𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒𝟓

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE impulsivity

❊ ❊ ❊

BY THE TIME I had gotten out of the shower, Rafe had already occupied himself with making breakfast for the both of us.

It seemed to be routine for us; I'd wake up later and therefore got ready later than he did, and he had more than enough time to kill with cooking. Considering I was the person out of the two of us who had experience working in a restaurant, his willingness to cook every morning was beyond me. Regardless, it was nice to have someone finally care for you and not have to stick to being independent.

There were so many factors to how my life had adapted now, that I began to believe there wasn't a shot at me even attempting to go back to how it was before. It wasn't like I wanted to, but the thought itself repulsed me as I imagined a life where I'd wallow in loneliness like I once did. Being alone was something I used to value deeply, and now I could only let myself be alone with him beside me.

Rafe framed every one of my waking moments. I'd wake up in his arms, wear his clothes even if I had my own, and spend the day fixed to his side. He was the sole reason why I ever wanted to get out of bed in the first place, knowing that his face was a sight I could cherish until the minute my eyes closed and opened the next day to repeat the same cycle.

Grabbing his plaid pyjama pants from the floor on which he'd last discarded them, I pulled them over my legs and let them rest loosely on my hips. Even though we were far from wearing the same size, his clothes brought a physical and metaphorical comfort to me, hence why I found myself in them more than I wore my own clothing. I scoured through the pile of stuff Wheezie had last brought over for us, catching a glimpse of a black camisole and throwing it over my torso in an instant.

With the scent of breakfast growing more and more apparent in the afternoon air, my speed picked up to an almost-run, pacing down the stairs as if my life was threatened with the action. The closer I got to the kitchen, the louder the faint sound of music was becoming, accompanied by the soft hum of Rafe's voice.

"Are you listening to The Goo Goo Dolls?" I stopped in my tracks, recognising the song after a few seconds of deliberating.

"Fuck," he exclaimed in sudden shock, "give me a warning next time, Cami. Don't just fucking creep up on me like that."

I picked up the phone that continued playing the music, reading the exact title of the song on the glowing screen, "I like this song."

"I like it too." he kept his focus on the pan, not noticing how engrossed I was in analysing the small details of his phone.

"I know you do, why else would you be playing it?" a small laugh came from my lips, "Also, your screensaver is shit."

The lit-up glass projected a photo of me in Rafe's arms, eyes closed and hair scruffed as I laid knocked out on his chest. The state I was in clearly signified that I was fast asleep when the picture had been taken, knowing that there would've been no way for him to stick the camera in my face if I had been awake. Despite being well aware of my hatred for my appearance in the photographed moment, nothing could hinder the smile that subconsciously appeared the longer I admired it.

I'd gone from being his sole secret to his sole devotion, and I wouldn't trade that development for the world.

"When did you take this?" I asked, unbothered to hide my curiosity.

"This morning," he replied bluntly, "you were out for a while, I got bored. Also, you looked cute."

Placing the object back down on the counter, I wrapped my arms around his lower torso, keeping out of his way as I peered over to observe what he was cooking, "And what was it before?"

"Remember how you stole my phone on our first date and took photos of our first kiss?" he turned his head slightly, pressing a quick kiss on my temple before returning to its original angle.

"Mhm." I hummed.

"It was that. I think the current one tops it though."

"You're such a sap." I grinned against his shoulder, moving us both from side to side as the song continued playing.

Taking my actions into account and losing all regard for the food, Rafe linked his hands with mine and turned me so that we were now face to face. He brought me closer to his chest, leading one of my hands to rest on the collar of his t-shirt whilst the other remained glued with his. My ever-present smile only grew larger as we childishly danced around the kitchen, unlocking another side to him that I hadn't seen previously.

Each side of his that I got familiar with helped extend the fall I'd already been on the track of.

Using the hand that held mine, he raised our arms up and spun me around, ensuring I landed steadily back in his arms. My movements were anything but organised or professional; if I had been with anyone else, I'd fear I was making myself look like an idiot. Somehow, being an idiot around Rafe was something I was comfortable doing, encouraged by the smile on his face every time I'd make a fool of myself.

The foul smell of burnt bread made us both snap out of our daze, seeing the grilled cheese he'd been so focused on charred to a pitch-black colour. Instead of feeling any sense of remorse, we both turned to face each other and broke out into laughter. I pulled myself back towards his chest, holding us closer together with my arms. Comfort overwhelmed me as I was met with the scent of his cologne, not wanting to retrieve from it for a single second.

"There's leftovers in the refrigerator," he laughed, holding onto the back of my head while I stayed buried against him, "you wanna get high?"

Like he knew exactly what words would tear me from him in an instant, I shot back with the same wide grin still spread across my cheeks, "Is that even a question?"

