The Lines We've Crossed

TWENTY

Waking up on Rafe Cameron's chest was a whole other feeling. His soft, yet hard chest beneath my head and my leg wrapped over his waist, his hand loosely holding onto my calf as I blinked awake.

I looked around the room, trying to remember where I was and how I got there, and I scanned the bed I was laying in. The navy blue sheets, medium gray comforter, and white walls, I knew I was in Rafe Cameron's room. And just like I thought, I heard the light snore of Rafe Cameron from right beside me.

Shit. His deep breathing was moving my head up and down and I tried to think of what to do. If Rafe saw me laying on his chest like this, I'd never hear the end of it. I slowly crawled out of his grip, my absence making him roll over. And I turned away from him and checked the clock on the nightstand to see it was only five-thirty in the morning. I rubbed my face and tried to fall back asleep. I knew the most sleep I could get, the better. I would most definitely be hungover later.

What even happened last night? Did Rafe and I explore our feelings we have for each other? Did I get too drunk? Why was I in his bed instead of the guest bed, or even Sarah's? I know that I remember throwing up and Rafe brought me home, but what after that?

I turned my shoulder to look at him, trying to see if that would jog any memories, but to no avail. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to see if I could remember doing anything with Rafe. Holding him, kissing him, writhing and panting beneath him...

Woah, Heather. That was all I could think. I don't need any of those thoughts of Rafe Cameron entering my brain... unless I do? It felt so natural yet so foreign. So perfect but out of place.

I'd never looked at him that way, until recently and I must admit the past couple of weeks with him has made the caterpillars in my stomach bloom into butterflies.

I mean can you blame me, he's tall, handsome, and has a very nice body that would certainly look good on top of me. Maybe? Am I still drunk? Or do I feel this way about him? Since when was I unable to sleep because all I could think of was Rafe Cameron?

I turned back over my shoulder to look at him and yes, even in his sleep he was hot with his beautiful hair falling over his face. Every breath he took blew up a strand of hair, and each time it fell exactly where it needed to. A simple innocent thought left me with a heaving chest and heartbeat between my legs. Only from the thought of Rafe Cameron.

What is happening? Am I still drunk or something?

It was no secret that Rafe Cameron had been with many girls before, but I would always ignore it. I never looked at him that way. I had a slight crush on him pre-puberty but that barely even counts these days... or does it?

I shut my eyes to try and shut out my thoughts as well, and eventually, my tired and hungover brain brought me back to sleep, hopefully, to sleep away the thoughts that had previously rushed to my head.

However, I was woken up by the feeling of Rafe's head nestling into the back of my neck. I didn't dare to move. Never would I have imagined that "the cold and heartless Rafe Cameron" would curl up into my body like he was doing. Was he asleep? Did he know that he was doing this? And if he was aware... was it out of comfort or care?

This was not helping to ease my intrusive mind. His hands were mere inches away from the waistband of my borrowed shorts.

Heather, stop. I said to myself, altering my thoughts by thinking of anything other than Rafe.

I began thinking of Tyler... wondering if he was okay back home... but Tyler led to friends, which led to the Pogues, leading back to the kooks, therefore, leading back to Rafe.