Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

☼

The envelope felt ominously heavy in Kiara’s hands when she lifted it from her mailbox. 

A gold wax seal and sprawling, metallic foil print adorned the exterior of the ecru-colored parchment: Kiara Carrera, 794 Pennington Drive, Corpus Christi, TX. Her gaze landed on the return address needlessly – it could only be from one person.

Sarah Cameron’s name was there, alongside another that made Kie’s stomach drop despite the knowledge that she’d find it there, right next to her best friend’s. 

Topper Thornton. 

Tucking the envelope and the other mail she’d retrieved beneath her arm, she turned from the wall-mounted mailbox to the front door, unlocking it and stepping inside. Closing the door behind her, the sounds of her neighborhood – kids playing in their yards, cars rolling on the street, a lawn mower running a few houses down – were cut off.

Her thoughts filled the void left by the sudden silence. The heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach lingered as she kicked her shoes off, hung up her bag, and made her way down the hall. 

Kiara had lived in her small but charming two-bedroom rental since she’d moved to Texas over a year and a half ago, a transplant from her college town with stars in her eyes and a job offer from a respected environmental consultant agency. 

Her landlords, Gretchen and Stan – a lovely couple a decade or so older than her parents – were her adoptive Texan guardians, checking on her every so often, bringing her a home-cooked casserole a couple times a month from their place a few streets over. She tried to wave them off every time they did, but the truth was, she was bad at remembering to keep up with groceries and meal prep. More often than not, the tin-foil covered dishes the sweet couple brought over were the best tenants of her refrigerator. 

The second bedroom that had once been their daughter’s was now Kiara’s office on the days she worked from home, a sparsely decorated room with her desk, her yoga mat, a few filing cabinets and shelves, and a fair amount of potted plants. Her primary bedroom was small, big enough to fit her queen bed, a dresser, and not too much else. 

Her bare feet padded softly against the hardwood floor as she walked past her living room to the kitchen, straight to the fridge. This room was probably her favorite – small, like the rest of the house, but bright and sunny due to the large window above the sink, the slightly faded butter-yellow color Gretchen had painted it in a decade ago, and the sliding door that led to the backyard. 

When she’d first seen the house, the yard had immediately caught her interest.

Considering the modest square footage, there were quite a few trees. One in particular – a massive, mature elm – sat in a corner of the yard, its branches sprawling so far they almost touched the house. Kie loved sitting beneath it, enjoying the shade and relaxing on the cushy outdoor set she’d thrifted and dragged out there the first week she moved in. 

Pope and his girlfriend, Cleo, who he’d been with since the two of them were freshmen at UNC, had moved to San Antonio of all places about a year ago. They’d stayed with Kiara in Corpus Christi for a few weeks while their apartment lease was finalized, and she’d put them to work one evening, wrangling them into helping her wind yards of twinkle lights along the branches and trunk of the elm tree. When they’d finished, it’d been sunset and the perfect time to plug it all in – a bastardized sort of Christmas tree lighting ceremony, sans the holiday. 

The effect had hit Kiara harder than she’d expected – a strong sort of wistfulness twisted its grip around her heart as she’d looked up at the gleaming strands of lights, standing with Pope and Cleo as they admired their work. Nostalgia thickened her throat. 

Before she could say anything, Pope had spoken, his voice contemplative. 

“Reminds me of the Chateau. All we need is a fire going and some PBR.” 

He’d been right. Suddenly her yearning for the twinkle lights seemed silly – she hadn’t even realized that the tree in John B’s yard was what she’d been trying to emulate. 

No matter how much time passed, how much distance she insisted on putting between herself and the Outer Banks, it seemed like chasing reminders of the place she grew up was inevitable and inescapable. 

It was a realization she’d had prior to Pope and Cleo’s move to Texas, actually - blossoming from the seed of a different visit from a different couple, back when she’d first moved down here.

A few months after she’d settled into Corpus Christi, Sarah and John B had come to stay, braving the sweltering Texan summer heat to celebrate the move and her new job.

It had been one of the best weeks ever – they’d spent a day getting sunburnt visiting several Port Aransas beaches, got trashed at a bluegrass outdoor concert near the Arts Center, and rented surfboards at Mustang Island to ride some truly tiny swells. 

When they weren’t out doing embarrassing touron stuff, they’d sat around Kiara’s porch or backyard or kitchen table, talking more and laughing harder than Kie could remember doing in months. She’d gone to bed every night of their visit marveling at the way her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

Her separate relationships with both Sarah and JB had always been precious to her. But only after moving through other seasons of life – spending years away from the Pogues in another state for college, and now starting her independent adult life half a country away with a whole career and car payment – did she fully grasp how special it was to still have their friendship, a true relic of simpler times. 

And for the two of them – her two best friends – to have found what they had with each other? The kind of shit people wrote songs and poems about? She was happy they’d been lucky enough to find it so young. 

On the final night of their visit, they’d all sat out in the yard beneath the elm tree. This was before Kiara had strung up the lights, but there had still been a certain ambience that evening. Maybe because it was one of Kie’s last memories of John B and Sarah as a couple, but anytime she pictured that night, the images had a hazy, golden light cast over them.

They’d dragged her patio set close together so the three of them could smoke and talk easily. Chirps from crickets and katydids filled the air, a soothing sound that reminded Kiara of nights around the fire at the Chateau. That summer, the fireflies had been so prominent, lighting up the first few hours after sunset every evening in perpetual winks of bioluminescence. Sarah had her feet kicked up on John B’s lap while Kiara lit a joint, the three of them reminiscing on the highlights of their trip. 

“I wish we could stay for a whole other week,” Sarah had groaned, furrowing her brow as if the thought of separating was causing her physical pain. “This is the longest the three of us have hung out since two summers ago when all of us stayed in that Airbnb in Wilmington.”

“Yeah, and before that it was when? When we came to Blacksburg to visit you, Kie?” John B asked. A glass beer bottle dangled from one hand while the other rubbed small circles on Sarah’s crossed ankles. 

Kiara inhaled, blowing out the smoke in a steady stream while she offered the joint out of politeness to Sarah who shook her head, instead opting to grab the beer out of JB’s hand to take a sip. He reached out to take the proffered joint from Kie’s fingers. 

“I know, it’s been for fucking ever since we got to spend time together like this. You are quite literally welcome anytime. Sarah, stay another week – hell, stay another month actually, please.” 

John B took a slow hit and let it out in a measured exhale before nodding at Kie. “You know, JJ said Texas was so random for you.” He continued with a shrug. “I mean, not like we don’t get it, with the job offer and everything – you gotta go where they’ll pay you. But this town, this area – it makes sense actually, seeing it like this.” 

She’d quirked an eyebrow at him. “Meaning..?”

“Meaning, it’s 1500 miles away from Kildare, hundreds of miles from either the east or west coast, but you still managed to find your way to the water.” John B took another puff of the joint before handing it back to her. “You live like two blocks from the bay, and on top of that, you’re right by one of the biggest barrier islands in the country. Hard not to see the comparison, you know?” 

She saw his point. On the other side of the bay she did, in fact, live two blocks away from lay a chain of barrier islands – one of which was the longest barrier island in the world.  

Sarah nodded thoughtfully along with her boyfriend’s words. “Some of the marshes we’ve driven by this week look so much like back home. If it weren’t for this psychotic heat, I could’ve fooled myself into thinking we were in North Carolina.”

“Maybe you miss it more than you realize, Kie,” John B said casually, raising his eyebrows at her as he absentmindedly rubbed the arches of Sarah’s feet, still stretched across his lap. 

Kie spluttered at the implication. “Wh– who said I don’t miss it? I know I don’t visit much or stay long when I do, but you guys know how busy I’ve been between school and my internships and everything. And now the new job…” Her voice trailed off.

She knew no one was keeping track of her visits as closely as she was. All of the Pogues ribbed her for never staying long when she came for the holidays or over summer break to visit her parents, but it’s not like they were actually tracking the data. 

Kiara, however, was keenly aware of the fact that she’d never spent more than four days in a row back home on Kildare since she’d left for her freshman orientation at Virginia Tech years ago. She wasn’t going to volunteer the specifics to John B and Sarah at that moment. Or ever. 

It didn’t seem like it would help build her case. 

Sure, she was busy – but realistically, no one was that busy for so long unless they were really just trying to avoid something. 

Or someone, in Kie’s case. 

Sarah and John B nodded at her words, making noncommittal sounds. Kiara had changed the subject quickly, eager to get their attention off her before they further dissected the subject. 

She settled on asking Sarah about the new job she was starting in a few weeks – her first teaching position since she’d graduated with her degree from UNC in May. Sarah had the summer months off before starting her career as a first grade teacher in the Kildare public school system, but she’d been prepping her curriculum and lesson plans since she’d gotten the job offer after graduation. 

There was a glow on Sarah’s face as she happily responded to Kiara’s prompting, talking about her ideas for her classroom setup. Kie listened attentively, admiring the excitement her friend had for her fledgling career, but her eyes caught on John B at one point while Sarah went on a tangent about creating an optimum learning environment by encouraging learning through play – whatever that meant.

The look on her friend’s face as he watched his girlfriend talk almost made Kie feel like she was intruding, like she was witnessing something intimate.

He was spellbound, eyes bright as he watched and listened to Sarah with rapt attention. JB had his head tilted slightly to the side, a soft smile on his lips, only speaking to murmur affirmations when Sarah glanced at him occasionally in excitement as she spoke. 

The love and adoration he had for Sarah Cameron was radiating effortlessly from him, stronger and more obvious in that moment than any sort of wordy declaration or public display of affection could ever demonstrate. 

Glancing between the two of them, Kiara felt herself flick through several different emotions like they were pages in a paperback book.

Mostly she was happy for them – how could she not be? Her two closest friends had found something special with each other, something precious that was clearly meant to last. She was surprised Sarah didn’t have a ring on her left hand yet, matter of fact. 

But there were other feelings layered under that happiness, an undertow rippling beneath the surface of the water. There was a tightness in Kie’s chest, an ache in her throat, as she admitted to herself that it would be nice to have someone look at her like that. 

Yet at the same time, the thought of someone looking at her with that kind of devotion – with intimate and ardent knowledge of who she really was – made her want to cringe, or run away, or both. 

She wondered if anyone had ever truly looked at her like that. She thought back to her various exes from college, but she knew none of them had – she’d never even exchanged an I love you with any of them. The relationships never lasted more than a few months at a time.

Pictures of her previous partners slid through her mind like she was clicking through a slideshow presentation. 

Unbidden, a dim memory of deep blue eyes – wide with sincerity, reflecting a glimmer of the adoration she was pondering – surfaced. The image was foggy, like it was dusty from disuse, as if it’d been shoved into a box and left undisturbed for a time. 

She’d winced, the physical reaction bringing her back to her yard, where she was supposed to be chatting with her disgustingly-in-love friends. 

Kiara’s sidetracked mind had gone unnoticed – Sarah was still chatting happily, John B still engrossed. Kie forced herself back into the conversation, asking another question about Sarah’s future daily work schedule, and settled further into the deep cushion of her patio chair. 

The only sign she was preoccupied was the way she distractedly twisted her charm bracelet around her wrist, over and over again. Since she’d started wearing it in college, it had been a nervous tic – the repetition of the gold chain, warm from her body heat, slipping against her skin. 

It soothed her when she was anxious or had something on her mind. Her attention flipped between the feeling of the metal between her fingers and the continued conversation with her friends, and definitely didn’t waver to any lingering thoughts of those blue eyes.

Kiara came back to the present moment, tucking away the recollection of John B and Sarah’s visit. She stood in the kitchen, resting a hand on the counter as she looked out the window to her yard. Shaking her head clear, she went to open the fridge and grabbed a can of Diet Coke – her favorite post-work day treat. It was sort of a guilty pleasure, considering the daily use of an aluminum can wasn’t exactly environmentally friendly – but fuck, she deserved to live a little. After pouring the soda into a separate glass with several ice cubes and tossing the empty can into her recycling bin, she took the glass and the heavy parchment envelope outside to sit beneath the elm tree. 

The sun was too high still for her to bother turning on the twinkle lights, since she’d only left her office about 20 minutes ago, but even without them it was her favorite place to sit. Especially in the spring months, before the Texan summer heat made it unbearable to be out here before sunset. On this particular mid March afternoon, it was a balmy mid-70s. 

Settling into her patio chair cross-legged, Kiara balanced the envelope on one knee and stared down at it.

It’s really happening. She’s really going to go through with it, Kiara marveled. The thought made her stomach drop. 

Without further hesitation, she broke open the wax seal on the envelope, stamped with curling calligraphy: T & S.  Several smaller envelopes slipped into her hand as she turned it upside down, including a velvet pocket. In total, the contents included an RSVP card, a return envelope with Tannyhill’s address, the velvet sleeve that held a detailed bridal party itinerary in it, and the official wedding invitation, all printed with custom gold foil.  

Together with their families, 

Topper Thornton and Sarah Cameron are thrilled to invite you to celebrate their wedding on June 2nd

Ceremony will be held at the Sunset Island Resort, Kildare NC

Reception to follow

All in all, the invitation screamed elegance, opulence, and Kook supremacy. Three things that did not scream Sarah Cameron. 

Kiara shook her head and ran agitated fingers through her curls. She further inspected the bridal party itinerary, realizing with a jolt of surprise that the dates and events listed started over two weeks prior to the wedding. 

What the fuck. Kie read it again in disbelief.

Is this how rich people did weddings? She’d only attended a few in her life, and had never been a bridesmaid, but it seemed extreme. Kiara’s mind started spinning on how she’d have to arrange things with work – she had plenty of time, really – how she’d have to make sure Gretchen and Stan could come over to water her plants every few days – they were always happy to help, but still – and how… 

How she’d be in Kildare for an uninterrupted two and a half weeks for the first time since leaving over five years ago. 

Prior to this, she’d vaguely imagined flying in the day of the rehearsal dinner, slipping into the resort, and spending the following 36 hours quietly executing her responsibilities as a bridesmaid while showering Sarah in love and adoration, dutifully ignoring that the groom was a total douche and the entire wedding was a baffling turn of events. 

Clearly, that was not a possibility. 

Instead, it would be an endless stream of event after event with the bridesmaids… and groomsmen. She swallowed at the sinking realization of what exactly that meant, remembering her conversation with Sarah a few months ago when her friend asked her to be part of the wedding.

Obviously, Kiara had happily accepted the role of bridesmaid – even if she didn’t understand why Sarah and John B had broken up in the first place, or why the fuck Sarah had agreed to marry Topper when they’d been together for less than a year and she’d hated him for over half a decade previously. 

Regardless, once Sarah had posed the question of being a bridesmaid and Kie agreed with genuine excitement – this was her best friend, after all, nevermind who the groom was – Sarah had started chattering on about the plans they’d already made for the wedding. Despite being the bride, she didn’t have too much to do because Topper’s mother had her fingers in all aspects of it, which was just fine with Sarah. 

Dr. Thornton had secured a highly sought after date at the luxury resort on Figure 8 – Sarah was pretty sure the only way they’d gotten the spot was an under-the-table exchange of an obscene amount of money – and had hired a respected wedding consultant to take care of countless details Sarah didn’t want to be bothered with. 

“The only thing I care about is spending time with all of our friends,” Sarah had explained wistfully. “I want us to really be celebrating something bigger than us – like yes, it’s about Topper and I, I know that – but I really want to have the opportunity to have some real quality, celebratory time with our chosen people. The people who are going to be up there by our sides.” Sarah had paused thoughtfully on the phone before continuing.

“So, the bridesmaids are you and Cleo, then Wheezie as my maid of honor. And then Becca isn’t a bridesmaid, but she’s taking some time off work to come down early and join in on the festivities. You remember her from visiting UNC, right? You met her a few times. Her and Cleo were close, too.” 

Kiara remembered Becca; blonde, pretty, nice – her and Sarah had all of those things in common. 

Sarah’d paused before casually lobbing the grenade at Kie. “Plus, I think she might actually hit it off with Rafe. He’s going to be a groomsman, Top already asked him.”

Blinking, Kiara’s mind raced, filling with images of what that would look like. 

Her and Rafe, at the same event, in the same room, for the first time since the summer before her freshman year. Both of them dressed up in formal attire, probably in coordinated colors, with beautiful and kind Becca sitting between them, smiling up at Rafe with her big, blue eyes and shiny hair and –

“And you’ll be bringing Luke, right?” Sarah had asked.

Clearing her throat, Kie answered hurriedly. “Um, yep. For sure. He’ll be there.” 

Now as she sat in her backyard, she reflected on how Luke, in fact, would not be there.

She’d dated Luke, a coworker of hers, for about eight months. He was sweet, hot, smart – all the things that made Kiara think now was the time to finally get over her aversion to emotional intimacy and endure a real, long-term relationship. 

They’d done all the things on paper they were supposed to. Said “I love you” after a handful of months, dated through the holiday season together, met each other’s friends and family. 

He was an open book with zero red flags. The perfect person to be vulnerable with. And she’d tried. Really tried. 

But in the end, he’d done the right thing and ended it with her a few weeks ago – “Kiara, I just don’t think I’m really what you’re looking for. If I’m being honest, it feels like you’re always holding something back. We have so much fun together, but we should find people we’re comfortable sharing all of ourselves with. It’ll happen with the right person. You know?”

The memory made her cringe. Therapized by an enlightened white boy, and not for the first time in her life. 

Really, it’d been nice of him to say “we” like he was equally at fault. 

Nice, but unnecessary. She knew the problem was her.

It was always her. 

At least she was self aware. 

It felt like everyone else in her life was aware, too. When she’d broken the news of her split from Luke to her friends, no one had seemed all that surprised. The same conversation had repeated through the cycle of Pope and Cleo, Sarah, JJ and John B, even her parents: “Aw, we’re sorry to hear that – Are you okay? Feeling sad about the breakup? – Not too worked up about it? That’s good. He was too boring for you, anyway.” 

She was walking away from the relationship with more guilt and embarrassment than sadness. 

It’d been nice of Luke to say she would be able to share more of herself with the right person, but she wasn’t sure that was true at this point. It felt more like there was something wrong with her on a functional level. 

Regardless of all of that, now was not the time for a deep-dive psychological analysis on her fear of true intimacy. Now was the time for reading through Sarah’s itinerary for the days leading up to her wedding. 

There was a litany of events: kickoff cocktails, a ladies brunch, a bridal party boat day, final fittings for wedding attire, a coed bach party, and an outdoor sunset rehearsal dinner. 

Her phone suddenly lit up with an incoming Facetime call. A picture of a teenage Pope wearing a pair of hot pink, heart-shaped sunglasses – compliments of Sarah – was plastered on the screen as it rang. She answered immediately.

The call opened on Pope, sitting on one of the barstools in his apartment kitchen. Cleo was visible in the background, moving back and forth between the counter and the stove. Kiara could practically smell the jerk seasoning through the phone. 

Cleo paused cooking when she heard Kiara answer the call. “My girl!” She leaned over Pope’s shoulder with a grin.

“Hey, I was actually going to call you guys, too! Did you get –”

“Sarah’s wedding invitation?” Pope interrupted. “Yes, yes we did. Figured we could iron out travel logistics so we could make sure we’re on the same flight and everything.”

“Oh, hell yes. I’d love that.” She sat up straighter in her patio chair. “But I can’t believe we’re going to be in Kildare for over two weeks. It seems excessive, no? I might skip the first half or something and come closer to the actual wedding – what do you think?”

Pope and Cleo exchanged an amused look.

Kiara looked flatly between the two of them on her phone screen. “What?”

With a small laugh, Pope shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just…we knew you’d say that.”

Kie scoffed. “What does that mean?” 

Cleo leaned into the phone again, balancing herself with an arm around Pope’s shoulders. “Just that you’re always kinda grumbly about taking time off and…”

“And you don’t go home like, ever.” Pope finished his girlfriend’s sentence.

“Please. I am not grumbly,” she grumbled. Her knee started jiggling agitatedly, the ball of her foot bouncing on the grass. “And I go home for Christmas every year!”

“For two or three days, yeah,” Pope replied. 

“Listen, girl,” Cleo said in a patient voice, her accent soft as she spoke slowly – like Kiara was a wild animal she was trying to soothe before it balked. She grabbed Pope’s phone, tilting it towards her face more fully. “You got no reason to not go and enjoy the time with your friends in your hometown. You can keep up with work in your room on your laptop, it’s the same as working from home. Your empty house isn’t going to miss you. But all of us would. Sarah would.” 

She felt a pang of regret in her chest at the thought of Sarah’s face when Kiara told her she would be skipping out on the festivities. 

Fuck. They were right. 

Kiara nodded as she came to her decision. 

“Yeah, you know what. Fuck it,” Kiara agreed as she leaned against the armrest of her outdoor chair, resting her chin on her fist. “Let’s make the most of it. Sarah put all this work into planning all this fun shit – we should enjoy it.”

“Aye, that’s the spirit!” Cleo said with a wide grin, handing the phone back to Pope who was smiling just as wide. 

Pope assured her he’d be looking into flights momentarily, and would send her the information. They hung up after chatting for another quarter of an hour. Once she hung up, Kiara downed the remainder of her Diet Coke, lost in thought. 

She’d spent enough time avoiding Kildare. Why? 

Out of some obsolete, hackneyed obligation to avoid someone who probably thought nothing of her at this point? 

The chain of her charm bracelet was warm as she twisted it on her wrist, round and round as she considered these thoughts. She fiddled with a few of the charms, worrying them with her thumb. 

It didn’t have to be this way anymore. She was a grown woman. Rafe was a grown man. 

They hadn’t seen each other in years, and whatever had been between them in the past was surely long gone and buried. She knew he dated regularly – once almost to the point of an engagement, according to Sarah – and Kiara herself had been with more partners than she could count on both hands. It was ridiculous she’d kept up the avoidance this long. 

She’d been out in the yard for so long the sun was beginning to set, deepening from a blinding yellow into a rich, brilliant orange as it lowered in the sky. Inhaling deeply, she savored the way the colors painted the Texas sky.

Yeah, she could do this. If Sarah wanted a fun couple of weeks with her friends, Kie was going to fucking deliver. Not only could she go back home to Kildare, she was going to have a goddamn blast doing it. 

☾

It wasn’t even half past 7 when his sister’s name lit up the monitor on his dash. Too early in the morning to match Sarah’s permanently peppy energy. 

“Whatever you’re calling me to complain about, just know I have had one single sip of coffee so far,” he said by way of greeting.

Sarah’s voice came chiming through the speakers, bubbly and cheery – such a morning person, Rafe thought with a grimace. “Well, guzzle some more down and saddle up. I’ve been awake for hours, I’m in my classroom before school starts, and I have some housekeeping questions for the wedding.”

He grit his teeth but kept his mouth shut – or rather, he took her advice and brought his travel thermos to his lips. More caffeine was definitely needed if she wanted to talk shop about the impending wedding that was bound to be the biggest mistake he’d witnessed his little sister make in her 25 years of life.

“Have you even opened the invitation yet? I know you must’ve gotten it over a week ago, but seeing as you haven’t said a word about it to me, I figured I need to ask directly. Very on brand of you to make more work for the bride, asshole.” Despite the name calling, her voice was light, unbothered. 

Yeah, he’d gotten the invitation sometime last week. Or the week before. He remembered pulling it out of his mailbox – cringing at the extravagance that was so over-the-top it had made a U-turn into tacky territory – then promptly adding it to the pile of other junk mail on his kitchen counter. The memory gave him a twinge of guilt. 

“Your silence speaks volumes,” she said flatly. “Well, whatever. I’m sending all the information to Clark in an email then, and he’ll add it to your calendar because he’s actually competent and considerate.”

While it was true that his admin, Clark, was competent and considerate, Rafe hated that Sarah was adding the management of his personal life to Clark’s professional responsibilities. “No, don–” he started to say, but Sarah cut him off.

“Too late. Sending now.”

True to her word, he heard the muffled whoosh sound of an email sent. He could picture her in her brightly and meticulously decorated classroom, sitting in front of her desk and hitting send with a click and a flourish as she directed the message to Clark’s inbox.

“I’m gonna be honest, I already had it all typed into a draft before I even called you.” 

“What other information is there to know besides the date of the wedding?” Rafe asked, rolling his eyes. He took another sip from his thermos. The coffee inside was sweet and light – a preference that was his biggest shame. 

“Oh, sweet summer child,” Sarah sighed into the phone, her voice patronizing. “‘What other information?’ Well, you would know if you’d opened your very expensive, very detailed invitation. There’s a… small handful of events before the big day. And your presence is expected – no, required, at each one. Considering you're not only Topper’s groomsman but my big brother.”

He grimaced at the reminder of his role in the wedding. Rafe had regretted saying yes to being one of Top’s groomsmen pretty much immediately after accepting. 

He hadn’t been close to Topper for years. The only reason they spoke nowadays was the inexplicably rekindled relationship between his sister and his childhood best friend. Despite that, their long shared history plus being Sarah’s brother meant he wasn’t entirely surprised when Topper had asked shortly after they’d gotten engaged. 

Sarah continued talking, listing off the events she required his presence at. Some cocktail party, a groomsmen golf day, a boat day on the sound, a combined bachelor/bachelorette party… Rafe’s head spun from the list as she prattled on. 

“Listen,” he interrupted her. “Why do you need all this extra shit? Like, you have your bachelorette party, sure, but then it’s a rehearsal dinner and the big day, yeah? Done. It’s supposed to be about you and Topper –  as much as I hate to say that – not about having a big party for all your friends.”

Her scoff rang out through the car speakers. “Jesus, who made you the official guardian on the sanctity of marriage?” The sound of shuffling papers rustled in the background of the call. “Topper and I have our whole lives to spend together,” she sighed distractedly. “I only have so long to enjoy being young and carefree, running around the island with my friends.”

“Okaaay,” he muttered, stretching out the word as he processed what she’d said. “That’s… kind of a weird fuckin’ way to look at getting married.”

She laughed, a bit more harshly than was normal. “Again, wasn’t aware you were the expert. I just want to have a fun couple of weeks as Sarah Cameron before I become Mrs. Thornton.” 

Maybe it was just him, but the title sounded strange from Sarah’s mouth, like the syllables were weirdly clashing as she said them. 

Sarah continued. “It’s the first time in years I’ll have everyone I care about here in Kildare at the same time, and it’ll probably be the last time for a long while, too – considering how far Pope, Cleo, and Kie all live. Let me enjoy it.”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel involuntarily at the final name. He almost missed his turn and had to press on the brakes with a sharp tap to make it. 

Before Sarah could notice a lull in the conversation, he asked her about work. That always got her talking for a good long while. She began a diatribe about some drama with a coworker, and he let his mind wander. 

Of course Kiara would be at the wedding. She was still one of Sarah’s best friends – he knew that. 

Yet somehow in the months since his sister had been engaged, he hadn’t once stopped to really consider what it would be like to see her again. He certainly hadn’t considered seeing her repeatedly for almost three weeks, since he didn’t realize Sarah would be dragging out the festivities for that long. 

His stomach twisted with a combination of dread and a masochistic sense of anticipation. 

He hadn’t seen Kie once in the years since she’d left for college. She’d done an excellent job of staying off the island as much as she could – and avoiding him when she couldn’t. 

Not that he’d tried to seek her out. He definitely hadn’t. In truth, that had been the only mutual part of their relationship coming to an end. 

So yeah. He was combating a lot of different feelings at the thought of laying eyes on her again. 

Of course, he’d seen a few pictures of her here and there from Sarah – his sister would come back from a weekend visiting Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, or some summer jaunt with the Pogues to Charleston, showing him snapshots of her adventures on her camera roll. Rafe didn’t have any social media unless you counted an Instagram for his business, which Clark mainly handled anyway. 

Sarah had one particular picture of her and Kiara, framed and sitting on her desk in her bedroom at Tannyhill. The image was burned into his memory. It was from a trip Sarah had taken with John B to visit Kie shortly after she’d moved to Texas for her job post-grad. 

It was a shot of the two girls at the beach, in the water, perched on surfboards. Even with a gun to his head, he couldn’t tell you if Sarah was smiling in the picture or not, or what color the waves were around them, if the sky was clouded in the background or clear. 

But – entirely against his will – he knew Kie was wearing a cornflower blue bikini. He knew her hair was longer than when she’d still lived in Kildare, or at least it looked that way with all the saltwater dripping off her curls, weighing them down. It looked darker too, no hint of the soft highlights she used to get when she was younger. 

Most of all, the smile she wore in that picture was fixed in his memory. Bright, easy, sun-drenched. Familiar. 

In the midst of his wandering thoughts, something Sarah said lurched his attention back to the present. She’d been talking about work still, monologuing to her heart’s content, unaware Rafe’s brain was currently stuck on the smile of a girl he hadn’t seen in years. 

“Wait, wait… what do you mean, you might not be back at work next fall?” He asked, shaking his head clear and focusing on his sister’s words. 

“Oh, so you were listening? Could’ve fooled me.” He could practically hear her eyes roll before she continued with a sigh. 

“It’s just, Topper mentioned the other day that I shouldn’t even be working. You know, he’s on track to become a partner at his uncle’s law firm in a couple years, and it’s not like I need the money. He’s moving into Tannyhill after the wedding, so we’re not paying rent or a mortgage…” Her voice trailed off. She sounded deliberately casual, like she could sense what Rafe was winding up to say. 

“That is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Sarah.” 

She sighed. “Okay, Rafe.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. “Sarah. If Dad was alive, he would have reamed Top out for saying some shit like that to you, you know that. You love your job, why the hell would you quit because fucking Topper says you should?” 

Another sigh blew out over his speakers, sounding more frustrated. “Look, it’s my business what I do. I shouldn’t have even mentioned it. I gotta go anyway, my prep’s almost done. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Her call disconnected a second later, just as Rafe turned his wheel into a small parking lot. He made a mental note to call her back later as he pulled into a spot in front of a low, square building. 

Turning his car off, he hesitated before moving to get out, sitting and looking up at the sign above the door: Cameron Luxury Charters.  

The private dock was visible behind the building, where it stretched out into the Pamlico Sound beyond. Secured alongside the dock were the two catamarans he’d purchased so far for the business. He had a small crew on hand to staff both when they were chartered, which was regularly. Cameron Luxury Charters was a success by all counts – not overwhelmingly so, and still growing, but a success. He wasn’t too proud to admit it would’ve been humiliating to have his venture fail. 

Rose, Sarah, and Wheezie had all been shocked when he’d dissolved Cameron Development in favor of starting his own business. His dad’s company had been left to him under the assumption that Rafe would take over, but he’d long been quietly planning his exit from Ward’s thumb. 

He hadn’t had the fortitude to do it while his father was still alive, but his death had served as the catalyst for Rafe’s plans to get in motion. The money left from the business had been split into quarters – one quarter had gone to each of his sisters, one quarter to Rose, and one quarter to him. 

Building his business was only possible due to his inheritance. But that was separate from the money he got from Cameron Development’s dissolution – that money had gone to something else entirely. 

Rafe had always had a complicated relationship with his father. Ward’s parenting style towards his son had generally vacillated between aloof detachment and overbearing disappointment. As he’d gotten older, Rafe realized his dad loved him, in his own way… but he didn’t really like him very much. 

He’d always been grateful his dad had insisted he get help before his issues with drugs spiraled into something darker, but he also knew Ward had only done it because Rafe’s behavior was a reflection on Ward himself, on the Cameron family name. He’d made it clear why Rafe needed to straighten out his issues, why he needed to man up. Being a Cameron man came with certain expectations. 

Once Rafe’s eyes had been opened and he started thinking for himself, he’d realized those expectations weren’t a bar to rise to. They were a burden weighing him down. 

And the realization that Cameron Development was a business built on the burdens of people without wealth and power on their side – that actually had been something Kiara Carrera had taught him. 

Climbing out of the driver’s seat, he grabbed the thermos of sweetened coffee and his work bag then headed into the building. Inside, Clark sat at the front desk. He was clicking away on the computer in front of him, but paused as Rafe made his way through the door. 

“Morning!” Clark’s voice was what Rafe would consider overly chipper for it being barely 8 in the morning. Coming off the tail end of his conversation with Sarah, Rafe distantly thought that maybe it was his cross to bear, being surrounded by morning people. 

But he could forgive Clark for it. The dude had been a godsend when it came to maintaining the functionality of CLC. Clark was everything Rafe wasn’t – an excellent people person, unwaveringly patient at walking clients through the booking process, painstakingly meticulous at schedule management, and flamboyantly gay. 

“Morning,” Rafe replied. He set his thermos on the elevated front counter of Clark’s desk and gave him a nod. “How’s it been?” 

“Good, just been answering some emails and watching the news.” Clark gestured towards the television hanging in their small reception area. “Did you hear the county is finally going to start building that affordable housing complex?” 

Rafe glanced over at the news coverage playing. The banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen echoed Clark’s words: Kildare County Housing Coalition to break ground on low-cost housing units. 

“About time,” he said, shaking his head and turning back to Clark. He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “They got the funding for it forever ago.” 

He walked past the front desk towards his private office. The room was small, but tidy and tasteful. Wheezie and Sarah had taken great pride in helping him decorate the interior of the entire building, carefully selecting the cushy chairs in the reception area, the desk Clark worked at, the color of the flooring and paint. 

They’d taken extra care with Rafe’s office, explaining their choices to him in terms of the flow of the room, balance and contrast, and especially color theory when choosing the smoky blue shade on his walls. 

As much as he’d rolled his eyes at their careful deliberation, he had to admit – he loved the end result. The paint color was calming, the dark wood of his desk seemed right, and the photos of North Carolina landscapes they had hung on his walls were ones he probably would’ve chosen himself, if he had any mind to think about hanging anything at all. He supposed sometimes sisters did know what they were talking about. 

Rafe heard the sound of Clark’s desk chair wheels rolling sharply across the floor followed by footsteps, heralding his arrival at the door to the office. 

“Yes?” Rafe asked expectantly. 

“Sooo,” Clark drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “When were you planning on telling me you’re taking all that time off for Sarah’s wedding? Kinda seems like something I should know, yes?” 

Rafe blew out a long exhale. “Yeah. Seems like something I should know too, but since I never actually opened the invitation… I was also unaware.” 

Clark chuckled in reply. “Nice one. Well, while I can blame you for not opening your mail – I mean, it’s your sister’s wedding, for Chrissakes, Rafe – I can’t blame you for not anticipating multiple weeks of brunches and cocktail parties and yacht outings. That’s extra. And that’s coming from someone who loves to be extra.”

“Agreed.” Leaning back in his chair, Rafe tapped his fingers against his desk. “Anyway, I’ll still be able to answer calls, or swing by the office when you need me. And I can do work from my room at the resort.” His fingers continued tapping a rhythm on the wooden surface.

“Damn, I gotta book something in their block before I forget. I guess I’d officially be the worst brother and groomsmen if I wait ‘til it’s too late.”

“I know you care so much about the latter,” Clark said with a sly smile. “But say less. I’m on it.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“I didn’t mean that you had to –”

“So what are the chances you’re gonna get your dick wet at this wedding, huh?” Clark said, not looking up as he clicked away on his phone. He ignored Rafe completely as he inhaled a mouthful of coffee from his thermos. “Should we splurge a little more for a king suite, or are you going to be abstinent and alone in a double queen?”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe choked out between coughs. 

“You’re right – let’s go for the king. I don’t think you’ve gotten any since Sophia, right? Unless you’re keeping it from me, you little minx.”

“I… really think we need to reevaluate our boundaries in the workplace,” Rafe muttered as he tapped a fist against the desk, shaking his head in bewilderment. 

Clark pulled a face as he turned to go back to his desk. “What am I supposed to do if I’m not allowed to meddle in your personal life?” He asked over his shoulder. “Just do my job? ” 

“Yes. Please. That’d be great,” Rafe called back. “Preferred, actually.”

His computer pinged a second later with a confirmation email for a king suite at the Sunset Island Resort. 

Clark’s voice rang out from the front desk, sing-songy and cheery. “You’re welcome, asshole!” 

Chapter Text

☼

Kiara hadn’t even fully stepped out of the rental car when the familiar damp heat of Kildare started fogging out the edges of her sunglasses. By the time both feet had made contact with the pavement outside the Sunset Island Resort, she could barely see out of the lenses.

And that’s how you know you’re home, she thought to herself. 

As Cleo handed over the keys to the valet, Kiara took her glasses off and wiped the condensation away with the corner of her oversized, open-knit sweater. The humidity settled over her like a familiar blanket, and the nostalgic smell of saltwater in the air filled her nose. Kie took a deep inhale.

Pope clambered out of the backseat, unfolding his long legs as he took a few unsteady steps from the rented SUV. He’d slept almost the entire car ride from the airport in Charlotte to the Outer Banks, his head bobbing this way and that despite the pink travel pillow he’d borrowed from Cleo. 

Clearly, it had taken a toll – he groaned dramatically as he stretched out his neck. Kiara watched him in half-hearted, reluctant concern as each step he took emitted a crack or pop from various joints. 

“Jesus, that drive never gets easier,” he said with a dramatic sigh as he twisted his back. Several alarming snapping sounds came from his spine as he did so. 

“Interesting you’d say that when you were a passenger princess the whole ride,” Kiara muttered as she slid her sunglasses back on.

Cleo stepped closer to them. “Not just any princess. Sleeping Beauty,” she said with a grin.

The girls bit back giggles and started walking to the front entrance, Pope following behind with an eye roll. A resort employee had already grabbed their bags from the trunk of the rental and brought them to the front desk. 

Inside, the lobby looked like the set of a Nancy Meyers movie – tasteful, coastal, all creams and beiges and walnut woods. The back wall of the first floor was framed in spotless, enormous windows and white-paned double doors, all opening out to the lawn and terrace, the pool deck, and the calm water of the sound beyond. 

On one side of the lobby sat the check-in desk. At the other was a small, well-reviewed bar and restaurant.  Kiara knew from the website that it was one of three dining options on the premises. 

“You know, I think I deserve a drink after driving through all that traffic,” Cleo said, eyeing the bar as the three of them walked to the front desk to check in. 

“Heard – that’s the first order of business, baby,” Pope replied.

“Not me.” Kiara shook her head with a grimace. “I need to shower the airport smell off me.” She stepped closer to the employee at the front desk, greeting the young woman with a smile and giving her their names. 

