𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃─𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

one hundred three.

─☼☼☼─

𝙍𝘼𝙁𝙀

LOOKING BACK NOW, Rafe Cameron knew he loved Charlotte Carrera the very first time he saw her. They were only children, barely five, but he knew that he felt something different in his heart when she smiled, or when she looked his way. She was divine.

Never having been good with his emotions, Rafe had no idea how to properly speak to her. Slowly, he watched as he pushed her away, turned the two of them into something even less than friends. Charlotte could barely stand to be around him by the time they'd entered the second grade.

He remembered his mother sitting down with him one day after school. Rafe had to have been seven at the time, maybe eight. It was after yet another message had been sent home reporting that Rafe had done something to torment the poor Carrera girl at school. If he remembered correctly, that time he had tied her shoe laces together which resulted in Charlotte face planting when she stood from her desk.

"Rafe," His mother's soft voice had said, running her manicured hand through his blonde hair, "Why are you so mean to Charlotte? She's a nice girl."

Rafe had shrugged, unsure of how to understand his emotions, let alone voice them out loud. "I don't know." He'd admitted, voice quiet.

His mother let out a gentle sigh — everything she did was just that, gentle. "Do you maybe have a little crush on her?"

Little? Rafe had thought, try ginormous.

But speaking it out loud would make him vulnerable. And if he had learned anything from his father, it was that Cameron men were not weak, not vulnerable. "She's annoying." He had finally muttered, trying to mask the lie in his voice.

He couldn't see her face from where she was sitting, but Rafe could envision the frown on his mother's face...even now. "There's nothing wrong with having a crush," she had reminded him, "I know there are some big emotions that come with it, but you don't have to hide them, Rafe. Why don't you try being nice to Charlotte, see how that makes you feel."

Rafe scrunched up his nose, "She's a Pogue," he argued, already having understood the class divisions at his age.

His mother stilled, body tensing slightly, "Where did you learn that word?"

"Kelce," Rafe answered, recalling how Kelce had pointed out all of the Pogues one day when their class had taken a field trip to the beach. Rafe remembered how he'd felt when Kecle's pointed finger swung on Charlotte, calling her out in front of everyone.

She'd cried that day, silent tears that tumbled down her perfect face. Rafe had never felt so conflicted as she stood there and cried. He was mad at Kelce for saying such a thing. Mad at Charlotte for being such a thing.

"One day," his mother finally spoke again, still running her hand through his hair, "When you realize how to express your feelings, you'll have a lot of making up to do when it comes to Charlotte Carrera. She's not a girl you want to let go of."

Rafe fake gagged, turning to look into his mother's blue eyes, "Never gonna happen."

She gave a small nod, a knowing smile touching on her pink lips, "Okay, Rafey. We'll see."