Collateral || Rafe Cameron

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Working with Rafe was like walking a tightrope, constantly balancing between frustration and tension, between wanting to punch him and... well, wanting something else entirely. I hated that I felt anything for him beyond anger, but every time we were in the same room, the air seemed to thicken, charged with something neither of us could ignore.

We were both stubborn, both driven by the need to control the situation, and it made every conversation, every plan, feel like a battle.

Rafe was possessive, a control freak to the core. He hated the idea of anyone else calling the shots, especially me.

And I? I hated being told what to do. The push-pull dynamic between us was exhausting, and yet, there was something undeniably addictive about it.

Despite everything that had happened, despite all the lies, the betrayal, the anger, I couldn't deny that there was a part of me that was drawn to him, even if I didn't want to admit it. And the more time we spent together, the harder it became to ignore.

One afternoon, after a particularly heated argument about our next move, we found ourselves sitting in the kitchen, both of us too stubborn to walk away, too tired to keep fighting. The silence between us was thick, the tension palpable as we sat across from each other, the remnants of our argument still hanging in the air.

"I'm not a kid, Rafe," I muttered, glaring at him as I leaned back in my chair. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched in frustration. "I'm not trying to control you, Ronnie. I'm trying to keep you safe."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "Yeah, well, I don't need your protection."

Rafe's eyes darkened, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to argue again, but then something shifted. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he let out a long, tired breath. "I know you don't."

The softness in his voice caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond. We had been at each other's throats for so long that I had forgotten what it felt like to have a real conversation with him — one that wasn't laced with anger or bitterness.

"I just..." Rafe hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. "I don't want you to get hurt. That's all."

There was something raw in his voice, something that made my heart clench despite myself. And before I could stop it, the words slipped out.

"You don't have to worry about me," I muttered, my gaze dropping to the table. "I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

Rafe didn't respond right away, and for a moment, the silence between us stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable. But then he spoke, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "Is that why you're so angry all the time? Because you've had to do everything on your own?"

I frowned, surprised by the question. "I'm not angry all the time."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're angry right now."

I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to smile. "That's because you're annoying."

The teasing edge in our conversation felt foreign, strange after everything we had been through, but it was also... nice. For a moment, it felt like we were just two people, sitting in a kitchen, talking like normal human beings. No secrets, no lies, no hatred. Just... talking.

Without thinking, I started to open up, my defenses slipping just enough for me to share a little piece of myself with him. "My family's been through a lot," I admitted quietly, my fingers tracing the edge of the table. "After my dad lost his job, things were tough. We struggled to make ends meet. But we always had each other, you know? Alden and my parents... they were always there for me."