Pope checked his phone and waited until the employee started clicking away on her computer for their reservations before replying, “I mean, we have about 2 and a half hours until the ‘cocktail kickoff’” – the three of them exchanged good natured smirks at the cheesy name – “so I’d say there’s time for one drink, then you can go up and shower.”

The woman at the front desk laid out the electronic key cards on the desk. “Okay, here you go. Room 317,” she said, nodding at Kiara and patting one small envelope, “and Room 319.” She nodded at Pope and Cleo while patting the other, then she thanked them for their attendance at the Thornton-Cameron wedding. 

The bellhop who’d taken their bags from the car left to wheel their luggage up to the rooms as they headed to the bar. After ordering their drinks and collapsing into the squashy armchairs, Kiara sipped a G&T and finally let herself think about what the reality of being here meant, and who she would see tonight. 

She gazed down at the cocktail in her hand, focusing woodenly on the thin lemon wheel on the rim and the sprig of thyme swimming in the glass.

Swallowing against the sudden desert-dry feeling in her mouth, she let the anxious thoughts she’d batted away until now spiral. What would it be like to see Rafe again this evening? It was impossible to imagine him greeting her with a smile and a hug, considering how things had ended the last time she’d seen him. 

But would he act like she didn’t exist? It had been five years ago, after all. They’d both lived so much life since then – it was probably silly of her to worry that he was holding onto any resentment or hurt feelings after all this time. 

Almost certainly he’d forgotten all about her and their… friendship?  

Kiara took a sip of her cocktail to alleviate the dryness in her mouth. All this time later and she still didn’t know what to label the thing Rafe and her had shared. Whatever it was, it had certainly never been an official relationship. 

Pope and Cleo were arguing lightheartedly about their plans for the next day – Pope was insisting on a morning walk on the beach, and Cleo was gunning for a long, luxurious lie-in – when Kie stood from the trio of armchairs they’d been relaxing in. She left them to duke it out after confirming a plan to meet up and walk down to the cocktail party together.

The elevator ride and walk to the room passed in a blur, anxious thoughts swirling in her mind. She barely paid any attention to the numbers on the doors as she found herself on the third floor.

The impending doom of being face to face with Rafe was making her stomach do weird things, which was frankly stupid. A waste of her energy. Kiara was sure he hadn’t given her presence at the wedding a second thought. As far as she knew, Rafe never asked Sarah about her, even in the first year or so after she left, when it was all still fresh. 

He’d never contacted her in any way. He’d moved on, dated other girls as expected. Sarah would refer to his girlfriends briefly sometimes throughout the years, mentioning names of the young women Rafe would bring around Tannyhill while she was home from school on break. 

There was one he’d dated for quite a while in the past year – Sofia, Kie was pretty sure her name was. She’d attended the public school on the island with her, before Sofia graduated a year or two ahead. According to Sarah, she was a Pogue who worked at the Island Club. Kind of unexpected for Rafe, considering how he’d always felt about Pogues and Kooks. 

That was back when you actually knew him, Kiara thought to herself. 

At some point in the past several years, Rafe had clearly had some change of heart regarding the Kildare class wars, considering the way John B would sometimes talk about Rafe in passing. Even after Sarah and JB broke up, her friend would mention hanging out with Rafe off-handedly while Kie and him would speak on the phone, talking about how they’d met up for a beer the night before or had plans to go out fishing the next weekend. 

It being perhaps a little strange that Kie knew all this about Rafe wasn’t lost on her. She cringed internally, embarrassed that she absolutely knew way more about him than he cared to know about her. They were strangers now, but Kiara had never been able to stop filing information away in the folder in her brain labeled Rafe Cameron, no matter how much time had passed. 

She blinked and found herself in front of Room 317.

Fishing the keycard out of her bag, she opened the heavy wooden door, finding herself in a pleasantly airy suite. The tasteful, coastal design mirrored the lobby downstairs. An inviting king-sized bed layered with soft-looking sheets, blankets, and pillows in varying shades of cream sat against one wall, opposite an electric fireplace and reasonably large flatscreen TV. The small kitchenette was tucked into one corner. A well-lit bathroom was directly to her right – inside she could see an enormous walk-in shower with a sparklingly spotless glass door calling her name.   

Her Solgaard luggage set had been placed just inside the room by the hotel employees, so she wheeled her suitcase over to the closet and began unpacking. Her bridesmaid dress, like everyone else’s, had been made by a local shop in town, so she didn’t have to worry about bringing it all the way from Texas. But she had brought several outfits for all of the countless pre-wedding events Sarah had packed into the calendar for the next two weeks, and getting any wrinkles out of the clothing was a tall order for her and her travel-sized bottle of wrinkle release spray. 

Kiara was grabbing bundles of clothing and laying them out when she spotted her little portable speaker nestled in amongst the fabric. She reached for it and cued up her Spotify daylist, currently titled bedroom pop coastal grandmother weekday afternoon, whatever the fuck that meant. The first chords of SZA’s “Scorsese Baby Daddy” started playing and she resumed unpacking, nodding along to the beat. 

As she rifled through the closet for some hangers, her eyes caught on a door she hadn’t noticed before. A door in the middle of the common wall between her and the adjacent room, which would be Pope and Cleo’s: 319. Huh. That was cool – convenient, honestly, since she and Cleo would’ve been running back and forth between each other’s rooms anyway while they got ready for the different dinners and events. 

When her casual clothes had been placed on the shelves in the closet and the dressier items had been hung up and sprayed down with wrinkle release spray, she started transporting the hangers to the bathroom. It was kind of a girl math situation, but multi-tasking her hot shower with steaming her clothes was, in her opinion, ecoconscious as fuck. She was basically helping the planet by taking a scalding shower. 

Turning the water on, she started stripping her travel clothes off. Her leggings, light sweater, and the cropped tank she was wearing beneath were thrown into a haphazard pile on the cool tile floor as the water heated up.  

Her speaker was still playing music out in the main room – something by Clairo, but Kiara couldn’t make out which song. She turned the volume up with her phone on the bathroom counter as she wrapped herself in one of the thick, fluffy towels piled on the rack.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she assessed her hair and decided she’d skip a hair wash, throwing it up in a bun held with a claw clip. She noticed with a grimace that her skin and lips looked dry – a day on the plane and in the air-conditioned rental had sucked the moisture from her. She padded back into the room in search of a bottle of water from the mini fridge. 

A new song was playing on the speaker, one of her favorites – “Run Your Mouth” by the Marias. As she lifted a water bottle to her lips and took a sip, she realized distantly that at this point, the volume was objectively pretty loud.

At the same instant she moved to turn the volume lower, a heavy pounding on the shared door startled her. She choked back a gasp of surprise, sputtering on the sip of water in her mouth.

A deep, irritated, and decidedly masculine voice came from the other side. “Man, turn that shit the fuck down! I told you I was gonna try and sleep before the cocktail thing.” The sound was muffled through what was clearly a heavy, well-built door, but the aggravation in the guy’s tone was still evident. The unmistakable sound of a fist banging against the other side of the door continued.

Okay… so, not Pope and Cleo’s room. 

Clearly. 

Kiara’s initial shock was quickly morphing into indignation. The level of aggression this person was coming at her with seemed like an overreaction. They couldn’t have just knocked once and asked her to turn it down like a normal person? No, they had to crash the fuck out over a little music at 3 PM. She had just been about to turn it down without getting told off for it – but now that she was, she was more inclined to angle the speaker at the crack under the door and walk away with it at full blast.

“And what are you listening to anyway? This the type of shitty music you fuck with, Kelce? I didn’t peg you for a –”

Tightening the knot holding her towel up, she took two long strides to the door and jerked it open, bracing herself to give this asshole a piece of her mind. 

Her eyes first connected with a gray t-shirt stretched against a wide chest, the fabric smooth, plain, yet somehow expensive-looking – before moving to the raised, clenched fist in the air that was clearly poised to pummel the door again. 

As if in slow motion, her gaze shifted in dread from the gold signet ring glinting from the man’s pointer finger up to the pair of deep blue eyes she knew would be waiting. 

Rafe Cameron stood in the doorway. 

Broader and tanner than the last time she’d seen him, his hair buzzed low to his scalp – but unmistakably Rafe. He was frozen, his fist still suspended mid-air. The only movements he made were two stunned, slow blinks of his navy eyes. In another life it would’ve been funny, seeing him like that – but in this one it was a blow to her system, knocking the air out of her for a moment. 

“I –” Kiara took a harsh, forced inhale before continuing. The shock of seeing him was hitting so much harder like this – with no build-up or preamble, caught off guard and vulnerable in her room. The water was still running in the bathroom and her music was still playing from the speaker, and she wore – Christ – nothing but a towel, her hair tossed up in a lazy bun. 

“Wait a sec –” she said, shaking her head agitatedly and scrambling for the speaker. The sound of the music was wildly overstimulating when combined with the sight of the man standing before her. Hitching the towel up under her arms, she tried not to think about how she must look to him right now – disheveled from being caught off guard, sweaty and stale from a day of travel, grubbing around to turn off her blaring music. The exact opposite of how she’d planned to look in a few hours' time at the cocktail party where she was supposed to be seeing him for the first time.

When she finally hit the power button on the speaker, the sudden silence of the room settled around them for an awkward second. He hadn’t looked away from her once since she’d opened the door, but she kept her gaze anywhere other than his face. A warm, red flush was creeping across her cheeks at his unwavering attention.

 “I thought this was Kelce’s room,” Rafe finally said, unnecessarily. He lowered his arm from where it hovered in the air. “He said he was in the room next to me when I saw him down at the pool, and I stupidly assumed without checking. I thought he was messing with me, playing that shit.” 

The words plucked at her earlier irritation, and she latched on to the feeling with greedy hands. Anything was better than wallowing in the growing embarrassment of the situation. “And I thought this was some psycho’s room, with the way you were banging the door down and crashing out over some music.” 

He paused at her tone, looking her up and down. The way he ran his eyes along the edge of her towel where it lay against her upper thigh had her stomach tightening. 

“And this is how you wanted to confront a ‘psycho’?” Rafe asked slowly, his voice low and disbelieving. “Why the hell would you open this door for some random guy yelling at you to begin with, but in a fucking towel no less? I could’ve been some pervert.”

She tried to control her expression, but the phrasing caught her off guard. There was no way he didn’t catch the way her eyebrows flicked up sarcastically at the implication that he wasn’t some pervert. 

Before they could linger in that particular moment too long, Kiara spoke again. “I thought this was Pope and Cleo’s room. Before the yelling and pounding on the door.” She tried to put an appropriate amount of judgement in her glare. “Obviously.”

He rolled his eyes, sighing. “Well, let’s just keep both of these things closed,” he muttered as he gestured to the double doorway they stood in. Rafe grabbed at the handle of the door on his side of the room.

Kiara mirrored him, grabbing for the door on her side. “Fine with me. Again, I only opened it because I thought the person on the other side was at risk of Spotify-induced cardiac arrest. Or maybe an anaphylactic allergic reaction to excellent taste in music.”

Rafe hummed in response, his expression contemplative as he nodded. “And I thought the person on the other side was antagonizing me with the most frustrating, grating music they could possibly find.” One broad shoulder lifted in a calculatingly casual shrug. “But I guess we were both wrong?”

He leveled his gaze at her. Kie met his eyes steadily, trying to remain expressionless. She was trying to show how completely unaffected she was, by both his antagonism and the unsettlingly familiar blue shade of his irises. 

They stood like that in the doorway for a few beats, still resting their hands on their respective doors, staring each other down. 

“Your shower’s still running.”

With a jump, Kiara realized he was right. The faint sound of water hitting the glass and tile of her shower could be heard from the open bathroom.

She nodded and shut the door in his face without another word. 

Her legs moved to the bathroom like she was on autopilot. Finding herself in front of the mirror – now fogged over lightly at the edges with condensation – Kiara blinked at her reflection. The brown eyes that looked back at her were wide and slightly glassy. A light flush lay over her cheeks. Her whole face felt hot. 

Dropping the towel, she hurriedly hopped into the shower and tried to wash away the shock of the last few minutes beneath the steaming water. 

☾

The light jazz music drifting over the terrace would have been soothing under normal circumstances – a quiet hum beneath the current of hushed, pleasant conversation. But with the buzz of uneasy thoughts swarming his mind, Rafe couldn’t enjoy the ambience. 

He watched as the other guests meandered around the small linen-covered tables, picking at hors d’oeuvres and sipping chilled wine or cocktails, mingling and greeting each other with hugs and smiles. He stood on the outskirts of the terrace, the glass beer bottle clenched in his hand remaining full. The unexpected confrontation with Kiara earlier played in his mind on repeat. 

Of all the ways he’d imagined their first meeting going, he never would have predicted it would entail seeing her half-dressed, her hair thrown up in a familiar, messy bun, and her brown eyes throwing daggers at him from a shared doorway between their hotel rooms. 

Out of all the things he’d been prepared to feel when they laid eyes on each other again – he’d hoped for indifference, but was ready for anxiety or awkwardness – he hadn’t expected grating frustration. 

Frustration at her combative attitude, frustration at her laughable decision to answer the door to an aggressive stranger, frustration at her choice of clothing or lack thereof when confronting said stranger… Frustration with himself — he’d been trying to psych himself up for their first meeting to avoid acting like a complete idiot, and instead had been struck dumb by their run-in. 

Of course her room was right next to his. And of course it wasn’t enough to share a common wall with each other — they shared a fucking door. Why would fate have it any other way? Judging by the way sparks had flown from her eyes when they’d argued earlier, she was just as happy about that particular development as him. 

And now they’d enjoy that joyous proximity for the next few weeks. 

The signet ring on his right hand scraped against his beer bottle as he clenched it in his grip. He lifted his other hand to press two fingertips to his temple where the first pangs of a tension headache thrummed.

Unsolicited images of how she’d looked ran through his mind – the way a few unruly curls had spilled from her hairclip to spiral against her neck and shoulders. The fluffy white towel she’d clutched around her body with one hand, and the smooth, bare legs beneath. The flush that had colored her cheeks by the time they’d ended their conversation, her deep brown eyes bright with irritation and the set of her mouth pursed like she’d been biting her tongue – the effect so familiar it made him want to laugh. 

Not in a funny way. More like in a masochistic, pained way.

When he was younger, he used to pride himself on all the ways he could goad those reactions out of her with his words, when he had to work so hard for her to give him the time of day. The easiest way to rile Kiara up had always been rude remarks and snide comments. He’d acted like a stupid little kid with a schoolyard crush, except he’d been a teenager pining for his little sister’s best friend. 

Rafe barely caught a glimpse of bright blonde hair in his peripheral vision before a hand clapped his shoulder, saving him from his self-induced spiral. 

“Hey, man. Can I ask why you’re over here lookin’ like somebody died?” JJ Maybank sidled alongside Rafe, holding a cocktail glass adorned with a pink umbrella and a stick of assorted fruit. 

Rafe fixed him with a glare.

JJ held up a hand, sarcastically apologetic, and brought his drink to his mouth, slurping the bright liquid before he continued. “I mean, your sister is getting married and you’re over here in the corner brooding like a goddamn nut. Mingle, put on a smile, live a little.”

Maybank had a point. Rafe imagined he did look a bit antisocial standing on the perimeter of the party like he was. Not that he was going to admit that – he and JJ got along pretty well now, their relationship changing gradually over the years, landing them somewhere between acquaintances and friends – but that didn’t mean he needed to give the guy any excess credit.

Rafe raised an eyebrow at his new companion. “Sorry, isn’t this supposed to be for the bridal party and like, select family members? You’re here because..?” Despite the snarky words, his tone had no real heat to it.

“C’mon, Cameron,” JJ snorted. “I’m here because Sarah can’t imagine celebrating her life’s milestones without her honorary Pogue brother.” He looked around conspiratorially before continuing. “Word on the street is, she likes me more than her biological one.”

Rafe shook his head and took a swig of his beer, looking around the party without responding. They were having the gathering on the reserved terrace, nestled by a small outdoor bar, situated behind a cluster of mature trees that offered some privacy from the main lawn of the resort. They weren’t too far from the water – the resort’s private dock on the sound was visible from where they were all congregated. 

As he scanned the area, Rafe noticed Topper and Sarah talking on the other end of the patio, distanced from the other guests. Sarah was speaking with a smile on her face, blinking up at Topper while she evidently explained something. Despite the serene smile on her face, her body language looked tense, the set of her shoulders tight and rigid. Topper whispered something back to her, shaking his head minutely, staring down at Sarah with a hard look.  

JJ was still talking next to Rafe, discussing his choice in cocktail. Rafe was about to cut him off and head over to his sister, but before he could, a group of people joining the party caught his eye. 

Pope Heyward was walking down the paved path to the terrace, holding hands with one young woman and closely followed by another. Rafe recognized Pope’s girlfriend, Cleo, from the several times he’d met her – Sarah had attended UNC with the two of them – but his eyes stayed on the girl trailing behind them. 

Kiara.

Rafe tried to resist studying Kie as she walked, but failed. He watched as she leaned forward to whisper something in Cleo’s ear. Cleo laughed at whatever she’d said, and Kiara smirked at her friend’s reaction. Kie’s brown eyes flicked away from Cleo to scan over the small group of guests before catching sight of Topper and Sarah, still locked in what was clearly meant to be a surreptitious but evidently tense conversation. 

Even from this distance, Rafe could practically see the gears in her head turning as she clocked their body language and tight facial expressions. A little crease appeared between her brows. She slowed her steps behind Pope and Cleo, looking like she was about to change course and make her way to Sarah. 

From Rafe’s side, JJ called out to them. Rafe watched as Kiara’s attention drew away from his sister, looking straight to where the sound of JJ’s voice came from. 

The smart thing for him to do would have been to avert his gaze, maybe to Pope or Cleo, or even JJ, or literally anywhere else on the terrace. Instead, he was still staring at her when Kie looked right at him. 

Their eyes connected for a moment before she slid her gaze away quickly, looking down at the ground before back up to JJ. She avoided looking at Rafe again as the trio made their way to where JJ stood, still next to Rafe on the outskirts of the patio. 

For some reason, her refusal to look back at him bothered Rafe. 

“Well, howdy y’all!” JJ said in an exaggerated twang, throwing his arms around Pope and Cleo together before moving to wrap Kie in a bear hug. “The cowboy crew finally made their way back to the coast. How were your travels? You took the horses here, right?”

Pope and Cleo launched into a recap of their flight and the drive from the airport, Cleo ragging on Pope for sleeping the entire way out to Kildare. Kie was silent, for the most part, interjecting once or twice but mostly staying quiet and fidgeting with a gold bracelet on her wrist. 

Rafe wondered if she could still feel his eyes on her. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at her before in the hotel room – shock had kept him from taking in and cataloguing the changes five years had made to her. Now, he took in every detail he could, absorbing them all like a sponge, soaking in everything he’d missed.

Like him, her body had changed slightly. She looked stronger, but still soft in all the right places. Her hips looked wider, the line of her cleavage deeper. The main difference was that she looked like a grown woman and not a teenage girl – and the changes looked fucking good. 

He grit his teeth, but kept looking all the same. 

Her hair was longer than she’d kept it back in high school, and something about the curls looked slightly different, like they were more defined yet somehow softer. She had a light dusting of familiar freckles over the bridge of her nose, deeper in color than when she was younger – he wondered if it was due to the harsh Texan sun. The freckles were still visible even though he could tell she’d put on makeup after her shower – a flush of pink on her cheeks, something to darken her lashes, a gloss dabbed onto her full lips. 

Stop looking at her lips, you fucking idiot, he berated himself. 

He forced his eyes away from her face, and instead found his gaze catching on her skirt. 

The long, pale yellow fabric was rippling slightly from the breeze off the water. A little sliver of smooth, brown skin peeked between the low waistband of the skirt and a matching yellow top. 

A flash of gold winked from her navel in the late afternoon light, which was just… unfair.

It felt like he’d been staring at her for a long while, though it couldn’t have been more than a few moments, when Pope was reaching his hand into Rafe’s field of vision. 

“Rafe,” Pope said in greeting. Much like his relationship with JJ, Rafe had gotten to a place of understanding with Pope over the years. Accepting the handshake, Rafe greeted Pope back with an easy nod and a hello. He dropped Pope’s hand and went to give Cleo a smile and kiss on the cheek, having seen her fairly often during Sarah’s college career. 

Rafe paused as his line of greetings brought him to Kiara, who still hadn’t looked him in the eye. His jaw clenched at her reticence. 

It was pissing him off, even though logically he knew he had no right to be. 

A voice inside his head laughed sharply at that thought. When had he ever done the logical thing when it came to Kiara Carrera? 

“Kie, good to see you again. This time with clothes on.”

That sure as fuck got her to look at him. 

Her eyes were on his – the daggers were back, her gaze incinerating a hole through his head from her glare. He kept his expression purposely casual, smiling back at her blandly.

JJ’s head jerked back, his jaw dropping into an amused, open-mouthed smile. Pope, who’d been trying a sip of JJ’s cocktail, promptly began spluttering. Cleo clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling a nervous, unsure laugh. 

Kiara released the grasp she held on her bracelet, lifting her hand with a stiff, open palm towards him, the universal body language translation of shut the fuck up. She turned her narrowed gaze from him onto her friends, rolling her eyes and softening her features with feigned casualness. 

“Ha ha,” she said dismissively. “He’s talking about before, up in the rooms. Turns out we have a shared door between us, and we bumped into each other before my shower.”

Rafe ran his tongue along his teeth before scoffing. “‘Bumped into each other’ – more like you opened the door to a stranger’s room wrapped in a towel.”

“Again, I was about to get into the shower.”

“So that makes it okay to open the door to unknown persons dressed like that?”

“If that unknown person was pounding on my door and losing their damn mind, yes.”

“Well, that’s only because you were being an inconsiderate neighbor and blasting the Spice Girls at top volu–”

“The Spice Girls?! What century are you living i–”

The clinking of metal flatware against glass interrupted them. JJ, Pope, and Cleo’s heads – which had been swiveling back and forth between Rafe and Kiara like they were watching a tennis match – turned towards the sound, where Topper and Sarah stood at the center of the patio. 

Rafe and Kiara held each other’s gaze for another beat, both sets of eyes narrowed. 

Kie broke the tension first, turning to look at the couple. 

He studied the side of her face for another second longer before he followed suit. 

Topper lifted his glass above his head when he saw he had the party’s attention. “We just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight. I know the guest list is small for this one, mostly just family and our wedding party, but please – mingle, drink, enjoy yourselves. Sarah and I” – Topper put an arm around Sarah’s waist and squeezed her tight to his side – “are so excited to spend the next several days hanging with you all. We’ll all be sick of each other by the time we have the wedding, huh?” 

He squeezed Sarah again, his shoulders maintaining some of the tension from earlier. Rafe narrowed his eyes as some of the guests laughed softly at Topper’s words. Pope, JJ, Cleo, and Kie all stayed silent. 

Sarah smiled, the expression brittle for a brief second before morphing into something more genuine. She lifted her chin before speaking to the small crowd. “Thank you guys for being here. It really means a lot.” Her eyes drifted over the faces in front of her. When they landed on Rafe and her friends, her smile widened in excitement. 

Lifting the glass flute in her hand, Sarah called out, “Cheers!” 

Rafe and JJ lifted their drinks along with the rest of the guests who had one on hand, taking a collective sip. Conversations started again in a quiet murmur throughout the party as Sarah and Topper broke apart. 

“I think that’s our cue to go get drinks and say hi to Sarah,” Cleo remarked, clasping her hands together and lifting her hands in a little half shrug. She looked at Kiara, brows lifted in question, like she was waiting to see if Kie would return to her earlier argument with Rafe. 

Kie nodded in agreement, and headed to the bar without a backwards glance as they left the guys behind. 

Rafe’s eyes dropped resentfully to watch her ass move beneath her skirt as she walked away. 

Clearing his throat, Pope turned to JJ and asked in a low voice, “How’s John B? Gotta be a rough couple of weeks for him. Knowing we’re all together on the island but we don’t have much time to see him. Not to mention…” He trailed off, his eyes flicking to Sarah and Topper where they stood talking with Dr. Thornton and a few other members of Topper’s family. 

JJ shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, man. You know him though. Says he’s not bothered, says he’s happy for her, all the usual stuff. Same shit he’s been saying since they got engaged.” 

Rafe had heard similar lines from John B when they saw each other. Only an idiot would believe him though – John B was as much of a sucker for Sarah now as he had been when they’d been together. 

For a long time, Rafe had taken it for granted that John B would be his brother in law eventually. All the years they’d each spent in proximity to Sarah — and therefore each other — had prompted their relationship to evolve slowly from begrudging tolerance, to reluctant friendship, to not-so-reluctant attachment. 

It was a tough pill to swallow when he’d realized goddamn Topper would be taking that position in his family instead. 

Pope changed the subject, asking JJ about work. JJ had one of the most Pogue jobs an OBX local could have, not that Rafe was judging – he was a hired captain and guide for a private fishing charter company over in Corolla. Pope’s question prompted a lengthy story about a group of tourons JJ’d brought out on the water a few days ago. 

Participating half-heartedly in the conversation with some well-timed nods and distracted comments, Rafe watched as Kiara and Cleo got their drinks from the bar and wound their way through the small crowd to Sarah. The three girls all squealed and hugged in reunion. 

Rafe watched as Topper took the chance to immediately step away from Sarah’s side, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray and hastily making his way to find Kelce by the food.

During an eventual lull in conversation, Rafe separated from JJ and Pope, meandering aimlessly over to the bar. He’d finished his beer and didn’t really need or want another, but it was nice having something in his hand. 

Looking out over the calm water of the sound, Rafe drummed his fingers on the wood of the bar. The sun was getting lower in the sky as the party dragged on. It wasn’t touching the horizon yet, but the deep orange color of it was ripening like fruit as it hovered over the line of the water in the distance. 

He glanced around the party. Wheezie and Sarah were now standing by Rose, the three women chatting and sipping drinks. Cleo had drifted back over to stand by Pope and JJ. Rafe tapped his fingers absentmindedly against the bartop while he scanned the party, refusing to admit to himself what – or who, exactly – he was looking for. 

There was a flutter of movement next to him. The scent of a chypre perfume brushed his nostrils, citrusy notes mixed with red fruit and patchouli. Rafe turned to find Kiara standing at his side, her slim fingers clutching the stem of a champagne flute and a look of skepticism on her face. 

He raised an eyebrow expectantly at the look she was giving him, tamping down the urge to inhale more of her perfume. She’s changed it, he thought to himself distractedly. 

When she said nothing, he ground out an impatient, “Yes?” 

The unexpected hostility in his tone surprised even him. 

Nowadays, Rafe prided himself on being fairly even-keeled. Between becoming a business owner who had to deal with difficult clients, his standing bi-weekly therapy appointments with Dr. Khiatani, and simply getting older and less hormonal, it took a good amount of effort for someone to rile him up. Sure, he’d maintained his blunt attitude and sometimes abrasive personality, but he didn’t pick fights like he used to. 

Despite all that growth, something in Kie brought it out of him. It made him feel like he was 19 years old again, raw and chafing like an exposed nerve. 

“Surprised you’re not over there with your boys, enjoying a cigar and surveilling the party from on high.” Kie flicked her eyes to where Topper stood with Kelce and the fourth and final groomsman – Topper’s asshat cousin, Alan. 

Rafe followed the line of her gaze, taking in the way the guys stood laughing together at the other end of the terrace, thumbs looped casually in their pockets and cigars clenched pompously between their bleached teeth. There was a time he would have stood there with them, front and center, bloated with his own self-importance. 

He wouldn’t admit it to Kiara, but nowadays he’d choose conversation with John B, JJ, or even Pope over an extended chat with Topper, Alan, and Kelce. 

Another thing he wouldn’t admit to Kiara – he was deeply agitated at the thought that she believed he would still have much of anything in common with Topper and those guys. 

He rolled his eyes as he turned back to look at her. “Why would I be ‘surveilling’ over there when I have a better shot of getting a front-row seat to stupidity by hanging with your friends?” Rafe asked, nodding to where JJ stood with Pope and Cleo, talking animatedly. 

JJ chose that opportune moment to gesticulate wildly with his arms, narrowly missing a collision with a passing staff member on their way to refill one of the hors d'oeuvres platters. 

Kiara observed JJ’s antics with pursed lips, like she was holding back a reluctant laugh, before she brought her gaze back to Rafe. Her eyes narrowed at him briefly again before her features softened, but only into a wary skepticism. 

“Nice try. You know, I may have taken offense to that if I didn’t already know you still hang with John B.” She cocked her head at him. “You talk a big game about them being my stupid friends, but it almost seems like you wish they could be your stupid friends.”

Rafe hummed noncommittally, running his tongue along his teeth in annoyance. 

Two damn minutes alone with her, a handful of sentences exchanged, and already she was under his skin.

A breeze shifted the air around them, her curls rippling softly with the movement. The late evening sun had turned her usually dark eyes a warm amber color. He hated that he noticed. 

“Don’t really hang around them too much these days,” Rafe muttered before he could think better of it, nodding towards Topper and Kelce. “Haven’t really for the past couple years. I think I was asked to be a groomsman more as a favor to Sarah.”

Kie jerked her head in a little nod like she didn’t know what to make of the information. 

Silence hung between them for an awkward moment. Rafe hesitated – he had the urge to know what she’d been up to for the past couple years, but the question seemed trite. How would he phrase it in a way that didn’t sound like he was eager for any scrap of news from her life since she’d left Kildare?

Glancing at her, he saw a crease between her brows. Her full lips were pursed in thought. For some wild reason, he felt like maybe she was contemplating asking him the same question at that moment. 

Before either of them could speak, a voice by Rafe’s ear whined, “Can someone get this bride another drink, please?” 

In a whirl of white fabric and blonde hair, Sarah planted herself between Rafe and Kiara, throwing an arm around each of them. She leaned in to kiss Kie’s cheek, giggling. “I’m so happy you’re here. We are gonna have so much fun the next couple weeks.” 

Rafe looked a little closer at Sarah, taking in her flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes. Her hair was a little more unkempt than usual, like she’d been raking her fingers through it often. 

“How many drinks have you had? We’re like, an hour in.” 

“That is information for me and not for thee,” she answered Rafe playfully, reaching a hand out to boop his nose with the tip of her finger. “Am I interrupting something?

He swatted at her hand irritatedly, much to Sarah and Kiara’s amusement.

Kie pressed her full champagne flute towards Sarah with a smirk. “Here, have at it. Unless you want something stronger?” She paused, her eyes taking in Sarah’s slightly disheveled appearance. “Then again, maybe you should pace yourself, Sare,” she said with an unsure laugh. 

“God, you’re right, but I needed it.” Sarah pouted a little, accepting the glass from Kiara. She leaned in conspiratorially, beckoning at them to follow her lead and cock their heads in her direction. 

Rafe watched Kiara as they both leaned in towards his sister. She didn’t glance up at him, keeping her focus on Sarah. He took it as an opportunity to observe the way her cleavage sat in the low neckline of her top.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone else this but you guys,” Sarah stage-whispered. “But Topper was getting on my last nuh-erve.” She sang out the last word in a playful voice. “Acting like he didn’t know about all the different events and stuff I had planned for all of us the next few weeks – even though he okay-ed the plans months ago. Talking about how all of it is a waste of time and effort and so unnecessary, blah blah blah.” Rolling her eyes, Sarah straightened up.   

They followed suit, standing straight. Kiara finally glanced at Rafe then, as if gauging his reaction to Sarah’s words.

“I mean, far be it from me to agree with Top under normal circumstances,” Rafe began, squinting one eye in contemplation as he looked down at his sister. “But… I said the same thing, it is a little unnecessary.”

“You want to talk about unnecessary?” Sarah fired back, taking a healthy sip of champagne before setting the glass down on the bar in front of them. “A big-ass, white wedding at this expensive resort with an eight grand floral budget is unnecessary. I told him we could do something more lowkey, and him and Dr. Thornton insisted on ‘traditional.’” She made little air quotes around the word before continuing.

“So we agreed on a compromise – he gets his big white wedding, and I get to have an extended vacation with my friends. Only now he’s squirmy about me getting my side of the deal.”

Kiara nodded at Sarah’s words, expression thoughtful. Her brown eyes were narrowed as she kept her gaze fixed on the bartop, her head tilted to one side. Rafe noticed the reappearance of that pensive little crease between her brows. 

She was as easy to read now in adulthood as she’d been when they were younger. Kie had always been a bit of an open book – never one to hide her disgust or disappointment in anything, always wearing her emotions and thoughts plainly on her face like she’d written them there in bold ink. Rafe could tell she was putting pieces together that had previously been jumbled – mainly, the reason why Sarah had agreed to this uncharacteristically lavish wedding. 

And he could just tell Kie felt the same way about Topper as he did. That the guy was selfish, that he didn’t deserve Sarah. 

Rafe couldn’t know for sure, but he’d bet that Kiara would also share the sentiment that it was embarrassing how Topper was still caught up in the Kook mentality of caring how he measured up to others. No successful, secure, grown man would be more concerned with his mommy’s vision of a huge, froufrou wedding than what his literal future wife wanted. 

Top was a bitch. Always had been, always would be. The only thing that changed was whose bitch he was. 

Before either Kiara or Rafe could formulate a response to this revelation, however, Wheezie appeared at their side.

“Sarah,”  Wheezie said, sounding desperate. “Dr. Thornton is trying to talk to me about an internship next summer. Again. Hi, Kie!” The younger woman flashed a smile at Kiara, then turned back to her sister. “Please, I can’t talk to her alone – she scares me.” She latched on to Sarah’s hand and dragged her away. 

Sarah let herself be pulled, bleating out a tipsy “Bye!” to Rafe and Kiara before turning fully into Wheezie’s grip. 

It was quiet for a beat, then Rafe cleared his throat.

“Well, guess that’s my cue to move on, too. Don’t want you to start a shouting match again like you did earlier. Twice.” Rafe turned away from the bar. He made it one step before he heard her sputter in response. He’d made two before he heard her behind him, following him at his heels. The predictability of it made him bite back a savage smile.

“Excuse me — started? You think I started either of those…altercations?” 

Rafe shrugged, still walking away.

“That’s it? Shrug?”  Her voice was indignant. “I can see you’re still a champion of using your words efficiently.” She stopped following him, and he could feel the pressure of her eyes burning into the back of his head. 

Rafe stopped walking too unconsciously, like he was being controlled by some magnetic force. He pivoted to face her. 

The backlit setting sun revealed golden undertones in her hair and the loose, soft set of her curls was contrasted by the rigid way she was holding herself. She cocked her head at him, and his eyes fell for a moment to where her full lips were pursed in annoyance. 

How the fuck was he supposed to function normally with her in such close proximity?  They couldn’t even have a 30 second conversation without him checking her out. 

“I can see it’s going to be so fun being neighbors with you for the next couple of weeks.” She smiled sarcastically, the expression acidic. Clearly, she’d meant it as a parting shot, because she turned from him and started walking back to where Pope, Cleo, and JJ still stood talking.

It took everything in Rafe to not let his eyes drift down to her ass as she strode, unhurried, to the opposite end of the terrace.

His long legs matched her pace easily. He didn’t even remember telling his body to move – all he knew was there was absolutely no way in hell he was letting her have the last word.

“Do you treat all your neighbors to the kind of entertainment I got earlier in the room?” He hissed down at her. He knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “Because I imagine if you’re making it a habit to do house calls in your towel, you –”

“Okay. Cut the passive aggressive bullshit,” she snapped, rounding on him. Her curls flipped around her shoulder with the sudden movement, lashing out like a whip. “I didn’t plan for the room situation any more than you did, if that’s not obvious. What is your problem, Rafe?”

“I’m looking at her,” he said through gritted teeth. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared down at her.

She narrowed her gaze back at him, the skin furrowed between her brows in agitation.

Rafe swallowed. 

That look was all too fucking familiar. 

Realizing they were practically toe to toe and standing much too close for his comfort, Rafe moved back a small step and took a deep, controlled breath through his nose. He watched as Kiara’s eyes fell to his front and lingered there, taking in the way his chest rose beneath the blue linen button down, straining lightly against the buttons for a moment before he exhaled. 

He really wasn’t acting like himself. He needed to get a hold of his temper and the situation in general. 

“Look,” he began. His voice was like gravel as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “You caught me by surprise earlier today. You’re right – it’s not anyone’s fault. We have to play nice for the next couple of weeks, so let’s just do that.” He paused. “We’ll keep the doors closed between the rooms, and we’ll stay out of each other’s way, upstairs and out here. Deal?” Rafe held out his hand to her. A peace offering.

She eyed his outstretched hand skeptically for a moment before jerking her chin in a nod. “Okay. Deal.” Kiara fit her palm into his, slotting her small hand against his larger one.

The warmth and pressure of her hand in his grip felt gnawingly familiar. It was over before he could process that thought fully – she’d pulled her hand away before he could blink, turning and heading back to join her friends. 

Rafe lost the battle against his will, dropping his eyes to her ass as she walked away.

It was going to be a long few weeks. 

Chapter Text

☼

The first time it happened, it’d been an accident, really.

She’d been fucking Rafe since her birthday in January. For nearly six months, the two of them had been hooking up in private and maintaining their strange, bickering friendship in public. 

Six months of mind-blanking orgasms. Six months of evasiveness and begging off plans with the Pogues. Six months of years of tension finally being released. Six months of acting like she didn’t feel the most like herself when she was with him. 

It came to a head one night a few weeks before the end of her senior year. 

Ward and Rose were gone for the weekend, leaving the Cameron siblings to their own devices – which, of course, meant Sarah had invited the group over for a night of drinking and smoking in the hot tub after dark. Kie’s friends had gotten progressively sloppier and spacier throughout the evening, and she’d finally been able to get away around midnight, claiming she was going to fall asleep in the hot tub if she didn’t get out and make her way to bed. 

Of course, the bed she made her way to was Rafe’s. 

It didn’t take long before she was flat on her back and he was so deep inside her she could feel him in her throat. When he wasn’t sucking on the sensitive skin of her neck, he’d been talking shit – as usual. The man didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, during sex or otherwise. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t even let you come, huh, Kie?” he panted down at her between thrusts.  “Kept me waiting all night for you to come up here. Maybe I should send you back down to your friends, wet and achy so you know how it feels.”

