Rafe Cameron Imagines

My Rodeo Romeo🤍

You don't know why you agreed to dinner.
Maybe because Sarah begged. Maybe because Topper promised they'd behave.
Maybe because Rafe gave you that look — the one that says I'll behave when you both know damn well he won't.

You weren't worried about him being your boyfriend. You were worried about him being your stepbrother.

Which, in itself, wasn't bad. You weren't related. You didn't grow up together. His dad married your mom last year, and by then, you and Rafe were already circling each other like planets about to collide.

You knew it was messy.
You just didn't know how long you could hide it.

And apparently, neither did Rafe.

—

You sat across from Sarah and Topper at the little restaurant downtown — the one with string lights and live music drifting from the back patio. You could hear the faintest notes of someone singing Until I Found You, and it made your heart ache in that soft, strange way.

Rafe was beside you, one arm tossed behind your chair, trying to act casual while his hand kept brushing your waist like he forgot where he was.

"So," Sarah said, digging into her pasta, "how long do we think it'll take for Topper to spill something and ruin the vibe?"

"I give it ten minutes," you smirked.

Topper raised his glass. "Rude."

Rafe snorted beside you. "Fair."

The waitress returned to check on your table, young and blonde and maybe a little too friendly when she looked at you.

"Need anything else?" she asked, leaning in, smile definitely not professional. "More drinks?"

"I'm good," you said politely.

But she wasn't looking at you anymore — not really. Her eyes lingered on you in a way Rafe didn't like.

He sat up straighter, jaw tight.

You didn't even notice at first — not until the girl touched your shoulder slightly, laughing at something you didn't even say.

Rafe's voice cut in sharp.

"She said she's good."

The table went quiet.

The girl blinked. "I was just—"

"She said she's good," Rafe repeated, voice cold now. "You can go."

She nodded quickly and walked off, awkward and fast.

You turned to him. "Rafe."

He didn't even blink. "What?"

"Why would you—?"

"Because she was flirting with you," he snapped. "And you didn't even notice."

Sarah raised a brow. "Okay, whoa—jealous much?"

Topper blinked. "That was... kinda a lot."

You turned to Rafe, whispering, "We're supposed to be lowkey."

"Yeah, well," he said, eyes still locked on the direction the waitress went, "I'm done pretending this is nothing."

You froze. "Rafe—"

"No," he said, louder this time, "I'm not gonna sit here and act like I'm not in love with you just because we share a last name. I don't care anymore."

The table went still.

Sarah sat up straight. "Wait... what?"

Topper looked between you two. "What do you mean 'share a last name'?"

You closed your eyes. "Shit."

Rafe reached for your hand under the table, not hiding it now. "They don't know."

"Don't know what?" Sarah asked slowly.

"That our parents got married," Rafe said. "Last year."

Sarah's jaw dropped. "You're step-siblings?"

You nodded. "Technically."

"And you're dating?"

Rafe didn't hesitate. "Yeah. I'd rather die than let her go. You want the truth? There it is."

Sarah stared at you both, wide-eyed. "Oh my god."

Topper let out a stunned laugh. "Jesus Christ."

"I know how it looks," you said quickly. "But we didn't plan this. It just... happened."

Sarah didn't say anything for a long time.

Then finally: "Okay. I'm freaking out. But I also—" she pointed at you. "—have never seen him like this."

Rafe turned to you, something softer in his expression now.

"I told myself I'd never fall in love again," he said, voice low, meant only for you. "Until I found you."

Your breath caught.

"I was lost in the dark," he added, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. "But then I found you."

You whispered back, "I'd rather die than let you go."

Rafe's mouth twitched up. "Juliet to my Romeo."

"Rodeo Romeo," you corrected with a teasing smile.

He laughed, hand still gripping yours. "I'll take it."

And despite the chaos, despite the stares, despite the secret blowing up — when he looked at you like that, none of it mattered.

Because this wasn't a phase. Or a mistake.
It was real.
And now it was out.

And maybe, finally, it was yours.