Rafe Cameron Imagines

Cheating Pt 2🤍

The days that follow are marked by an unshakable tension. It's subtle at first—a missed text, a distracted response, Rafe's phone suddenly always facedown on the counter. You try to ignore it, brushing off the nagging feeling in your chest. Maybe you're overthinking. Maybe you're just paranoid after that afternoon with Sofia.

But then it happens again.

It's a Thursday evening, and Rafe had promised to help you with dinner. You're chopping vegetables in the kitchen, expecting him to walk in any minute, when you hear the faint sound of his voice. It's muffled, coming from the hallway, but unmistakably his.

Curious, you set the knife down and wipe your hands on a towel. As you step closer to the hallway, his voice becomes clearer.

"Yeah, I'll meet you tomorrow. Just keep it between us, okay?"

Your heart sinks. He's talking low, almost in a whisper—the way someone speaks when they don't want to be overheard.

You round the corner, and there he is, leaning against the wall with his phone pressed to his ear. His head jerks up when he sees you, his blue eyes widening for a split second before his expression shifts into something neutral.

"Hey," he says, lowering the phone. "Didn't hear you there."

"Who was that?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe hesitates just a fraction of a second too long. "No one. Just Kelce. We were talking about the clubhouse."

You nod slowly, studying his face. He looks calm, unbothered, but there's something about the way he won't quite meet your eyes that sets your nerves alight.

"Dinner's almost ready," you say quietly, turning back toward the kitchen.

That night, you lie in bed staring at the ceiling while Rafe sleeps soundly beside you. The distance between you feels more like a chasm.

Two days later, you decide to confront him. You've been sitting with your thoughts for too long, and the unease is becoming unbearable.

"Rafe," you say, crossing your arms as you stand in the doorway of his room. He's sitting at his desk, hunched over a pile of papers. He doesn't look up.

"Yeah?"

"We need to talk."

He glances up briefly, frowning. "About what?"

"About us," you say, stepping closer. "And Sofia."

At the mention of her name, his posture stiffens. He leans back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "What about Sofia?"

"You've been spending a lot of time with her lately," you say carefully. "More than usual."

Rafe exhales, running a hand through his hair. "She's helping me with the clubhouse. That's it. Why are you making this a thing?"

"I'm not trying to make it a thing," you say, frustration creeping into your voice. "But you've been different, Rafe. Distant. You barely talk to me anymore. You're always with her or on your phone. What am I supposed to think?"

He stands up, towering over you, his expression a mix of anger and exasperation. "You're supposed to trust me."

"Trust you?" you echo, your voice shaking now. "I've been trying to trust you, Rafe, but you're not giving me anything. You hide your phone. You disappear for hours. And every time I ask you what's going on, you shut me out."

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he's going to deny it. But then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're overthinking this. Sofia's just a friend, okay? She's helping me with work, nothing more."

You search his face, desperate to find the truth in his words, but there's something guarded in his expression that makes your heart sink.

"If it's nothing," you say softly, "then why does it feel like I'm losing you?"

Rafe doesn't answer. Instead, he looks away, his silence speaking louder than any words ever could.