She could only moan in response. She wanted to protest, to say that sounded terrible, but her traitorous body clenched around him at the idea of denial. 

He noticed. Of course he did. 

Rafe grit out a laugh, pausing his movements and stilling between her legs. “You know I know, right?” he whispered, his deep voice unaffected. 

If she’d had any nerves to spare, that realization would’ve frayed at them – she was a sweating, panting mess beneath him and he was cool, collected, and indifferent. As it stood, she really couldn’t be bothered to be outraged at that moment. 

“You know I know how much you like this,” Rafe continued. “Sneaking around, keeping me a dirty little secret from your friends so you can still act like you’re above it all.” He sank in deep once more, grinding into her. 

Kiara shook her head even as she felt her body tightening, her orgasm suddenly so close she could taste it. “Shut up, Rafe,” she managed. 

He laughed again and leaned low over her body, his hips still pushing into just the right spot inside. “You do. You love it.” 

She’d tipped over the edge at the same moment he said it. 

Something about hearing the word love on Rafe’s lips, his voice rough and his breath hot against her throat, her mind lost to the brand of stinging-sweet pleasure only he could give her, left her unnerved. Very rarely – if ever – did she feel uncomfortable when she and Rafe were like this, but in that moment, she felt raw and exposed. 

He’d fucked her through it, oblivious to her expression for once. His head was tilted up slightly to the ceiling, a sign he was close. Kiara had to steel her mind for what she was about to say. It would’ve been so easy to let the moment pass and lose herself again to the feeling of him inside her, his hands on her body – but she didn’t. 

“That’s… not true.” She swallowed, cursing herself for how breathless she sounded.

Rafe’s hips started to move more haphazardly. He didn’t respond – it was possible he didn’t hear her weak voice over the sounds coming from where their bodies were joined.

“Rafe. We can’t do this anymo –” Kie’s words were cut off with a gasp when he pressed his thumb over her clit, rubbing her with the pad of his finger. It was sloppy, the way he touched her, almost careless – and she hated the way it didn’t matter, because she came apart again at his touch.

He followed her over the edge, her cunt still tightening in release as he groaned and emptied himself into the condom. The room was quiet as they both caught their breath, the hum of his ceiling fan and their ragged breathing harmonizing in the silence. 

The tense way Rafe held himself over her told her he’d heard her words. Kiara let herself trace her fingertips along one of his shoulder blades and down his arm before she spoke again. 

“You’re wrong.”

A cocked eyebrow was all the response he gave. He pulled himself from her, rolling to the other side of the bed. 

“I don’t love the secretive, sneaking around shit. That’s not me.”

He didn’t look at her.

She blew out a breath. “And the whole reason why it’s a secret anyway – did you ever think about why we don’t tell people about this?” Kiara gestured between them.

“Because it’s none of their business?” 

“Because it,” she gestured between the two of them again, “doesn’t make sense. My friends hardly understand how you and I can be friendly, let alone… this.” 

Rafe was silent again, propping a folded arm under his head and staring at the ceiling.

His indifference stung. What did she expect? For him to fight her on it? She should’ve known better. Kie smothered the urge to fiddle anxiously with the necklace around her throat. 

She continued talking, looking down at where she played with the seam of his navy duvet in her lap. “I think we should call it. I don’t want to lie to Sarah or the rest of them anymore. And it just makes sense for us to quit while we’re ahead – I’m leaving for Virginia at the end of the summer, and you can concentrate on selling your soul for your dad’s business and… find some Kook girl to date. Someone more suitable. And we can just be friends, for real.”

He cut his eyes to her, something sharp and hot flashing in them for a moment. It was gone quickly, the blue of his irises cooling into something unreadable. 

“Say something,” she demanded. 

Rafe nodded once. She watched as he ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth for a second before he spoke. “Sure, princess. Whatever you say.”

In a blur, she’d gotten dressed and left the room. She found herself in one of the guest beds down the hall, sliding into the sheets and pressing her face to the cool pillowcase.

Her chest felt hollow, like the organs inside had shrunk in the past few minutes. The unreadable look on his face flashed in her mind every time she blinked, and the words he’d whispered in that knowing voice – words that she didn’t want to admit had sparked the whole thing – echoed still in her ears: You love it. Love it. Love. 

In the end, it hardly counted as a break-up. The most important distinction – and the most obvious – was that they weren’t actually together. Not really. Secondly, it had only lasted a handful of weeks before Rafe broke the stalemate at a party, fucking the idea of ending their arrangement right out of her head. 

After he’d cornered her in that nameless bedroom, the sounds of the party a low murmur outside the door, they’d fallen right back into their rhythm like nothing had ever happened. His words that night, whispered so closely she’d felt them against the back of her neck – “I don’t want to stop doing this. And neither do you, Kie. So get better at saying no… Or get used to it”  – had been a needless warning. She didn’t have the strength to keep up the facade of not wanting it. Not when it was painfully obvious to both of them it wasn’t true. 

The reasons she’d ended it to begin with were left unmentioned, a small but awkward wedge between them that summer, like a miniscule piece of gravel stuck in a shoe, inconspicuous until it had slowly dug its way into the edge of one’s heel. And the catalyst for the whole scene – that word, love, spoken in a completely innocuous context as he’d thrust into her – was packed away in the little box Kiara put up on the dusty shelf in her mind where she put all things she wasn’t equipped to think about. 

The second time it happens, it happens for real. 

The summer before college passed in a haze. Her days were spent in the hot sunshine or the busy thrum of The Wreck, sipping Diet Coke from cans dripping in condensation in either location. Her evenings were most often spent with her legs tangled in Rafe’s, his lips on hers and his hands in her hair. 

She had less than two weeks before she left for school. Despite all the time she and Rafe spent together, they hadn’t really talked about the distance. It was part of that same strange tension between them that they both refused to address, another layer to the weight of unsaid things that sat between them. Kiara had made vague comments about seeing him when she visited Kildare, and he’d given no indication of thinking anything of it. 

She wondered sometimes about what it would be like if he were to visit her in Virginia, not that he brought it up. Her first reaction at the thought of him on her campus was a tingling, fluttery feeling in her stomach, but it soured when she asked herself, why would he do that?  What would that make them, if he came to see her at school? What would Sarah think when she inevitably heard about it? 

How would she introduce him to her future roommate, or to the friends she’d make? Oh, him? This is Rafe. He’s just a friend, a super casual one who’d be sharing her bed the next couple nights while he stays the weekend. Why yes, he had in fact driven a super chill and friendly six and a half hours to spend a night or two with her – why, what’s up?

These were the thoughts running through her mind when she’d pulled into the long driveway leading up to Tannyhill one late afternoon in August. Her windows were down, the air humid and hot. Currently, the Cameron women were out for a dorm decor shopping trip and Ward was out to golf. Rafe’s text a half hour ago had said, Home alone for a bit. Come over. 

She’d thumbs-down reacted to his blunt message and left him on read, despite the anticipation that had tightened her stomach. 

She didn’t have to wait long before he’d texted again.

Fine. Please. 

Kie held down the gray bubble and pressed the thumbs-up, smirking to herself. 

Fucking brat, he’d replied. 

Kie let herself in the front door, nearly taking the steps two at a time in her rush to get upstairs to Rafe’s room. When Rafe was this direct about a hookup, it usually only meant good things as far as Kiara’s libido was concerned. 

He’d been like that recently. Every time they’d met up the last few weeks, Rafe had fucked her hard and with abandon. Granted, they fucked hard most of the time – gentle wasn’t often in their repertoire – but there’d been a different sort of urgency, an undercurrent to Rafe’s movements as the end of August drew nearer. At this point, Kie was pretty sure she’d have an imprint of him stamped against her cervix by the time she left for school. 

She knocked softly twice on his bedroom door to tell him she was there and had barely made it inside the room before he was on her, threading his hands through her curls and dragging his mouth down her neck before urging her to her knees for him. He muttered something about how he needed her right then, to take the edge off, sighing that he would make it up to her as she took him into her mouth. 

It didn’t take long before he was groaning and coming down her throat, his hands still tangled in her hair, a touch tighter and more possessive than they normally were. It was unusual for him to be so unraveled. Kiara fought to keep a giggle in as she took his outstretched hand to help her off the floor. 

Even as he was recovering from his orgasm, he caught the sound and the way she’d bit the corner of her lip. He didn’t drop her hand as she stood from the floor. Instead, he twisted his wrist, lacing his fingers with hers and tugging her closer to him, pressing her against his chest. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Then why are you smirking like that, huh?” He maintained his hold on her hand and started walking them backwards, to the bed they hadn’t made it to in his rush to get her on her knees. 

Kie tried to school her features into a blank slate but failed. “You’re just not usually so… hard up. Pun intended. Were you watching porn or something before I came over?”

Rafe scoffed, looking down at her in amused disbelief as he continued walking them towards the bed. “No, princess, I wasn’t watching porn. Why would I when I have you?”

Her stomach fluttered at those words. 

They reached the bed – the back of her legs hit the soft fabric of his duvet, but she made no move to lay down just yet. 

“Anyway, it’s a compliment, right? Just needed you so bad,” he continued. He bent his face to hers, trailing kisses from her lips to her jaw, then down the line of her neck. One of his hands came to rest lightly on her collarbones, and he ran his thumb along the chain of the necklace he’d bought her for her birthday all those months ago. “Not like I’m not gonna take care of you in return.”

Kiara sighed as Rafe mouthed at her neck, shifting herself so he could reach more of her skin. Something was making Kie feel more playful than usual, despite her growing arousal. She wanted to tease him – needling Rafe when he was like this was always fun. 

“I don’t know – with a hair trigger like that? I’m not sure you can handle me.” 

He pulled back to look down at her. Amusement, and something else a little darker, danced in his eyes. “I think we both know that’s not true,” he muttered.

She just made a doubtful sound in reply. A smug little smile played on her lips as she looked back at him, cocking her head. 

Rafe’s eyes drifted to her lips then back up to her eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up into a matching smile. He shifted the hand resting on her necklace an inch higher, his grip settling on the base of her throat in warning. 

“You want to play, Kie?” 

A knot of arousal tightened sharply at his words, but she kept up her game. “Only with someone who can last.”

His answering smile was wide, all teeth, like she’d just given him a prize. He pulled her closer using the grip he had on her neck. Kiara tried to hide the way her legs pressed tight against each other. 

“Okay, baby,” he said in a whisper against her lips. Their mouths met in a rough kiss, and then Rafe was pushing her away, still using the grip he had on her throat. 

Before Kiara could blink, he flipped her around so her back was to his chest. The foot of the bed was against her mid-thighs, and his hand dragged from her throat to the back of her neck so he could shove her forward. Her forearms were resting on the bed, supporting her weight as Rafe ran his hand down the length of her back, like he was soothing a wild animal. 

“What are you –” Kie tried to push up to her hands, but Rafe kept pressure on her back, not letting her up. “Rafe.” 

 “Yes?” he replied softly. The hand on her back remained. She felt the other brush against her ass once, then twice. 

“Let me up –” Her words ended in a little gasp when he moved his hand to slip inside the bottom hem of her loose, flowy linen shorts. 

She swore she could hear him smirk at her reaction.

When a finger hooked into the edge of her underwear beneath the shorts, a nervous laugh bubbled out of her and she tried to squirm away. “Rafe, stop.”  Kiara half-heartedly attempted to push herself up again from her elbows.

Rafe let up enough for her to straighten to a right angle, allowing her to rest her weight on her hands, but maintained enough pressure on her back to keep her from standing upright. “You know, that’s kinda your thing,” he said softly. 

“What is?” Kiara tried to huff at him, shooting an irritated look over her shoulder. Rafe was too busy to notice, occupied with watching his hand toying with the hem of her shorts, the tip of his pinky trailing along the edge of her panties.

He hummed thoughtfully before he continued. “Sometimes you say ‘stop’ or ‘no,’ but you really don’t mean it. You mean yes.” 

She stopped squirming beneath his hand and swallowed. 

His voice was soft as he continued. Fingertips brushed against her clothed pussy. She was growing steadily wetter. 

“Like when we fucked at that party, after you pulled that stupid little stunt for a few weeks. Remember that? You didn’t want to say yes. And I didn’t make you. You wanted to play a little pretend first, but then you were coming so hard.”

As he spoke, his voice got progressively rougher, deeper – the only sign he wasn’t as unaffected as he’d like her to believe. When he paused, it was to press an irritatingly gentle finger against the fabric covering her clit. Kiara inhaled a shuddering breath, but then he was pulling away again, running his fingertip along the length of her. 

“Or that time I came in you –” He dipped his finger just barely inside her panties, then withdrew, “– without a condom when you were ovulating… Remember how hot that was? I know you liked it as much as me.” 

She blew out a sigh, hoping it sounded annoyed and indignant. 

It would ruin the game to let him know she was waiting with bated breath on every word, every touch.

“I don’t know if that makes it my thing, exac –” 

He ignored her, talking right over her protests. “Or how about when I’m eating this pussy and you tell me to stop because you’re too sensitive from the last orgasm. But I keep going, and it only makes you come harder.” As he whispered the last two words, he finally pushed his teasing finger inside her. 

Twin sounds of satisfaction escaped them.

Before she could help herself, Kie pushed her hips back against where he was pressing inside, drawing in his fingers deeper. The haze of arousal was starting to soften her mischievous edge, but she wasn’t ready to stop needling him completely just yet. “Are you just talking to hear your own voice? Or do you actually have a point?” she tossed over her shoulder at him. 

He laughed harshly at her attitude, like he saw right through her. 

Kiara had to suppress a shiver in response to the sound.

“My point is that it’s kind of a consistent thing with you. Just something I’ve noticed about you since we started doing this.” He punctuated the last word once again with a twist of his finger inside her, his thumb brushing against her clit. His other hand was still on her back, a calming, steady weight.  

“Why don’t we try this,” Rafe began in a conversational tone. 

He sounded like he was talking about something completely innocuous, like a day trip to the beach or what to get for dinner. Meanwhile, she was fighting to keep from panting. 

Asshole.  

“If you say ‘no’ or ‘stop,’ I’ll keep doing what I’m doing,” he continued. “It’s all stuff you’ll like anyway, nothing crazy.” His thumb pressed more firmly against her clit and she had to bite down on her lip to hold in a moan. “We’ll come up with some other word you’ll say if you really do want me to stop. And if you say it, I’ll stop right away.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The word echoed through Kie’s mind as he spoke, reverberating in her skull with a sudden rush of lust. 

Because he was right – it was her thing. Something about pushing those types of boundaries, especially with Rafe, always got her desperate and turned on to another level. He’d been on to something with his list of earlier examples, yes – but this exact fantasy he was describing… It was something she’d thought about before. 

Him taking what he wanted from her, even if she protested. 

And the best part was that she knew if she really needed him to – if she used the safeword – he would stop. It didn’t even occur to her to question it, she trusted him so implicitly. 

“Red,” Kie whispered. “That’s the word I want to use.” She relaxed under his hands, lowering herself once more to her forearms.

Palpable male satisfaction rolled off Rafe at her words. He exhaled roughly through his nose and said, “Okay, princess. Red it is.”

Without any further hesitation, Rafe withdrew his hand from her, hooking his damp fingers into the waistband of her shorts and underwear and tugging them over her hips and down her legs. His other hand remained on her back, a constant, steady pressure keeping her low to his bed. Her nipples were hard inside her thin tank top, and each time they brushed against his dark blue duvet she felt a thread of pleasure tug through her center. 

His hand found its way back between her legs. “You like this game, Kie?”

She bit her lip, keeping quiet. 

“Nothing to say, huh?” Rafe’s finger slid inside her again and she moaned softly. “I always take my time with you, you know. I always stretch you out and get you ready. Maybe today I should just shove it inside you. You seem wet enough. Barely.”

His words were a clear sign that this was a game they were playing, because they both knew she was soaked, but Kiara shook her head in response.  “No, Rafe,” she half moaned, half muttered. 

Granted, there was a reason he almost always gave her at least one orgasm – either with his mouth or his fingers or both – before getting his cock inside her. The stretch of him was a lot, even after all this time. It would be snug if he skipped the usual prelude – not impossible, but tight. 

Even though she protested, she couldn’t keep her hips from squirming into his touch. The side of her hip brushed against his leg from the movement and she resisted the urge to lean into him more. 

“No? Really?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Because you’re pushing up against me like you like that idea.” He shifted his hand, adding another finger inside her. A grating laugh came from his throat. “I swear you just got more wet at the thought , baby. I think you really do like that.” Rafe’s thumb rubbed against her clit in slow, deliberate circles and she clenched inside. 

With purpose, he started moving his hand against her, rubbing in just the right spots. It didn't take long before she felt her orgasm looming. Before she could do much more than marvel at how fast it had all happened, she was tightening on his fingers – and everywhere else, her limbs locking in breathless pleasure – before finally releasing in delicious relief. 

She was still coming down from her high when she felt his body shift and kneel behind her. Distantly, she was aware he kept his hand inside her as he moved, not withdrawing from her. Once he was settled, his thumb brushed again over her sensitive clit. 

“Nmmph,” she mumbled in protest, wobbling against the bed as she came back to her senses. 

He didn’t respond. She heard him exhale through his nose, felt his fingers move inside her – slowly at first, then a bit quicker, a bit more precise. 

“Too sensitive, Rafe, stop –”

Don’t fucking stop, she thought. His relentless touch on her hypersensitive flesh was driving her crazy. She was torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. 

“Fuck, Kie. Every time you try to say no it’s like you’re sucking me in deeper.” 

“I just need one sec –”

I need to come again, she amended in her head. 

“Red?” He grit out behind her. 

She shook her head furiously, at a loss for words. 

He kept at it, his attention unyielding, and before long it was happening – she was tipping over the edge again, losing herself to him. She’d been so swollen and sensitive from her first orgasm, and the speed with which he’d worked her into the next one, coupled with his roughness – she'd had no chance of withstanding it. 

He moved again behind her. The post-orgasmic haze was like a blanket, weighing down her senses, dulling everything except the feel of him: the palm of his hand sliding from her back to her hip, the fabric of his shorts brushing against her ass as he pulled them down, the warmth bleeding from his skin to hers. 

The fumbling rip of a foil packet and the snap of latex was the only warning she got before Rafe pushed inside her with a gutted groan, forcing her to make room inside her cunt. Her muscles were still spasming from the two blistering, breakneck orgasms. She could feel herself fluttering around him as she adjusted to him. 

“That’s so good, Kie,” he murmured. His hands held her hips, thumbs spreading wide to press into her lower back. She wondered distantly if he was fitting them into the dimples she had there. He thrust in deep a few times, his pelvis meeting her bottom with a soft slap each time. After just a few moments’ reprieve, he was reaching under her, fingers seeking her clit once more. 

With a jerking movement, she tried to slap his hand away. He laughed like he found it adorable and let his hand fall away. 

She’d been balancing all her weight on her forearms, her legs still straight and her ass up, but finally gave in to the urge to collapse the full press of her upper body against the bed, resting her cheek on the soft fabric below her and inhaling the familiar smell before cocking her head to look over her shoulder at him. 

Rafe continued moving inside her, unrelenting as she shifted her position. The rapid pace of the afternoon’s events, combined with the way he’d read her to absolute filth with this wet dream enactment, meant she was absolutely soaked.  

Despite her intense arousal, there was a slight tug of resistance as he thrust into her. The absence of Rafe’s usual long, languorous minutes spent with his mouth between her legs meant her inner muscles were less relaxed than usual. He felt that much bigger, the tempo that much more rough, because of it. 

And she was losing her goddamn mind. 

He moved to rub at her clit again.

“It’s sensitive,” she whined. “You gotta give me a minute.”

“What? This –” he pressed his thumb to her clit “– is sensitive? How sensitive?” His dark eyes watched hers closely. The fat black of his irises, blown wide in pleasure, had overtaken the deep blue. 

His question was prompting her, his eyes intent on hers, seeing if she needed to say the color. His fingers circled her clit gently, patiently.

She shivered, staying quiet. 

There was absolutely no way in hell she would be stopping him right now. Not when she was burning with need. Another orgasm was so close she could taste it.  

Kiara squirmed again, still looking at him over her shoulder. “That hurts,” she whined. 

She wondered how convincing it sounded to Rafe. To her ears, the protest sounded laughably fake.

He hushed her, smoothing her hair back from her face with condescending comfort. She clenched tight around him.

“Yeah? It hurts?” Rafe cooed as he ran his hand from her hair to her back. He pushed his palm down firmly between her shoulder blades, adding a couple of centimeters to his leverage over her. Leaning over her, he spoke in a rough whisper. 

“Baby, that’s the point.”

He angled himself inside her just right, grinding into her for emphasis, and in the next moment, she was coming – flying into an orgasm that had her groaning like it was being ripped from a place deep inside her. 

  Rafe’s voice was absolutely wrecked as he ground out his next words. “You fucking love that, don’t you? Fuck. I do too, Kie. I love this.” 

And there it was again. 

That word on his lips, not once but twice, seconds after he’d wrenched a brutal orgasm from her body. Her brain was mush – impressionable and too vulnerable to hear him rasp out the word “love” as he lost himself to his own pleasure. That word was like a needle as it pin-pricked the bubble of endorphins she floated in, deflating her right back down to reality. 

After a few more wild thrusts, Rafe came with a groan. His weight settled against her for a moment before he pulled himself out, stroking the skin of her hips reverently before he disposed of the condom and returned to the bed, tugging her down with him as he laid on top of the blankets. 

“You okay?” he probed, watching her face as he ran his hand along her arm softly. “Was it too much?” 

She shook her head quietly, trying to keep her eyes away from his. Afraid of what he would see if he looked too close. Instead, she focused on the sun outside his window. It was just starting its descent to the horizon, the light filtering through his curtains in a deepening, orange glow. 

“No,” she murmured. “The sex was definitely not too much.” Kiara bit her lip at the sloppy phrasing. 

Rafe tugged her chin up so he could meet her avoidant gaze. “So, what then? What else was too much?” He paused, looking contemplative as he searched her face. 

Kie knew he was running over the last few minutes with a fine-toothed comb, trying to see what he’d missed. She saw it the moment he put it together, navy eyes flickering with understanding and amusement.

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Right. Is that what freaked you out last time, too? Me just saying the L word –” he used a playfully spooky voice, like the whole thing was funny “– not even in that context?” Rafe laughed, but not unkindly. “Seriously, Kie? You’re that chickenshit?” 

Kiara bristled. “I’m not chickenshit, Rafe. I just… Sometimes, I get worried that we have like, different perspectives on what this is.” 

“Really?” he asked, cocking his head at her. “I disagree. I think we actually feel really similarly, if you’d be honest with me. Or fuck, honest with yourself, even.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Kie sat up on the bed, pulling away from him. She snatched up her discarded shorts from the floor and yanked them back on, just so she had something to do with her hands. 

He watched her for a moment, his eyes indecipherable as he tracked her movements. 

“It means exactly what you think it means.” Rafe dragged his hand over his face. The ring on his finger caught her eye for a second, giving her something else to focus on besides his words and her growing anxiety. 

He blew out an uneven breath before he spoke again. 

“You… Do you want me to be the one to lay it all out there?” He paused and squinted at her like he was trying to figure her out. Kie wondered what he saw. After a moment, he squared his shoulders in decision. 

“Here it is. I think I’m – I mean, I’m pretty sure that... I’m in love with you.” 

Kiara stared at him.

The rhythm of her pulse stuttered, then picked up fast.  

Silence smothered them. The low whir of his ceiling fan above them was the only sound in the room. 

The expression on his face was one of bewilderment, but not with himself or his words – with her.  

It looked like he was surprised he even had to say it. Like she should’ve known. Like it was supposed to be obvious. 

When nothing had ever been obvious between the two of them, ever. 

Not for Kiara, at least. 

But still, there it was. That look on his face. His eyes filled with all the things he had never verbalized. She was only now realizing that maybe the reason for that was because she’d never given him the opportunity. 

The idea had always seemed ridiculous – it was one thing to have sex with Rafe, to act on their destructive mutual attraction. It would’ve been another thing entirely to entertain the idea that he could take this thing between them seriously, that they could have something deeper than fucking and bickering friendship. 

As much as she found the nickname cringey, he was the Kook King – the heir to Cameron Development, the scourge of Pogues across Kildare, the guy who had jumped her friends back in middle school. 

On top of that, he was Sarah’s brother. How was she supposed to explain that to her best friend? Kiara resisted the instinct to reach for the turtle charm on her necklace, a nervous habit of hers she’d picked up since he’d bought it for her. 

He wasn’t thinking about all of these moving pieces. He never did. One thing she’d always known about Rafe was that he never worried much about consequences. They’d never affected him, so why would he? 

Kiara, on the other hand, was always overthinking – about people’s reactions, or repercussions to words said, or consequences of actions taken. Sure, sometimes it didn’t change what she did – she had a bit of rebellious, reckless streak – but she thought the possibilities through nonetheless. 

So how could she look past all of the red flags with Rafe? It would blow up in her face and she would have no one to blame but herself for ignoring all the signs. 

But what about all the other parts of him only you get to see? a voice in her head – one that was probably praying for her downfall – asked. All the times he’s shown he can be kind, more considerate of her than anyone else – even her best friends. The times he sees right through her, sees her for who she really is, in a way nobody else does.

Kiara closed her eyes, willing the voice away. When she opened them, he was still looking at her, and she knew he was watching her for any sign of where her head was at. 

She couldn’t stay silent any longer. She had to speak eventually. 

“Rafe, that’s… That can’t be true.”

He blinked at her. “Why would I lie?”

“I don’t think it’s a lie. I think it’s more like…” She trailed off, unsure what she even meant.

“You just don’t believe me.” He said it like a statement, like a fact. Not a question. “You don’t trust me.” 

Kiara couldn’t reply. She just pressed her lips together tightly.

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re telling me after what we just did… You trust me enough to do that, but having real feelings for each other – that’s asking too much? You’ll let me fuck you while you say no, but I tell you I’m in love with you,” – she flinched – “ and you’re gonna shut down?”

When he said it like that… She felt foolish. But if she spoke, she’d say something vulnerable she’d probably regret. 

So she just looked at him.

His eyes were tight as he looked back, his mouth pinched in a tight line. After a tense moment, he turned his gaze away from her. 

The silence continued to stretch, a gaping hole threatening to swallow them both. The back of Kiara’s throat ached with words she didn’t know how to say. 

When he turned back to face her, she thought maybe he’d look angry. Pissed. He had the right. She thought maybe he’d shout at her, that infamous temper finally rearing its head to snap at her in a way he never had. In fact, she was kind of hoping for it. 

It would’ve made it easier. 

But the look in his eyes wasn’t mad. It wasn’t sad, either. Instead, he just looked tired. Exhausted. 

“If you don’t trust me after all this time…” He shook his head as he searched for the words. “Or if you can't be honest with yourself or me … There’s really nothing else to talk about. Right?” 

She shrugged woodenly. “Rafe, I’m s–”

He shook his head, cutting her off. Finally, a flash of anger sparked in his eyes, a storm brewing in the blue. 

“If you say ‘sorry,’ I’m gonna lose it. Okay? I’m getting in the shower. And you… You should be gone when I get out.”

Kiara swallowed around the pain in her throat and didn’t reply.

He stood from the bed and walked towards his bathroom door, wearing only the shorts he’d shoved haphazardly down to his knees when he’d fucked her earlier. 

How could that have been only minutes ago?

“Kie,” he said, turning around before he reached the door. 

She jerked her gaze up to his. For some stupid reason, her heart leapt – he wasn’t going to leave it like this. He was going to say something that was somehow going to fix all of it. Something that would make her feel normal again – instead of this raw, exposed mess, like she’d been slicing off little slivers of herself with each word she let pass between them unspoken. 

“I don’t want you to twist this around in your head after the fact. I know you love to play pretend,” he said with a humorless laugh. “But I won’t let you do that with this. This –” he gestured between the two of them with his hand “– is happening because of you. Don’t forget that.”

He didn’t wait for her reply before he was in the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Kiara waited a beat, but when she heard the water turn on, she forced herself to stand up and walk out the door into the growing darkness. 

☾

There’s something funny about private balconies – people forget that even though they can’t see you, you can still hear them. 

Rafe was pretty sure Sarah and Topper were two balconies down on his right side. At least, that’s how close he could approximate, judging from the volume of their aggravated voices. Kelce was in the room immediately to his right and Kiara was to his left, so he knew it wasn’t coming from either side directly next to him. 

He’d come out a few minutes ago to get some air and smoke a joint, a treat he was allowing himself to indulge in due to the unforeseen stress of the afternoon. He’d gotten back to his room after the cocktail party, taken a long shower, and headed outside. His hope of unwinding in the peaceful dark was quickly curbed – he’d no sooner settled into one of the chairs on his balcony and pulled out his lighter when the sound of a sliding door being yanked open came from a balcony further down. 

“ – not sure what made you think this was ‘ such a great idea.’” Topper’s last words had a mocking edge to them as his voice got louder. “Playing house with all these Pogues until the day of the wedding, it’s such a waste of time. If you heard all the shit Kelce and Alan were giving me about your friends… C’mon, babe.” It sounded like Topper was on the move while he spoke, the pitch and volume of his voice fluctuating like maybe he had followed Sarah as she led the way onto the balcony. 

“I’m just confused about what you’re confused about. This has been the plan for months, Topper.”

“I don’t know, I guess I thought you’d change your mind and shorten the timeline. Or they would flake. I mean, the kind of people they are, it’s not like they’re known for being super reliable.” 

Rafe heard what sounded like the heavy scrape of a chair against the concrete of a balcony, like Topper had thrown himself into one in frustration. 

“Top, what does that even…” Sarah cut her words off with a huff. “Look, they’re my best friends. Have been for years. They wouldn’t flake on me for our wedding. It’s supposed to be important.” She paused. “Guess it’s not to some people.” 

The soft snick of a door unlocking much closer to him had Rafe glancing towards Kiara’s balcony. He’d noticed when he first came out here that, although he couldn’t see much of Kelce’s balcony due to a wooden privacy screen, he and Kiara’s were pretty much exposed to each other – another unfortunate side effect of the rooms obviously being meant for easy access between familiar booking parties. 

Topper’s reply was lost on Rafe as he watched Kiara’s balcony door slide open. She stepped out wearing a dark green, oversized Planet Over Profit shirt and a pair of tiny plaid pajama shorts. In the dim glow of the outdoor lights, he could see that her face was scrubbed clean of her makeup from earlier. She spotted him immediately, as if she’d known exactly where to look as soon as she made it onto the balcony. 

Kie arched an eyebrow and opened her mouth, and he recognized it for the wind-up it was. Before she could snark some comment about him always being where he was least wanted – or maybe not, considering they had called a truce at the party earlier – he lifted a finger to his mouth and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards Sarah and Topper’s voices. Rafe watched as she flicked her eyes to the outer edge of the balcony, her mouth still open as she furrowed her brow, listening in. 

Sarah’s words drifted over to them on the warm night breeze. “... don’t really understand how else I was supposed to prepare you for this,” she was saying. “I told you all of my plans. You could’ve asked questions about any of it if you needed clarification.”

“I just feel like more organization would have been beneficial, Sarah. I know planning is not your strong suit – my mom tells me all the time about how you have no input in the wedding stuff.”

Kiara walked to the edge of her balcony to hear them better. She was close enough to Rafe he could reach across the railing and touch her with no effort. 

Sarah let out a disbelieving laugh. “Yes, what a shame. Dr. Thornton has made it very clear she has the utmost respect for my opinion.” 

Topper muttered something too quietly for Rafe to be sure, but it sounded something like, “Jesus Christ, this again.”

Kiara rolled her eyes and glanced up at Rafe like she was trying to gauge his thoughts. He just shook his head slightly, lifting the joint to take another hit. 

Her eyes tracked his movements, resting on his mouth for a second while he took a pull. He guessed it was because she wanted a hit, because in the next moment she reached her hand out in a wordless request. Rafe bit back a smirk and offered her the joint silently, angling the unlit side towards her so she could grab it safely. 

The easy way they’d fallen into a nonverbal conversation was giving him an eerie sense of deja vu. She took the joint from his hand, her fingertips brushing against his. She didn’t glance up at him as she took a puff, her eyes trained on the darkness beyond the balcony deck as they listened in on Sarah and Topper. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say about it,” Sarah announced with finality. “The plans are made and people are here, and we’re following through. You’re getting your big wedding. I’m getting this time with my friends. I don’t see why you can’t just enjoy it.” The sound of the door sliding shut punctuated the end of her sentence. 

A long, dramatic groan came from the other balcony. 

Christ, he’s a fucking child, Rafe thought with disdain. 

There was a scrape of chair legs against the concrete and the sound of a door sliding open and shut again. 

Then it was silent. 

They stood for a few moments. Rafe took another hit and handed it wordlessly back to Kie. She took it from him with a muttered thank you. 

While she inhaled, Rafe said, “I hate that guy.”

A stream of smoke filtered its way between her full lips as she regarded him with a skeptical kind of amusement.  “You’re literally his groomsman, Rafe.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like I told you, that was at Sarah’s request more than anything. Topper knows I have very little patience for him these days.” Their fingers brushed again as he took the joint again from Kie’s outstretched hand. “You know how many times I’ve told Sarah he’s the wrong choice? I have not sugar-coated it at all.” 

“Why are you here then? Don’t you think it’s kind of like… implicitly supporting the marriage, being in the wedding party?” Her tone wasn’t combative, it was earnest. She asked the question almost like she’d asked herself the same thing. 

Rafe slowly nodded. “Maybe? But… it’s Sarah,” he said, lifting his shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s my sister. If she’s going to make some dumbass stupid choice, she needs to know she’s got people on her side.” He paused. “I don’t know if that makes the most sense, but… that’s how I feel about it.”

Kiara looked at him for a long moment. Her voice was soft when she replied, “Yeah. It makes sense. I guess I feel the same way.” 

It was throwing him, how easy it was to talk to her right now. Her eyes were open and unguarded, so unlike how she’d been earlier in the evening at the cocktail party before their truce. He was finding it difficult to look away from her, wanting to absorb as much of this version of Kiara as he could in case combative, dagger-eyed Kie was back the next day. 

The weed was burning low at this point. He took one last small hit, and offered it to her again with a nod towards the dwindling joint. He knew she’d understand what he didn’t say with words: go ahead and finish it. 

Rafe didn’t want the conversation to be over just yet for some reason. He didn’t feel like going back inside. Out here on the balcony was nice – the warm breeze, the moon glinting off the dark water of the sound, the quiet whine of the cicadas. 

He opened his mouth before he knew what he was going to say. “I know this is going to end in a messy divorce with so much unnecessary paperwork and hassle. Not sure if either of them will even be sad, but just the time wasted… Wish they’d just save themselves the trouble and not bother getting married at all.” 

Kiara’s eyebrows pulled together like he’d said something interesting. They were quiet for a few moments before she spoke again. “Maybe she just needs to see how bad he really is for her. Maybe she needs someone to actually step up and show her.”

“I already told you – I have told her many times. Wheezie’s said it before, too. I’m sure you’ve said it to her.”

Kie stubbed out the last of the joint on the iron railing and looked up at him, tilting her head contemplatively. “Then maybe we should show her and not just tell her.” 

He could see cogs turning behind her brown eyes and it made him nervous. When Kiara Carerra was determined to do something, she had a tendency to be single-minded to the point of recklessness – or at least, the Kiara he used to know. 

Rafe scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know. We’re not the Scooby Doo gang, I don’t know if meddling in their shit is the answer.”

“What’s worse? Meddling or being a bad brother?”

“Jesus, are those my only choices?” 

Kie set her jaw and gave him an assessing look. “If I can get her to see she’s making a mistake before she’s legally bound to it, I will. You can help me or not.” She paused then held up the roach between pinched fingers. “Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem,” he replied, leaning back into his chair. 

She nodded and turned to head inside. 

“I’ll think about it,” he called out as she slid open her door. At her questioning look, he continued. “About your little scheme. Could maybe get some inside info. You know, as a groomsman.” 

She raised her eyebrow, surprised satisfaction coloring her face as she smiled at him. 

His stomach did something like a nervous flip, a response he refused to dignify with further thought. 

“Night, Rafe,” she said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. 

Rafe exhaled, long and loud, into the quiet darkness and shook his head.

“Night, Kie.” 

Chapter Text

☼

The morning after the cocktail party, Kiara woke to morning sun steeping her bedroom in warm, golden light. She’d always been an early riser, and the feeling of the North Carolina sun on her face again as she rose from her bed and walked to the glass sliding door tightened something nostalgic in her chest. 

Being homesick when you were home was a strange feeling. 

Kiara felt it every time she visited Kildare. 

She stretched her arms overhead and breathed deep, thinking about her conversation with Rafe last night and the one she’d overheard between Sarah and Topper. Listening to the way Topper talked to Sarah when he thought nobody was listening had completely soured what little faith Kiara had in their relationship. 

Couples fought, sure – she knew that, despite her admittedly limited experience with long term relationships. But the dismissive contempt in Topper’s voice… That wasn’t your average spat. That was a recipe for her best friend’s future misery. 

When Sarah and John B. had first broken up, Sarah made it clear she didn’t want to dissect the details of it with Kiara. John B hadn’t been forthcoming either. It had all been weirdly vague and completely out of left field. She’d never really gotten any reason beyond an elusive ‘it wasn’t working between us anymore’ and an ambiguous ‘I think we’ve just outgrown each other.’ 

If the breakup with John B had stunned Kiara, Sarah’s reconciliation with Topper had staggered her. 

She still remembered that Friday night FaceTime call, a few months after Sarah and JB’s breakup, where Sarah had been curling her hair and dabbing on her signature Too Faced lip gloss. Kiara asked Sarah where she was going, figuring she was heading out for drinks with some of her coworkers. Instead, Sarah had hesitated, continuing to wrap her long, blonde hair around her curling iron before replying that she was meeting Topper for dinner that evening. 

Kie had waited for the punchline. For Sarah to laugh, or to crack a smile and say, “You should see your face! April Fools, bitch!” – it was December – but of course, she didn’t. 

And now here they were, 18 months later. 

As if the way she was taking up so much space in Kiara’s mind needed to be physically manifested, Sarah’s voice called from the hallway. 

“Kie? You up?” 