Ever since we first did coke together a few nights ago, both of us were becoming far too lenient with making drugs part of our daily routine. I'd known we were addicts long before these past days, but even I was becoming weary of how often we'd do them. However, all worry went out of the door once we got intoxicated, and it has been stuck on an endless cycle since then.

Rafe retrieved the leftover pizza box from the refrigerator whilst I headed out onto the patio, taking the bong from the coffee table and cleaning out the remains of its last use. I emptied out whatever was left of his weed grinder into the bowl, placing it back down on the surface as I scoured for a lighter.

"I've got one," he noticed what I'd been looking for, throwing the object out of his back pocket, "and, I found this in one of the bedrooms."

Once he'd set the box of food on the table, I was met with the sight of a porn magazine in his hands, immediately beginning to laugh at the front cover, "That's disgusting."

With the lighter he'd provided, I took the bong back into my hold and pursed my lips around the mouthpiece, doing one last check of the downstem to make sure it was in place. The lighter sparked up its flame, permitting me to hold it against the weed and eventually inhale the potent smoke it produced.

"Stand up." he motioned as I blew out the content in my lungs.

"Why?" I raised an eyebrow, coughing slightly at the word.

"It'll be easier to share if we're sitting in the same place, let me sit down first."

"Just say you want me to sit on your lap." my eyes rolled, giving into his proposition.

All Rafe answered with was a defeated smirk, covering it moments later with the bong. Making myself comfortable on his thighs, I analysed the magazine I'd taken from his hold, flicking through the pages in strange amusement. I paused on one of the centrefolds, focusing closer on the picture it displayed.

"Do you think her boobs are fake?" I gestured to the boy beneath me.

He took a longer second to look intently at the photo, "Nah, they'd stay up if they were done."

"Literature analyst by day, porn analyst by night." I snickered, grabbing the glass from his hands, "I wish my boobs were like hers."

"Yours are better than hers." he played with the straps of my camisole top, pulling one completely off my shoulder and pressing his lips to the exposed skin.

Exhaling the smoke that I'd produced, I dropped the bong down beside the chair, using my freed hands to help me turn in his direction. My legs fixed to either side of him, lowering my hips until I was completely straddled. His grip travelled towards the band of the pyjama pants I was wearing, quickly pulling it down the path of my legs once we started kissing.

My lower body moved with his in a careless rhythm, our only focus being our high and preserving it in the way we knew best. I had no care in the world besides him, and these past nights proved that he made me forget the world around me with just the touch of his fingertips on my skin. He curled his fingers under the final piece of black lace on my body, averting his eyes onto mine for one last look of reassurance.

"Rafe?" a young voice interrupted our forthcoming actions.

Hearing the presence come closer, I struggled to put on whatever clothes Rafe had attempted to remove, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." I recited under my breath, the sound of footsteps increasing and leaving me with less time to gather myself.

"Stay on my lap." he whispered, holding my hips down to which I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Why?" I inquired, watching his eyes dart down to his shorts and not needing any further clue as to why he needed me to cover him, "Oh."

"Rafe!" Wheezie strolled onto the patio, backpack in hand, laughing to herself at mine and his awkward body language, "I see Cami finally joined you."

Preventing her vision from meeting the magazine on the coffee table, I leaned out of Rafe's hold and turned the cover front side down, "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry about the..."

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell anybody." she confirmed, moving her sight outward onto the beach.

"Did you want some, or?" the boy motioned to the red bong on the ground, not being able to mask his intoxication as well as I was.

"You legitimately just offered me drugs?" his sister questioned, "I'm thirteen."

We both giggled whilst watching him pathetically try to cover his tracks, rubbing the nape of his neck like it would erase his previous statement. I adjusted my position on his lap, trying to get used to the discomfort for the sake of treasuring the last of Wheezie's innocence.

"This is a sweet crib," she continued, "how'd you guys con the Glissons into letting you stay here?"

"I don't think we told them." I smirked.

"Yeah, they're in Sun Valley all summer, so keep a lid on it. Please." he spoke sternly, ensuring Wheezie was equally in on our schemes.

"I mean, as long as y'all let me stay here whenever I want." she shrugged, clearing off one of the other chairs and sitting herself down on it.

I nodded in agreement, "Deal."

Rafe grabbed the grinder, twisted it between his palms, and emptied the contents into the bowl of the bong. Clearly, the company of his younger sister wasn't an obstruction to him in the slightest, seeing as he continued almost everything we'd done when she wasn't here. "Dad tryna kick you out too?" he broke his short lived silence.

"Maybe he'll make you work the boat as my replacement." I added on.

"Worse," she sighed, "I am officially the least favourite daughter."

"At least you're not the least favourite girl in the house. I take that title with pride." I used my jokes to reassure her, hoping she found the same comfort in humour as I did.

