𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤 | 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤 |
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧'𝐬

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌, I took one last glance in the mirror, my fingers brushing over the soft pink fabric of the dress. It was perfect—just like Rafe had said earlier that afternoon. I added the final touch of lip gloss, giving my lips a subtle shine.

My mother's voice echoed up from downstairs, clipped and impatient. I grabbed my small Chanel bag, took a steadying breath, and opened the door. As I descended the grand staircase, I could see them waiting below—my father absorbed in his phone, my mother glancing at her watch, already looking slightly exasperated.

I reached the bottom step, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment, maybe even a simple compliment. But they barely looked up, their attention still on their own matters. A quiet ache settled in my chest, the familiar, hollow feeling of wishing they would just see me, truly see me.

Swallowing down the disappointment, I forced a neutral expression as we stepped outside and got into the car. On the way to the Camerons', my mother turned to me briefly, reminding me to behave myself, to represent our family well. I nodded absently, half-listening, knowing exactly what she expected.

When we arrived, the Cameron estate loomed ahead. The sprawling gardens glowed under artful lighting, casting shadows that play against the columns of the entryway. My parents walked ahead, my father's stride confident, my mother slipping easily into a serene smile, the kind that makes people believe she lived effortlessly. I followed,the luxurious carpet leading into the main hall.

A staff member greeted us at the door, bowing slightly and welcoming us into the Camerons' world of glinting chandeliers and marble floors that seem to stretch endlessly. My parents were already shaking hands with the Camerons' butler, slipping into their roles like they were born for this. I stood a step behind them, hands poised on the strap of my bag, head held high as I prepared to meet Rafe's gaze-or avoid it entirely.

And there he was.

Standing a few steps behind his parents, exuding that effortless confidence that made my stomach turn—not in admiration, but in frustration. Or so.

It was infuriating how good he looked, how he always managed to command my attention without even trying.

He wore a light blue button-up shirt that clung just enough to hint at his physique, the embroidered Ralph Lauren logo on his chest. The sleeves were rolled up casually to his elbows, revealing strong forearms that I wished I hadn't noticed. Paired with tailored blue jeans and spotless white sneakers, his look was deceptively simple yet undeniably striking. His wrist was adorned with a sleek Rolex, catching the light with every small movement, as if to remind of his impeccable taste—and his wealth.

And then there was his hair, styled in its usual middle part, every strand seemingly in its rightful place. It framed his sharp features perfectly, softening the edges just enough.

I tried to hate him. I really did. But how was I supposed to hold onto that hate when he looked like this? Like he had stepped out of a magazine, his presence an unspoken challenge to my resolve.

I sat at the Camerons' grand dining table, feeling like l'd stepped into a different world. The house was impressive, vast and elegant, and everything around me felt almost like a scene from a movie. Rafe's mom chatted politely with me, while the men were deep in business talk.

Across from me, Rafe sat quietly, but I could feel his gaze on me, even as I tried to keep my eyes fixed on the plate in front of me.
Then, suddenly, Rafe's father turned his attention to me.
"Catalina, how has Rafe been behaving at school?" His tone was friendly but expectant, and I could sense Rafe waiting to hear my response, quite tense than usual. Was he scared that I would say something about him which could be damaging?

With a polite smile, I replied, "Oh, Rafe is a wonderful classmate. Really smart too." I met his gaze with a sweet smile, letting him know I was nice enough not to tell his parents about that test that he wasn't prepared for or the way he didn't really give a fuck about school in general. I saw his eyes narrow slightly, but his parents seemed pleased.

Rafe's father nodded approvingly.
"That's good to hear." He took a sip from his glass and then continued,
"While we have our tea, perhaps you could show Catalina around the house, Rafe. I imagine that's more interesting than our business discussions."

Rafe just nodded, and after dinner, our parents moved to the living room, while Sienna darted up the stairs, leaving only Rafe and me behind. He gestured for me to follow him, and I trailed after him.

I followed Rafe through the sprawling halls of his house, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor. The Cameron estate was grand-high ceilings, expensive art, the kind of luxurious detail that told you they didn't just have money; they had generations of it.
Yet, something about the coldness of the place made it feel more like a museum than a home.

Rafe kept his pace even, not too fast, but also not looking back to see if I was still following. No wonder.

As we passed a massive library, he casually gestured. "That's where my dad spends most of his time, obsessing over numbers." I noticed the slight edge in his voice, a glimpse of tension he usually hid so well.

After winding through several more halls, he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a cozier room that was a stark contrast to the rest of the house. A large couch was pushed against the wall, video game controllers lay scattered on a coffee table, and one side was lined with shelves packed with games and books.

"This is the gaming room," he said, a hint of pride slipping through his usual nonchalance. "My dad thinks it's a waste of space, but my mom convinced him to let us have it.
Sienna and her friends love it, and I bring people here sometimes."
I stepped inside, running my fingers along the plush back of the couch.

"So, you're just a big kid, huh?" I shot him a playful smirk.