A soft rhythm tapped against the door. She imagined Sarah standing on the other side, rapping her knuckles along the wood, listening for any sign of life in her room. 

She opened the door to Sarah leaning against the door frame, wearing pajama shorts and a Tar Heels crewneck that hung off her frame. In one hand, she held a shiny carafe. In the other, twin white porcelain mugs were hooked over a finger. 

Sarah grinned. “Wanna lay and drink this coffee” – she raised the metal carafe – “and pretend we’re in high school again, lounging in my bed at Tannyhill?” 

“That might be a little hard to do considering I’m only here in Kildare because you’re getting literally married.” Kie stepped back, making room for Sarah to walk past her into the room. 

“Suspension of disbelief,” Sarah said with a shrug, placing her haul on the table and pouring them each a cup of steaming coffee. 

A few minutes later, they were clambering onto Kiara’s enormous king sized bed. Sarah sank into the several pillows resting against the upholstered headboard and took a sip from her mug. As Kiara settled herself crosslegged beside Sarah, she pulled out her work laptop from her bag on the floor and balanced it on one knee. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Kiara grumbled in response to Sarah’s side-eye. “I have a lessened workload the next couple weeks, but I still have to check my email.” 

Lifting her hand in a defensive “I didn’t say shit” gesture, Sarah took another sip of coffee. “Well, are you going to be able to join the bridesmaid beach day? Because it’s on the itinerary for today.” 

“Yes, Sar, I will be able to meet the requirements of your damn itinerary,” Kie said with an exasperated laugh. A flash of the conversation she and Rafe had overheard last night echoed in her mind. 

She decided to go fishing. 

“When did you become such a stickler for itineraries and scheduling and logistics anyway? Sounds like more of a Pope Heyward kinda deal more than a Sarah Cameron thing – or, sorry. Guess I should be getting used to saying Sarah Thornton?” 

Sarah grimaced. “First of all,” she began, “no. I still don’t know what I’m doing about the name thing. Might hyphenate. Or forgo the whole thing. It’s so old school. Secondly, hilarious that you think I’ve become a stickler for planning when some people claim I’m the fucking worst at it.”

Kie looked up from her laptop, giving Sarah what she hoped was an innocently curious look. “Meaning?”

“Nothing.” Sarah puffed out her cheeks and blew out a long breath. “Forget it. Stupid stuff with Top.” 

“The wedding stuff? Why’s he getting on you for that? He should be thanking you for coming up with a bunch of fun ideas for us to all do together.” 

Fidgeting with her pear-shaped engagement ring, Sarah shook her head. “Seriously, let’s forget it.” She paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up in pleading excitement. “Let’s order room service for breakfast. I’m a bride, so you can’t say no.”

“Right here looks good,” Wheezie called out, dropping her bag and towel onto the sand. Kiara, Sarah, and Cleo all followed suit, claiming the spot Wheezie had indicated. 

It was a beautiful, clear afternoon. The late May weather was perfect for sunbathing – the water was still too chilly for surfing or extended swimming, but more than suitable for lazing around in the sun. After a quick stop at the ABC store down the street for some day drinking goods, they’d visited the nearby cafe to grab a round of bagel sandwiches, chips, and iced coffee, then headed to the beach. 

“Pope was bummed we left him out of this one,” Cleo said as she pulled out a bottle of Kahlua from her tote bag. She popped off the lid to her iced coffee, pouring in a generous amount before gesturing to Sarah to pass hers over for the same treatment.

“It’s a bridesmaids beach day,” Sarah replied in a lofty tone as she handed over her iced latte. “No boys allowed. He can meet us all for dinner at The Wreck if he wants, JJ is.” 

“Are Rafe and Topper coming? And the rest of the groomsmen?” Wheezie asked, passing her cup over to Cleo as well. Wheezie sat cross legged on her oversized purple towel, a bag of sour cream and onion chips sitting already opened on her lap. 

Since she didn’t have any younger siblings, any sort of sisterly affection Kiara might’ve had for them was projected onto Wheezie Cameron. She couldn’t believe the little girl who used to traipse behind her and Sarah around Tannyhill was now a college junior on a pre-med track who could legally drink alcohol. 

“Yup.” Sarah sipped from the paper straw poking out of her spiked latte and leaned back on her hands, tilting her face towards the sun with a smile on her face. “God, this feels so good. I can’t remember the last time I was at the beach with girlfriends. What’s the point of living on an island if I don’t even have you guys to enjoy it with?” 

Kiara laughed disbelievingly as she put her drink into Cleo’s outstretched hand. “You know, somehow, I get the feeling living in your 7,000 square foot, mortgage-paid mansion helps ease the pain.” 

When Ward died, the Tannyhill estate had technically gone to Rafe, but he’d passed on the property. He could’ve sold it, but instead had the title drafted in Sarah’s name. Kiara remembered how much it had meant to Sarah when it happened – unlike Rafe, Sarah had always been very open about her attachment to their family home. 

Sarah rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, Wheezie was talking. 

“7,000 square feet is about to feel a hell of a lot smaller when somebody moves in after the wedding. It’s already the worst having him there all the time without it being official yet.” The youngest Cameron pursed her lips in a prim line. 

Cutting her sister a look, Sarah said, “Please. It will not feel small. You have plenty of room – you’re not even there most of the time, you’re at school majority of the year. Topper’s just one guy, he doesn’t take up that much space.”

“One annoying guy,” Wheezie muttered. She took a bite of her bagel and ignored Sarah’s irritated huff. 

“Cleo,” Sarah said with the tone of someone who was changing the subject. “Not to be that person, but when do you think we’ll all be getting together for you and Pope’s wedding? Because I can start nudging him in the right direction if you want me to.” She had an air of playful graciousness as she continued. “In fact, I wouldn’t even mind sharing the limelight – he can pop the question during the reception if he wants, but I definitely expect to be a bridesmaid.” 

“Jesus, Sar,” Kie scolded, stretching her leg onto Sarah’s blanket to kick her in the ankle.  

Cleo just laughed good-naturedly. “I know nothing about any plans he’s got for that, girl. We’re in no rush. It might be awhile before you’re shopping for a bridesmaid dress.” 

“Well, you sure as fuck won’t be getting one for me anytime soon,” Kiara said, brandishing a barbecue chip with a flourish before popping it into her mouth. “Couldn’t even hold on to my plus one long enough to bring him here.” 

Sarah and Cleo both gave her sympathetic looks, which she brushed off with an eye roll.  “Guys, it was a joke. Well, not the bridesmaid part. Just the part that sounded anything remotely like I was mourning the death of that relationship still.”

Cleo nodded. Sarah looked thoughtful, like she had more to say.

Kiara raised a prompting eyebrow at her. “Do you have something to share with the class?”

“It’s nothing, I just…” Sarah bit her lip and shrugged. “Don’t you think you kind of purposely choose guys who aren’t going to go the distance? Luke was nice, but… I knew within five minutes of meeting him last winter he was not Kiara Carrera material.” 

“What does that mean? ‘Kiara Carrera material?’”  Kie asked. She rubbed her wrist absently, her hand ghosting over her charm bracelet. 

Cleo leaned forward to pat her arm. “He didn’t have enough grit to ‘im. Not interesting enough, not feisty enough. Even Pope said it,” she finished with a shrug.  

Sarah nodded. “I mean, hey, I think it’s dope for you to be the perpetually unattainable, single, hot friend if that’s what you want. We aren’t saying you have to settle down. Just, if you actually do want to, I think you might have to start being more realistic about who’s got long term potential.”

She thought it was awfully rich for Sarah to be the one giving advice on long term relationships considering she was currently looking down the barrel of what was sure to be a failed one, but Kie was too good of a friend to say that out loud. 

“Speaking of being single and hot,” Cleo piped, sitting up straight. “What’s up with your brother?” she asked, looking between Sarah and Wheezie. “He’s got his shit together with his business and all, he’s got that whole broody, strong and silent thing going on, and he’s so –” 

She paused like she’d just remembered she was talking to his little sisters. “He’s attractive,” she finished blandly. 

Kie was suddenly very aware of her idle hands. She reached for her drink, then changed her mind and moved to grab her bagel, but before she could touch it, she reconsidered. Sitting back from both, she reached up to put her hair in a bun instead. 

“Yeah, he’s been single for a little bit,” Wheezie said, pausing her scrolling finger on her phone screen. “Like, he dates but… I don’t think he’s very good at it?”

A laugh burst from Sarah. “Oh, he’d be pissed hearing you say that.”

“Truth hurts,” Wheezie replied. 

“What do you mean, though?” Cleo asked, crunching a chip between her teeth. 

“He’s not a very attentive boyfriend, is the impression we get,” Sarah explained. “Especially from Sofia, his last girlfriend.” 

Feeling like she’d been silent for a suspiciously long time, Kie forced herself to ask, “Didn’t you say before he was trying to get a plan together to propose?”

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, I think that was more because she’d hinted at it enough times that he figured it was time to start thinking about it. He never got her a ring or anything.” 

She paused and took a sip of her drink. “Anyway, she and I got along well, so I kinda got her side of it after they broke up. It was all very amicable, but basically she felt like he never really gave her his ‘full attention.’” The words were punctuated with little air quotes. “She said she felt like he always had something else going on in his head, like stuff with the business, I guess?”

Sarah looked at Wheezie with a laugh. “Who would’ve thought Rafe would end up being the biggest workaholic out of the three of us?” 

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have thought you’d be quitting teaching to be Topper’s trophy wife,” Wheezie replied sardonically. 

Kiara and Cleo both looked at Sarah in surprise while Sarah shot Wheezie a scathing look. 

“I told you, nothing’s official yet. I have the summer to decide if I’m coming back.”

“Sarah, what the hell? Why would you quit? You love your job,” Kie asked incredulously. 

“Oh my god, it’s not a –”

“Because Topper told her to! Is that not insane?” Wheezie exclaimed over Sarah’s words, her voice indignant. Kie suddenly had a vision of a young, tiny Wheezie tattling on her big sister. 

“He just suggested it, Jesus, Wheeze –”

Cleo interrupted her. “What’s even his reasoning for that suggestion?”

From the look on her face, Sarah obviously hadn’t planned on discussing this today. She shifted beneath her friends’ gazes and answered reluctantly. 

“He might’ve said something about it looking a little silly that his wife would be working for peanuts at a public school when he’s about to be made partner. And like Kie just pointed out, it’s not like we need the money. I’ve got the house stuff covered.”

Kiara kept her face carefully blank, sliding her eyes over to Cleo, who blinked back at her. 

“Sarah, girl…” Cleo started. 

“That’s total bullshit,” Kie finished. “And you know it. That’s why you didn’t tell us. I mean, if you wanted to quit, that's a totally different conversation. But do you actually want to stop working?” 

“I don’t know.” Sarah shrugged and bit at the skin by her thumbnail. “Not really. I do love teaching… Like I said, he only suggested it.” 

The conversation stalled for a beat before Cleo changed the subject, talking about the spa back at the resort and waffling over whether or not she should book a couples’ massage for her and Pope. 

Kiara knew better than to push back at Sarah right now. She knew her best friend well enough to understand that dragging out the subject would make Sarah dig her heels in. 

But she couldn’t help but remember that visit with Sarah and John B when she’d first moved to Texas. How excited Sarah had been to start teaching, and how psyched John B was for her. How supportive he’d been listening to her talk about her goals for her classroom and her career. 

The polar opposite of how Topper was. 

Why are the fuck are you with him, Sarah? 

☾

“So, what’s up with that Kiara chick?” 

The question is accompanied by two hands slamming twin pitchers of beer down on the table. The surprise of hearing Kiara’s name come out of Alan fucking Thornton’s mouth startled Rafe from his silence, one he’d comfortably settled into since they’d made it to The Wreck a quarter of an hour ago. 

“What’s up with her, how?” Rafe replied lowly, not moving from where he sat back in his chair, elbows balanced on the armrests and his legs spread wide beneath the table. His eyes moved over Alan in assessment, taking in his punchable smile, the gelled finance bro haircut, and his mint Lululemon polo shirt.  

“Oh – watch out, Al,” Kelce said with a laugh. “Rafe’s not very good at sharing, even when he’s done taking his turn. Been like that since we were all in grade school.” 

Kelce looked like he might have said more, but when he caught the look on Rafe’s face his expression sobered immediately. He started pouring out a few glasses of beer for the table silently. 

“Ah, shit. Didn’t realize, man.” Alan smirked at Rafe like they were in on some kind of a joke together. 

Rafe didn’t know too much about Alan, but every piece of information he’d learned today on their groomsmen golf outing had lowered his opinion of the guy from irritating but unremarkable douche to borderline insufferable, self-important tool in the span of 18 holes – hell, more like 9. It was hard to believe the guy was able to pull his head out of his own ass to get any play, but from the way Topper and Kelce went on and on, it seemed like he did. 

“Nothing to realize,” Rafe said. He didn’t return Alan’s smile. “Not sure what Kelce meant.” 

Topper snorted, and Rafe raised his eyebrows in response. 

Topper just shrugged, slouching in his chair a little.

Alan observed the exchange over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of beer. 

“Alright, Rafe,” he said slowly. “If you’re not hitting that, you don’t mind if I do? Would be a shame to let a little thing like that walk around the next few weeks without paying her any attention.” The corner of his mouth was quirked up in an infuriating smile.

“You’re welcome to try,” Rafe replied. “Fuck, I’d like to see the attempt actually – I need a good laugh.” 

The thought was enough to make him chuckle even now. 

Kie would rip this guy to shreds before she fell for anything he had to say. 

Thinking of her now reminded him of their conversation the night before on the balcony. He’d ended the night telling her he’d help her, and he knew he probably should’ve been trying to gather inside intel for their little scheme today, but he really wasn’t sure how to get it or what he was even looking for. 

He and Topper weren’t close anymore, so a heart-to-heart about the state of his relationship with Sarah was always going to be a tall order. Add in the factors of day drinking, competition on the golf course, the presence of Alan and Kelce, and it seemed like a lost cause. 

And as big of an idiot as Topper was, he wasn’t so dumb that he’d say anything bad about Sarah in front of her brother – but he did pepper in passive aggressive comments throughout the afternoon, just oblique enough to stay on the right side of plausible deniability. 

For example, when they’d shown up at the golf course, Kelce mentioned it was nice that Sarah had planned it all out for them and made the reservation. Topper had agreed, but it seemed like he was reluctant to give her the praise. He’d made sure to mention that it was “funny” how she could do that, but couldn’t text his mom back when she asked Sarah’s opinion on table settings for the wedding. 

Alan’s posture straightened, eyes lighting up as he caught sight of something over Rafe’s shoulder. He called out a booming “Hello, ladies!” A cocky half-smirk was glued on his face as he locked in on the girls weaving their way over. 

Rafe tightened his hand in a fist reflexively, blunt nails digging into his palm for a beat before he turned to welcome the girls to the table. 

☼

The afternoon had passed in a blur of sunshine, booze infused caffeine, and Remi Wolf songs humming over Kiara’s portable speaker. 

Wheezie had brought a deck of cards that entertained them for several rounds of War and Crazy Eights. Between the laughter of the girls by her side, the scent of sunscreen and salt water in the air, and the feeling of sand squinched between her toes, Kiara felt more at home than she had in years. 

Just before sunset, they piled into Sarah’s white SUV and headed to The Wreck. Kiara’s family’s restaurant was casual enough that the girls wouldn’t be out of place in their jean shorts and crochet beach cover-ups thrown over bathing suits. 

The sky was streaked in pinks and purples when they got to The Wreck, the sun glinting off the marshland next to the restaurant. 

Wheezie pointed out Rafe’s car in the parking lot – not the truck he used to drive, but a black Range Rover, Kie noted with idle interest – which was vacant, meaning the boys were already inside. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize they beat us here,” Sarah said as she parked her car. 

Wheezie piped up with a derisive, “Couldn’t Topper have texted and told you that?” to which Sarah didn’t reply. 

A wave of the familiar smells and sounds from The Wreck welcomed Kiara like a warm hug when she walked in. The scent of frying foods filtered out from the kitchen window to the front of the house. A steady thrum of conversation came from the laughing guests, sat around tables enjoying their meals. She could hear the cook, Charlene – her voice booming as she called out orders to the staff. 

Topper, Rafe, Alan, and Kelce were all sitting around a large table tucked into the back corner against the windows, dressed in a varying Kook uniform of expensive polos and shorts. Kie immediately noted how Rafe stood out in dark gray, an apt contrast to the pastels of the other three. 

A few pitchers of beer and ice water sat between the guys on the wooden table. Glasses – some empty and some filled – paper straws, menus, and a couple baskets of french fries already littered the surface. 

“Hello, ladies!” Alan called when he spotted the girls making their way over. “Everyone want a beer?” He reached for the pitcher closest to him and started pouring them all a glass. 

Wheezie, Cleo, and Sarah all nodded, tossing out greetings to the guys and finding seats, grabbing the menus and scanning over the options. 

“I’m actually good, think I’m done drinking for the day,” Kiara replied, remaining standing. The Kahlua sitting in her stomach after hours in the sun felt a little sour. She needed a fizzy Diet Coke and a plate of something greasy as soon as possible, but she also needed to go find her parents in the back and say hello. 

“Be right back,” she said to no one in particular, looking around the table. 

She caught Rafe’s eyes as he jerked his gaze up from where it had been lingering on her bare legs. 

He blinked, his expression that of someone who’d been caught doing something they’d rather not have been. She watched as he leaned over to Wheezie, who’d taken an empty seat next to him, asking her how their day at the beach was. 

Her parents were in the kitchen, her mom labeling inventory containers and her dad prepping salad vegetables. After a brief, warm reunion and a promise to come by for lunch at some point in the next few days, she left to return to the group. 

As she eased the creaky kitchen door shut and slipped down the hallway, Kie passed the alcove by the bathrooms and paused when she heard her name in a familiar, hushed voice. 

She usually didn’t make it a habit to lurk in the shadows and eavesdrop on conversations, but Sarah kept setting her up with these irresistible opportunities, and well – Kiara was only human. 

“It’s Kie’s parents place, Top. I practically grew up here. I don’t see a problem with what I’m wearing.”

Kie pieced together Sarah’s outfit in her mind – a bikini the color of orchids, a pair of denim cutoffs, and an unbuttoned, oversized men’s linen shirt  thrown on top, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. A completely normal get-up for a quick, casual dinner in a beach town. 

Topper blew out an exasperated, dramatic sigh. 

Kiara was all too familiar with the sound after eavesdropping last night. She was starting to wonder if it was the only method the man had for exhaling carbon dioxide from his entitled lungs. 

“The problem,” he began, as if explaining something simple to a very slow, very stubborn toddler, “is that you’re not a 16-year-old who just got back from the beach. You’re a grown woman who’s about to become a wife – my wife – and you’ve got enough skin showing in a public place you’re probably giving the high school kid at the next table a hard-on.”

“Ugh. Gross.”

“Yeah, well, now you know how I feel.”

There was a tense pause. 

“The problem is, Topper, I did just get back from the beach. That’s where we were all day, remember? And we had a lovely time, not that you asked. There is zero problem with what I’m wearing.” Sarah punctuated the last sentence with an air of finality. 

Topper didn’t reply, but Kiara heard his footsteps stomp nearer to where she stood at the intersection of the hallway and the alcove. She pressed herself against the wall, but she didn’t need to bother with discretion. He blew past her and headed straight for their party’s table, leaving behind a choking cloud of irritation and Dior Sauvage. 

Kiara lingered against the wall, waiting for Sarah to emerge. 

She did just a few moments later, moving at a much slower pace than Topper had. Her eyes caught on Kiara from her peripheral vision and she jumped a little in surprise. 

“Hey. How… How long have you been standing there?” she asked, tucking her long, blonde hair behind her ears. 

“Long enough.” Kie searched Sarah’s eyes, making sure she got her meaning. 

“Look, he’s just –”

“A dumb, sexist idiot? Yeah, I know.”

Sarah blew out an amused snort, but there was a defiant edge to the look on her face. 

“The stress of wedding planning is getting to him, I think. Just ignore him. I do.” She crossed her arms over her chest, over the evidently offending purple bikini. 

The defensiveness of the gesture wasn’t lost on Kiara, but she noticed with a sense of pride that Sarah had made zero moves to button up the shirt she wore in an attempt to cover herself up.

When Kiara didn’t reply, Sarah raised her eyebrows. “We good?”

“Sarah…” Kie’s voice was gentle. “That’s so gross. He shouldn’t be policing what you wear. John B would’ve never tried that shit with you, why are you taking it from Topper?”

Sarah’s face went blank at the mention of John B. 

“That’s like… not even relevant right now, Kie.” She shook her head, sucking in her upper lip against her teeth. “I’m not bothered by it, so you shouldn’t be. Please. Let’s just go back and grab dinner.”

Kiara looked into Sarah’s eyes, wide and pleading. 

“Okay.”

She followed Sarah as they wound their way through the tables back to where the group sat. Kiara watched as Sarah took her seat next to Topper, who didn’t acknowledge her as he continued his conversation with Alan. 

The only other available chair was next to Rafe, because of course it was. 

He was leaning away from the open chair, still talking with Wheezie on his other side. Cleo sat across from them, laughing at something Wheezie had said. 

Kie took the seat and noted a glass of dark soda with extra ice sitting on the plastic placemat. 

Looking up at Cleo, she asked, “Is this for me?”

Cleo glanced at her and then to Rafe. 

Rafe turned towards Kiara, angling himself so she could join the conversation between the three of them more easily. 

Heat spread from his arm to hers as he shifted his elbow on the table next to her. 

“Yeah, you said you were done drinking, so. Got you a diet.” His voice was perfectly casual, his gaze light as his blue eyes held hers for a moment. 

She swallowed reflexively. 

His eyes flickered at the movement but didn’t look away until Wheezie started talking again, this time including Kiara in the conversation. 

Kie sat quiet for a moment, processing. 

She took a grateful sip of the Diet Coke, grabbed a fry from the basket in front of her, and purposely avoided Cleo’s watchful eyes. 

☾

He tried to focus on what his sister was saying. There was no good reason for him to be distracted. 

Kiara was literally just sitting next to him. Just existing. She hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences since she sat down, but when she’d joined them, Wheezie’s words had turned more or less into background noise. 

The warmth of her body next to his was distracting. 

It had started with a brush of heat against his skin as their arms rested next to each other. 

But the longer they sat, the more it seemed to spread. Every point of not-quite-contact was lit up with that soft hum of bright energy: his elbow, his forearm, the parallel lines of their pinky fingers on the worn wooden surface of the table. He wondered if the metal links of her charm bracelet would be warm to the touch from contact with her skin. 

Rafe had always equated Kiara with the sun for some reason. 

It wasn’t that she had a sunny disposition – she really didn’t. She was combative, argumentative, often downright feral – at least when it came to him – but maybe it was that fiery, passionate part of her personality that made the parallel so clear. 

She may not have been bright and bubbly, exactly, but she did have a kind of luminous energy that drew people towards her – he’d always been envious of that. Maybe that magnetic presence was also part of the easy comparison between her and the sun. 

An even more obvious explanation, of course, was her looks. 

Her warm, brown skin. The way her eyes turned amber in the sunlight. Her smile – a sappier guy than Rafe might have called it radiant. 

And now, the heat shifting between their bodies had him pondering the analogy even more. Beneath the table, he could feel the warmth of her knee inches away. 

Glancing down, Rafe was treated to the sight of her bare thigh next to his. She was wearing some kind of bathing suit cover-up he’d seen on lots of girls at the beach or around town in the summer – a sort of crocheted dress thing that hung loose on her body. The hem had been inadvertently tugged up high on her legs as she sat. The neckline draped off her shoulders, which were dusted pink from her day in the sun. 

He blinked and wondered if she’d forgotten to reapply sunscreen that afternoon. 

Her bikini was visible through the mesh fabric of the dress, as well as the deep line of her cleavage — if someone were to look hard enough. 

Rafe knew he wasn’t the only one interested in looking hard enough. 

He had to tamp down the wild impulse to reprimand her for her outfit. 

Didn’t she know looking like this was exactly the kind of shit that lured in idiot fuckboys like Alan? Did she actually want that kind of attention? 

In the next moment, Cleo was perking up and calling out for JJ and Pope as they walked through the front door of The Wreck. There was a general kerfuffle around the table as chairs and bodies shifted, making room for additional seats. Greetings and drinks were passed around, and in the chaos of the moment, Rafe leaned into Kiara’s space.

“Nice dress,” he muttered. He got a trace of the same perfume he’d smelled on  her yesterday. 

She narrowed her eyes at his tone. “It’s not really a dress,” she said flatly. “Just something to throw on over a swimsuit.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Literally.” 

Her lips pressed into a tight line but she didn’t respond. 

“You walk around dressed like that, and it’s going to attract the wrong kind of attention. You already caught Alan’s eye last night,” he continued, nodding towards the other groomsman, who was deep in conversation with Topper and Sarah.

Kiara paused, tilting her head to look at him. There was a challenge in her eyes.

“Yeah?” she asked. “And who’s attention would be the right kind? Do tell.” 

He didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.

Kie wasn’t done, regardless. 

“Say something gross and slut-shamey like that to me again, and I swear to god, Rafe…” She shook her head, her delicate nostrils flaring adorably in anger. “You sound just like Topper when you say that shit.”

He’d wanted to needle her a little, rile her up a bit for his own selfish urges, but clearly he’d hit more of a nerve than he’d intended to. 

Rafe opened his mouth – for what, he wasn’t quite sure – but she cut him off with a hand in his face, turning back to the table to engage in conversation with her friends. 

She was clearly done talking to him for the night. 

Chapter Text

☾

The morning after their dinner at the Wreck dawned gray and miserable. The air was soupy with the oppressive sort of humidity that promised a thunderstorm. Rafe spent the morning sipping his coffee, light and sweet as was his preference, checking in with Clark at the office, and sifting through emails on his laptop. It was quiet on the other side of the common wall between his room and Kiara’s. 

He grabbed lunch with Sarah, Topper, and Alan at one of the resort restaurants, tuning out Alan and Top’s drivel as best he could while still being engaged enough to not catch an earful from his sister. The large topic of conversation was the weather and if it would clear up enough for them to enjoy their scheduled day on the water tomorrow – Sarah and Topper had booked a charter from him the following afternoon to take everyone out on the sound. 

As if Topper hadn’t mentioned it enough times when they’d made the reservation, he made sure to bring up once again how he wished he could take them all out on his boat – “It’s a shame, Rafe, but the Malibu just doesn’t have the space for everybody in the bridal party. I mean, you know the deal, Al. It’s built for speed, for activity – not leisure.”  It was like he was afraid somebody might think he didn’t own a boat himself because they were using the charter business to host the gathering. 

While they ate lunch, the sky outside turned a sickly shade of yellow. Dark clouds smeared themselves across it like paint on a canvas, and by the time the group paid their check, thunder had started rumbling. 

Rain pelted the glass door to his balcony all afternoon into the evening. He ordered room service for dinner and ate alone, keeping the volume on his TV low. He told himself it wasn’t because he was listening for any sign of Kie in her room next door. 

The next morning, Rafe woke to bright sunlight streaming across the floor and a text in the group chat Sarah had created for the bridal party – "Boat day is on, people!”

He’d slept blessedly late and still had a few hours to himself before they left for the charter. But something gnawed at him while he sipped his coffee, a sort of heaviness that settled uncomfortably in his stomach. He couldn’t shake it after a long shower or while he sat on the balcony and scrolled through his phone. 

He was drinking his third cup of coffee when the color of it snagged his focus without warning, like a loose thread on a boardwalk plank. It was swirled with cream and sugar, changing it from the original rich brown shade to a lighter, velvety hue. 

He stared down at the coffee. The color made his mouth water. Familiar. 

God, it was the exact same shade as… 

Rafe put the mug down on his nightstand suddenly. Some of the coffee spilled, lapping at the rim and dribbling over the side.

The next thing he knew, he was opening the door on his side of the shared entrance between Kiara’s room and his. He knocked twice on her door and waited. 

A few moments later, her door opened – slowly, like it was as reluctant to open up as the girl behind it. 

Kie stood there, head and hip both cocked as she eyed him wearily. He noticed she didn't take her hand from the door’s handle. Probably so she can slam it shut at the earliest chance, he thought . He couldn’t help the way his gaze ran over her, trailing up from her hand on the doorknob to her gold charm bracelet and along her arm, over her shoulder, across her collarbones. Cataloguing the straight lines, the dips and curves, that made up her body. 

All covered in her skin – sunkissed, freckled, smooth. 

The color of coffee that’s been sweetened and lightened to his exact preference. 

He cleared his throat and brought his eyes up to meet hers. “Can I have a word?” he asked.

Kie smiled, too wide and brittle to be genuine. “Sure, you can have two,” she replied in a saccharine voice. 

Her smile dropped. “Fuck. Off.”

Rafe bit the inside of his lip, keeping his face straight. Laughing at her would only irritate her more, but damn it, why’d she have to be so funny? 

“Didn’t see you around at all yesterday.”

“Well, thank goodness for that. See, because I was wearing shorts yesterday – and I would have really hated to offend your delicate sensibilities by the lewd display of my bare knees.”

He nodded. “Right,” he began, lifting a distracted hand to rub over the buzzed hair along his scalp. “About the other night. I… I’m not sure why I said it, it was stupid.”

“Yeah. It was,” she replied without remorse. 

Rafe looked back at her, a small spark of irritation lighting in his chest. She made apologizing harder than it needed to be. “Right, yeah,” he said with a shrug. “That's what I just said.” 

Kiara just looked back at him, brows raised expectantly. 

Waiting for more. 

It was such a familiar expression on her face that the spark of irritation glowed irrationally into something more like fondness. 

“And… I’m sorry. For saying something ‘gross and slut-shamey.’ It was uncalled for.”

She softened a little at his apology, but just barely. “Okay,” she replied simply, crossing her arms over her chest like she expected the conversation to be over. 

Rafe almost rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” he sighed, making the sudden – and probably stupid – choice to walk past her into her room. 

He brushed her arm as he moved between her door and where she stood. She jumped in surprise at the contact. 

“Figured we should talk more about the mission. If you’re still working on it, that is.” 

Kiara stood by the door, watching him as he sauntered his way to her bed and dropped down on the edge. 

“Please, do come in,” she said drily. 

He gave her a shit-eating smile in return. 

“So, basically… Topper’s never going to break up with Sarah,” Rafe began. “He acts like he can hardly stand her, but that’s obviously not a dealbreaker for him. Reading between the lines of what he’s willing to say in front of her big brother and just knowing the kinda guy he is, I’d guess that in his little peabrain, the benefits of being married to a Cameron outweigh anything else.” 

Rafe leaned back as he spoke, spreading his hands behind him over her bedspread, sinking into layers of cotton and linen. He looked up at Kie. She was still standing by the door, her arms crossed over her chest, but she must’ve zoned out. It looked like she was staring blankly at his hands on the bed. 

He continued. “He’s an insecure little bitch, and having her as his wife is the biggest ego boost he can get. It’s good for his image. Know what I mean?” 

At his question, she shook her head like it needed clearing. “Yeah, I agree. It’d be one thing if he was just annoying or he didn’t like her friends or whatever, even though we are all obviously charming and hilarious. But he actively acts like he can’t stand it when she speaks half the time.” 

Kie moved to the bed and sat down beside him. She was wearing her bathing suit already, paired with a matching black skirt made of the same type of material as her cover-up the other night. “It’s like we’re watching some kind of rigged football game with the amount of red flags getting thrown around. And she’s acting like she’s color blind.” 

Rafe whistled. “Damn, sports references. Pulling out the big guns, huh, Carrera?” 

She rolled her eyes, one corner of her lips quirking up. She must’ve put something on them, because they were distractingly pink and glossy. 

The realization that they were on a bed together for the first time since that summer afternoon years ago dawned on him slowly, distantly, like headlights from the other end of a long and dark tunnel. He swallowed against the sudden heavy feeling on his tongue. 

He cast his eyes around, trying to distract himself. His attention caught once again on the charm bracelet on Kie’s wrist. “You wear that a lot,” he said dumbly, cursing himself internally. If he didn’t have anything else to say to her, he should just get the fuck up and leave her room. Instead, here he was – acting like he was 18 again, looking for any excuse to talk to her and draw out their conversations. 

Her hand moved to the bracelet almost self-consciously, both of them looking down at her wrist. He hadn’t been able to make out any of the charms before, but now that he had the time and the proximity, he could see a few of them – a tiny strawberry with little red stones, a cursive gold K initial, a petite cowboy boot. He wondered if she’d bought that one after moving to Texas. 

“Yeah. It’s kind of my good luck charm. Lame pun intended, I guess,” she said with a little laugh. 

He was still watching her fingers play over the charms, admiring the iridescent polish on her nails. She never used to paint her nails. It looked nice. 

Her room was quiet – he hadn’t heard a sound from her side of the wall all morning. She had the curtains open on the windows and sliding door, the midday sun pouring across the floor in bright, wide beams. The top notes of her perfume floated in the air, accompanied by the familiar scent Rafe knew was simply her – her skin, or body chemistry, or whatever it was that had always made her smell better than any manufactured product ever could. 

Kiara glanced at the small wooden table clock on her nightstand. “We should head down to the lobby.”

He nodded and stood, walking through the shared doorway to his room to grab his phone and keys. He stepped out his front door to the main hallway at the same moment Kie was closing hers behind her. Her long curls were tossed into a clip at the top of her head, sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her belly button ring caught the light as she turned to him and hitched a canvas tote bag onto her shoulder. 

“So what’s the plan for today, Scooby?” he asked, falling into step beside her as they walked down the hall to the elevators. “We gonna pull off Topper’s rubber mask on the yacht so Sarah can see who the real bad guy is?” 

“Okay, first of all, I’m obviously Velma.”

Rafe laughed. 

“What?” Kie asked, offended. “I’m clearly the brains in the operation.”

He dropped his smile when he realized she hadn’t been kidding. “No, you can’t be Velma because you’re way too –” He cut himself off before he could say something stupid, like hot.  “I think you might be more of a Daphne… But, fine. You’re Velma.” 

“Regardless,” she said brusquely, rolling her shoulders back. “The plan for today is to make it harder for her to ignore the red flags. No keeping the peace. Don’t let things he says get swept under the rug. He says something rude to her, we question him. She glosses over a story, we ask for more details. Et cetera, et cetera.” 

They turned the corner to the alcove where the elevators were, stopping short when they saw Cleo and Pope already waiting there, hands intertwined. The couple looked up in surprise. 

“You guys walking down together?” Pope asked, surprised, his eyes jumping from Rafe to Kie and back again. 

Cleo elbowed him.

Kiara took a side step away from Rafe. “Not like, together. Just… together,” she finished blandly. She started fidgeting with her bracelet. 

Rafe rolled his eyes at her awkwardness. 

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. All four of them piled in. 

Rafe could feel Kie trying to edge herself away from him surreptitiously. He inhaled deeply, puffing himself up with it, taking up as much space as possible. Their arms brushed against each other as the elevator rocked them gently down to the main floor and he smiled to himself. 

Down in the lobby, the rest of the group was already gathered. JJ was sprawled on one of the couches next to Alan, Topper, and Kelce, wearing an expression like he’d rather lick the underside of Barracuda Mike’s foot than continue chatting with the Kooks. As soon as he spotted them exiting the elevator, he shot up and made his way over to them. 

“Let’s play a boat day drinking game, y’all,” he said under his breath as he got closer. “We gotta take a shot every time one of these guys” – he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Topper and his boys – “says the words ‘portfolio,’ ‘pipeline,’ or ‘podcast.’”

Rafe shook his head solemnly. “We’ll be blacked out before we can even pull away from the dock.”  

☼

“Alright. I can’t be the only one who wants to pop a bottle of this shit, right?” 

Kiara looked away from the phone clutched in Pope’s hand to find JJ standing a few feet away, eyebrows raised expectantly. In each of his fists he held twin bottles with gleaming, gold labels.

Pope exhaled noisily. “Kie, focus,” he scolded. He held Sarah’s phone aloft, determination creasing his forehead as he tried to get the exact angle Sarah had coached him on. 

“Relax, Annie Leibovitz,” Kiara replied as she settled back into her pose. She, Sarah, and Cleo all sat in a row, perched on the top step on the upper level of the catamaran they’d rented from Cameron Luxury Charters for the afternoon.

“Okay… One more… Right, one more. There, think I got it.” Pope straightened from his crouched position and returned Sarah’s phone to her. 

“Oh, these are perfect,” Sarah sighed as she flipped through the shots he’d captured. 

“Are you guys ignoring me? We poppin’ these bitches or what?” JJ did a little shimmy with the champagne bottles, making Wheezie laugh from her nearby lounge chair. 

“JJ, do whatever you want. You always do anyway,” Pope said, throwing an arm around Cleo. 

“Just go get a drink from the bar,” Kiara suggested, nodding to the cabin below. “There’s already all the booze you could want down there.”

“It’s not about the booze, Kie. It’s about the experience. Look, Rafe’ll get what I’m saying.” 

Rafe had just appeared beside them. He raised his eyebrows behind his black sunglasses. “Get what?” 

“Get my desire to pop the cork on one – or preferably both – of these bad boys and spray champagne all over the deck. And ourselves, maybe. Depending on the vibes.”

“Right… The only thing I’m getting is why my crew is pretending they don’t speak English,” Rafe replied with a shake of his head. He dropped carelessly into a lounge chair next to Wheezie. “Each of those bottles is 400 bucks by the way, so I don’t think Topper’d be thrilled if you opened them for the experience when he’s already footing the bill for the open bar package.” 

“Oh no, well, if it’ll piss Topper off…” JJ said in sarcastic disappointment. 

“Wait – I’m now miraculously on Team Pop that Bitch Open,” Kiara said with a sweet smile, taking a sip of her mimosa. Wheezie snorted.  

Sarah rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, Topper, Alan, and Kelce ambled across the upper deck to them. 

Like always, the three of them wore a variation of the same outfit. This time it was an assortment of pastel linen button-downs, tailored khaki shorts, leather boat shoes, and fresh gin and tonics from the cabin below. Topper’s cousin, Alan, had a thick gold Rolex on his wrist that looked so heavy Kie was worried he’d sink if he fell overboard with it on. It caught the sunlight overhead in an irritating glare, flashing directly into Kiara’s retinas with every sip of his drink. 

