If You Really Loved Me (Rafe Adler x Reader)

The Banquet

You fell asleep that day with an empty mind. There was nothing more to think about. What happened, well, it happened. You allowed your mind to drift into different worlds of where Rafe could have been. Maybe he gave up on you and moved somewhere for some amazing treasure patiently waiting to be discovered. Or maybe he was going to a crawling motel with broken locks to meet the mistress he once loved for pleasure, but now loves for comfort. Even at that-- even if he was cheating on you, it would hurt you less than this. If he cheated on you, then it was 100% his fault. You could rest easy knowing you did everything you could in the relationship, then move on to some just as lovely person who would treat you alright, but not as well as Rafe did. You knew that there would never be another person who would cherish you like he did.

Footsteps wandered downstairs, assumingly the maids that would come in at 9:30 am every other day. You got up from the floor, using the mattress beside you to help. 'They would be horrified if they saw me like this...asleep on the side of a bed but not on it, not clenching a pillow close to my chest as if it was...as if it was a fucking man-- no, a child who loved me.' You scoffed at yourself, "fucking ridiculous."

Even though getting wrinkles in your dress is the last of your worries, you flattened it against your body. You then wobbled over to the restroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. Mascara painted your poor cheeks, remnants of lipstick stained your puffed lips. You let your fingers trace the trails of dry, mascaraed tears. You quickly flushed your face with cold water, scrubbing hard against your delicate skin. You wanted to tear it all off.

Taking the dress by the bottom hem, you pulled it off you, leaving you in your silly lingerie you thought Rafe would love. You rushed over to the closet and pulled out your suitcases, filling them with all your most precious items. You then pulled a hooded sweatshirt from a hanger and leggings, trying to dress yourself as quick as possible. You took the two suitcases by the handles and lugged them down the stairs.

Thud, thud, thud.

Ma'am, are you alright?

Thud, thud, thud.

Do you need help, ma'am?

Thud, thud, thud.

Where is Mr. Adler? Should I find him for you?

Thud, thud, thud.

"That won't be necessary. Thank you, though." The clunky wheels of your suitcases rolled across the cold tile floor. You slipped on your comfy jogging shoes that sat by the front door. As you fiddled with the lock, you asked if anyone had seen your boyfriend. They all said no, of course. Maybe one of your stupid theories was right.

You stepped out of the ridiculously sized mansion, and into the cold morning air. You walked over to the detached garage, and threw your bags into the passenger seat of your car. You then sat in your seat and drove off. Just as your foot hit the gas, you realized you had no idea where to go. You could go to your parents home, but they were well over a state away. You could go to a hotel, but it was so early you were sure you missed the check-in hours. But then it hit you, and you drove to a place you were sure you'd see him.

You made it, the place you met. By unfortunate events, the beautiful venue had been torn to shreds but the plot was still there. Rafe was just one of the many A listers at the gathering. It was a banquet for all these wealthy people to relish in their success and mock those who weren't of such stature. It was supposed to be a charity event, but at the end of it, you weren't very sure if the charities made any profit.

You were there as a secret marketer. You would dress just as the celebrities would, with stunning dress to shape your body beautifully. That's how you would pull in the top payers into talking to you. By spending their load, they would play their luck at trying to get with you. Or that was the plan anyway. You would very discreetly slip into conversations about how "lovely" that one charity was, and how they've helped your friend or family member or whatever emotional tie you could think of.

Then Rafe appeared. God, the feeling he sent to your heart was so taboo. He was in a gorgeous maroon suit jacket; the deep red stood out from the rest. Under the jacket was a black dress shirt with a satin bowtie. He had matching black pants to accompany the beautifully coordinated outfit.

His hand brushed against is carefully gelled hair. His shoulders were rolled back, pronouncing his beautiful figure even more. The confident stride and posture meant he had money. This meant you had a very good reason to talk to him.

Everyone was about to start sitting down, so this was your perfect moment to go in for the kill. You had the plan all set out: you accidentally bump into their shoulder, apologize, if they smile you're in. You had your walk in place, hips swaying slightly enough to make anyone turn heads. You then passed him, your bare shoulder brushing his soft velvet. Not bumping, brushing. You messed up big time, you couldn't apologize for something that minor.

But lucky enough for you, he couldn't help but to stare after you passed him. Unfortunately, you couldn't bother to notice because of the silly mishap. You then had to make your way to one of the banquet tables labelled with your name. If only you knew his name back then, you would have been able to maybe act like an old friend of his and play it off from there.

At this point, your mission was to talk with all the celebrities at the table about the charities. You studied the celebrities at your table prior to the event, so you could integrate bits of information that they can relate to in your conversation. But then, he sat beside you. That's right, maroon boy.

As he sat down, your cheeks flushed. There was no way he was one of the celebrities at your table, unless you misread somehow. You reread the pretty card on the plate infront of him. It was a girl name, and by no means was he a girl.

"So," he then decided to get comfy in his new seat. "Who are you with tonight, miss..." He then took your name card from the table "miss Y/N?"

"Oh, I'm not with anyone I--"

"That's not what I meant." He then turned in his seat, looking deeper in your dilated eyes. "Who are you with?"

Just like that, he figured you out. He could tell you were with some charity that night. "I'm here for the lung cancer charity." He then nodded, as if he knew the charity before you said it too. He then laughed calmly at you freaking out. Your case was blown and now one of the possibly greatest figures of wealth at the banquet knew. Great.

"Alright calm down, I'm not gonna tell anyone, I don't have anyone here I'd like to talk to anyway." The man said, scanning the crowd for any interesting faces. You watched his dark eyes look around, he was so goddamn beautiful it hurt. What hurt even more was that he knew it too.

It then hit you: out of all these brilliant people, he wanted to talk to you, a marketer? And with an instant, you were hooked.

You stepped out of your car after remembering the fond memory and stepped into the big field. There was some rubble left, it was tragic what became of it. Beer bottles and broken glass litered the ground. You were positive it came from stupid teenagers; the tall grass was the perfect place to hide. It was clear Rafe wasn't there, you'd be able to see his car. You weren't sure what you were thinking, this wasn't one of the cheesy love stories where you'd both have some weird telepathic power and know exactly to find each other at the same time at the first place you met. Life wasn't always a love story.

You then pulled out your cellphone, apparently it had died sometime last night. You want back into your car and charged it until it had enough battery to function. As you powered the phone on, it started beeping over and over with calls and text messages. In a perfect world, they would all be from Rafe, but in the real world, they were all from your friends and workers. As you scrolled through the messages, you then found one very important call. It was from Rafe. The call only lasted three seconds, but you knew exactly what that had meant. You were so heavily on his mind he was going to reach out and call you, but was too prideful to do it.

Instead, you called him back.

"Rafe, can I talk to you?"