𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

ογδόνταοκτώ ; 88

song of the chapter:
SIGN OF THE TIMES ; harry styles

Margarita sat on the edge of her bed, staring out at the window as the rain pattered softly against the glass. Her thoughts were tangled, her emotions a whirlwind she couldn't quite control. She knew she had been in this position before—falling for Rafe Cameron. It wasn't the first time she had felt herself drawn to him, and it scared her just as much as it excited her.

She ran her fingers through her damp hair, still smelling faintly of the rain from the night before. The memory of dancing with Rafe lingered in her mind, the way his arms had wrapped around her, the way his eyes had softened when he looked at her, the way he made her feel like she wasn't just broken pieces waiting to be fixed.

But she had been here before. She had let herself get close, let herself fall into the comfort of his presence, only to watch it unravel. Rafe was chaos—beautiful, dangerous chaos—and she wasn't sure she could survive the fall again.

Her phone buzzed next to her, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, expecting another message from JJ, maybe even Kie, but it wasn't either of them. It was Rafe.

Rafe Cam
Can we talk?

Her heart stuttered in her chest. She wanted to ignore it, to pretend that whatever was happening between them could be put on hold, but deep down, she knew that wasn't possible. She couldn't run from this—not anymore.

With a sigh, she picked up her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen before she typed back.

Yeah. Meet me at the docks?

She wasn't ready to have this conversation in her room, surrounded by memories and doubts. The docks were neutral ground—somewhere they could talk without the weight of everything else hanging over them.

A few minutes later, she grabbed her jacket and headed out the door, her mind racing with what she would say, with what he would say. Would he ask her what last night meant? Would he brush it off like it was nothing more than a passing moment of vulnerability? Or worse—would he want more, just when she was starting to believe she didn't?

By the time she reached the docks, the rain had lightened to a soft drizzle, the sky still gray and overcast. Rafe was already there, leaning against the railing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His hair was still a little damp from the night before, and he looked more casual than she was used to, almost... peaceful.

When he saw her approach, he straightened, his expression unreadable. For a moment, they just stood there, the air between them thick with unspoken words.

"Hey," she said quietly, breaking the silence.

"Hey," he echoed, his eyes searching hers as if trying to figure out what she was thinking.

Margarita shifted on her feet, her hands fidgeting with the sleeves of her jacket. "You wanted to talk?"

Rafe nodded, glancing away for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "About last night."

Of course. Last night. The dancing, the closeness, the way it had felt so easy—too easy. She swallowed hard, bracing herself for whatever was coming.

"It... it was nice," Rafe said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "Being with you like that. I don't know, it felt... different."

Margarita's heart skipped a beat at his words. She wasn't sure what she had expected him to say, but the vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It did."

They stood there in silence for a moment, the sound of the water gently lapping against the dock filling the space between them. Margarita knew she should say something more, but the words wouldn't come. She didn't know how to explain the confusion she felt, the fear of getting too close, the fear of letting herself fall again.