“Did I hear my name?” Topper’s voice was light but had a defensive edge, like he’d guessed – correctly – that he’d been the butt of a joke. 

“Just having a laugh, dude,” Wheezie said, toasting him with her mimosa. 

“You guys always are, huh?” Top looked around at the group of them with a smirk. “Well, some of us are trying to have a fun day out on the water, not attend a stand-up special.” 

“Why not both?” Rafe asked drily. 

“Lighten up, Top,” Alan said, clinking his glass against Topper’s. “The water, the weather, and our company is way too beautiful for an attitude like that.” He tossed Kie what he must’ve thought was a winning smile. 

She blinked, confused, and resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to see if there was somebody behind her – someone who would actually be susceptible to Thornton charm. Instead, she looked back at Alan blankly over the rim of her crystal champagne flute, taking another sip of her mimosa.

Her eyes wandered away from Alan, finding their way to Rafe. She was surprised to find he was already watching her – or at least, she thought he was. His sunglasses were so tinted she couldn’t really make out where he was looking, but she felt his gaze on her. 

The thought made her stomach tighten, the way it had earlier when he’d sat on her bed back at the resort – casually, easily, legs spread wide like he was welcome to it. It should’ve rankled her, that entitlement. But the way his hands had looked spread wide on her duvet – fingertips sunk into the soft fabric, veins running along the back of his hands, the ring shining on his finger. She’d had to physically shake herself to clear her head after staring at him, the sight stirring something familiar inside her. 

Something Kie really didn’t want to name, because it would make the next week and a half that much more uncomfortable. 

The afternoon passed pleasantly enough, considering the less desirable company mixed in with her friends. They drank and hung out on the boat, playing drinking games for a bit before tossing a bunch of innertubes into the sound and floating for a while. They passed around a couple of joints in the water as the crew set out a catered dinner of mostly finger foods. As the sun inched nearer to the horizon, Kie gorged herself on bruschetta and raw oysters after one too many hits. She’d just wiped her hands and mouth with a cloth napkin when Alan Thornton dropped down on the bench next to her, a smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach the corners of his eyes. 

He’d been in her shadow on and off the whole afternoon, making comments and jokes to her like he knew her, staring at her tits when he thought she wouldn’t notice. It didn’t take a genius to put together what he wanted. She’d experienced enough guys like him for her to know his type. They were the kind of men who were always simultaneously confused and drawn in by her disinterest – thrown when their standard allure of money and charm didn’t have her immediately dropping her panties. 

It was usually a prerequisite for her partners to be capable of finding their way through a grammatically complex sentence – generally a good barometer for if they could also find their way to a clit – and she had little faith that Alan was capable of either. 

“You know, Kie,” Alan began, trying out the nickname he’d heard from all of her friends throughout the day. She hated the way it sounded in his mouth. “Most girls don’t play hard to get with me. But I will say, I do respect the hustle.” He settled in beside her on the bench they sat on, spreading his legs as wide as he could. 

She wanted to move away – not because she was uncomfortable, but because he was insufferable. Despite the unwanted pressure of his thigh against her knee, she left her leg where it was. The last thing she wanted was for him to think he made her nervous and take it as a sign of encouragement. 

Alan nodded at her empty plate on the low table in front of them. “Don’t know if you know this, but they say raw oysters are an aphrodisiac.” 

Kie was able to stop her eyes from rolling, but she couldn’t keep her lip from curling just a little in derision. 

Yeah, she did know that. Most people who’d spent most of their life on an island known for harvesting oysters would know that. 

“Big word, my guy. But yes, I did know that.” 

He smirked, not put off at all by her attitude. “If you’re feeling the effects of those oysters later, let me know. Happy to help you out.”

Jesus Christ. 

Kiara smiled back at him. “That’s so generous of you. I think my being completely uninterested may throw a wrench in things, though.” 

His grin faltered just a little, but he pulled it back up quickly. “You’re funny, Kie. I like that.” Alan looked her up and down, lingering on the way her chest sat in her bikini top. He wasn’t even trying to be slick about it. “I like a challenge.”

There was a shift in the air and a rustle of clothing. The next thing Kiara knew, Rafe was folding himself onto the bench at her other side. As he settled himself in, he drawled, “Shit, Al. Didn’t know we were recycling pick-up lines from high school these days. Desperate times, I guess.”

Alan stiffened next to her. “Desperate? Nah. Determined.” He seemed a little thrown by Rafe’s sudden appearance, leaning away slightly from Kiara, but his smirk remained. 

Kie wondered absently what it would take for him to finally drop it. 

“I believe that’s a quality ladies appreciate in a man,” Alan continued.

“I think reading social cues and clear body language signals is another,” Rafe replied off-handedly as he sipped from a glass of ice water. “Let’s see what Kie thinks.” 

She opened her mouth without knowing what was going to come out of it, but her concern was unnecessary. Alan spoke before she had a chance to. 

“Bro, I’m fluent in women’s body language. Trust me.”

Kiara nodded thoughtfully. “Wow, you must be uniquely talented.”

“Uniquely something,” Rafe muttered darkly. 

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. 

“Well, what an interesting group the three of you make, huh?” Topper’s voice called out from behind them. Kie turned, watching as Top moved closer to them, Sarah trailing behind.

“You know us. Three best friends,” Kie said drily. 

“I mean, you do look very cozy.” Sarah frowned as she looked down at where they all sat in a line on the bench. “Literally, do you guys know you have this whole, big-ass boat? You’re both practically sitting on top of Kie.”

“Funny you say that, I did actually think the boat would be bigger for some reason. Not that it’s not adequate,” Kiara added quickly, glancing at Rafe. “Sarah just said it was the one for larger parties, and I pictured it being some massive Benetti.” 

She really was genuinely impressed with him – proud, even – for the way he’d staked out on his own and left Cameron Development behind after Ward’s death. By all appearances, it seemed like the business was going really well. 

Rafe gave her a sideways look. “The boat’s plenty big,” he replied dismissively. “Just the right size, really. To get the job done.” A slow, amused smile tugged up one corner of his mouth.

Despite herself, she blushed. How the hell did no one else pick up on the double meaning of his words?

“C’mon, Kie. Don’t be a brat,” Sarah said breezily. “This one’s got so much room, even for a big group like us. On the other one we would’ve been way too squished.” 

“I like squished,” Alan said, looking down at Kiara.

Ignoring him, Kie asked Sarah, “Oh, you’ve been out on the other charter?”

Rafe shifted almost imperceptibly next to Kie, his body straightening like he’d just thought of something. “Yeah, she has,” he answered before Sarah could speak. “Her and Top together. They booked it for a romantic sunset cruise on the sound. She never mentioned it?”

“No,” she replied curiously, noticing the change in him. Her gaze lingered on him, trying to understand what he was up to.

Rafe’s blue eyes widened with false innocence. “Oh, that makes sense,” he said with a little nod. “Because they had a huge fight that night. You guys remember?” Rafe turned his gaze to Sarah and Topper, pointing a casual finger at them. 

Topper’s jaw ticked. Sarah shifted uncomfortably on her feet. 

“Yeah, man. I think I recall that we had a little disagreement that night. It was no biggie,” Top finally answered. 

“No biggie, yeah? Weird. Because I remember when I called Sarah the next day to ask how it went, she cried about how you acted. The shit you said.” Rafe was still leaning carelessly against the bench, one arm draped over the back behind Kiara. He looked relaxed, but there was a growing tension in the air.

Topper forced a laugh and shrugged. “You’re blowing it out of proportion a little. I get it, protective big brother crap or whatever. But we worked it out. Right, babe?” He turned towards Sarah, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Sarah was staring at Rafe like she was trying to figure him out, but Rafe wasn’t looking at her. 

“Right, babe?” Topper asked again, settling an arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

“Yeah, it – it really wasn’t anything, Rafe. I mean, that was like a year ago. Throwback much?” Sarah asked, trying for an unbothered giggle. 

Rafe hummed noncommittally. 

Alan stood from the bench. “You know, the most mature thing you can do sometimes is just live and let live, bro. No need to drag up something that’s done and dusted,” he said. His tone made it clear he thought he was imparting wise advice on all of them.

“Cheers, Al,” Top replied, bringing his drink to Alan’s to clink their glasses together. “You know how girls get sometimes. Don’t look at me like that, Kiara – women get overly emotional someti–”

“Topper,”  Sarah said forcefully, cutting him off. She wiggled out from under his arm and glared at him. “Do you need a bigger fucking shovel with how deep you’re trying to dig yourself right now?”

Topper held his hands up like she was proving his point. 

Alan clapped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, muttering something about how maybe Top “needed another drink, or maybe a water,”  and steered him away. 

It was quiet for a moment. Sarah looked at Rafe, then at Kiara, her expression somehow both annoyed and resigned. Without a word, she turned and walked away to the other side of the boat where the others all sat laughing, unaware of any tension. 

Another beat passed before Rafe spoke. “So, that went well.”

Kiara turned towards him, an exasperated laugh breaking free before she could smother it. She propped her leg up on the bench, her knee resting against his solid thigh, but she didn’t bother moving away. 

“You do that a lot, you know,” she said, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. 

“What, antagonize Topper?” He arched a brow at her. “Yeah, I know. I thought that was the point.”

“Okay, first of all. The point is not necessarily to antagonize Topper, it’s to get your sister to see the error of her ways. Second, no. I meant the way you phrase stuff sometimes. You make statements a lot that are really just questions. But it’s like you don’t want to just ask them straight up.”

He shifted on the bench, turning to look at her more fully. 

The sun was truly setting now. His navy blue eyes looked deeper in the dimming light, but she was sitting so close she could still make out the freckles along the bridge of his nose. 

She explained further. “You said, ‘Didn’t see you around yesterday'  when you were trying to be nosy and figure out if I’d been avoiding you.” She spoke in a playful baritone when she mimicked his line from earlier that afternoon. 

His answering smile reached his eyes, making the corners crinkle a tiny bit. The flutter in her stomach at the sight was hard to ignore, but she persisted.  

“‘You wear that a lot’ – you were talking about my bracelet, probably trying to suss out why I’m always touching it and messing with it.” Her fingers ghosted over the charm bracelet again. 

Rafe’s eyes dropped to her wrist.

“And now,” she said, “you’re saying ‘That went well’  because you’re trying to gauge if what you did just now was anywhere close to what the expectation was.”

He cocked his head at her, amusement and something like satisfaction lighting up his face. “Damn. Didn’t know you were keeping notes on everything I say. Feel like I’m under observation.”

She kept her face straight but her cheeks still flushed.

At his words, she was struck by an image: a miniature version of Rafe, wriggling under a microscope on a glass slide. Not for the first time, she imagined how nice it would be to study his brain, to pry it open and read his unfiltered thoughts. Like his reluctance to ask her a simple question – what would it be like if he just asked her the stuff he wanted to know, instead of talking in roundabout ways? 

Which, in hindsight, was rather rich coming from her.

“I think it went well,” she said finally. “As good as it could. You can’t push Sarah into it, she’s gonna have to come to the conclusion on her own. We can’t come on too strong and force it, you know? She’s way too stubborn for that.” 

Rafe leaned back, rubbing his palms against the buzzed hair on his scalp before folding them behind his head. His offensively perfect arms flexed slightly in the position, straining the sleeves of his shirt. 

Frankly, it was kind of slutty of him, Kiara thought privately.

“Huh,” he drawled. “Stubborn, yeah? Sounds like someone else I know.”

Chapter Text

☼

“Can someone explain why we’re out here in the sunshine when I should be hibernating in a dark cave?” 

Kiara glanced over to the lounge chair where Sarah was sprawled in a rather indelicate fashion. Enormous sunglasses were perched on the bridge of her nose and a mass of unbrushed blonde hair covered half of her face. 

Cleo snorted, leaning over to drape a plush, white, resort-issued towel over Sarah’s spread legs. “Girl, you’re giving everyone an eyeful here. This is a family establishment.”

“We’re out here in the sun because you need to recuperate from your hangover and it has natural healing properties,” Kiara explained for what had to be the fourth time. “You can’t start flagging now – you’ve got a whole other week and a half of your itinerary to go through before the wedding. Drink your green smoothie, you’ll feel better.”

“You drink your green smoothie,” Sarah whined indignantly. 

“I am. That’s why I’m not flashing everyone at the pool my panties.”

“Jokes on you,” Sarah said as she groped around the table next to her blindly, feeling for her drink. “These are bikini bottoms anyway, so that’s not even an issue.”

Cleo shook her head. “Well, if the green smoothie and a tall glass of water don’t fix you up, the spa appointment will. A facial, detox body wrap, and a massage – you’ll be a new woman.” She turned to Kie. “Are you sure you can’t join us? Wheezie’s already missing out because of her summer class, and it was supposed to be a bridesmaid thing.”

“I think it stopped being that when Pope and JJ decided to tag in. And anyway, my parents will be happy I’m surprising them at the restaurant.”

Cleo nodded in acquiescence.

“Well, Sare,” Kiara sighed. “Let’s hope you feel better for the bachelorette party tomorrow.”

Sarah shook her head. “Okay, first thing, it’s the bachelorette and bachelor party. You guys keep forgetting Topper. And second thing, I will be fine by then but I can’t even talk about going out right now. Topper’s gonna kill me if he sees how hungover I am,” she groaned. 

Kie and Cleo glanced at each other. 

Cleo cleared her throat. “Let me deal with Mr. Big Man if he’s got a problem with it.” 

Kiara smirked. Seeing Cleo “deal” with Top sounded satisfying as fuck, actually. 

She was still smiling at the thought, glancing around the pool absentmindedly while sipping her smoothie, when her eyes landed on Rafe. Cleo and Sarah hadn’t noticed him; they were still discussing their impending spa visit. 

He was leaning against the snack bar on the nearby patio. Even from this distance, he looked good enough to piss Kiara off, wearing a navy baseball cap and a casual t-shirt that stretched tight across his upper body. His arm flexed as he lifted a glass of what appeared to be mango smoothie to his lips.

As she checked him out, he looked her way. He didn’t seem surprised to see her – instead, he raised his eyebrows and flicked his gaze over to the shaded path behind her pointedly, like he’d been waiting to catch her eye. After a few seconds’ pause, he left the snack bar and started walking toward the direction he’d indicated.

Like it was a compulsion, she moved to set her smoothie down on the little wooden table between her and Cleo’s lounge chairs. 

“Gonna run to the bathroom,” she murmured, and the girls nodded in acknowledgment. 

The path he’d motioned to connected the pool patio and several of the smaller buildings on the Sunset’s property. It was tucked between several broad-leafed trees, various landscaped shrubs, and rows of flowering paper bushes, all offering plenty of cover from Sarah and Cleo’s gaze should they look for her. 

She rounded a corner and found Rafe waiting.

“You get up so early,” he complained as she moved closer. The familiar fragrance of the paper bushes hung in the air. “I meant to talk to you in the rooms so we could regroup after yesterday, but you were gone when I got up.”

Kie looked at him with concern. “Dude, I got up at 8. Not early like, at all.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Guess you’re still not a morning person,” she said with a nod. “Noted.”

“Some things never change.” He gave her a dry smile. 

Right. Time to change the subject.

“I don’t have any new objectives for our mission, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said in a decidedly business-like manner. “But I will say, I think you might’ve been on to something last night, bringing up that fight they had a year ago. I almost feel like that’s our best angle – reminding her of all the stuff he’s done that’s bothered her. Even back when we were all in high school, remember some of the stuff he pulled then? Creepy shit.”

“Yeah, fair point.” He nodded in agreement. “Okay, let’s roll with that. I’ll brainstorm some stuff.” Rafe paused, apparently picking a piece of lint off his shirt Kie hadn't noticed. “Speaking of creepy shit. Watch yourself with Alan. He’s a thirsty motherfucker for you.”

“You know, somehow, I did get that impression. Was it the heavy-handed flirting or the staring at my tits all of yesterday?” she murmured with mock thoughtfulness.

At the word tits, his gaze dropped briefly to her cleavage. Her cotton sundress suddenly felt see-through. 

“I’m just saying,” Rafe muttered. “Don’t get distracted from the goal here.”

She shot him a withering look. “Please. I can’t be manipulated by pretty boy charm and a tacky Rolex watch. I’m focused on ensuring my best friend’s future happiness – level-headed, zen as fuck.”

“Oh, that –” He barked out a laugh. “Level-headed and zen?” he asked, so incredulously Kiara had to pretend not to be offended. “That’s not true.”

Kiara bristled. “Shut up, it is true,” she insisted. “I know calculated capitalists like you are used to analyzing and manipulating others to get your way, but I don’t have buttons to push or a key for you to wind up.”

“Wrong,” he corrected decisively. “Pretty sure I could push all your buttons right now if I wanted to. You have, like, the most buttons of anyone I’ve ever met, princess.” The nickname fell from his mouth like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like the last time he’d called her that had been six minutes ago, instead of six years. 

“Please,” she scoffed. “That’s not even –” 

“Not even what? True?”

She glared at him. “Oh my god, if you’d let me fin–”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“If you would shut up for one fucking second –” 

Kie stopped short at the smirk spreading across his face, realizing she’d helped him prove his point. 

“Okay, yeah,” she conceded. “Maybe I have a short temper sometimes. But you’d be shocked to find that to most people, I do come off as level-headed. I just get a little triggered by self-important pricks.” 

Rafe’s mouth opened in a delighted grin. “Self-important prick? Now, that’s –”

They both turned at the sudden appearance of Cleo, who’d stumbled to a surprised stop at the sight of them on the path.

“Oh good, I caught you two together!”

Kiara blinked, assessing the way her and Rafe were standing: toe to toe, a few inches of space between them. 

“Caught us?” she asked, edging away from Rafe as inconspicuously as she could. She cast him a weary glance and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was smirking down at her, evidently amused by her discomfort.

“Yeah, Sarah’s going on this whole spiral right now and you two are exactly who I need,” Cleo explained, her eyes flitting between Rafe and Kie. “Crazy coincidence I found you both here together, actually. Anyway, I guess she was supposed to get a bunch of stuff delivered for the bach party tomorrow and they just sent her an email saying it’s delayed and won’t get here in time. She’s freaking out about how she needs these disposable cameras that nobody on the island sells, and a couple other things from the party supply store, but we have that spa appointment, and I think it would be good for her to go to it.” 

Cleo trailed off, taking a ragged breath. “It’s a lot. Do you think you guys could maybe tackle this? I can cancel the appointment, but…” She looked hopefully at the pair of them.

“Yeah,” Rafe said easily. “We can go grab the stuff. Tell Sarah we’ll take care of it.” 

Cleo nodded and turned to take the path back to the pool.

Kie turned towards Rafe. “We will?” 

“We will,” he answered decisively. He started to walk away towards the main building. She stayed where she was, resentfully watching the movement of his lats beneath the fabric of his shirt. 

“Or I can go alone,” he called over his shoulder. “But not sure how well it’ll work out without Velma, you know?” 

Rolling her eyes, she followed him. 

Half an hour later, Rafe was parking his Range Rover in front of several windowed storefronts off the main street. “First stop, disposable cameras,” Rafe said to her as he exited the driver’s seat. 

“Here?” Kiara asked, slipping out of the passenger door and meeting him on the sidewalk. “Sarah said she couldn’t find any on the island.” 

“It’s not his main source of business, but I know he has them inside. She wouldn’t have found it online,” Rafe explained, nodding to a store to their left. The faded blue sign overhead read Snap Solutions. 

The air conditioning washed over them as they stepped through the entrance. It smelled faintly of chemicals inside – ink, toner, and glass cleaning spray. Photos, both framed and printed on canvas, hung on the walls – shots of North Carolina mountain landscapes or sandy beaches, wedding portraits with smiling brides and grooms, and inexplicably, several metal prints of Yorkshire Terriers. 

A long glass counter sat close to the back wall. Perched on top was a prehistoric register, and inside was a display of assorted camera equipment – including exactly two dusty double-pack disposable camera boxes. 

Kie raised her eyebrows. “Wow. How do you even know about this place?”

“I had them do some large format scans for me to hang in the office for my business,” he explained, looking through a wall display with cuts of wood all stained in different shades. She supposed it was samples for custom framing. “Shots of the boats at the dock and stuff,” he continued. “They turned out really great so I’ve got some other stuff from here since then, just small shit. Framed photos as gifts for Sarah and Wheeze or whatever.” 

Before she could respond, a man stepped out from a room in the back, fiddling with a heavy-looking digital camera. 

“Hey, there he is,” the man said with a smile when he looked up and spotted Rafe. “Mr. Fancy Pants in the flesh.” He was an older gentleman, maybe about 15 or 20 years older than her parents, wearing a well-loved, sun-bleached baseball cap and a wide grin. 

“Mr. Howard.” Rafe stepped forward to shake the man’s hand, grinning back. “This is my friend Kiara,” he said, nodding towards Kie. 

Mr. Howard nodded at her and offered her his toothy smile, which she returned easily. 

“Remember how I told you my sister’s getting married? Well, she sent me on a wild goose chase for some disposable cameras, but I remembered seeing these bad boys in here the last time I came.” Rafe gestured to the green Fujifilm boxes in the case. “You can develop them here?”

“Sure can,” Mr. Howard replied. “Can’t tell you the last time I sold a pack of ‘em.”

“You don’t say,” Rafe muttered sarcastically, eyeing the dust on the boxes as Mr. Howard reached into the case and brought them out.

“Oh, Fancy Pants has jokes, huh?” Mr. Howard said with a chuckle. He nodded at Kiara. “This guy give you as hard of a time as he does me, miss? Or does he take it easier on you because you’re pretty?” 

“Jesus, old man. She’s out of your league.”

“Looks to be out of yours, too.”

Kie couldn’t hold back her smile as Rafe rolled his eyes. 

The two of them chatted a bit longer while Kiara inspected the metal prints hanging on the wall. Eventually, Mr. Howard rang the disposable cameras through his ancient register, and Rafe handed him several bills folded together. Even from where Kiara stood at the other side of the store, she could tell it was more than the cost of the cameras. Mr. Howard tried to hand him his change but Rafe waved him off. Eventually, after a little back and forth, Mr. Howard took the money with a promise that he’d see them again soon when they dropped off the film to be developed. 

“Nice to meet you,” Kiara called, waving over her shoulder as Rafe held the door for her on the way out. 

As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Kie rounded on him.

“Dude, did I just hallucinate in there? Or was that actually you being nice and respectful and normal with a thoroughbred Pogue, acting like you’re old pals?”

Rafe blinked at her. “The fuck does him being a Pogue have to do with anything? He’s a guy with cameras. We needed cameras.” He shook the bag Mr. Howard had just handed him. “Problem solved.”

“It doesn’t have to do anything with the cameras, obviously. It has to do with you, and how –” she paused, not looking at him. “How that’s just different. From how you used to be.” 

It felt strange to say. It was the first time since seeing each other that one of them had so openly acknowledged their history. She twisted her bracelet against her wrist.

Rafe was watching her carefully. “You’ve seen me with JJ and Pope. You know I hang with John B.” 

“I just wrote that off as an anomaly. They’ve had time to grow on you. Like a bunch of barnacles you’re stuck with. You being friendly with someone like Mr. Howard just… threw me.” She bit her lip. “Like I said. It’s different from how you were.”

“I mean – yeah, Kie. I grew up.”

She smoothed her dress down to keep her hands busy. When she looked up, she found he was still studying her, his eyes flicking from the short hem of her dress back to her face. 

“I do work for a living, too, you know. Not that different from Mr. Howard. Or even JJ or John B.” He smirked a little. “Actually, kinda more of a Pogue than you these days, huh?” 

The tension broke as she let out a small laugh. “Alright, let’s not get carried away.” 

He led the way back to his car. The sight – his car keys swinging like a pendulum on his fingers, his baseball cap sitting backwards on his head, walking ahead of her with purpose – gave her such a rush of deja vu she bit her lip. It was like she was 17 and he was driving her home from a party like he was her personal chauffeur again – a job Rafe had always taken seriously, even before they’d ever fucked. 

“Alright, what else was on the list Sarah texted?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“Bachelorette party accessories,” she answered. “She did say to not take it too seriously – she just wants like, a corny little veil and maybe a sash or something. ‘Whatever you can find last minute,’ as she put it.”

Rafe rounded the car to the passenger side and opened her door. She tried to ignore the little flutter in her stomach – god, she was a grown ass woman, she didn’t need a man to open the car door for her – but it was hard. She knew it wasn’t anything personal – he’d been raised like that. Stupid cotillion manners, old-school Southern gentleman shit. 

But when it came down to it, she was just a girl. 

As he started the car and they buckled themselves in, she said, “This part actually might be harder than the disposable cameras. The only party supplies places I can remember are that creepy ‘Clownin’ Around’ place on Harbor Way and the kids’ one with balloons and streamers on Main. Neither of those places are going to have raunchy, penis-themed bachelorette shit. Everyone usually orders specialty stuff online or goes to the mainland in advance.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, backing out of his parking spot with one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of her seat. The air conditioning swept through the vehicle, carrying the scent of his cologne. Its familiar combination of spicy and woodsy notes tickled her nose and tightened something in her chest.

He cocked his head as if a sudden thought had struck him. 

“Penis-themed, you say?” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Kiara stared blankly out of Rafe’s windshield at the neon pink sign above the store they’d parked in front of seconds ago. 

“You want penis themed? This is the place,” Rafe said with obvious amusement.

“And you’re speaking from personal experience, obviously.”

Rafe smiled, not put off whatsoever by her attitude. In fact, he looked highly entertained. “I mean, I’m an adult. So have I been in a sex shop before? Yeah.” 

Frowning, she said, “I’m not going in there with you.”

“Why’s that? Too scared?” He leaned back against his seat and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Thought you were some kind of post-modern, liberated feminist. Isn’t this your jam? Being in touch with your sexuality?”

Her only response was an eyeroll. 

He ran his tongue along his teeth before he continued in a placating voice. “But seriously, if you’re too scared – I can do it alone. Guess the patriarchy wins again.”

She’d unbuckled her seatbelt and slid out the car door before he’d finished the sentence. 

Kiara didn’t have to glance behind her to know he was smirking in victory.

“You’re so full of shit, by the way,” she said, leading the way to the front door of the aptly named Spice 2Nite. 

Rafe just smiled innocently. 

Upon entry, they were assaulted by a needlessly aggressive display of flavored lube – Get a Taste of Pleasure!!! – and several mannequins dressed in neon wigs and skimpy, cheap-looking lingerie. A pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs dangled off of one’s wrists.

There was a young woman behind the counter with long dark hair and several black floral tattoos dotting her arms. She smiled widely at them when they walked in and called out, “Let me know if y’all need help finding anything!”

Rafe nodded back at her and weaved between the shelves. Kiara could feel her cheeks flush as she followed him. 

She wasn’t normally shy about this kind of stuff. She had been in several stores like this before and had enough toys to have a favorite and a second favorite – but being here with Rafe of all people, surrounded by ball gags and XXL anatomically correct dildos, was making the experience surreal. 

The bachelorette party accessories were easily found, displayed on a large shelf beneath a banner that said “Same Penis Forever” in sparkly gold letters. 

“Classy,” Rafe said, nodding at the banner. 

“Not sure if ‘classy’ is the goal here necessarily,” Kiara replied slowly, eyebrows raised as she held up a handful of colorful plastic necklaces with penis-shaped beads. 

They looked through the merchandise, shaking their heads and biting their lips to keep in giggles at most of the options. 

Kie came across a small selection of edible underwear, which came in a concerning amount of flavors. She lifted a box with a strawberry flavored gummy g-string inside and said, “I’d buy this for her, but I shudder to think of Topper and Sarah actually using it.”

He grabbed the box from her hand and threw it back on the shelf with a grimace. “It didn’t sound that bad until you mentioned those two.”

She looked at him, amused. “You’d actually eat that?”

“I mean. Depends who’s wearing it,” he answered, his deep blue eyes locked on hers.

Kiara blinked and pulled her gaze away. The giggling and joking – which she refused to call flirting – had distracted her, but the reality of the situation hit her again. She was in a sex shop with her ex- whatever the hell he was, surrounded by bondage kits and nipple clamps, discussing the pros and cons of edible underwear.

If you’d told her a week ago this would be her current situation, she’d have suggested a psych eval.

She grabbed more stuff from the shelves, including a pack of hot pink phallic straws and an inflatable penis balloon. There were more standard, non-dick-shaped items as well, so Kie threw a sparkly little veil and a pack of bridal party superlative pins into her basket. 

They moved further down the aisle, finding themselves outside of the bachelorette section. Distantly, Kiara recognized it was almost definitely a bad idea to keep perusing the merchandise. They should just grab what they came for and exit as swiftly as they could, but still she continued trailing behind Rafe, scanning the shelves. 

She eyed a box of date night dice while Rafe studied a novelty board game next to her. “Lick, Kiss, Undress – Repeat!” she read aloud with amusement. “Wow. They’ve got it all down to a science, huh.”

Kie felt Rafe move closer, looking down at the box in her hand. “Think it depends on how good you are at following instructions,” he said over her shoulder.

The back of her neck prickled from how close he stood, but she tried to ignore it. Putting the box back on the shelf, she replied lightly, “You were always bad with instructions.”

Rafe didn’t laugh. “Only when I knew better,” he murmured. 

Shivers broke out over her arms at the way his voice had deepened. She felt something crack between them, something heavy and slick escaping through the fissure – an oil spill she knew she should be rushing to contain, but... 

Had he moved closer again? She could feel the heat of him against her back, but he wasn’t even touching her. 

An upbeat voice popped the bubble surrounding the two of them. “Ooh, found the games?” 

The cashier had materialized in the aisle next to Kiara, beaming at her. “Those ones have some really fun prompts,” the dark-haired girl said, eyeing the box of dice Kie had just put back on the shelf and nodding knowingly. 

“Perfect for a pair of newlyweds,” she continued. “Are you two the bride and groom?” she asked, gesturing at the assortment of bachelorette stuff spilling from the basket that hung from Kie’s arm. 

Kiara was still recovering from the whiplash of the previous moment being interrupted, but she managed to stutter a reply. “What? N-no. Us? No, definitely not.”

The girl raised her brows at Kie’s overzealous denial.

Kie’s gaze flicked to the cashier’s name tag: Dahlia, it said. 

Dahlia eyed the pair of them doubtfully, pursing her lips as she took in the way Rafe was standing close behind Kie, his stiff posture, and Kiara’s flushed cheeks. “Alright then,” she finally responded. 

“We’re probably ready to check out,” Kie said, lifting the basket in a little shrug. 

Dahlia nodded. “Sure.” She turned to lead the way to the register. 

Kiara didn’t check to see if Rafe was coming as she followed the cashier – she could feel him behind her. She wondered if the tension between the two of them was noticeable to Dahlia, watching as the girl scanned the items from the basket and placed them into a discrete black paper bag. 

“No edible underwear?” Dahlia joked as she rang up the total.

“NO,” they both answered in unison. 

Dahlia stared at them. 

“Ohh-kay,” she said slowly, blinking. “Sorry – it’s just a popular gag gift for brides.”

Kie glanced sideways at Rafe to find he was looking at her from the corner of his eye. “No, thank you,” Kiara said, attempting to sound more pleasant and, in general, normal. “We found everything we were looking for, I think.”

“Sure thing.” Dahlia looked over the two of them carefully once more, bringing the bag up to the counter for Kiara to grab. 

Rafe reached out to take it instead, his hand brushing Kie’s as he murmured, “I got it.” 

Dahlia leaned forward on the counter, her elbows resting on the glass case. Several rainbow-colored dildos were on display inside. “You know, I’m just gonna say it. You guys’ve got a weird and intense sexual tension thing going on here. Anyone ever told y’all that?” 

Rafe wheezed, then coughed hard, like he’d inhaled saliva. Kiara didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry.

The girl continued, completely nonplussed. “My point is, you’re in the perfect place to find something to help with the release of that. You guys sure you don’t want to keep looking?” 

Rafe was still coughing. Kiara slapped him between the shoulder blades a few times with her palm. 

“No, really. We’re good,” Kie insisted between the pounding of her hand against Rafe’s back. His coughing subsided as Kiara used her touch to guide him towards the door. 

“Come back soon!” Dahlia called out cheerfully, the little bell over the door tinkling as they exited.

They stepped into the sunshine outside and Kiara dropped her hand from Rafe’s back. He turned to look at her, one eyebrow lifted and his mouth open like he was about to speak.

“Nope,” Kie blurted before he could say a word. 

As far as she was concerned, they could live by Vegas law – what happened in the sex shop stayed in the sex shop. She turned on her heel and walked swiftly to his Range Rover, ignoring the gut feeling that he was watching the hem of her dress brush against the back of her thighs. 

They ended up stopping for food at a barbecue place near the dunes. They’d been driving back to the resort in silence when Kiara’s stomach rumbled audibly from the passenger seat – she hadn’t had anything to eat since her green smoothie earlier that day. Even though both her and Rafe ignored the growl from her stomach in favor of maintaining their silence, he pulled into the parking lot in front of Sugar’s Shack a minute later. 

It was the kind of place where all the food was served in styrofoam takeout containers even if you were eating in, and the laminated single-sheet menus all had a thin film of tackiness on them. It was also the kind of place you could tell was going to serve you some truly fantastic Carolinan pulled pork and cornbread from the aura alone.

They carried their food outside to find a small, shaded picnic table on the back patio and tucked in. Kiara was pleased to discover her intuition had been right – the food was incredible. She dug into her side of hushpuppies and remembered guiltily that she’d meant to visit The Wreck today to see her parents. But really, Sarah had been having a real crisis – and Kie was impressed that they’d been able to take care of it pretty seamlessly. 

Well, she said “they” but really, it had mostly just been Rafe – he’d been the one to know where to find everything. He’d been the one who was sure of his ability to help, to problem solve. 

He was surprisingly adaptable and competent these days – not that he hadn’t been that way when they were younger. He just certainly wasn’t known for his problem-solving abilities back then, his reputation being built more on his volatile temper than anything else. 

As it stood now, Kiara felt like she had been scrambling to keep up with him all day. That scene in Mr. Howard’s shop had thrown her, and the way he’d looked at her in the sex store – all of it was giving her mental whiplash. 

“You know, I’m surprised he didn’t try to deny that shit more yesterday,” Rafe said abruptly, like Kie had been privy to the conversation that must’ve been taking place in his head.  At Kiara’s confused expression, he elaborated, “Topper. That big blow-out fight he and Sarah had last year on my boat.”

Kie considered it, turning the conversation over in her head. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. He hardly even blinked.”

“And she got blasted after that talk. I saw her this morning – so hungover. It’s really not like her.”

“I would probably be swimming in liquor too if I was staring down the barrel of a marriage to that guy,” Kiara muttered as she took a sip of her soda. 

“I mean…” Rafe cut her a look. “We both know that’s about as likely as somebody on the island finding the Royal Merchant gold.”

Kiara laughed, because – true. 

“And anyway, you seem to be completely missing my point.” He leaned back from his food and spread his legs on the bench beneath him.

“Oh, you have one? I thought you were just listening to the sound of your own voice,” she said earnestly. 

Rafe blinked at her, slowly. Irritated. 

She had to duck her head down to keep from laughing. “Sorry. Continue.”

“My point is, he didn’t even flinch. He’s not worried. It makes me wonder if it’s hopeless. Like she’s in too deep and she won’t back out no matter what.”

“It’s not hopeless. We’ve got what, 9 days left?”

“9 days until vows and a very expensive mistake.”

“Always a pragmatist.” Kie rolled her eyes and stabbed her fork into her coleslaw before continuing. “Yes, an expensive mistake. But also… unnecessary emotional trauma? Undue mental distress?”

Rafe glared at her. “I know all that.”

“Well, just remember what’s at stake. We can’t call it hopeless yet. She’s in deep, yeah. But think of how she called him out at the end of the conversation last night on the boat. She’s not some complete doormat.”

“Yeah, only when he’d dug himself in so bad even she couldn’t brush it off.”

Well, he was right about that. She found herself nodding along with his words as she looked out at the dunes across the street. Hidden beyond them, she could just barely make out the sound of crashing waves. 

Kiara sighed. “She was my friend and your sister before she was his fiancée. And if they do go through with it, she’ll be my friend and your sister well after she’s done being his wife.” 

She picked at the food in front of her, realizing she’d lost her appetite. “But she’s trying so hard to make it all look perfect. Meanwhile, she had something pretty close to perfect and gave it up. I still don’t know why.” Her memory of John B and Sarah sitting together beneath her favorite tree back in Texas, laughing and holding hands, played on a loop in her mind.

“People will undermine themselves in a lot of ways when they’re scared,” Rafe murmured. 

If they continued down the line of thought regarding self-sabotaging tendencies, Kiara could see it leading straight into shit she didn’t want to talk about with anyone – most especially Rafe – so she didn’t respond. They lapsed into silence again for a few moments.

Rafe broke it first. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“What, sabotaging impending marriages?” Kie asked with a little laugh. 

“No. Well, actually yeah – but that’s not what I meant. I meant, seeing things for what they are. Saying it out loud. Standing up for someone who needs it.”

She stared at him, at a loss for words for a moment. “That’s funny. Pretty sure you used to hate that about me.”

Rafe gave her a sideways look. “I don’t think I ever hated anything about you.” He paused. “Or if I did, it was how right you were about stuff I wasn’t ready to think about.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say back, so she busied herself with a messy forkful of brisket, chewing slowly.

He leaned forward casually, lifting his thumb and swiping at a spot on her chin like it was completely normal. “Sauce,” he explained. 

She was frozen, but Rafe was already leaning away. 

“Thanks, dad,” Kiara practically sputtered. 

“You’re welcome, kid.” He gave her a neutral smile, as unbothered as ever.   

Kie recovered, clearing her throat, wanting desperately to return to safer territory. “So what now? Keep poking holes until something sinks?” 

Rafe shrugged. “All we can do. That, and be there waiting with the lifeboat for her when it does.”

It was golden hour as they finally made their way back to the Sunset Resort. Sarah had texted as they wrapped up their meal at Sugar’s, asking them to stop by the ABC store to grab some stuff for them to sip on the following evening before leaving for the bach bar crawl she’d planned. Now that they’d completed all their chores, the sounds of glass bottles clinking softly against each other and shopping bags rustling in the breeze through the rolled down windows could be heard from the backseat.

