. You guys were a mess."

"True," he laughed. "But still, it was more than that. You were nurturing, almost motherly. I never thought I'd see you like that."

"Guess I'm full of surprises," I said, trying to keep the tone light.

Rafe's expression softened. "You definitely are."

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words. I fidgeted with my mug, unsure of how to respond to the intensity of his gaze. The kitchen felt smaller, more intimate.

"I should check on the others," I said, breaking the silence and moving toward the living room where Tyler and the rest were sprawled out. "Make sure they're still breathing."

Rafe followed me, standing close enough that I could feel the warmth of his presence. "I'll help."

Together, we nudged the guys awake, handing out aspirin and water. Tyler groaned, rubbing his temples. "Ugh, thanks, Heather. You're a lifesaver."

"No problem, Ty. Just drink some water," I replied, patting his shoulder.

As the guys slowly came back to life, Rafe's demeanor changed. He seemed colder, more distant. It was a stark contrast to the warmth he had shown me earlier.

"Guess you're back to your usual self," I muttered under my breath, not expecting him to hear.

"What was that?" Rafe snapped, his tone sharp.

"Nothing," I said quickly, taken aback by his sudden change in attitude.

Tyler looked between us, his eyes narrowing. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing at all," Rafe said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your little sister was just playing house, that's all."

The words stung, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger. "I was just trying to help."

"Sure, whatever you say," Rafe shot back, his eyes cold and unfeeling. "Don't get any ideas, Heather. Last night was a one-off."

I blinked, feeling the hurt settle deep in my chest. This was the Rafe I knew—the arrogant, dismissive Rafe who never saw me as more than his best friend's annoying little sister. The warmth and kindness from last night felt like a distant memory, replaced by this harsh reality.

Tyler frowned, sensing the tension. "Rafe, lay off. Heather's just being nice."

"Yeah, right," Rafe muttered, rolling his eyes. "Nice."

I couldn't take it anymore. "You know what? Forget it," I snapped, turning on my heel and heading back to my room. The slam of the door echoed my frustration and hurt.

In the safety of my room, I let the tears fall. How could Rafe switch so quickly? One moment he was kind and caring, the next he was back to his old, cruel self. It was like he had two sides, and I had foolishly hoped to see the better one.

*Stupid, stupid,* I thought, wiping my tears angrily. *Why did I even think he could be different?*

As the day wore on, the boys finally left, including Rafe, who didn't say another word to me. I watched from my window as they drove away, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. Maybe it was better this way, keeping Rafe at a distance. His reputation as a heartbreaker and bad boy preceded him, and I should have known better than to get caught up in a moment of weakness.

But the memory of his touch, his kindness, haunted me. I wanted to believe that there was more to him, that the Rafe I saw last night was the real one. Yet, his harsh words and cold demeanor made it clear: I was just another foolish girl hoping for something more.

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I resolved to forget about Rafe Cameron. He was trouble, and I didn't need any more complications in my life. But deep down, a tiny voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason behind his behavior. A reason I was determined not to uncover. Not now. Not ever.