angel - rafe cameron (outerbanks)

4 - play dumb

chapter 32
play dumb

the air in barry's trailer was thick with smoke, the scent of weed clinging to everything—her clothes, her hair, the old couch she was sprawled across. she had been there all day, letting the hours slip away in a haze, the outside world nothing more than a distant hum.

it was dark now.

barry sat across from her, lazily flicking his lighter open and shut, the flame sparking and disappearing in a steady rhythm. his eyes were half-lidded, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he turned to her.

"you know," he drawled, stretching out his legs, "i know rafe's little secret."

angie barely reacted at first, too lost in the fog of her high. but then the words sank in, cutting through the haze like a knife. her body tensed.

"what?"

barry just chuckled, tapping the ash from his joint into the tray beside him. "c'mon, angie. don't play dumb." he tilted his head, watching her. "by the look on your face, i'd say you already knew."

her stomach twisted. she sat up straighter, suddenly too aware of the way her pulse pounded against her ribs. she swallowed, trying to play it off. "i don't know what you're talking about."

barry snorted. "yeah, sure." he took another hit, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "relax, i ain't gonna turn him in if that's what you mean."

angie stared at him, confusion flickering across her face. "then why are you telling me?"

he shrugged, as if the weight of what he knew meant nothing to him. as if rafe killing the sheriff was just another fucked-up secret buried under the rest.

"dunno." he grinned, voice dripping with amusement. "guess i thought you should know."

barry exhaled another slow cloud of smoke, watching her through half-lidded eyes. "i was in the military, angie," he said, voice unusually steady. "if i couldn't handle it well in there, he ain't gonna be doing so great out here."

angie frowned, shifting on the couch. she didn't know where he was going with this, but she didn't like the way it made her stomach twist.

she scoffed, forcing a dry laugh. "so you're telling me this because you think i'm some kind of therapist? barry, i solve all my problems by coming to you."

he smirked at that, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "nah," he said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "i'm telling you because you two are... whatever you two are."

angie rolled her eyes, looking away. she hated that he tried to put a label on something she barely understood herself.

barry's voice softened, just slightly. "i don't want to see you hurt."

her jaw clenched. she wanted to brush it off, make a joke, change the subject—but she couldn't. instead, she looked back at him, meeting his gaze head-on.

"rafe wouldn't hurt me." barry didn't laugh this time. he just watched her, the amusement in his expression fading into something unreadable.

"imma be real with you, angie," barry said, exhaling slowly. "you're like a little sister to me. an annoying one."

angie rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "thanks, barry. real sweet."

he ignored her, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "i ain't saying rafe don't care about you. hell, i think he might care too much. but that don't mean he's not dangerous."