The daylight had turned warm and hazy as the sun edged closer to the horizon, giving everything a soft, dreamy quality. Sun Room was playing faintly over his speakers – he’d handed his phone to her when they got in after hitting up the liquor store, telling her to put something on. A quiet pleasure had unfolded in her chest when she saw the bands and artists they had in common in their “liked” collections. 

She kept stealing glances at him from the passenger seat. Rafe was objectively handsome all the time, of course. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that. But being up close like this, with nowhere to look but out the window or over at him, it was harder to ignore. 

And it wasn’t just his conventionally attractive features, each arranged just right on that insufferably perfect face. There was something else – there always had been. Some sort of gravity that pulled her into him, even when it went against her better judgment.

Like now, for example. It made no sense for her to want to lean closer to Rafe, to move her arm against his as it rested on the center console. It made no sense for her to want to press her face against his broad chest to get a deep inhale of his cologne. And it certainly made no sense for her to want to grab his hand from where it rested on the gear shift and place it on her bare thigh, just to see what he’d do. 

She tried to smother those thoughts as they parked the car in the packed lot, tried to keep her eyes off his arms as he loaded himself up with their purchases from the day – refusing her offer to split the heavier items. They started up the secluded back path to the resort, winding their way through the landscaped greenery. 

It was getting closer to sunset now. The light had turned a soft orange, and the path was swathed in long shadows. Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked. 

Kiara noticed him shifting the bags a bit, like he was trying to find a more comfortable position for them as they hung in his fists. “Want me to take some? All I’ve got is the penis stuff.” She gave the bag of bachelorette party materials a shake. 

Rafe cut her a look. “No, I just need to readjust my grip.” He leaned down to place the bags on the ground. 

Kie took the opportunity to put her bag down too, gathering her hair off her overwarm neck and tying it in a messy ponytail. “We really did it, huh. We saved the bach party,” she said, nodding at the bags at their feet. 

“Sure did,” he drawled. “The bach party of a wedding we’re actively plotting against. Seems kind of treasonous, actually.”

She laughed. “What can I say? We contain multitudes.”

Rafe smiled a little in response. Amusement danced in his navy eyes, and something else she couldn’t quite identify.

“This is good, right?” She didn’t know what made her ask the question, and she wasn’t sure what made her drift a step closer to him. 

Rafe lifted a brow in question but didn’t speak. 

“Us. Being normal. Being friends,” Kiara elaborated. 

A beat passed, then two. The moment stretched, distorted, like the long shadows on the gravel path. The crickets in the grass were just beginning to chirp as the sun sank lower. 

“Has this been normal for you?” he asked. It was impossible to ignore the way his eyes kept flitting to her mouth.

Kie tried to laugh, tried to make it sound unaffected, but it came out breathy and nervous anyway. She glanced away from him, towards the path back to the resort. 

She should shut up. She should pick up her bag. She should start walking. 

She looked back to find Rafe watching her closely. Their eyes caught on each other, and something in the air shifted – a sort of electric charge fizzing along a wire strung between the two of them. The fine hairs on the back of Kie’s neck prickled sweetly. 

She’d moved closer again, a small half-step. Now she was near enough to make out the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. 

“We should go inside,” she said softly.

Rafe nodded and took a step towards her. 

There was almost no space between them now. The type of distance that could be swept away as easily as a spider web – a small, easy lean from either of them and they’d be breathing each other’s air.

Kiara blinked at him. “This is a bad idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. He brushed his hand along her wrist, his fingers ghosting over her charm bracelet.

Some distant part of her brain cursed at her for the way her breath caught, but the larger part of her consciousness was whispering more, more.   

“Don’t,” she breathed. 

He was already leaning in.

“Then stop fucking looking at me like that,” he said roughly. 

The kiss was somehow hesitant and fierce at the same time – confusing, dazzling, a flash and a slow burn together. She felt something unspool and then tighten the moment their lips met, a thread coming loose from a bobbin and stitching itself around her chest so that she couldn’t catch her breath.

Rafe pulled back, just barely, enough to whisper against her lips. “Yeah?” he asked.

She nodded, dragging him closer using the grip she had on his shirt. She didn’t even remember grabbing it. 

The kiss deepened into something more. Kiara felt lost in it, the glide of his tongue over hers, the shift of his lips against her own. Somehow it was both brand new yet familiar enough to create an ache in her. 

Her brain was blessedly empty of all thoughts, except one word that echoed inside: good. 

So fucking good. 

She’d kissed dozens of people since the last time they were like this, and she could say with absolute certainty that none of them ever kissed her like this. He kissed her like he’d been suffocating and she was his only source of air, like he needed her to fucking breathe. 

His hands traced the shape of her waist, her back. Her sundress shifted against her skin as his hands traveled, the cotton fabric warming beneath his palms when he grasped at the soft give of her hips. It set fire to her nerves, the flames igniting in her belly and between her legs.

His grip on her felt like coming home.

That’s the thought that had her finally pulling her mouth from his. 

They stared at each other, breathing hard. 

It felt like she’d just saved them from something bigger than the both of them. A quiet part of her mind wondered if, perhaps, that’s how people who’re injured while experiencing an adrenaline rush in a shoot-out feel – they think they’ve dodged the bullets, only to realize after the crash that they’d been caught in the crossfire. 

“I told you that was a bad idea.” She released his shirt from her grip and stepped back.

Rafe ran his palms over his scalp with a sigh. “What do you want me to say, oops? You had that look on your face, what was I supposed to do?” he muttered.

“I’m serious, Rafe. What part of this doesn’t scream ‘messy’ to you?”

“Jesus, Kie –” he began, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I told you. I told you not to. I’m sorry, we – we can’t do this. I know it would just be physical, and I know we were always good at that part.” She hated how breathless she sounded. “But that’s not why we’re here. You said yourself earlier today, we shouldn’t get distracted from the goal.”

He just looked at her, his expression indecipherable. 

She imagined that was on purpose. 

But he should be grateful, shouldn’t he? She was saving them both from the inevitable messy fallout. 

Shaking her head again, she mumbled, “You’ve got this, right?” Kiara eyed the bags, sitting forgotten on the gravel at their feet. 

Without waiting for a reply, she said, “I’m gonna go tell Sarah we found everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she stooped to grab her singular bag – the one from Spice 2Nite – from the ground and retreated to the safety of the resort with as much grace as she could muster, ignoring the twin aches between her legs and in her chest. 

Chapter Text

☼

There’s comfort in how some things never change. At least, usually. 

The worn Formica tabletops and tiled floors at the Sailboat Diner always soothed Kiara on her visits home to Kildare. The table she’d sat at for years with her friends still had the same ancient etching JJ had carved into the corner with his pocket knife when they were 14 – P4L. 

The pancakes and hashbrowns tasted the same as they had 10 years ago. The same radio station played on the quiet, crackly sound system overhead. The group of them were still crowded around the table, knocking elbows with each other as they dug into their breakfast. The only difference was that now Cleo and Wheezie sat along with them, and John B was missing. 

Today, however, instead of finding her usual comfort in the stagnant state of the diner, it reminded her of other things in her life that hadn’t changed.

The main one being her evidently irrepressible desire to have her tongue inside Rafe Cameron’s mouth. 

She’d been fighting back thoughts about their kiss all morning, and was failing miserably. It was only a matter of time before her friends finally noticed she hadn’t been as active in their conversations as usual – in fact, it seemed Cleo already had noticed, judging from the surreptitious glances she kept sending Kie over the rim of her coffee mug. Kiara avoided looking back at her. Luckily, her reticence had gone unnoticed by the rest of them so far, lost in the chaos of them all talking over each other and eating their breakfast platters with disturbing enthusiasm. 

That morning she’d woken up with the ghost of Rafe’s lips on hers, phantoms of his fingers still gripping her hips. For too long, she’d sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the shared doorway between their rooms. 

She didn’t know what she was expecting – didn’t know if she wanted him to knock on the door and ask to talk, or if she should get up and apologize for making last night weirder than necessary… Or if she should just walk into his room unannounced and fucking finish what they’d started. 

She had a feeling he wouldn’t say no. 

The thought had her eyes closing briefly, something tightening low in her stomach. 

Which was really awfully inconvenient. She’d been doing an excellent job at pretending to not think about him that way – it was commendable, really, considering the way his arms and hands and jaw and mouth looked. Considering the way he smelled. Considering the way he wasn’t pretending very hard to not look at her. 

Really, she deserved a medal for the effort. 

“Sarah, Jesus.”   Wheezie’s voice cut through Kiara’s mental crashout. She looked up to see Wheezie staring at Sarah with fascinated horror as the blonde shoveled an enormous portion of blueberry pancake into her mouth. 

“What?” Sarah asked around an unladylike mouthful of food. She swallowed and continued. “I gotta carbo load for the bach party tonight. Can’t waste another day hungover tomorrow.” She took a dainty sip of orange juice and patted her mouth delicately with a paper napkin. 

Sarah looked at Kie and smiled. “Have I said thank you yet for saving my party tonight?”

“Only a hundred times.”

“Well then, let’s make it a hundred and one. Thank you, you’re the best. How was it, by the way? Was it weird spending all day with Rafe?”

Kie took a slow sip of her coffee, avoiding Sarah’s eyes. 

Oh, it went great – definitely not weird. Definitely didn’t end the night by kissing your brother on a secluded, sunset-lit path then running away like we’re in some bad historical romance novel. 

“No, it was fine,” she finally replied. “We were just trying to get everything done. No time for weirdness.” She cringed internally at the lie, and her fingers played over the charm bracelet on her wrist. 

Wheezie grabbed Sarah’s attention again, asking her about what bars they were visiting that evening, and Kiara slipped back into her spiral, worrying one of the charms on her bracelet – a flat, gold disc with an etching in the middle. 

It can’t happen again, Kiara insisted to herself. We won’t kiss again. She stabbed a cube of melon with unnecessary violence and popped it into her mouth. It’s like she said to him last night – it was too messy, too complicated.

Then again, another voice whispered back, what’s so complicated about falling into bed once or twice before my flight back home? It’s not like Rafe would be wanting anything other than a couple quick fucks considering she was leaving for Texas again in a little over a week. What’s the worst that could happen? 

Actually – don’t fucking answer that. 

Because she already knew the answer. The worst that could happen is that some very old, very buried baggage could be unearthed from the distant shelf of her mind where she’d packed up and put away the box labeled Rafe Cameron. 

Time and distance had accomplished what had once seemed an impossible task, dulling the memories of her and Rafe. After they ended things, she'd gone off to college carrying a sizable measure of quiet misery – but also the expectation that with some space and fresh Virginian air, she’d find she had made the right choice. 

She’d thrown herself into her classes freshman year, something she’d never cared too much about previously, but it hadn’t been enough to stave off the gnawing worry that maybe, just maybe, she had made a mistake. That Rafe had been smarter, braver, and right about the whole thing. 

When school didn’t work to distract her as well as she’d hoped, she set out to cultivate an overburdened social life. She dated – a lot – and made sure to keep busy during summer breaks with internships, work studies, part-time waitressing gigs, and anything else she could find that allowed her the excuse of not being home much.

But now – being on Kildare, being around him – was bringing it all back to the forefront, like the water rushing in at high tide. Thoughts and feelings and urges that should have been swept out to sea years ago had returned fullforce. 

And now they’d kissed, and it seemed like it was going to be a Herculean task to go back to pretending it hadn’t happened.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since she’d opened her eyes that morning, and she hadn’t even seen him yet. What was it going to be like when she had to actually face him?

JJ materialized inches from Kiara’s face, interrupting her thoughts. The smell of pancake syrup on his breath overwhelmed her as he leaned across her to ask Sarah, “Where’s Rafe, anyway? Thought he’d be here.” He grabbed a piece of pineapple from Kie’s fruit cup before she could stop him, popping it in his mouth.  

Kie elbowed JJ away from her while Wheezie chimed in to answer his question.

“He went to his office this morning. Said he had to talk to his admin about something.” 

“Jesus, on a weekend? Guy needs to learn about separation of church and state.”

Pope stared at JJ from across the table, bewildered. “Do you… do you mean work-life balance?” The conversation between the two of them devolved into senseless bickering that was easy to tune out. 

Kiara couldn’t help but wonder if Rafe’s trip to the office had just been an excuse to avoid her at breakfast, then immediately scolded herself for thinking it. It’s not all about you, the rational part of her brain reminded her.

“Sare, maybe we should invite Clark to come out with us tonight. He’s such a riot.” Wheezie said, turning to smile at Kiara. “Kie, you’d love him – Rafe’s admin assistant. He’s the complete opposite of Rafe, it’s so funny watching them together. And he’s a ball to go out with, he’s gone to the bars with us a few times.” 

Sarah agreed easily, and they decided to swing by Rafe’s office before heading back to the resort. Kiara was silent, sipping her coffee resignedly. She’d rode with Sarah and Wheezie in Sarah’s car, so it looked like she’d be making a trip to the Cameron Luxury Charters headquarters.

It’s fine, everything’s fine, Kiara coached herself as they wrapped up their breakfast. He and I can be normal. It was one little kiss. 

It’s not like it meant anything. 

☾

“So, has it been fun?” Clark’s voice had a playful, wheedling undertone that had Rafe’s jaw clenching. “Any pretty bridesmaids to tell me about?” 

Rafe hesitated.

“Wait – what was that look?” Clark asked quickly, sitting forward in his desk chair. “Oh – there is a pretty bridesm–”

“Stop, there is not,” Rafe snapped. 

“Yeah, no – I saw the look on your face.” 

Rafe leaned against the front desk and drummed his fingers on the wood, trying to buy himself some time. He’d come to the office specifically to avoid seeing or thinking about Kiara – an unrealistic goal to begin with – and now he had tipped off Clark’s spidey senses because of a half second’s hesitation. There was no hope of escaping the impending interrogation. 

In the next moment, however, their combined attention was grabbed by the sight of a white SUV whipping into the parking lot, pulling into a front spot crookedly. He could hear Sabrina Carpenter music blaring through the open windows before the engine cut off. 

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe muttered. “What now?” 

Sarah and Wheezie came bursting in through the door to CLC like they owned the place, as always. Wheezie was complaining loudly about the humidity and the havoc it was wreaking on her hair. Sarah laughed at her, tugging on one of Wheezie’s frizzy curls. Rafe watched as Kiara trailed in slowly behind his sisters, not looking at him. He cracked his neck, trying to keep his suddenly tense shoulders loose. 

He wasn’t nervous, obviously. 

He didn’t get nervous.

He was just a little – unsettled, that’s all. 

Yeah, no shit, dumbass. Can’t imagine why.

He needed to chill out – keep his head right, his face straight. Needed to not fucking stare at Kiara like he always found himself doing. While his sisters were often too absorbed in their own worlds to pay that much attention to him, Clark was different. He was way too nosy and observant to slip up in front of. 

She still wasn’t looking at him, her gaze traveling around the small lobby and seating area. He wondered what she thought of the place. 

Kie looked like she always did. Comfortable, easy – her long curly hair was loose down her back, her sunglasses sitting on top of her head. The only thing that betrayed a hint of anxious energy was the way she was slowly twisting that gold charm bracelet she always wore around her wrist. 

When she finally looked up, they locked eyes.

Rafe immediately forgot that his plan was to play it cool so that the others wouldn’t see anything. That he was supposed to be keeping things nonchalant, so that Kiara herself would have no idea he’d had to jerk himself off three times since their kiss yesterday evening – twice last night while laying in his overly large bed, pretending not to stare at the shared doorway that separated them, and once more during his morning shower after a night of restless sleep, groaning when he splattered the white porcelain tiles with the irrefutable evidence that he still couldn’t get the memory of her lips out of his head. 

The moment of eye contact couldn’t have been longer than a second or two, but it was enough. Enough time for him to clock the way her cheeks flushed almost imperceptibly, the twitch of her lips, the way her hand froze its rotation of the bracelet. 

Ah. So she wasn’t unaffected by the kiss. 

Logically, he already knew that. He’d been there, after all – heard her moan, held her when she melted against him. Had felt her lips part for him on a sigh, the taste of her submission so potent and goddamn familiar it burned a hole straight through his skull to the gray matter of his brain. 

Rafe wasn’t too proud to admit that if she’d let him, he probably would’ve fucked her right there on that secluded path last night. It was a coin toss on if he would’ve had enough sense to drag her behind a nearby tree – the alternative of taking her right there in the dirt and gravel where anyone could see certainly had its appeal. 

So, yeah. With that in mind, it was probably fair to say she wasn’t as into it as he was. After all, she’d been able to put a stop to it. But it was gratifying to see she was still affected. In his gut, he’d known that she was – but when a girl literally fucking flees after you kiss her, you can’t help but feel a little down on yourself.

He blinked and looked away, unsure what his face had been doing while he’d been lost in thought. Rafe purposely avoided looking at Clark, whose eyes he could feel on him as he forced his gaze away from Kiara and down to his phone, choosing to blindly scroll through his email inbox instead.

He heard Sarah and Wheezie introduce Kiara to Clark, and the four of them picked up the previous conversation regarding the North Carolina humidity and hair frizz. Names of different hair products and terms like diffusing and plopping – whatever the hell that was – were thrown around. 

Rafe began flipping through the paper calendar on Clark’s desk, trying his best to tune them out and look casual. Clark said something that must’ve been charming and witty, because he heard Kiara laugh in response. 

“Are you guys here to talk about hair with him or for an actual, real reason? Because believe it or not, we have shit do,” he snapped, finally giving his sisters his full attention. He was mostly talking to his sisters, but his gaze inevitably fell on Kie again.

She looked back at him, the subtle lift of her eyebrows an obvious reprimand for his rudeness. His lips twitched as they stared at each other for a beat. 

Breaking the eye contact, he chanced a sideways glance at Clark and immediately regretted it. Clark was observing him closely, head cocked in contemplation. When Clark caught Rafe’s eye, his mouth widened into a calculating smile. 

“As a matter of fact, we are here for a reason. To invite Clark out with us tonight,” Sarah replied definitively.

“Fuck no,” Rafe said at the same time Clark answered, Hell yeah.

Rafe gave Clark an exasperated look, which Clark returned with an open-mouthed grin. 

“Well, I’m the bride. And I say I want you there, Clarkie. It’s been forever since we all went out together.” 

“Yeah, because this guy’s always working me too hard,” Clark whined.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not even fucking true.”

“I know it’s true that nobody who’s getting laid regularly puts in as much overtime as –”

“Clark –”

“And you’re trying to punish us both for your dry spell,” Clark complained in an indignant voice.

“Holy shit, Clark. Shut up.” He stole a look at Kiara, who was pointedly looking away from him, her cheeks a little pink. Wheezie was busy making pretend vomiting noises next to her.

“You are giving us way too much information about our brother,” Sarah deadpanned, shaking her head. “And you guys spend way too much time together.”

The night was cooler than Rafe had expected, considering how hot and humid it had been the past week. He was sitting out on Sarah and Topper’s balcony, enjoying the night air and pretending he wasn’t still thinking about Kie, despite the fact that he could feel her presence like a gravitational pull in the room behind him. 

They had a little less than an hour before they were leaving for the first stop of the bar crawl Sarah planned. The girls were all dressed in what his sisters affectionately called knockaround clothes – comfy outfits for putting makeup on and doing hair in. Rafe was out on the balcony with JJ and Pope, talking about nothing and nursing beers, while the girls got ready inside. The sound of Sarah’s music drifted out the open sliding door, some girly rock song where the band was chanting about being “the last girls at the party,”  which Rafe found fucking ironic since Sarah was not known for going 12 rounds against liquor or any mind-altering substance.

He heard Kiara sing a few off-key lyrics and glanced inside, watching as she stretched herself over Sarah’s dresser to lean closer to the mirror that hung over it. Her shorts rode up a little from the position as she carefully applied something to her eyelashes, the stretchy material of her shorts showing a sliver of her ass in a way that felt really damn unfair.

As if she felt his eyes on her, she looked up in the mirror and caught him looking. 

A day ago, he would’ve had the good sense to look away. 

But now, after last night, something was simmering in him. Some sort of tension that had him holding her gaze as she watched him in the mirror – an unspoken game of chicken.

Kie broke their staring contest first, looking down as she jammed the lid back on her tube of makeup. “I’m all done,” he heard her announce to the other girls. Wheezie agreed, brushing her hard-won frizz-free hair off her shoulders, and the two of them departed to go get dressed in their respective rooms. 

Rafe stood from the patio chair he was lounging in, nodding to the guys and walking inside where Cleo stood curling Sarah’s hair as his sister sat in a chair, holding a hand mirror to her face and applying lip gloss. 

“I’m gonna go grab something we bought yesterday, forgot it in my room,” he said to Sarah on his way out the door. His sister just nodded in acknowledgment. Cleo’s disconcertingly perceptive eyes followed him out the door. 

Once he was inside his room, he headed immediately to the shared doorway and knocked. Kie opened it a moment later with a resigned sort of look on her face. She’d lost the oversized band shirt she’d been wearing before and was now wearing only a stretchy cotton bralette and her tiny shorts. 

“Yes?” she asked flatly. 

Without preamble, Rafe replied, “We should talk about it.”

Kie blinked at him and walked away without responding, heading over to her closet and picking through the hangers with a furrowed brow. “There’s really nothing to talk about,” she finally said, concentrating harder than was probably necessary on sorting through her closet. He took her walking inside the room as an unspoken invitation to join her.

“Really? Nothing comes to mind?” he pushed.

Kiara grabbed a hanger, pulling a dress from the closet and meeting his gaze.

“Listen. I’m not going to lie –”

“That’s a first,” he said before he could stop himself.

She glared at him. “Of course it’s tempting to let off a little steam together. Like I said last night, you and I… There’s no point in denying that the more… physical side of what we had came easy to us.”

“Pun intended?” His tone sounded light, thankfully. Because inside, he felt that simmering tension from before growing stronger – the claws of something familiar starting to dig into his gut, telling him she was already halfway there to letting him have what he wanted – what she wanted, too, if she’d just admit it.

She gave him a look. “Shut up. My point from last night still stands, though. Why bother allowing this situation the potential for so much mess?” Kiara turned, stepping through the open bathroom with her dress in her hands. 

Rafe was glad he still had the sense to keep his feet planted where they were, ignoring the way that greedy inner voice begged him to follow her inside while she changed, to corner her and make her admit what she wanted. 

Rafe clicked his tongue against his teeth before responding, thinking of the best way he could appeal to her. “What’s messy about a few friends helping each other out?” he drawled, turning to look around her room while she changed. 

There was a turquoise bikini hung over the back of one of the kitchenette chairs, and a small pile of clothes on the floor near the bed. On the dresser, a glass Dior perfume bottle sat along with a few strewn pairs of gold earrings, a crumpled canvas beach bag, some hair ties, and a little white purse. It all felt so quintessentially Kiara. 

“You heard Clark today – I’m going through a dry spell. And you’ve seemed –” he hesitated, trying to refine his phrasing, “ – tightly wound since you got here. Why not agree to a mutually beneficial arrangement while we’re here?” 

“Tightly wound?” her voice echoed from the open bathroom. “Nice. Ever consider it’s not me, so much as the company I’m being forced to keep?”

He bit his lip to keep from laughing. Why was it so charming when she was so annoying? 

There really was something wrong with him.

“Zip me up?” The sound of her voice had him turning back to the open bathroom door. She stood with her back facing him, the zipper of her dress done up a quarter of the way but mostly gaping open. 

He moved behind her as she reached her arm around to scoop her long hair off her back. 

Her brown skin was smooth beneath the open fabric of her dress, tempting his fingers to run up the length of her spine. He wondered if she would break out in goosebumps like she used to – her back and neck had always been so sensitive.

Rafe pinched the metal zipper between his fingers and dragged it up, settling his other hand on the small of her back to keep the fabric taut. It felt like she was holding her breath beneath his touch, and a sudden wave of unadulterated frustration hit him – frustration at her pretending to be unaffected when it was obvious that she was, despite her best efforts to hide it. 

He wanted her to stop pretending he was alone in this when he knew better. 

“Thank you,” she said softly when he’d zipped her in fully. He dropped his hands, and she shook her hair back down over her back, the movement wafting the scent of her perfume straight to his senses. 

“Oh,” was all he could manage to say when she turned around to face him. 

His mind had gone blank with a pleasant hum at the sight of the fabric hugging her curves. Her dress was a vibrant pink that complimented the color she’d applied to her lips and cheeks. All of the bridesmaids were wearing pink dresses for the festivities that evening, as requested by Sarah. His eyes kept going to her legs, appreciating the way the short hemline was flirting with her thighs. 

Kiara grimaced. “That is one of the most unsatisfactory reactions you could give to a woman when she does an outfit reveal.”

“Is that what you were doing?” he asked, screwing up an eye in contemplation. “Didn’t realize you were putting on a show for me.” The idea that she would want him to give a satisfactory reaction to what she wore had his stomach coiling, gratified.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink beneath her makeup and his smile widened. 

“What would have been more satisfactory, huh?” Rafe took a small step closer to her, keeping his eyes on hers. “Maybe something like, damn - nice dress.” 

Kie scoffed a little laugh. She was watching him half-warily, half-amused as he took another step towards her. His next step brought him far enough in her space that she mirrored him in reverse, taking a step away. 

“Or what would your boy Alan say?” Rafe continued. “Probably something fucking terrible, right? Like, has anyone ever told you you have beautiful tits?”  He let his gaze drop to her cleavage at the word tits – he told himself it was for the bit. 

Another laugh escaped her, but it sounded a little strained this time. She swallowed heavily – he watched the movement beneath the delicate skin of her throat. 

He wondered if she still applied her perfume right on that same spot. 

One more step and he was close enough to lean down and find out for himself, but he didn’t, keeping himself upright. Her head was tilted back to maintain their eye contact. She tried to step backwards again, but was stopped short by the wall at her back. 

He watched as her pupils dilated when she pressed into the wall behind her. He propped a forearm against the wall, effectively trapping her.

“Or I could tell you that you shouldn’t be allowed out looking like that. Like a walking distraction,” he said in a low voice, leaning closer. “Isn’t that your whole thing – that we aren’t supposed to touch each other because we could get distracted from our mission?” 

Kiara just stared silently up at him, blinking those big, brown eyes. Looking at him with the exact same expression she’d worn last night when he’d kissed her. 

“Yet you’re out here looking like a dream, asking me to zip you into this dress like you don’t know exactly what’s going through my head when I do. You know what you look like in this thing, right, princess?”

She jerked her head in a nod and Rafe mimicked her, nodding along with her. 

“Good. Just making sure you know the kind of damage you’re doing.” He stepped back from her abruptly. 

“Was that a more satisfying reaction?” he asked, his voice light. Casual. 

Kie sucked in a shaky breath, attempting to glare up at him. “It was… acceptable,” she admitted. “Actually, I’m surprised you’re such a fan of the dress,” she continued, her voice slowly recovering its typical combative tone. “Thought it’d be too revealing for your taste.”

“Alright, to be clear, it wasn’t my taste that was the problem. It’s everyone else’s.” Rafe leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Anyway – nah, I had a change of heart. You can wear whatever you want.”

“Oh, thank you for the permission – very kind of you.” Her sarcasm was acidic. “Why, may I ask, have you been overcome with such graciousness?” 

“Because I can fight,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug, eyeing her legs again, watching the way she shifted from one strappy heel to the other as she processed his response.

For a long while, Kiara didn’t say anything – just stared at him, her face carefully blank. 

Finally, she muttered, “Let’s get back to Sarah’s room.” Trying to move past him, she reached for the small purse on her dresser. 

Rafe snatched it up before she could grab it, wrapping his other hand around her wrist over her charm bracelet and turning her body back towards him. She was uncharacteristically passive as he slid the purse up her arm and over her shoulder, smoothing his hand along the curve of her shoulder when he’d settled the strap on her. Her skin felt so smooth and warm beneath his fingers.

“Whatever you say,” he murmured. 

☼

“Okay, are the edibles hitting or is this not the best shit you’ve ever put in your mouth?” 

JJ’s overenthusiastic volume had Kie leaning closer to him to pinch his arm in punishment. 

“Ouch,” he whined, jerking his arm away from her. His mouthful of saltwater taffy muffled the word to an almost unintelligible gurgle. The bar they were at – a casual place with neon beer signs, slightly sticky tables, and a live band playing on stage – inexplicably had bowls of the stuff on every table. Kelce had said something about how the bar’s owner’s wife owned a taffy store on the boardwalk when she’d questioned it. 

“You don’t need to announce your gummy usage to everyone in earshot, Maybank,” Rafe muttered. Wheezie sat next to him, still stifling giggles at JJ’s words – further evidence the edibles were, in fact, hitting. Rafe elbowed her lightly in the ribs.

“J, you better listen to the Girl Boss,” Pope called out from the other side of the booth they all sat in, pointing at Rafe. He was referring to the hot pink bridal party superlative pin carelessly stuck through Rafe’s expensive linen shirt. It read Girl Boss in curly, cursive sparkles. 

The sight was enough to make Kiara snort, despite her laughing about it plenty when Sarah had previously deemed it the perfect pin for her brother and slapped it into his hand, demanding he put it on. 

Personally, though, Kiara would rather have been Girl Boss than what she’d ended up with – Sexy and Single. Gross.

Alan had grinned at her when he read it while they’d all loitered in the lobby waiting for the Ubers, taking the opportunity to let his gaze rest on her chest under the guise of reading the pin stuck to her dress strap. 

“Her eyes are up here, Alan,” Sarah said with an eyeroll, adjusting her poofy white veil and tiara on her perfect blonde head. 

“No, it’s cool.” Kiara smiled serenely, waving Sarah off. 

Sarah looked at her like she was crazy before Kie continued in a saccharine voice. “Reading is hard, sometimes,” she simpered. “Right, Al?” 

A sharp laugh from behind had her looking over her shoulder, even though she’d recognize the sound anywhere. Rafe was watching her with half-lidded, amused approval.

Alan replied, “It is when I’m distracted, beautiful.” Her sarcasm had been completely lost on him. Or maybe it just didn’t phase him. 

“Say cheese!” called a voice to the left, pulling Kiara from her thoughts. Cleo was holding one of the disposable cameras up to her eye, peering through the viewfinder and aiming it at the group’s booth. Before anyone actually had anytime to smile or pose, the flash was going off.

“You have to give us time to smile, Cleo,” Sarah said, laughing. JJ was shaking his head like the bright flash had dazed him. Alan was muttering to Kelce that he hadn’t had time to fix his hair. 

Topper rolled his eyes. “Not sure why we even got the old-school cameras when our phones have like, 48 megapixel cameras and can upload straight to Instagram.”

The smile on Sarah’s face dropped. “I told you – it’s just meant to be something cute and different for the night. We always have our phones – we only have our bach night once.” 

Topper nodded noncommittally, and leaned closer to Kelce and Alan to initiate a new conversation. 

Kiara watched as Sarah shook her head in annoyance and reached for her drink. Kie glanced to her side where Rafe sat – their eyes met in understanding. 

Rafe picked up his drink from the table. “To the Scooby Doo gang?” he asked quietly, tilting his glass towards her.

She clinked her glass against his. “To the Scooby Doo gang,” she replied. They both sipped their gin and tonics. 

In light of their conversation in her room earlier, she’d tried to distance herself from Rafe multiple times that evening. But it didn’t matter how many times she tried to keep away from him – they always ended up next to each other. In the Uber on the way to the bars, she’d claimed shotgun but was promptly bullied out of it by JJ, who claimed he wanted to curate the vibes with his music and needed easy access to the sound system. Kie ended up sitting in the back next to Rafe, who’d made no effort to keep his overly large limbs to himself. His leg had brushed against hers constantly on the ride to the bar, warm and solid. 

When they got there, she’d ordered drinks for the girls but before she could even say the words “Apple Pay?”   he’d been at her elbow, sliding a black card across the counter, his signet ring catching the neon light from the signs behind the bar. From there it had continued – they'd been squashed next to each other in the crowd as they tried to wind their way to the booth everyone had congregated at, and now, of course, they sat next to each other – hip to hip, thigh to thigh. 

With him so close, it was hard to keep her attention off him. As if she wasn’t already aware of him all the time.

Rafe laughed at something Pope said, loud and contagious. The way it made him look – blue eyes crinkled, head thrown back – did something distressing to Kiara’s insides. He stretched his arm over the back of the booth behind her unhelpfully, still chuckling at whatever Pope and JJ were going on about. 

Kiara leaned forward, grabbing a piece of taffy out of the glass dish in the center of the table and biting into the softness. She chewed slowly, savoring the sugar on her tongue. 

The worst part was Kiara didn’t even think Rafe was doing it on purpose. It was like fate itself had decided to make the night as hard as possible for her. 

☾

The only way to describe the second bar of the night – The Riptide, it was called – was pure chaos. It was jam-packed with people crowded around the bar or swaying on the small dance floor, all clutching frozen cocktails and laughing drunkenly. 

It was expected – it was one of the most popular bars on Kildare Island, with both tourists and locals. Each of the times he’d been dragged here previously by his sisters or friends or girls he’d dated, it had been the same. Clark had met up with them just as they arrived, informing Rafe as they entered that The Riptide was his preferred spot to meet up with dates from Grindr – to which Rafe had promptly responded that that was information he didn’t need to know. 

Weathered surfboards and vintage longboards hung on the walls and strings of fairy lights were tangled in fishing nets that dangled from the ceiling. The bartenders were moving fast, shouting over the music and sliding buckets of beer and brightly colored drinks with paper umbrellas across the counter.

But none of that held Rafe’s attention. 

What held his attention was the fact that Kiara had been missing from their group for approximately eight minutes, and Alan had been noticeably absent for approximately six. 

Rafe moved through the throng of bargoers slowly, with precision. His size lended him an advantage – the crowd seemed to part for him easily. He spotted Kie before long, the glow of the fairy lights above her shining off her dark curls like a halo. Sure enough, there was Alan next to her. 

They were standing close to the bar, a polite, flat look on Kiara’s face as she nodded along to whatever Alan was saying. She was concentrating on the drink in her hand, swirling her straw through half-melted slush listlessly. 

Rafe was close enough to hear Alan’s words before Kie noticed him.

“You’ve got that too cool to talk to anyone kinda vibe, you know? But here’s the thing, Kie.” Alan’s voice sounded a little muddled, which Rafe wasn’t surprised by. Kelce, Topper, and Alan had been pregaming the evening pretty heavily with whiskey in Kelce’s room since Topper had been ousted from his by the girls. 

“Here’s the thing,” Alan repeated. “I’m not just anyone.”

Kiara didn’t respond. Rafe was almost upon them now, and as if she sensed him getting closer, she looked up, making eye contact with him over Alan’s shoulder. Her brown eyes widened infinitesimally in what he swore was relief before she schooled her features into something more benign.

Rafe watched the back of Alan’s head shake at Kie’s silence, saw his shoulders tense. “It’s getting kinda old, though,” he said, sounding irritated. “You’re out here acting like a –”

Rafe clapped a hand on Alan’s shoulder, stepping around the asshole so he could enter their sphere. He had a few good inches of height on Alan, and he used them to look down on him with a withering look. “I wouldn’t bother finishing that sentence, slick.” 

Alan swallowed and stared up at Rafe like he was sussing out his options. After a few beats, he shrugged Rafe’s hand off his shoulder with a twitch. “Whatever you say, girl boss.”   He disappeared into the crowd. 

“Are you following me?” Kiara asked sharply. 

Yes, as a matter of fact. He was.

“Please. You’re not that interesting.”

“Really? Because you’re around every turn tonight.”

“Someone’s gotta save you from your own poor judgement. I know you’re not into that jackass. Why even entertain a conversation with him?” He rubbed his nose as he said it, trying to look like he didn’t care one way or the other. 

Kie arched an eyebrow at him. “So you’re volunteering to be my bodyguard now? Or what, my moral compass?” 

“Fuck no. You’re screwed if I am.”

She held his gaze silently, the tension buzzing between them like static. He actually hadn’t intended the double meaning of his words at all, but there was no point in telling Kiara that. 

“Kie!” Sarah’s voice cut through the moment from somewhere behind him. “Shots, babe! C’mon!” 

Rafe stayed where he was, not bothering to turn around. Kiara went to move past him without a word, stopping abruptly for a second when she was even with his shoulder. 

“Oh. Hi, Clark,” she muttered before leaving to join the girls.

With a sense of foreboding, Rafe turned slowly. Clark stood just behind him, watching him with open curiosity. 

“What?” Rafe asked flatly.

“I’m getting the sense you and Kiara didn’t just meet for the first time during this wedding.”

Rafe sighed, trying not to grit his teeth. “No, she was Sarah’s best friend all through high school. We’ve known each other for maybe 10 years now.”

Clark hummed thoughtfully. “You guys always been like that?”

“Like what, argumentative?”

Clark shrugged, sipping his rum and Coke.

“Yeah. I guess,” Rafe muttered, leaning against the counter. He looked down the length of the bar to where Kiara, Sarah, Wheezie, and Cleo all stood preparing to down a round of bright blue shots. “She’s always enjoyed getting under my skin. I may occasionally enjoy returning the favor.”

“Argumentative, huh? Is it arguing, though?”

“I mean –” Rafe blinked. “What else would you call it?”

Clark smiled. “I dunno. Maybe… foreplay?”  

☼

The third location of the night wasn’t a bar so much as a club – the only one Kildare had to boast. Bass heavy music was thudding through the room and colored lights flashed across the dance floor. Kiara was dancing with Wheezie and Clark, the three of them laughing and attempting to twerk, egging each other on. 

Next to them, Cleo and Pope moved together – Cleo dancing circles around Pope, literally and figuratively. Sarah and Topper were even dancing. Kie swore it was the first time she’d even seen the two of them interact for more than a few seconds all night. Sarah looked more than a little buzzed – her veiled tiara kept slipping no matter how many times she readjusted it, lending her a permanent air of dishevelment. 

JJ had taken it upon himself to become the disposable camera paparazzi – so the pictures were sure to be absolute trash – and was pausing his erratic dance moves every other song to snap a candid or two. Alan had blessedly ceased his bids for Kiara’s attention, at least for the night, and had paired up with Kelce to find two girls who were more than happy to pay attention to them.

And Rafe? Rafe was watching them all from the booth in VIP Sarah had reserved for the night, sipping from a glass that contained – if Kiara had to guess – only water. Every time she glanced up to check on him – which was just her being considerate, it didn’t mean anything – his eyes were on her. 

