Rafe Cameron Imagines//Oneshots

Twister 😇

Summary = Y/n is a family friend of the Camerons and is at a dinner night with them all. 

The sun sets slowly over the ocean, casting a golden glow through the windows of the Cameron's beach house. 

Dinner is spread out on the long table in the dining room—grilled seafood, fresh salads, and the unmistakable aroma of Ward's famous barbecue ribs. 

The house is alive with laughter and conversation as you take a seat next to Rafe as usual,  however your stomach fluttering at the thought of spending the evening close to him for some unknown reason.

It's not the first time you've shared a meal with the Camerons; they've been like family for years. But sitting next to Rafe lately feels different. 

There's an energy between you, something unspoken yet undeniably there. As you settle into your seat, your arm brushes against his, and you both glance at each other, a quick smile passing between you.

"Careful," he murmurs under his breath, leaning just close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body. "You might make me drop my plate."

You stifle a laugh, trying not to draw attention as you nudge him with your shoulder. "you'd drop it either way"

His eyes flicker with amusement, and you find yourself smiling. You're barely aware of what the others are talking about as the conversation drifts around the table. Ward and Rose are discussing the latest property developments, while Wheezie and Sarah chat animatedly about their plans for the weekend. 

But all you can focus on is the boy next to you.

Every time he leans in to whisper something—another joke about his dad's cooking or a playful comment about the way Wheezie and Sarah bicker—you feel the brush of his arm against yours. 

It's innocent, you tell yourself, just two friends joking around. But the way his gaze lingers on you, the way his smile softens when your eyes meet, makes your heart race.

At one point, as you're reaching for the bowl of salad, your hand bumps into his. It's a light touch, nothing more than a quick brush of fingers, but the warmth of his skin feels like a spark. Your eyes meet, and for a moment, the noise around you fades. His hand stays there, just for a beat longer than necessary, his fingers grazing yours before he pulls back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Smooth," you tease, trying to ignore the way your heart thuds in your chest.

He shrugs, his expression casual, but there's a glint in his eyes. "Just making sure you got enough."

As dinner continues, you become hyper-aware of every small movement between you. 

At one point, he shifts in his seat, and his knee bumps against yours under the table. He doesn't move away. Instead, his leg stays there, warm against yours, the contact sending a thrill up your spine. You try to focus on what Rose is saying about their next vacation plans, but all you can think about is how close Rafe is, and how the space between you seems to be shrinking.

He leans in again, this time his shoulder brushing against yours as he points to the dish in front of you. "Pass me that?" he asks, his voice low, his breath hot against your ear.

You nod, but as you reach for the dish, his hand slides over yours, steadying it. His touch is light, but it lingers, his fingers just barely grazing the skin of your wrist. You glance up at him, and for a split second, you swear you see something in his eyes—something that sends heat coursing through you.

The tension builds, a quiet current running beneath the surface. 

And when his hand drops to his side, it rests just inches from your thigh and your heart beats faster, wondering if he'll move closer, if he'll bridge the tiny gap between you.