"Sarah and Dad are going to the Bahamas, and did they invite me?" she asked rhetorically, answering her own question seconds later.

The second his father was mentioned, I rested my head against Rafe's temple, inching closer to him in aims of reassurance after he opened up about everything he felt towards Ward. Having him hear that Sarah was chosen over him again couldn't have been easy, and I kept to my promise of helping him whenever I could- even if I was just using physical touch.

"Wait. They're— they're going to the Bahama house? In summer?" he stuttered, his lowered tone an obvious indicator to everything I'd previously assumed.

In response to his clearly decreased mood, I intertwined my fingers with him, not wanting to verbally comfort him considering Wheezie was still sitting a few metres away from us. My thumb grazed the skin of his, as if the mark of my fingerprint was conveying all the things I dared not to say aloud.

"Yeah," the girl replied quietly, "I mean, according to Rose, it's business. They're all up in some new development and, for some super-secret reason, they're going to the Bahamas."

Abruptly, Rafe moved me off from his lap, leaving me confused as I watched him shoot up from his seat. He ran his hands obsessively through his hair, the drugs he was under the influence of not calming him down in the slightest.

"You know, I— I know about like a billion times more about business than she does. What— what is this?" he chuckled with a hint of anger.

"Rafe." I whispered, only to be ignored.

"Ugh, we're the black sheep." the younger girl groaned, "Get used to it, Rafe."

"Yeah." he scoffed.

Wheezie reached into her backpack, mocking sheep noises in the process which only agitated him further. Knowing what was best, I kept to myself and focused on toying with the hem of my top, using the action to mute out the sibling argument that had now broken out.

"Hey, shut up!" he yelled, grabbing onto her wrist and snapping me out of my brief daze.

"Rafe! Calm down." I scolded, becoming increasingly pissed off with how reckless he was acting.

It wasn't to say that I didn't understand his hurt. He'd explained his and Ward's relationship to me previously, but it still wasn't an excuse for him to get physically violent with his sister. She scattered a series of dollar bills on the patio floor, breaking out of his stern hold.

"Here, my life savings." Wheezie said, frustrated.

I watched him lean down to pick up the cash, tripping over himself as the drugs inevitably caught up to him. Whilst I was much less affected, the abrupt outburst of emotion on his part could've been an amplifying factor, and I was in no place to judge someone's intoxication when I'd also had my moments in the past.

"I'll make sure he pays you back. Right, Rafe?" my choice of strict tone made him mumble in agreement.

"Whenever." she added on sarcastically, clearly familiar with the fact that he was unreliable when it came to money.

Sitting himself back down on a separate chair, Rafe darted his eyes between me and Wheezie. We mimicked his action, silently growing in worry for the state he'd been in. The news that Ward and Sarah were leaving him behind was proving to affect him more than he'd let on and, in all honesty, it was equally killing me to watch him like this.

"I know this looks really bad right now and everything, but..." he mumbled, "Look, I'm gonna— I'm gonna get my shit together, okay? We— we will."

I reached out to take his hand into mine, only for him to ignorantly place it back down on the armrest of my seat.

"I'm gonna get it tight, like, y'know," he hit his fist against the table, causing me to jump at the unexpected noise, "like, real tight. You'll see."

He leaned back into the blue cushion, continuing to take his feelings out through the act of violence. With the awkward atmosphere increasing between us, Wheezie threw one last short smile in my direction before exiting the patio, taking her backpack with her. I took her lack of presence as an opportunity to pay sole attention to Rafe, wanting to ensure he was okay considering his actions weren't leading me to that conclusion.

"Rafe." I spoke up, ignored as his glance remained away from me.

"Rafe."

The only other sound I was getting in response was that of him punching the chair,  the volume raising accordingly with his anger. I raked my fingers through my hair like he had moments ago, exhaling sharply whilst the tension of his situation began to take its toll on me.

"Rafe, for fucks sake." I steadied his wrist, preventing any further movement, "What is going on?"

"I need to do something." he muttered.

"Speak up." I retaliated in anger.

"We need to do something." he corrected, "If they're going to the Bahamas, they're gonna be on the private airstrip. We need to do something."

I cinched my eyebrows, "What do you mean 'we'? Where do I fall into this equation?"

"110 percent dedication, right?" my words from earlier were reused by him.

I'd always known Rafe was impulsive when angry. It was one of the many qualities we shared, and I could guess his entire thought process in that moment purely because I would act the same. If we were any more similar than I'd already known, whatever he was asking of me truly required my input- partly on a literal basis, but also to keep him reassured.

"110 percent." I confirmed.

Just with those few spoken syllables, I'd blindly signed off on any last independence I had. From this point moving forward, there was no 'Rafe and I' as separate people.

There was only us.