The distance between them and the dim lighting of the bar leeched the color from his irises so that they looked practically black. Predatory, almost – but then, she’d been drinking, so what did she know?

Kiara slipped out from the little circle she’d made with Clark and Wheezie, telling them she needed water, and headed back to the booth.

“God, I’m so thirsty,” she said in greeting.

Rafe handed her his glass wordlessly and she gratefully took a few sips. She’d been right – ice water.

“You’re not going to dance?” she asked, a little breathless still from the dance floor.

“Nah. Not much of a dancer.” The look he gave her said, As you know – but he didn’t say it out loud.

“You should ask your bestie Clark for some advice. Guy’s got moves.”

“Clark’s got a lot of advice. Most of it unsolicited.”

She glanced at him, noticing one of the rolled sleeves of his linen shirt had unraveled. Without thinking, she reached forward and rolled it for him, her fingers brushing against the warm skin of his forearm. 

Her fingertips tingled disconcertingly at the contact. 

It was just the edibles still in her system, she told herself. 

When she’d finished fixing his sleeve, her eyes drifted to his face. She was close enough to see the smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose, despite the hazy lighting of the club. She’d always thought they made him look boyish – a sweet sort of detail that softened his edges. 

When she looked into his eyes, she saw he was watching her carefully – lids at half mast, jaw tight. The expression triggered a kind of clenching, coiling flutter in her tummy. 

“It’s so weird being back here with you,” she said before she could smother the words.

He lifted a brow in question.

“I always feel a little weird being back home, but it’s been more noticeable this visit. I don’t know – like everything’s different but somehow… exactly the same? Like maybe Kildare is stuck in some version of Groundhog Day.” She felt her cheeks turn pink – she probably sounded stupid. 

Rafe nodded slowly like he actually understood what she was saying. “I get that. The whole thing’s been like déjà vu with more expensive alcohol,” he muttered. It was a gracious way of avoiding the deeper implications of what she’d meant. Kiara wondered if he’d done it on purpose. 

“More expensive alcohol and worse company,” she added, eyeing Topper, Alan, and Kelce where they’d now posted up at the bar.

The song she’d skipped out on was ending, so she left Rafe to join the group again. Her friends had moved further from the perimeter of the dance floor, so getting back to them meant pushing her way through the crush of the crowd. 

She was trying to force her way past one particularly rowdy group of what was almost definitely frat guys on summer break when one of them bumped her hard. The impact almost sent her sprawling across the floor. Kie’s life practically flashed before her eyes as she imagined falling painfully on her ass, landing amongst spilled beer and dirty shoes, but a strong, firm hand wrapped around her arm and steadied her before she’d done anything more stumble. 

The signet ring on the hand around her bicep told her who it was before she’d even processed what had happened – and for some reason, the sight had bewildered amusement welling up in her chest. 

She looked into his blue eyes and laughed. She laughed because, for some reason, it suddenly all felt a little inevitable. 

Not just the fact that Rafe was here in this present moment, that he’d been the one to catch her from falling and hurting or embarrassing herself, but everything else, too. 

The two of them falling into this bickering friendship again. Kissing each other last night. And – if she was being honest with herself for once – ending up in bed together. 

She kept laughing, and Rafe stood there, his hand holding her arm for much longer than was necessary, until her laughter died out. 

“Fuck off, Rafe,” she finally said. The words were gentle – no bite to them whatsoever. 

His curious gaze drifted from her face to travel down the length of her arm in his grip, and she watched as his eyes caught on something low. His eyebrows furrowed, and a varied range of emotions played over his face, most of which Kiara couldn’t quite place. 

A dark cloud seemed to roll in, hovering over him. Before she could even open her mouth to ask him what the hell was wrong, he snapped, “Be more careful.”  He dropped her arm like it was burning him and walked off, not in the direction of the booth or their friends. 

She was still reeling with confusion when Sarah was suddenly next to her, apparently fighting back tears. 

“Topper and the guys just fucking disappeared, dude,” she said in a thick voice, clearly drunk and upset in equal measures. “It’s our fucking bach party and he bailed. What the hell is wrong with him?” 

The next moments passed in a blur – Wheezie was in charge of collecting Rafe and Clark from wherever they’d gotten to, Cleo called an Uber, and JJ and Pope were busy muttering darkly to themselves about Topper. They all ended up in the cool night air outside the bar before long. 

Sarah was quiet, tapping out messages on her phone but not saying much to anyone. Apparently, Topper wasn’t answering her calls or texts. Rafe stood by her side, talking to her in a low voice. 

Kiara stood on the sidewalk, shivering. The evening air was brisk – much more than she would have thought, considering the heat of the last several days. 

Rafe made his way over to her before long. “You’re cold,” he said. 

Kie shrugged. She was still thinking about that weird moment from earlier – should she ask him what was wrong? Did she really want to know?

Yes, a voice in her mind answered resolutely. She wanted to know everything in his head. 

He was unbuttoning his shirt before she’d processed what he was doing, sliding his stupidly big arms out of the sleeves, revealing a snug white tee beneath it. He held the button-down out to her in a silent offer.

A hesitant glance around at their group proved that nobody was paying the two of them any attention. Everyone else was occupied or inebriated or both. She reached out and took the slate blue linen from him, murmuring her thanks and pulling it over her shoulders.

The fabric was still warm from his body, and smelled so good she had to force herself to not press her face into the collar to inhale the remnants of his cologne. 

The memory came unbidden to her mind: a cold spring night at the Boneyard, a bonfire, and a hoodie that had smelled eerily similar. 

His words from earlier echoed in her ears – déjà vu, indeed. 

Rafe turned to walk back to Sarah, and Kiara watched his broad back as he moved away. She wondered if he was thinking of that night, too. 

She wondered what he thought of a lot of things, and it was starting to drive her a little crazy.

Her desire to know what Rafe was thinking didn’t wane – not while they waited for their Uber, or throughout the car ride back to the Sunset, or the trip up the elevator with everyone crammed inside. Instead, it burned more and more, taking up so much space in Kiara’s consciousness there was hardly any room for rational thought. 

The group of them went their separate ways in the hall, everyone to their own room. A subdued and silent Sarah shut the door behind her resignedly – Topper was still not answering his phone, and the mystery of where he, Alan, and Kelce had all disappeared remained unsolved. She’d rejected the offers from the girls to stay up with her or share their rooms so she wasn’t alone. 

Kiara stepped into her room, closing the door and leaning against the cool, smooth wood. The compulsion to see inside Rafe’s head – to peel it open like a ripe orange, to juice it until she’d learned everything he thought about her, about them – was so strong she could taste it. It tasted like single-mindedness. 

It tasted like a bad idea.

She was knocking on the door between their rooms before she could talk herself out of it.

Rafe opened his side immediately – so quickly, in fact, it was almost like he’d been standing next to it. 

Maybe he had been. 

“It’s late,” he sighed, rubbing a palm along the top of his head.

“It is,” she agreed.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “What do you want, Kie?”

Now that was a loaded question, indeed.

Her mind floundered, trying to come up with an excuse. “I…” Looking down her front, she remembered she was still wearing his shirt from earlier. “I came to return this to you,” she announced, shrugging a shoulder to indicate the grayish blue fabric. 

She stepped inside his room. 

She didn’t want to wait for an invite. She didn’t want to take off his shirt, either. 

He remained where he was, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. His gaze followed her inside the room.

Kiara looked around the dimly lit space. It was a mirror of hers: a small kitchenette, the bathroom door off to the side, two nightstands with lamps that were glowing softly in the dark on either side of a large, comfy-looking bed that sat opposite of their common wall. 

She thought of how she’d sat in her bed that morning, staring at their shared doorway, and wondered if he’d ever done the same. 

She wanted so badly to know if she was living in his head the way he’d been living in hers. 

“I propose a game.”

Rafe’s eyes were dark and curious. “What kind of game?”

Kiara swallowed, refusing to overthink her next words. The urge to get inside his head was too strong. “We ask each other a question. If the other person answers honestly, the asker takes off a piece of clothing. If the other person refuses to answer, they take off a piece of clothing. Think of it like Truth or Strip.” 

She watched as Rafe’s eyes closed briefly. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He opened his eyes again and asked, “How will I know you’re being honest?” He pushed off the doorframe to move closer to her.

“I have the moral fiber of a saint. It’s me who should be worried about you lying.”

His smile widened dangerously. “You start then. Ask me something.”

She looked at him for a moment, letting her gaze drift over him. “Why are you so antagonistic to me sometimes?” The moment from the club when he’d turned hostile was playing in her head. “You’ve always loved talking out of your ass just to get a reaction out of me.” 

“Because you’re a distraction for me. And it makes me feel like I’m getting back at you for it, just a little.” 

A disbelieving little scoff escaped her. “What about me, exactly, is distracting to you?”

“What do you want me to say, Kie?” He shook his head at her. “Your legs. Hair. Lips. Ass. I could keep going. That’s two items of clothing, by the way. I just answered two questions.” He held up two fingers with a smirk.

Damn. He was right.

Balancing on one foot, she undid the strap of her opposite heel and toed the shoe off. 

“Shoes count as one, princess,” he stated, watching her with half-lidded eyes. 

“Fine.” 

When both shoes were off, she slid one arm then the other out of the borrowed shirt, letting it fall to the floor behind her softly. She watched his gaze take in her face slowly, cataloging each feature. Her eyes. The flush of her cheeks. He stared at her lips, and she couldn’t help the way her tongue peeked out to lick them.

His eyes traveled lower, resting on her collarbones. Kiara’s legs pressed together. 

“Your turn,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. 

He thought for a moment before speaking. “Is there any part of you that’s been having fun with me the past week, or has it all just been in the name of saving Sarah from herself?” 

Kie hesitated.

“Remember, you have to be honest.”

“Yes.” The answer came slow, but it came nonetheless. “I’ve been having fun with you. We were friends before we were anything else, if you remember. We had fun together.” 

Cocking his head at her, he asked, “Do you really believe we were ever just friends?” 

Kiara bit her lip and looked at him reproachfully. “It’s not your turn to ask a question.”

He nodded in easy agreement, his eyes leaving hers for only a second as he pulled his fitted tee over his head and dropped it to the floor – her prize for being honest. 

She tried – she really did – to not let her gaze drop and wander across his chest, but after a second of half-hearted resistance, she gave in. 

That feeling from the club hit her again – the inevitability of this situation. 

What was the point of holding out anymore?

“Why – why did you never reach out to me again after I left Kildare?” she asked. 

He blinked at her, and she could tell from his face she’d truly surprised him. 

“Kie – I’m not a fucking masochist. You left me with no impression that you were interested in that.” 

“I know. But it still surprised me. You said –” She swallowed the words, refusing to actually say it out loud. “You said what you said, and then it was radio silence.”

“Like I just explained, I’m not a glutton for punishment. Why the hell would I reach out when you’d made yourself clear?” He shook his head, keeping his voice low. “That wasn’t the question for my turn, by the way. And you have to take something off.” 

He eyed her dress with satisfaction, and it hit Kiara that she was at a disadvantage. He had socks and shoes, not to mention pants plus whatever he had underneath – and she had her dress… beneath which she wore no bra and a flimsy, seamless thong. 

Kie leaned forward at her hips, tucked her fingers under her dress and into the sides of her thong, and tugged it down her legs. She straightened, letting the scrap of cloth fall to the floor, stepping out of it and smoothing her dress down in the front so he never got a glimpse between her legs. 

His eyes darkened, the black of his pupils expanding to eclipse the deep blue of his irises.

It made her feel naked and exposed, despite the dress. 

“What is your question, then?” she asked.

His gaze moved to her charm bracelet on her wrist. His voice was like gravel when he finally spoke. “This is. Why is that charm on your bracelet? The one I gave you for your 18th birthday?” 

Nothing could’ve prepared her for him to ask that. Her stomach dropped, and she was sure he could see guilty shock on her face. 

The moment at the club flashed through her memory, when he’d held her wrist after saving her from falling – the way he’d looked surprised, then angry all the sudden. 

He must’ve noticed it then. 

She resisted the urge to fidget with the bracelet. Glancing down, she saw the little gold disc with the turtle etching right away, like it knew it was a topic of discussion and had found its way front and center on her wrist. 

Her mind reeled as she tried to think of an answer that didn’t make her sound like a pining ex-girlfriend and came up with absolutely nothing. Even if she lied, she knew he’d see right through it.

I think I’m done talking.

So she turned around, pulled her hair to the side, and said, “Unzip me.”

Rafe was silent. She could feel disbelief rolling off him in waves. “You’re forfeiting?” he asked. “You’re not gonna answer that?”

“Mmhm,” she murmured. “Unless you’re done playing?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, meeting his gaze and suppressing a shiver at what she saw.

Jesus. His eyes were practically black with lust as he stared at her. 

His hands were on her in the next moment, a mimicry of earlier that night when he’d zipped her into the dress. The first touch of his fingers on her had an ache blooming between her legs, as sharp and carnivorous as a venus flytrap. 

The zipper of her dress dragged down. The sound of metal scraping was the only sound in the room, but Kiara could hardly hear it over the rush of blood in her ears. Her dress gaped open and Rafe’s palms found their way to her shoulders. After a second’s pause, he tugged the straps down her arms, encouraging the dress to fall to the floor. It pooled in a little pile along with his borrowed shirt and her thong. 

He leaned into her space, the heat of his bare chest radiating against her back. His mouth was close enough to her ear that she felt his breath when he whispered, “I have to be really clear, because I know you like to play oblivious: I want to touch you. Badly. Can I?”

“Yes.” 

He released a long exhale against her skin and brushed his fingers through her hair, pushing the thick weight of it off her neck, but before he could press his lips to her, she whispered, “That was a question answered. Your turn to take something off.” 

Rafe let out a dark chuckle. The sound rasped over Kiara’s nerves, making her shiver. He didn’t move away like she thought he would to take off his pants. Instead, he leaned down, ghosting his lips over the sensitive skin on the back of her neck. 

“You are awfully demanding for someone who’s standing naked in my room right now.”

He pressed his open mouth against the side of her throat at the same moment his hands slid around her front and cupped the weight of her bare breasts in his hands. Kie’s mind went blank, whiting out in blissful static. 

“Fuck. You’re so hot,” Rafe groaned into her neck. He scraped his teeth against her skin – not hard, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to have her arms and legs breaking out in goosebumps. He moved closer to her, and the fabric of his pants rubbed against her ass. The contrast between her nakedness and his clothing had her feeling deliciously vulnerable, like she was exposing herself to danger. 

Which, if she thought about it, she probably was. 

“Get on the bed,” he demanded softly, dropping his hands from her tits. They ached with loss. 

Kiara moved to the bed, sinking into the softness of the duvet and drawing her legs up, hiding herself a little beneath the weight of his hungry gaze.

“Don’t get shy on me.” He reached out, smoothing a hand over her ankles soothingly, tugging them down until he could see all of her again. “You’ve been teasing me since you got on the island, haven’t you?”

“No, I –”

“That was rhetorical, princess.” Rafe stepped back from her, unzipping his pants and pushing them down his muscular thighs. Her mouth went dry as she stared at the evidence of how badly he wanted her as it strained against his black boxer briefs, but she wasn’t able to look for long. He was crawling on top of her, bringing his mouth against hers in a searing kiss before moving his lips lower.

He kissed her neck again, exploring her skin until he found the sensitive spot beneath her ear that had always been his favorite. “You smell so fucking good,” he breathed. She didn’t know how she possibly could – she imagined she would smell like sweat from being in crowded bars all night, but he didn’t seem to think so. “Do your nipples still get hard when you get kissed here?” He nosed the spot before biting it teasingly .

The answer was clearly yes, to his obvious delight. 

His mouth was everywhere – brushing down her neck, sucking at her tits, running a wet line from her tanned stomach to the apex of her thighs. His intentions were clear, but she wanted more than his mouth on her. 

She felt greedy. She wanted to feel full.

Rafe ignored her protests as she tried to drag him back up the length of her body, instead gripping her thighs in his big hands and forcing her to stay still. He bit back a groan that sounded like gratitude as he tasted her. The sound felt like it was scraping her raw, scooping out something from inside her – her sanity? Dignity? She couldn’t be sure – and replacing it with a fuzzy, soft, emptiness.

“Do you have any idea how wet you are right now?” 

She felt his fingers slide against her, spreading her open so he could see all of her. All Kiara could do was wait, panting.

“You still get wet so fucking fast, yeah?” He was rubbing her clit with just the tips of his fingertips, teasing her. 

She tossed her head against the pillow that smelled like him, protesting incoherently in disagreement. 

And you still can’t shut the fuck up, she thought. 

But she wasn’t brave enough to say it to him. Not when it meant he might stop touching her.

“No?” He laughed then, the sound like gravel. “So that’s just for me, huh, baby?” The pet name slipped out of him, easy as breathing. “You’re making a mess, Kie. You’re dripping all over my hand.”

His hand, damp with her arousal, snaked up her stomach to play with her tits again, pinching and rubbing at her gently, leaving the skin wet and messy. He licked a broad stripe up her center.

“I should get you ready first, huh? With my fingers? Stretch out this perfect little pussy?” His voice was starting to sound strained. He moved up so he could whisper his next words right against her ear. “But I’m not going to do that, Kie. You know why?” 

If Rafe thought she was capable of following anything he was saying, he was vastly overestimating her current state. He kissed her, surprisingly chaste against her lips. Sweet, almost. 

“I’m not going to do that because you’re gonna take what I give you.” She felt him shift, and in the next moment he was lining his hardness up with her body, slipping against where she was wet for him. Kiara had no clue when he’d even gotten naked and hated that she’d missed it.

 “And you’re gonna say thank you when I’m done.”

He pushed in, slowly and deliberately, letting her feel every centimeter. The stretch of it should have been too much, but she was so wet and ready – he hadn’t been lying, she really was making a mess – that she felt nothing but satisfaction. 

Good, she thought, almost delirious. So fucking good.

So good, in fact, that just him thrusting in until he’d bottomed out, then one more slow retreat and shove back in, felt like it was going to be enough to make her –

“Rafe, Rafe, wait – oh fuck –”

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he groaned as she shuddered and broke apart beneath him with a cry. “You aren’t coming just from that, Kie, are you?” Rafe laughed down at her, cruel and soft – the sound so fucking mean it made her moan. 

“I missed feeling you come on my cock,” he breathed into her neck. “You’re gonna do that again for me.”

And she does. 

Within minutes, Kiara was ready to unravel again. The way he fucked her was exactly as she remembered – like it was effortless for him, like playing her body like an instrument was the most natural talent he’d ever had. 

Eyes so dark they were navy watched her every reaction, analyzing her and cataloguing her, learning her again – although it felt like he hadn’t forgotten anything in the years they’d been apart.

He didn’t stop talking the entire goddamn time, whispering filthy praise that had her clenching around him continuously.

As his hips started to stutter in their rhythm, his hand drifted lower, fingers finding her clit again. “You’re close, yeah? I can feel you tightening on me. Be quiet though, princess. You don’t want everyone on the floor to know what I’m doing to this wet little cunt.”

It’s those words that sent her over the edge. Or maybe his hot breath against her neck. Maybe it was just his fingers playing with her as he thrusted deep, catching on a spot inside her that had her mind going completely blank.

It doesn’t really matter what does it, because nothing could stop it – she came hard, reckless with the force of it. The only way she could do as he demanded and stay quiet was to yank him down by his neck and press her mouth to his. He responded greedily, swallowing her sounds like he was starving for them. 

“Tell me if I can’t come in you,” he rasped. “Tell me now.”

She only gasped in pleasure at the thought of him filling her with his come, and she must have clenched around him again because he let out a sound of raw, unadulterated lust. He buried himself deep with one final thrust, threw his head back, and shuddered through his release. 

“Fuck, Kie,” he sighed. She’d never heard Rafe sound so content. “That was…”

“Yeah,” she agreed on an exhale. 

He stroked her thighs where they were wrapped around his hips, coaxing them down to the bed. She let him, feeling boneless. His bed was soft, his room smelled like him, and she was sleepy. Her eyes closed. 

Kiara was still swimming in her fucked-out haze when the bed shifted as he left and returned quickly, only stirring when she felt him run a warm, wet cloth along the inside of her thighs. It roused her enough that when he climbed between the sheets with her, she protested that she should return to her bed. After all, it was literally only a few yards away – but he shushed her, tugging her into his arms. 

“Shut up – you’re sleeping here. Don’t get weird,” he murmured into her hair.

She could’ve fought harder, but she was so tired and he was so warm. She sighed into his pillow, breathing in his smell, and fell into the deepest sleep she could remember having in the past five years. 

Chapter Text

☾

The first thread of consciousness stitched a singular thought into Rafe’s brain when he woke the next morning: warmth. He was so warm – not uncomfortably so, not to the point where the sheets were sticking to his skin – but enough that he found himself tugging his arms sleepily out from under the downy cushion of the duvet to welcome in a curl of cooler air around his neck and shoulders. 

The culprit radiator stirred next to him, still dozing. Rafe propped himself up with his and looked around the room before returning his gaze to Kiara. 

Sunlight was streaming in through the gap in the curtains over his sliding door, casting syrupy, golden light across the room. One stripe of sunlight lay across the pillow next to him, coloring the dark curls scattered across it with shifting shades of russet and honey. 

As if she could feel his eyes on her, she stirred again, this time blinking her eyes open slowly while she arched her body in a rolling stretch. He knew from the brush of skin beneath the duvet she was like him – still naked from their activities the night before. 

She reminded him of a cat that’d been sunning themselves for too long on a windowsill. 

Their eyes met, and Rafe could practically see the thoughts as they danced through her head. The surprise of remembering whose bed she was in. The memory of last night. And finally… The dread of trying to navigate this new added complication in the coming days.

“Don’t make it weird,” Rafe said before she could spiral too far. 

Kiara’s eyebrows furrowed in disingenuous confusion. “Make what weird?”

“Kie, I’m serious,” he muttered. “It doesn’t have to be awkward. We can be cool in front of the others. And, if you want, we can keep doing this when we’re alone.” 

Please say you want to keep doing this, he begged in his head, keeping his face impassive. Please please ple–

“Don’t get a big head, but that’s kind of a given.” Kiara ran her hands through her curls, groggily trying to arrange them in some semblance of order. “I haven’t slept that good in so long. I’m gonna go ahead and hazard a guess it had something to do with the multiple, full-body orgasms you gave me. You can’t do that and not expect to give an encore performance.” 

Rafe tried to keep the satisfaction off his face, but knew he’d failed when she rolled her eyes at him. Kie rolled around, propping herself up on an elbow. The duvet fell, revealing her bare chest – soft, smooth, brown skin. 

“So then we agree,” he said, eyeing her exposed breasts.

“For once.”

He bit back a smile, looking away so she wouldn’t see the reluctant fondness in his eyes. He had no goddamn business thinking she was adorable, especially not when she was being annoying. 

“Okay, so. First rule,” Rafe began, rubbing his nose, trying to look casual. “Don’t be weird.” He fixed Kie with a pointed look. “We can still talk and work on the plan to get Sarah to leave Topper, while also doing this” – he dragged his gaze down Kiara’s face and chest – “in our spare time.”

“Yep. Zero weirdness. Friends who fuck. We’ll even be nice to each other and everything. Like real friends,” she agreed with a practiced sort of nonchalance. 

Rafe had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. If she acted anything like she had when they were younger, everyone in the bridal party would know they were fucking in 24 hours or less. Kiara’s version of zero weirdness had always been questionable, at best. 

He was just about to try and find out how amenable she was to being friendly with him at that exact moment when she stretched and shifted her body like she was about to stand.

“I have to get ready to go,” she said through a yawn. “We all have dress fittings in less than an hour. Plus, gotta get an update on the current state of the union with Sarah. Because that was crazy last night.” 

Rafe felt a stab of guilt. They hadn’t even discussed Topper ditching Sarah last night. Once they’d been alone, Sarah had been the absolute last fucking thing on his mind. 

Distracted from the mission, indeed. 

“I can’t believe he left like that,” she continued. “Do you think he, like…” – her voice trailed off uncertainly – “... cheated on her?” 

Rafe shook his head. “Honestly, no. He’s a lot of things, but I don’t think that’s his style.” He looked over at her, feeling contemplative. “You know, it’s kind of crazy they don’t share their locations with each other. Last night when he dipped, I told her to just check his location on her phone and she told me they don’t have their info shared with each other.”

Kiara chewed her bottom lip. “Not every couple does that. It’s not that weird.”

“Nah, you’re right. It wouldn’t be that weird – if it was anyone but Topper. Because the guy literally used to track her phone in high school.”

He felt Kiara go still next to him. “What are you talking about?” 

Rafe shrugged. “Yeah, remember? When he got her that new iPhone for her birthday?” As he said it, the coke-hazy memories of that era turned over in his head like a car engine that wouldn’t quite start. 

Oh. Wait – was that the infamous birthday where –

“Any chance the birthday in question was the one Sarah blew up our friendship on?” Kie asked. “Because I kinda feel like if I had been around, Topper tracking Sarah’s phone without her knowledge is a revelation I would remember.”

Some of his memories from that time in his life were so clouded he had a hard time separating anything lucid from the muddle. But he remembered this particular story well enough. 

Topper had let it slip to him one night after he’d gifted her the phone that he knew where Sarah was at all times, and – after warning Topper to never do that shit again, punctuated with a few well-placed punches – Rafe had promptly made sure Sarah “lost” that phone. 

He’d never told Sarah about it. They hadn’t been on very good terms then. Truthfully, he hadn’t really thought of it much at all over the years – until now. 

Kiara listened to him recount the story with wide eyes. “Dude. This is the exact kind of shit we need to be communicating with each other,” she insisted excitedly, sitting up in the bed. “You can’t hold out on me like this! You have to spill any dirt on Topper, otherwise what are we even doing here?” She chucked a down-filled pillow at him in feigned frustration. 

He grabbed her wrist and tugged her down to the mattress, rolling her beneath him. Her soft, surprised inhale had him biting back a smile. “I mean…” he murmured, dragging his nose up her neck and breathing her in. She smelled so good. “I know what I’d like to be doing here, if you’d be quiet for five fucking minutes.” 

☼

Soft jazz and the scent of bergamot floated through the private dressing area of Celeste’s, the custom dress shop Sarah had commissioned to design the gowns for the wedding. 

The store was beautiful. Warm, flattering lighting glowed from the sconces on the walls. Heavy cream-colored curtains hung over the doorways to several small dressing rooms within the larger space so guests could have privacy from their party before revealing their dresses. Plush chairs and ottomans covered in velvet fabric were placed throughout, inviting patrons to sit, relax, and take their time during their appointment. A guest at Celeste’s would never do something so plebeian as rushing through a dress fitting. 

All that ambience, and it still did nothing to lighten the mood of their party. 

A cloud had cast its shadow over the girls all morning. They’d made their way from the Sunset to Celeste’s, grabbing coffee from Sarah’s favorite place on their way. Between sips of an iced vanilla latte, Sarah explained to Wheezie, Cleo, and Kiara how the rest of her night had gone.

Topper had apparently stumbled into their room around three in the morning, claiming that he, Alan, and Kelce had all simply gone to a different bar. His explanation for not telling anyone they were separating from the group was that it was “his night, too” and he “had the right to go wherever he wanted.” 

Sarah relayed the information with a flat look in her eyes, avoiding eye contact with each of them as she spoke. She didn’t defend Top as Wheezie ranted about his behavior while a Celeste’s employee ushered them into the back room, and she hardly batted an eye as Cleo made a few cutting comments about appropriate groom behavior. 

Kiara kept quiet, focusing her attention more on Sarah than lambasting Topper. Sarah didn’t even seem sad like she had last night – she appeared more tired than anything else. The most she said in defense of her future husband was one small comment: I know it sounds bad, and it was bad. He was an asshole for leaving. But he’s not always like that…

It was enough to make Kie’s stomach hurt. 

Now Sarah sat on a plush ottoman, sipping cucumber water and holding onto the smile she had pasted on as she watched Wheezie, Cleo, and Kie take turns modeling their bridesmaid dresses in front of the mirror. 

Kie’s mind still spun from the conversation earlier that morning with Rafe. She didn’t know why she was so surprised to learn that Topper had tracked Sarah back when they were teenagers – it kind of was on-brand for him, really – but she was. That past indiscretion along with last night’s disappearance had her simmering in resentment for Top, and she decided she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. 

She’s seen what was most effective when it came to getting a reaction from Sarah – the tactics Rafe had employed on the boat a few days ago: reminding Sarah of the past, of the pile of unresolved issues between her and Topper. 

Reminding her shit like this wasn’t a one-off – it was part of a larger pattern.

Kiara walked to the large, gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall by Sarah, turning to get a better view of the back of her satin gown. “You sure you’re good, Sare?” she asked quietly.

“It’s whatever,” Sarah replied nonchalantly. “That makes your butt look so good, Kie,” she continued, with the air of somebody who wanted to change the subject. 

The dress did do wonders for her ass, but that wasn’t the point here, so Kiara reigned the conversation back in. “I didn’t really think about it last night, but it’s kind of wild to me that you guys don’t have each other’s locations shared.”

“Rafe said the same thing,” Sarah said in a vague murmur. She leaned towards the mirror, swiping away a smudge of mascara beneath her left eye. 

“Yeah, he mentioned something about it earlier to me. Said he thought it was super weird, considering how Topper used to track your phone when you guys dated in high school.”

Sarah froze, her finger still resting on her cheekbone. “Considering how Topper used to – what?” 

Kie didn’t look up, still smoothing the fabric of her dress over her body, pretending to examine the way it laid over her chest. “Yeah, he said Top used to track you with the phone he got for your birthday.”

A look of disbelief flickered over Sarah’s face before she shuttered her expression, her lips pressing into a firm line. She held Kiara’s gaze for a long while before she spoke. 

“This is the first I’m hearing about this.”

Kiara swallowed. She was sure the chill in Sarah’s voice was meant for Topper, not her – but it was still a scary sight. Sarah looked pissed. 

Thank God – you’re still in there after all, Sarah. 

“Sorry, I thought you –”

Sarah interrupted her. “But – how do you know about this and I don’t?”

“I really don’t know, this morning was the first time I’d learned about it. Rafe said –”

“Rafe said?”  Sarah interrupted her again. The edge in her voice had changed slightly. She didn’t sound livid anymore – mostly just suspicious. “When did you have time to talk to Rafe this morning before we left?” 

Unfortunately for Kiara, she was still standing in front of the mirror – that meant she had the unlucky fortune of getting to see her own face react in real time to Sarah’s questioning. She watched herself shift through two or three different expressions before she tried to plaster on a look of nonplussed innocence. Her mouth opened to reply – with what, she had no fucking clue – when Cleo spoke. 

“Am I hearing this right?” she asked, stepping closer. Her and Wheezie had been getting glasses of cucumber water from the dispenser nearby, not actively participating in the conversation but clearly listening in. Cleo’s shrewd eyes flicked back and forth from Kie to Sarah. “He tracked you without you knowing, but doesn’t want to tell you where he is on a night that’s supposed to be celebrating the two of you?”

“That’s bullshit,” Wheezie seethed. 

Kiara nodded, silently grateful for the girls’ help with bringing the focus back to Sarah and Topper and away from what her and Rafe had gotten up to this morning. 

Cleo looked at Sarah closely. “He holds you to a different standard than he holds himself, girl. Is that really okay with you?”

Sarah’s face crumpled, and Kie moved closer to hug her.

“I’ll – I’ll talk to him more about it.” Sarah’s voice was muffled from where her face was pressed against Kiara’s shoulder. “You guys are right, I know you are. Sometimes it just seems like so much work to talk about this stuff with him,” she said with a weak laugh, wiping at her suddenly watery eyes.

The appointment concluded after the tailor came in to make a few minor adjustments to the straps on Cleo’s dress and Kiara’s bodice, and they made their way back to their private dressing areas to change. 

Kie paused in front of the full length mirror in her dressing room to admire the gown. It really was beautiful – bias cut champagne-colored satin draped over the curves of her body. The cowl neckline dipped low across her chest, the back scooped flatteringly low, right at the small of her waist. The dressing room lighting was flattering and warm.

If her and Rafe had things go their way, she wouldn’t get a chance to wear it again – ideally, there would be no wedding to wear it to. 

But it was kind of a shame he would never see her in it. 

Before she could overthink it, Kie was pulling her phone out of her bag. She tugged the straps low so the fabric teased the tops of her breasts, pushed up from the strapless bra she’d worn for the appointment. Angling herself just so, she snapped a picture and sent it to Rafe. His contact still had the middle finger emoji she’d added years ago, back before he was anything to her other than Sarah’s hot and douchey older brother. 

The swoosh of a message successfully sent chimed from her phone, and giddiness swelled in her stomach. Kie bit her lip, wondering what Rafe’s reaction would be to the picture. 

☾

The heat and humidity had returned in full force despite the previous night’s cool weather. Rafe had worked up a sweat while working out in the crisp, air-conditioned gym facility on the resort property, but exiting the villa to head back to the main building for a shower had him feeling positively damp. 

He wasn’t too bothered, though – after all, he was used to the heat, having never lived anywhere other than Kildare his whole life. On top of that, he was still riding the high of the past 12 hours. 

The memory of last night – Kiara spread beneath him, his mouth on her neck, her nails in his back – had him feeling uncharacteristically cheerful. Waking up with her that morning had been just as good, though it would have been better if she’d let him talk her into a quickie before she’d left with his sisters and Cleo for their dress fitting. 

Regardless of the missed opportunity, he was walking through the grounds of the Sunset Island Resort like he was on cloud nine. He’d even smiled at the employees who’d been cleaning the windows outside the gym. 

He’d been looking forward to a long, cool shower back in his room until he saw a familiar male head of blond hair alone at a table on the shaded patio. Topper sat with a half-drank smoothie in front of him, scrolling on his phone. A sharp stab of annoyance pierced Rafe’s bubble of bliss. Before he knew it, he’d changed the trajectory of his path and was making his way over to Topper. 

“Nice day, Top,” he said by way of greeting. “Peaceful. Not like last night, huh?” Rafe took a long sip of water from the bottle in his hand. 

Topper glanced up, a flicker of annoyance passing over his face briefly before he schooled his features into a mask of nonchalance. “Look, if this is about dipping out a little early last night, save it. Sarah and I talked about it when I got back to the room late last night.” He relaxed back in his chair and looked at Rafe expectantly, like this explanation should satisfy him. 

Living under his father’s thumb had molded Rafe into a person who was always observing others, whether he meant to or not. Trying to hold onto Ward’s approval was like cupping water in shaky hands, but it had given Rafe the invaluable skill of reading people’s moods and tells. 

Rafe had the distinct impression Topper was trying to give off an air of unbotheredness, but it was too performative to be genuine. It was all there, in his eyes – he knew he was in the wrong, and he was hoping Rafe would let it go.

“Last night was a lot – just needed some time with my boys away from the whole crew,” Topper continued. “You know how your sister gets about events.” 

“Yeah, I do. Wants them to be special, memorable. Not really your thing, huh?”

Topper rolled his eyes. “You always this passive aggressive, or is this just for me?”

“You always this smug after ditching your drunk fiance at the club?” Rafe shot back. 

Top’s answering laugh was brittle. “Okay, okay. I get it – I’ve been waiting for the big brother speech, Rafe. It’s a little rich coming from you, but I’ll let you have your moment.”

“Not giving you a speech. I think Sarah gets enough of those from you.” 

“She’s happy,” Topper snapped. His cool, detached act was falling apart. “We’re good, okay? If you’re trying to like, start something or –”

“I’m not trying to start anything, man.” Rafe kept his voice relaxed, his posture casual. “But I am watching,” he said calmly. 

Topper scoffed. “What, you think I’m scared of you?” 

Rafe just looked at him. They both knew the answer to that. 

“Look,” Topper said, blowing out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever beef you have with me, keep it out of the wedding. This is her special week. Sarah’s my everything – even when she’s being… A lot.” He said it like he was being gracious, like it wasn’t the most fucking backhanded thing he could say about someone he supposedly loved. 

“A lot,”  Rafe repeated slowly, like he was considering the phrase. “Yeah. A lot of patience for you and your bullshit, maybe.” 

He could feel his control on his temper slipping. This conversation needed to be over. “Here’s some advice – maybe stop treating Sarah like she’s something you’re entitled to, and more like someone you’re lucky to have.”

Barking out a laugh, Topper replied, “You talk like you know anything about it, bro – like you didn’t fuck up whatever was between you and Kiara all those years ago so bad she left Kildare and never came back.” He smirked. “Not exactly a great role model for lasting relationships, are you?”

Before Rafe could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen, seeing Kie’s name and the subject line – Attachment: 1 image 

Speak of the devil and she’ll text, he thought, chagrined. 

He looked back at Topper, who was still reveling in what he’d clearly thought was the last word. 

“Yeah, Top, I guess you’re right. Suit yourself – don’t take my advice. I think you already know the truth anyway, that’s why you act like this.” Rafe sent Topper a knife-sharp smile. “You don’t fucking deserve her, and you’re scared she’ll see it.”

He turned and headed back towards the main building, swiping to open the image Kie had just sent and leaving Topper seething behind him. 

☼

She received a reply from Rafe about 40 minutes later, just as she and the girls were finishing up their lunch down the street from Celeste’s. 

Meet you outside when you’re done eating, the text said – nothing else.

Kie scoffed. No mention of the picture she’d sent. No compliments, no pining over her perfect skin and curves. Typical fucking man, she thought. 

They paid the bill and headed out from the little taqueria they grabbed lunch at. Kiara waved off Sarah’s offer for a ride back to the resort, telling the girls she had an errand to run – which wasn’t a lie. 

Watching them head back to Sarah’s car, Kie patted the tote bag resting against her side and felt the shape of the disposable cameras inside. She’d offered to drop them off to Mr. Howard for developing that afternoon. 

Turning, she walked the opposite way of the girls, hooked a left at the corner, and there he was – leaning against the hood of his SUV, arms and ankles crossed, designer sunglasses perched on his nose. 

“Done playing dress-up?” he asked in greeting, pushing off the car to step onto the sidewalk. 

“Stalking me now, Cameron?” 

