Drew Starkey Imagines

"If I Kiss You..."

The rain had started suddenly, like the sky had been holding its breath for hours and finally let go. Fat, warm drops fell in sheets, pounding against the roof of the old beach house. Wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the leaves of the jacaranda tree that bloomed defiantly with bright pink flowers.

You stood just inside the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, your breath fogging the glass as you watched the storm swallow the garden. The fairy lights you'd strung in the tree weeks ago buzzed faintly, glowing amber in the downpour. The air smelled like wet earth, salt, and regret.

Then you saw him.

Rafe.

He was standing in the middle of the yard, already soaked, rain clinging to him like the weight of everything he didn't know how to say. His shirt was plastered to his chest, his hair dripping into his eyes, and for a second, he looked lost. Like the storm had picked him up and dropped him there with no warning.

Your breath caught.

He didn't move. Didn't say a word. Just stared at you through the rain.

You pushed the door open and stepped out into the chaos, water immediately soaking your socks and chilling your skin. "What are you doing here?" you shouted, barely audible over the roar of the rain.

He didn't answer.

"Rafe!" you cried, moving closer, your voice cracking. "You can't just show up—after everything—you can't just stand there and expect me to—"

"I don't expect anything!" he snapped, the words like thunder. "I never know what to expect with you anymore."

You flinched.

Rafe closed his eyes, his jaw clenched like he was trying to force the fury back down his throat. But it didn't work. It never worked with him.

"You walked away," he said, quieter now but sharper, like glass under bare feet. "You didn't even look back. Like I didn't mean anything. Like we were just... some mistake you made one summer."

"You were a mistake, Rafe," you bit back. "You made it impossible to stay."

He laughed—bitter and broken. "Right. Because I'm Cameron trash, right? Because I've fucked up too many times to count, so what's one more heartbreak on my résumé?"

"That's not fair—"

"No, what's not fair is the way you make me feel!" he yelled, stepping closer, his voice ragged. "Like I'm drowning in you. Every second I'm not with you, I feel like I can't breathe. And when I am with you, I feel like I'm gonna fucking explode."

You stared at him, rain blurring your vision. Your heart was pounding, the kind of terrified rhythm that only he could make you feel. Angry. Alive.

"You don't get to do this," you whispered, stepping back. "You don't get to come here, in the middle of a storm, and scream about how broken you are like I'm supposed to fix it."

"I don't want you to fix me," he said, shaking his head. "I want you to see me. Just see me. Not the Cameron name. Not the screwups. Just me."

His voice cracked.

The space between you was only a few feet now, but it felt like a canyon carved out of all the nights you'd spent trying to forget him.

"You think I didn't want to stay?" you said, your voice trembling. "I begged the universe for a reason to. One. Single. Reason. But every time you lost your temper, every time you pushed me away, I told myself—this is it. This is the moment I walk."

"I was scared," he admitted. "I still am."

You blinked. "Of what?"

He took a step forward. "Of how much I love you."

Silence. Except for the rain pounding around you like a war drum.

"Rafe—"

"If I kiss you," he said, cutting you off, his eyes locked on yours like a lifeline, "I don't know if I could ever stop."

The words hit like lightning. And suddenly, you were burning in the rain.

He was in front of you now, close enough to feel the heat of his skin through the storm. His chest was rising and falling like he'd just run a marathon, eyes wide with panic, hope, desperation.

You didn't answer.

You didn't have to.

Because the next second, your hands were in his hair, and his lips crashed against yours like waves against a broken dock. The kiss was angry. Hungry. Drenched in everything you hadn't said, everything you'd buried beneath months of pain and pride.

You kissed like it was the last night on Earth.

And when you finally pulled apart, both breathless and soaked and trembling, you looked up at him through lashes heavy with rain.

"I don't want you to stop," you whispered.

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to yours. "Then don't let me go."

⸻

Later, you would sit beneath that glowing tree, your fingers laced with his, the storm fading into a soft drizzle. You'd still fight. Still feel too much. But for now, in this wild, reckless moment under a rain-soaked sky, you let yourself fall.

Because loving Rafe Cameron was like standing in the middle of a storm. Terrifying. Beautiful. And utterly impossible to forget.