angel - rafe cameron (outerbanks)

22 - i'm not like you

chapter 22
i'm not like you

the steam from the shower still clung to the bathroom mirror, fogging rafe's reflection as he leaned against the counter, his hair damp and water dripping onto his bare shoulders. the scalding water had done little to ease the tension coiling in his chest, and now, the familiar weight of unease settled over him again.

everything had unraveled so fast. sarah's angry words from earlier that morning still echoed in his mind, each accusation feeling like a blow, a reminder that his presence in angie's life was a time bomb waiting to detonate. and angie... angie had tried to hold it together, tried to calm the storm, but now she was back in bed, leaving him alone with his thoughts, which was the last thing he needed.

rafe rubbed a hand over his face, the pounding headache from the stress growing worse by the minute. "angie!" he called, his voice sharp and echoing against the tiled walls. "you got any advil?"

he didn't wait for her to answer before opening the top drawer next to the sink. his fingers searched through the usual assortment of things—hair ties, makeup brushes, stray bobby pins—until they brushed against something that crinkled.

he pulled it out, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the small plastic bag in his hand.

rafe stared at it, the weight of the bag feeling heavy with deceit in his grasp. his mind raced, memories of his own destructive path flashing before him like a cruel reminder of what he was trying so hard to escape.

the sound of angie's voice startled him, her footsteps approaching the bathroom. "hello? i was shouting you." she spoke, her tone casual, unaware of the storm she had unleashed.

when she appeared in the doorway, her expression shifted instantly, her gaze falling on the bag clutched in rafe's hand. she froze, her face paling.

"what the hell is this?" rafe demanded, his voice sharp and filled with disbelief. he threw the bag down onto the counter, the sound of it hitting the surface punctuating his anger. "you want to explain this to me?"

"rafe..." angie started, her voice faltering as she stepped closer, her hands raised slightly as though trying to calm him down. "it's not—it's not what you think."

rafe let out a harsh, bitter laugh, gesturing toward the bag. "not what i think? really? because this—this is the whole reason i'm in this mess in the first place!" he slammed his hand on the counter for emphasis, his voice rising. "do you have any idea what this shit has done to me? and now you—"

"it was a one-off," angie interrupted, her voice pleading. "i'm not—you know i'm not like that, rafe. it's not a thing, i swear."

"a one-off?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. "so what? you just keep it lying around for fun? for a rainy day? that's your excuse?"

angie's jaw tightened, her eyes darting away from him. "i forgot it was even there," she muttered, but the words sounded weak, even to her.

rafe shook his head, his hand running through his damp hair as he struggled to process what he was hearing. "were you high?" he asked suddenly, his voice quieter but no less intense.

"what?" angie looked at him, startled.

"last night," he clarified, his voice hard. "were you high?"

her face twisted in confusion and hurt. "no! of course not, rafe. what are you even—"

"don't lie to me, angie!" he shouted, his voice cracking. his blue eyes bore into hers, a mix of anger and something deeper, more vulnerable. "were you?"