He smiled wide, showing his teeth. “Just really good timing, Carrera.” His arm flexed as he reached for the handle on his passenger door and yanked it open for her. “Get in. We’ve got errands.”

“We?” she asked doubtfully. “Didn’t know that was something we do together now.”

“Well, I know we said you’d drop the film off to be developed today, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt you could use some assistance.” 

She moved closer to the open car door. Rafe held his hand out to her like she was a princess stepping into a carriage instead of a girl climbing into his black Range Rover.

As she situated herself in the passenger seat, he leaned closer, resting a forearm on the roof of the car over her head. “Kinda thought that’s what your little mirror selfie was for – figured you wouldn’t send something like that unless you’re really trying to get my attention.” His voice pitched just a bit lower, a bit raspier. “Or my assistance.”

Kiara let her gaze fall to Rafe’s mouth, then dragged it back up to his eyes deliberately. “I am perfectly capable of running errands on my own. Just admit you missed me, loser.” 

Rafe rolled his eyes, straightening up. “Okay, princess. Not the one sending half-naked pictures while I’m out with friends, but sure. I missed you.” 

He shut the door for her as she reached for the seatbelt. 

Spending time with Rafe shouldn’t have felt so natural, but it did. Just like the other day when they’d bought the stuff for the bach party. Being with him was as easy as slipping on a favorite, worn pair of sneakers – comfortable, straightforward. An almost rudimentary kind of muscle memory. 

Dropping off the disposable camera film at Snap Solutions was easy. They’d walked right in and Mr. Howard had greeted them, asked how the cameras had worked out for their party, and taken the film with a promise that it would be developed in just a few short days. Mr. Howard and Rafe had ribbed each other for a few moments, and then they’d been on their way. 

That one errand had turned into a few – as they’d driven down Main Street, Kie spotted the saltwater taffy store Kelce had talked about the previous night and her interest was piqued. They found their way inside and ended up sampling several of the flavors – banana split was her favorite, his was plain chocolate. Kie walked out with a small assorted box.  

The taffy was sticky in her throat when she’d realized how close they were to her favorite cafe, so naturally she decided they needed to stop by for a matcha. 

“You’re like that kids book,”  he’d said with a disbelieving laugh as she explained her thought process, leading the way across the street. “If you give a mouse a cookie…”  But he held her box of taffy for her all the same while she carried her iced blueberry matcha out of the cafe a few minutes later. 

They made their way to the car with the intention of finally heading back to the Sunset – but then Kie remembered she’d run out of her contact storage solution the night before, so they decided to swing by a convenience store on the way there. 

Just before they pulled into the parking lot of the store, they drove by a block or so of construction property that was clearly in the process of being built – a building that appeared to be a future apartment complex, with rows of small, simple balconies and slots for windows and sliding doors. A large wooden sign was posted in front, and Kiara just managed to read the writing as Rafe passed – Kildare County Housing Coalition: Subsidized Housing – Coming Soon. 

“Wait – there’s government subsidized housing on Kildare now? That’s – that’s amazing. How come JJ or John B haven’t mentioned anything?” She looked at Rafe incredulously. “Scratch that – how come your sister hasn’t mentioned anything to me? This is awesome news, how long has that been in the works?” 

It had been one of the pillars of the countless bleeding-heart arguments Sarah and Kiara had forced Sarah’s family to engage in, back when Rose and Ward used to call the two best friends “the Charitable Champions”  – the fact that Cameron Development was one of the reasons residents on Kildare could no longer afford housing. They would buy up the properties in question and either evict the residents or raise the rent to an outrageous degree, giving them the same result in the end – a vacant building to bulldoze and build up bigger and better, to turn a profit off tourons and gentrifiers. 

Kildare didn’t have anything in place to help its community back then, but now – now it looked like they were making changes. It filled Kiara with a sense of pride for her hometown. 

“Hmm. Think they got the donation they needed to set things in motion a good bit ago. I think –” he cleared his throat, “– around when my dad died, actually.” 

Kiara glanced at Rafe. He had a weird look on his face, and he didn’t sound nearly as excited as she felt. A little bit of her joy deflated at the thought of him thinking it was a waste of time and money. She didn’t want to even ask his thoughts on the housing coalition, dreading a confirmation of her fears. 

She pushed the thoughts away as they grabbed what they needed from the convenience store and headed back to the Sunset. They parted ways outside their rooms – Rafe said he needed to check in on something with Clark, and Kiara decided she was due for a shower. 

It was easy to let her mind go blank beneath the hot spray of the water, but as she turned the facet off and stepped into the embrace of a fluffy towel, her mind started racing. She and Rafe hadn’t talked about what would happen tonight – should she knock on his door when she was dried off and dressed? Should she wait for him to knock on hers? Did he even want to have sex tonight? 

Well, that last one was a stupid question – yes, if Rafe was alive and well, he probably wanted to have sex. Tonight and every night. 

The mental spiral stopped when she picked her phone off the bathroom counter and saw Rafe’s name – he’d sent her a text. She opened the message, and her mouth promptly fell open. 

Rafe had sent her a picture – a hot picture. There were no words included – just a picture of him shirtless, standing in a nearly identical bathroom to the one she stood in on her side of the shared wall, his phone raised at his side. He wasn’t really posing. She could tell he was barely even flexing, and still – still, he looked fucking delicious. 

This was obviously a response to her mirror pic from Celeste’s. His words from earlier floated across her memory – “Figured you were trying to get my attention… Or my assistance” – and she knew immediately she wouldn’t be wasting any more time tonight twiddling her thumbs and waiting for him to come knock on her side of the door. 

She let herself in his room a few minutes later after wringing the water from her curls and throwing on a random, oversized pajama shirt. 

He looked up from where he lay sprawled on his bed, surprise and smugness at war on his annoyingly handsome face  – like he’d hoped his picture would be enough to get her to come over, but wasn’t sure she’d take the bait. 

“Damn, I should’ve timed how fa–”

“Stop talking,” Kiara interrupted, striding right to the bed and climbing on, crawling towards him.

Rafe looked like he couldn’t decide if he was excited or confused by this turn of events. “What are y–”

Kie was close enough to him that she pressed her fingers over his lips, halting his line of question. “Stop. Talking,” she repeated, lifting her brows. 

He nodded once, relaxing into the bed beneath him – and something fluttered in Kiara’s stomach at the obedience. 

She dragged her fingers from his lips to grip his chin, testing the cut of his angular jaw before sliding her hand to rest at the base of his throat. 

God, Kie thought, he really was such a beautiful man – the kind of man you admire without meaning to, sleek lines and quiet luxury, as if his genes knew what kind of life his flesh and blood would be born into. 

Her hand slid further down, running from his collarbones down his torso, brushing her palm lightly over the growing bulge between his legs. She felt herself getting wet. 

It was actually unbelievable that she’d managed to stay away from him for so many years, because now that the dam had broken, she couldn’t imagine how hard it was going to be to go back to an existence where she acted like she didn’t know exactly what Rafe Cameron was keeping in his pants. 

She’d wasted the last five years forcing herself to stay away when she should’ve been right here, admiring him and his mouth-watering cock. 

It’s that thought that had Kiara finding her way between his legs, kneeling on the bed and pushing her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and boxers. She tugged at them until he lifted his hips, allowing her to pull them low. 

His cock sprang free with surprising force and a little laugh bubbled out from between her lips, coming from somewhere in her chest. It almost gave her pause – she’s so happy, genuinely so, at the thought of getting Rafe’s dick in her mouth, blissed out and giggly, why is that? – but before she could dissect it any further, he weaved greedy fingers into her hair and stared down at her like she could solve all the world’s problems if she just sucked his cock a little. 

So she did. 

Not just a little, though – she sucked his cock until he was a whining, groaning mess beneath her touch. Her hands were slick with her saliva, stroking him in time with her mouth, which she kept sealed around his shaft. 

“Kie – baby, oh fu — Jesus Christ –”

He couldn’t say one intelligible sentence by the time she was pulling her mouth off him. A little halo of pride glowed in Kiara’s chest as she straightened up, wiping her lips on the back of her hand and climbing on top of him. Rafe was watching her movements with an absolutely wrecked look on his face – wide navy eyes blinking up at her, flushed cheeks, red mouth panting – and the sight of it went straight to her clit like a physical touch. 

She swung one leg over him and settled into position, straddling him. Gripping the bottom of her oversized tee, she tugged it up and over her body – it had been pointless to even throw it on, but hey, she had some modesty, okay? She wasn’t just going to waltz in his room unannounced and naked – and Rafe’s hands immediately were on her, sliding over her bare skin and gripping her curves like he needed to remind himself she was real. 

The folds of her cunt brushed against him teasingly when she squirmed at his touch. She reached down to hold his hardness in her fist, sliding her cunt over him and smearing him with her arousal. He was still slick with her spit and she was soaked – he’d barely touched her, but sucking his dick had always had that effect on her.  

He was so hard, heavy and rigid in her hand – the thought of what he would feel like inside her had her pussy clenching in anticipation. 

The next time she slid the folds of her cunt over his length, she ground her hips at just the right angle and his tip caught on her entrance.

“Yes, fuck – ” he groaned, lifting his hips up in an attempt to try and push inside. 

She took pity on him and sank down slowly, reveling in the stretch and how her inner muscles still ached a little from the previous night. Her eyes flitted to his face as she moved a few inches down before lifting an inch, only to repeat the torturous process once more. Rafe’s eyes were glued to where she was taking him inside. He looked like he was in pain – brows pinched together and lower lip pinned beneath his teeth. 

When she finally settled against him fully, they both moaned in satisfaction. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered, pressing his feet into the mattress and pushing his hips up. It gained him a few extra millimeters of depth inside her. “You are so fucking tight like this. Fucking unbelievable.” 

“Stop moving,” she scolded, swatting at where he kept trying to pump his hips into her. “I’m still sore from last night. You and your stupid big cock.”

“Jesus,”   he breathed. She shivered as his hands wandered from her hips to her breasts. He teased her nipples, brushing against them with his thumbs until they were peaked and then alternately pinching and rolling them between careful fingers. Rafe looked up at her with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t say shit like that, Kie.” 

“Why?” she asked, tone falsely innocent. “That not your thing anymore, hearing how big you are?” 

“No,”  he growled, pinching her nipples harder in punishment. “That’s – shit, of course that’s my thing.” There was a careful sort of tension in his voice – measured, but a little strained, like it was costing him effort to control it as he continued speaking. “Anything with you involved is my thing, princess.” 

The little bubble of joy in her chest grew bigger at those words – because that’s pretty much exactly how she felt about sex with Rafe. It was nice to know it wasn’t one-sided. 

Kiara worked her hips over him in small circles, determined to feel each ridge and vein along his length. In turn, she wanted him to enjoy every plush inch of her, suffer through every clench of her muscles around him. She teased them both by dragging up slowly and squeezing purposely, gratified by the way his deep blue eyes rolled back in his head each time she did it before popping back open when she’d drop down the full length of him again. 

It wasn’t too long before he moved to grab at her hips, losing patience with her torturous grinding and teasing swivels. 

He was so predictable. 

“Impatient man,” Kiara reprimanded, tone bossy as she lifted his hands from her body and pinned them against the mattress. 

Rafe’s eyes flicked to her face with frustrated interest. 

She looked down at their intertwined hands against the bed. Her dainty brown ones were dwarfed by his, yet he allowed her to keep his hands there, trapped flat against the mattress. 

Somehow that was hotter than anything else. The fact that he could easily overpower her, could make her move at the pace he wanted – hell, she would gladly let him do it and he knows that – but still, he allowed her the control. 

“Relax a little,” Kie whispered, brushing her lips against the shell of Rafe’s ear. “I want to ride you, babe.” 

A pained sound escaped from the back of his throat, and he nodded in acquiescence. He always let her do anything she wanted when she called him that in the before times – Kie was pleased to see the pet name still worked in the now times. 

Kiara released his wrists, leaving his hands flat against the mattress. Her brow arched wordlessly, warning him to keep them where they were. When his hands remained on the bed obediently, she smiled, kissing the tip of his nose before she leaned close to him and whispered against his mouth, “Good boy.” 

He laughed softly, sounding a little wounded, and his eyes flickered with amusement and desire. 

His laughter died in his throat shortly when she untucked her knees by his sides and brought her legs around so her feet were flat against the mattress by his hips. 

“Oh, fuck, Kie,” he groaned as she began to bounce on him. Her new position allowed for depth and speed, so she used both to her advantage. The muscles in her legs flexed as she lifted and dropped herself on him over and over, her palms resting heavily on his chest for support as she bounced. 

Every so often she’d tease him, slowing down and grinding over him, scraping her nails across his pecs. He’d growl and thrust into her shallowly, but managed to let her set the pace. 

Overall, she was pleasantly surprised at his patience, a sticky sort of lust spreading in her stomach each time he visibly tampered his instincts to take the lead. 

His hands left the bed eventually, seeking out her ankles and calves, stroking her skin with reverent touches. 

She allowed it. 

“Shit,”  he gasped at a particularly enthusiastic bounce that had her pussy clenching around him in pleasure. “Baby – Kie, I’m going to... You’re –” Rafe was breathless, unable to tell her what, exactly, she was. He slid an open palm down his face, looking undone. His other hand tightened around her ankle, holding her like his grip was a shackle. 

The sight of him so worked up had her biting her lip – but she took pity on him all the same, finally deciding to chase her orgasm and end his suffering. She rocked against him expertly, grinding her clit against his pelvis each time she took him deep. When she came, it was with startling intensity – pleasure rushed over, sending her free-falling into an abyss where there was only Rafe beneath her. 

With a groan and a vice grip on her hips, he followed her over the edge. His head was thrown back against his pillow, eyes screwed shut as he came, fucking into her with dwindling, lazy thrusts, wringing the last bits of pleasure he could from her body. 

A few moments later, they’d untangled themselves to realign flat on the mattress, with Kie resting her head on his chest. She noticed with satisfaction the skin of his pecs bore tiny, pink scratches and scrapes from her nails. 

Rafe cleared his throat, continuing to stroke his fingers up and down her arm as he spoke. 

“So – guess you liked the picture?” 

They stayed in his room the rest of the night, ordering room service and hoping no one in their block of rooms noticed two plates being delivered to his door. If Kiara thought about it, she’d probably find it strange that they could be together like this so easily after not speaking for so long – laughing as they showered in his bathroom, laying around in resort bathrobes and eating each other’s food, colliding for a quickie that had her begging for him in the blink of an eye then laying next to each other in bed sending each other stupid memes in the span of a quarter of an hour. 

So she decided not to think about it. 

Because she didn’t have time to worry about it being strange – she wanted to soak in every moment in his company she could. 

It was after midnight when they lay in his bed side by side, conversation slowing as they both grew drowsier. 

Kiara stared up at the ceiling. “It’s insane she’s getting married,” she murmured with no prelude. “Well, I know we’re trying to keep it from actually happening – but like, if it weren’t for us, it would be real. Real, actual marriage. I can’t even buy the same face wash twice in a row, and she’s out here trying to commit to somebody for life.”

Rafe huffed a laugh, but didn’t reply. 

“Seriously,” she said with feeling, turning to look at him. “If you really think about it – it’s insane. Choosing someone, committing, and actually doing it – just doing life with them, for forever.” 

He didn’t look back at her. Just folded his arm beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling. For a split second, Kiara wondered if she’d misstepped – it was probably weird to talk about this with him of all people, why’d she even bring it up? – but then he opened his mouth to reply. 

“I think it’s… just about finding the right person. It works when it’s with the right person.” He paused, cutting her a sideways look. “Or – so I’ve heard. I wouldn’t actually know.”

“Well, unfortunately, perfection doesn’t exist in human beings, so I guess I’ll be holding out for forever,” she said, settling back against the pillows. 

“I didn’t say perfect,”   Rafe retorted. “I said right.”

Kiara raised an impatient brow. “Define right, then.” 

“Jesus, Kie – I don’t know. Someone who balances out your bad,” he explained. “Who can take it in stride, who doesn’t flinch when you’re at your worst. Someone who gives it back when you need it.”

“I think what you’re describing is a fencing partner,” she deadpanned. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughed and threw an overstuffed pillow at her. “I’m talking about a counterweight. Someone who keeps the seesaw from teetering off kilter.” 

Rafe looked at her then. Maybe it was the late hour, or the dim light, or a million other little things specific to this exact moment with him – but she swore she saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. It softened her enough to nod at him in understanding, wanting him to continue.

He did. “Like, a push and pull type of thing. A rhythm. If you’re lucky, and it’s the right person, it evens out.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds exhausting.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It probably is.”

Kiara hummed again in response, and they both fell quiet. The silence was soft, not uncomfortable – despite the fact that they’d brushed on something that could’ve landed sharp and dangerous. 

She felt her breath slowing and evening out, lulling her to sleep next to him. 

Chapter Text

☾

“Rise and shine, Rafey.” The voice he woke to the next morning was sing-songy and playful, and despite the fact that he is the exact opposite of a morning person, Rafe found himself cracking a resentful smile before he even opened his eyes. 

He peeled open heavy eyelids to find Kiara sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him. She must have woken up a while ago, because she’d clearly had time to freshen up and change into her clothes for the day – a butter yellow sundress with puffed sleeves that made her look like sunshine personified. The gold charm bracelet on her wrist caught the late morning light filtering in through the window. 

“Another day, another bridal party gathering,” she said. “Brunch is in a half hour.”

20 minutes later, they found themselves down on the main floor making their way to the resort restaurant Sarah had reserved a dining room in. He’d showered, brushed his teeth, and changed, all in about six minutes flat, and had spent the remaining 14 minutes trying to convince her they had time to fuck before brunch. She’d rolled her eyes and pushed him away, leaving him half-hard in his room to cross the shared doorway into hers and pick out a pair of shoes. He’d followed her like a puppy dog, laying across her bed and watching her in the mirror as she’d applied her lipgloss and adjusted her dress, glad she was too distracted to see the affection painted stupidly all over his face.  

“For someone who has a hard time controlling her temper, you’ve sure got a hell of a lot of self-control when it comes to pleasures of the flesh,” he muttered as they walked down the hallway to the restaurant. 

Kiara rounded on him, eyes flaring. “A hard time controlling my –” She stopped herself abruptly, realizing the trap she was walking into. Her face smoothed into a mask of unperturbedness. “I don’t have trouble controlling my temper,” she said, voice prim. “But I will agree that you need to learn more self-control when it comes to – what did you just call it? Pleasures of the flesh?”  Her nose wrinkled adorably. “What is this, Bridgerton?” 

“It’s just, I don’t remember you being so bossy before,” Rafe replied. He pitched his voice higher as he mimicked her: “Get in the shower, just get dressed, stop trying to kiss my neck –”

“I’ve always been bossy. And from what I can recall from before – as well as last night – you kinda liked it.”

Rafe shook his head, biting back a smile. Her referencing their past so boldly did something to him he couldn’t quite explain. “Tolerated it, more like,” he lied. 

Kie cut him a look, opening her mouth to say something back – something sassy and funny, probably, that would have him looking at her again with the stupid moon-eyes he’d had pasted on all morning – when Sarah’s name, spoken by a familiar voice, caught both of their attention. The voice was coming from some kind of a community room off the hallway they were in. They edged closer, stopping outside the open door. Rafe could make out a pool table just inside. 

“Yeah, she came around,” Topper was saying. “You know Sarah. Little needy, but manageable.”

The sound of two male chuckles came in response. 

“Needy but manageable – that’s, like, exactly how you described your last assistant at your uncle’s firm,” Kelce replied. The sound of a pool cue striking a ball rang out, followed by a crack as it collided with others in quick succession. 

Alan murmured something unintelligible in agreement, sounding like he maybe had food in his mouth. 

Topper continued. “Difference is, this version of needy yet manageable comes with tax benefits. And of course, the family name doesn’t hurt. You know how Kildare is.”

The sound of glasses clinking together made Rafe grit his teeth. For him to talk about it so boldly in a room where anyone could hear – when did Top grow the balls for this? 

Kiara shifted next to Rafe, like she sensed his growing irritation, and placed a hand on his forearm. She moved like she was ready to lead him away – it seemed like the conversation between the guys had ended and no one had anything further to add. 

Alan’s voice rang out again, sounding clearer now, like he’d swallowed whatever food had been stuffed in his mouth. “Yo, did you see that pic Sarah sent in the group chat of the girls at their dress fitting yesterday? Kiara looked insane, I mean – god damn. Taking bets on if I get to see that dress on my floor the night of the wedding, ‘cause I’ve been greasing those wheels for days now.”

Kelce burst out with a laugh. “Bro, you’re delusional.” Once again, the sound of the cue striking a ball came, followed by the thunk of two balls falling into the pockets of the table. 

“I’m telling you, no pussy is worth that fucking can of worms,” Topper said. “Don’t act like you haven’t noticed how Rafe is with her.” Topper’s voice lowered, but his next words were still audible from their vantage point in the hall. “We used to call him her guard dog back in high school – dude hated when anyone else would even look at her, let alone talk to her.”

Rafe glanced down to watch Kie’s face as she processed this information but she kept her expression carefully blank, like she knew he was studying her. 

He’d always figured people knew something was up between them back then – not that anyone had ever confronted him about it, but how could they not guess at the truth when he and Kiara had never been very good at hiding it? She may have thought they were surreptitious, but he’d known better. 

“You say that like that’s not half the fun,” Alan said with a cocky laugh. “I like a challenge. Anyway, girls like Kiara – they act like that, but they love the attention.”

Rafe stole another look at Kie, watching in fond amusement as she rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Topper replied. “And don’t make shit weird. I can’t handle drama on top of all this other wedding shit.”

“Relax, Top. Christ. I’m just keeping her entertained. Pretty positive she likes it.”

Kelce snorted. “She’s definitely not into you. But I respect the confidence.”

Kie pushed off from the wall, tugging Rafe with her as she moved away from the door they’d been lurking by. Alan’s reply faded unintelligibly as they walked away, but Rafe could safely assume it was something characteristically douchey. 

“Can you fucking believe him?” Kiara fumed, stalking down the hallway. The entrance to the restaurant was only a few yards away. She pushed through the spotless glass double doors before he could get there to open it for her. 

Rafe remained silent since he wasn’t sure which one of the asshats in that room she was pissed about at the moment. 

“I mean, the fucking gall to act like Sarah’s just a tax benefit? Or like she’s the needy one? Like she’s the one that needs to be managed?”

Right – she was talking about Topper and his sister. 

Yes, idiot, he chided himself. She’s got the mission in mind – she’s not thinking about your jealous ass and how you want to strangle Alan for suggesting she’ll end up in his room at any point during this trip. 

“He’s such a fucking bastard,” she continued with a scoff. 

The hostess at the polished wooden stand near the doors blinked in surprise at Kiara’s words. 

Rafe stepped forward. “Looking for the Cameron-Thornton brunch,” he said smoothly, and the hostess nodded, gesturing towards a private dining room off to the side. He towed Kiara to the doors by her elbow as she continued her rant.

“I mean, what is wrong with him? And how come you aren’t reacting? He’s so –” she made an incoherent sound of disgust.

“I’m reacting internally, trust me. He’s a piece of shit,” Rafe agreed fervently. Topper’s comments about Sarah rattled around in his head, making him clench his jaw. 

He took what Dr. Khiatani would call a cleansing breath and opened one of the glass-paned French doors to the dining room, gripping the top of it as he glanced down at Kiara. She ducked under his arm to enter. 

“But we’re still working on our plan,” he continued as they walked inside. “So, as of now, getting pissed isn’t going to do much. Let’s just keep up with the mission and –”

“What mission?” 

Kiara and Rafe turned to find Cleo standing behind them, a flute of orange juice tucked in her hand. Her eyes flicked curiously between the two of them. 

“The mission of…” Rafe cast his mind about. “Being diligent about sun protection. You know, sunscreen. Very important in the summer.”

Cleo stared at him. He got the sense that she, like Kiara, was a good bit sharper than the rest of the Pogues. 

Kiara nodded along stiltedly with his words. “SPF strategy is serious. Lots of… nuance. The ozone layer, Cleo. It’s depleting.” 

Cleo raised her brows, unmoved. “You were definitely talking about something more interesting than SPF.”

“I mean, god forbid a girl wants to protect herself from skin cancer and free radicals,” Kiara said flippantly. “The only alternative must be that we are secretly planning to unravel a toxic engagement, I suppose.”

Rafe kept his face straight, but just barely. 

Cleo’s mouth dropped open. “Wha– that was a joke, right? Unless –”

“Totally a joke,” he deadpanned. 

“Cheese on bread,” Cleo muttered, looking between him and Kie. “This – this is making more sense. You two had major plotting energy when you came in, but then I just sorta assumed it was just your usual dynamic with the usual chemistry.”

Rafe glanced down at Kiara to find her cheeks turning pink. 

“We don’t have chemistry,” she sputtered. “We… have a mutual goal.”

Nodding, Cleo replied, “And mutual longing.” She paused for a beat. “Kidding. God, y’all should see your faces. I want to hear more about this mission later.” Smiling, she turned to walk away towards one of the linen-covered tables the brunch buffet was laid out on, sipping on her drink as she went. 

Kie turned to look at him, and Rafe had the sudden understanding that he needed to play this right – he was confronting a wild animal, and if he said the wrong thing or moved too fast, he’d spook her. 

To him, it felt like Cleo was stating the obvious – but to Kiara, it was probably more like a grenade lobbed right at her carefully constructed facade. 

Before either of them could say anything, though, the door to the dining room opened and Topper, Alan, and Kelce all walked in. They nodded in greeting to Kiara and Rafe, and Alan came to stand annoyingly close to Kie. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, giving her what was evidently meant to be a winning smile. Rafe was gratified to see it had no effect whatsoever on Kie’s demeanor. 

“Morning,” she replied shortly. “Hey, Kelce,” she said, nodding at the other man, before moving on to Topper, her gaze hardening in dislike. “Top. I’d say nice to see you, but I hate lying.”

Topper’s eyebrows dropped low as he glared at Kiara and opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, a cheery voice interrupted them. 

“Oh good. You’re all here!”

Rafe turned to find Sarah coming closer, arms linked with a smiling, tall blonde in a blue dress who looked vaguely familiar. Becca, he remembered suddenly. Sarah’s roommate from UNC. 

“You guys remember Becca? She came a few days early to help us celebrate, so I invited her to join in on brunch today.” Everyone in the group greeted her, and Kiara stepped forward to give her a quick hug, complimenting her dress. “Make sure she feels welcome, I’ve got to go talk to the staff about something really quick.” Sarah patted Becca’s arm and left her by Rafe’s side. 

Alan, Topper, and Kelce drifted away to grab food from the buffet. Rafe wanted to talk to Kie about what Cleo had said – the fear of her balking under the scrutiny of outside observation was still itching under his skin – but it couldn’t happen with Becca there, obviously. 

“I’m… gonna go sit with Cleo for a minute,” Kiara said, flicking her gaze to Rafe. “Good to see you again, Becca,” she added warmly, then slipped away towards the long table where Cleo now sat with Wheezie, JJ, and Pope. 

“You too, Kie,” Becca said with a smile before turning to Rafe. “Been having fun? You probably had to take a lot of time off work for all this, huh?”

“Hmm?” Rafe said, jerking his gaze away from Kiara’s retreating back to look at Becca, not wanting to be rude. “Oh, yeah. But you know – no big deal.”

“Sarah says you work really hard. With your business and everything.” 

He nodded. “Sure, I guess. Probably could work harder.”

Becca laughed like he’d said something funny. “Wanna grab some food?” she asked, cocking her head towards the buffet table. “Looks like Sarah’s done such a good job with everything. Can’t wait to see what the reception’s like on the big day.”

He followed Becca to the table on the other side of the room, laden with all manner of brunch items – mini-frittatas, cubed fruit, slivers of smoked salmon. She asked him another question, something about the best beach spot on Kildare, and he answered as best he could while dividing his attention between their conversation and keeping his eyes on Kiara. 

As Becca debated out loud which of the pastries she should try, Rafe watched Alan amble his way over to a seat next to Kiara and knock an elbow lightly against her arm, giving her an easy grin accompanied by what Rafe could only assume was some dumbass line that had endeared him to countless girls before. He waited, watching, jaw tight, to see if whatever charm Alan had somehow scraped together would work on Kie. 

He couldn’t hear her reply from across the room, but the flat look she gave Alan coupled with the dismissive, downward curve of her lips had him smiling and getting, inexplicably and confusingly, semi-hard in his trousers. 

“Have you had one of these cocktails yet? The spiked lavender lemonade?” Becca asked, picking up a glass from a nearby tray. Rafe suddenly remembered he was still technically speaking with her, which he felt bad about – she was being perfectly nice.

She just wasn’t Kiara. 

 ☼

Kie had taken a seat at the table to pester Cleo about what she’d meant by mutual longing, but Alan, as per usual, was determined to attach himself to her side like a pesky barnacle. 

“I told you before,” he was saying, shaking his hair out of his eyes in a way he must have thought was appealing but just made him look like a sheepdog. “I like a challenge, Kie.” 

“And I like men who are aware enough to realize they’re out of their depth. So I fear we both may be disappointed.”

“Jesus, girl. You sure are a tough one,” Alan said with a chuckle. He started to say something else, but the sudden sound of Becca’s laugh across the room had Kiara glancing towards the buffet table. 

Becca and Rafe stood by a tray of cocktails, both holding plates of food. Kiara couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could tell just from Becca’s body language that the other girl was flirting. She was tossing her silky sheet of long, blonde hair over her shoulder, smiling up at Rafe and leaning in close to him. He smiled back, nodding along with something she’d said. 

Kie grit her teeth as she watched. 

Alan was still talking next to her, telling her some story about his job that she’d certainly never given the impression of wanting to hear. 

Becca laughed again at something else Rafe said, the sound of her laughter like tinkling bells. Kie reached down to fidget with her bracelet, unable to look away. 

Something ugly coiled in her stomach. 

She had no right to be mad, really. Like, at all. 

Rafe could talk to whoever he wanted. Smile like that at whoever he wanted. Angle his face and let the exact shade of navy in his eyes be seen by whoever he wanted.

Becca is precisely the kind of girl she would’ve pictured with Rafe – blonde, tan, endless legs, a piercing white smile – if she’d ever had the urge to indulge in the self harm of imagining him with another woman. 

The worst part is, Kie knows Becca. Likes her even, quite a lot, actually – she’s genuinely a very sweet person. Becca probably wouldn’t argue with Rafe the way Kiara does. Becca probably wouldn’t rag on him for his preference for coffee sweet enough to make her teeth ache, or how late he sleeps in. Becca probably wouldn’t make everything so hard – so fucking difficult – the way Kiara does. 

That last thought cut a little too deep, the self-loathing sentiment ringing around in her mind uncomfortably. She shoved it away and latched on to the bitter feeling simmering in her gut instead. Anger was much easier to sit with, much easier to wield – and right now, she wanted to use it like a blade, wanted to cut Rafe down, at least just a little. 

Turning back to Alan, she plastered on a smile – small, but warmer by far than anything she’d given him so far. He was still talking about work – he must do something in finance, but she didn’t actually care enough to try and decipher what, exactly. 

“…so I told them, if they couldn’t keep up, they shouldn’t be in the room,” Alan said with a flourishing finish, indicating he was finally done speaking. 

Kiara nodded, taking a long and languid sip from her mimosa. “Impressive. You make it sound almost… fun.” She drew out the last word purposely, adding in a little shrug of her shoulder and putting her hand on the arm closest to her. 

Alan laughed and glanced down at her hand, looking a little smug, like he was proud of himself for finally getting her to come around. “Well, you know – I’m known to make things fun.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded, opening his mouth like he had more to say, when the loud, long scrape of a chair being pulled out from the table across from them had them both looking up. 

Rafe had pulled out a chair for Becca across from Alan, and then helped himself to the chair directly in front of Kiara. She could feel him staring at her – staring at her hand on Alan’s arm, specifically – but she refused to look up. 

“Yo, Rafe,” JJ called from a few chairs down. “You try one of these mango thingies yet? So good.”

“Mango tart,” Pope corrected. 

“I know you are, but what am I?” JJ replied snarkily. 

Cleo and Kiara both snorted, sharing an amused smirk. Cleo glanced down, eyeing Kie’s hand on Alan’s forearm suspiciously, before cutting a quick glance over to Rafe. She brought her eyes back to Kie’s, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly in question.  

“Not yet, man,” Rafe said, answering JJ’s original question. “Kinda lost my appetite.” There was an edge to his voice. 

“Anyway, like I was saying,” Alan said with the air of someone who was trying to make sure she didn’t get too distracted from their conversation. “Finance is all about instinct, you know? You either got it, or you don’t.” 

Kiara smiled. “Totally. Same with poker, right? Come to think of it, they have a lot in common, wouldn’t you say – finance advisement and poker? You’ve got to be good at lying for both.” 

Rafe made a sound of resentful amusement across from them, and Alan hesitated like he wasn’t quite sure how to answer her question. 

She let her smile widen into something a bit more convincingly guileless. If she let on too obviously she was entertaining him for her own designs – specifically, getting a rise out of Rafe – he’d lose interest. 

“I guess you’re not wrong. In my line of work, you can’t hesitate. You gotta take risks.” He smirked at her. “Probably why I’m willing to go head to head with you.”

Kiara sat back in her chair, lips curving around her straw. “Like a high-risk, high-reward type deal?” 

“Exactly,” he said, nodding in approval. “You get it. Listen – I’m going to get some food, I’ll grab you a plate.”

Kie agreed with a nod and used the moment to look around the table, avoiding Rafe’s glare. Sarah and Topper were down at the other end of the table, looking relatively happy for once – but that wasn’t really saying much, because the two of them were laughing over some story Kelce was telling animatedly. 

Wheezie and JJ were both trying to convince Pope and Cleo to watch some movie Kiara had never heard of – “You’ve never seen anyone decapitate demons while executing perfect choreography to a k-pop banger before, have you, Pope? I didn’t fuckin’ think so” – as JJ waved his cream-cheese smudged phone around, a girl with a long purple braid flashing on the screen. 

Becca leaned closer from across the table, catching Kiara’s eye. “How’s Texas been, Kiara? Sarah told me all about her visit last year, sounds like you settled in a really cool town.”

Kiara blinked. “Yeah, it’s –” She searched for the right word. For some reason, the thought of Texas right now had her stomach twisting in disconcerting knots – which was weird, because a week and a half ago, the idea of being in Kildare for this length of time had practically given her hives.  “It’s definitely a cool area,” she agreed lamely. 

Against her better judgement, she chanced a glance at Rafe. His blue eyes were inscrutable – hard and flinty, not giving anything away. He stared back at her for a beat before blinking and turning to say something to Becca, but Kie didn’t hear what because Alan chose that moment to reappear, carrying two plates laden with avocado toast and mini-frittatas. 

As he placed one of the plates down on the woven placemat in front of her, she opened her mouth but was interrupted by Rafe’s voice across the table before she got a chance to say anything. 

“She’s allergic to avocados.”

Alan looked up at Rafe in mild surprise before glancing at Kie, and she gave him an apologetic shrug. “Sorry – I should’ve mentioned. That’s my bad.” She genuinely hadn’t thought about it. “No biggie, sit,” she said when he made to grab the plate and stand. “I’ll go get something myself.” Kie stood from the table and headed over to the buffet. 

She didn’t have to look behind her to know Rafe was following her – she could feel it in the way the hair on the back of her neck prickled, the weight of his gaze between her shoulder blades. 

Stopping in front of the three-tiered glass dessert stand, Kiara pretended to inspect the selection. He reached the table, stepping closer than she knew was wise, but her head was too twisted and tangled up to correct him. 

“Why’d you follow me, Rafe?” she sighed, refusing to turn to look at him. Kie leaned forward and plucked a berry tart from the dessert stand. “What are you doing over here?” she repeated when he didn’t answer. “Go back to the table.”

“What am I doing?” he hissed in her ear, reaching over to the tray of lavender lemonade cocktails and helping himself to one. “Contemplating bending you over the closest table and seeing if you still want to flirt with Alan when I’m done with you, apparently.”

She spun around to face him finally, ignoring the way his crass words had her thighs clenching. His jaw was tight as he glowered down at her. 

“Not sure Becca would appreciate that,” she snapped before she could stop herself. 

Stupid stupid stup –

Rafe laughed disbelievingly, his brows lifting. The expression was sweet, making him look uncharacteristically boyish, and Kiara felt her heart stutter in her chest despite herself. “That’s what this is about? Oh my god, I’ve barely looked at the girl. You’ve got to be –”

“No, that’s – I didn’t mean that. I just meant, she’s obviously into you. And you should be into her, she’s your type.”

The amusement on Rafe’s face was wiped away completely by those words. “What the hell would you know about my type, Kie? I’m starting to think you don’t pay attention to much of anything if you think Becca is someone I’d be interested in when you’re standing right the fuck in front of me.”

She had no idea how to respond to that, so she didn’t. Instead, she reached for the glass in his hand, taking a long sip from his lemonade. Deep blue eyes tracked the move, resting on the hollow of her throat when she swallowed and lingering on the sugary dampness left on her lips when she lowered the glass. Something ached inside her at the look on his face. 

“Forget it,” Kiara muttered finally. She pushed the glass back into his hand and made her way back to the table, concentrating on the deliberate movements of each step, doing her best to not let his words echo in her mind.  

☾

Rafe watched, baffled, as Kiara put her cute nose in the air and stormed away. 

Most of the time, he’s spending his time with Kie worried he’s being way too obvious about his feelings – and then she does something like this, and he realizes she’s just as determined to stick her head in the sand as she was when they were younger. 

Clearly, he’s been wasting his time with subterfuge. She does enough denial for the both of them. 

You both agreed to casual, a voice in his head whispered. That’s how you convinced her this was a good idea to begin with. 

But then if she wanted casual, why was she acting like him talking to Becca was a crime? And why the hell was his punishment watching her flirt with Alan fucking Thornton? 

Kiara Carrera was a true agent of chaos. That was the only explanation. 

The rest of brunch passed in a blur: clinking glasses and silverware, bursts of laughter from the other end of the table, Kiara’s voice weaving in and out between Alan’s across from him – though the sharp edge of her flirting had dulled into something more casual, easier to stomach. Rafe spoke when spoken to, giving Becca polite nods and answers when she asked questions in an attempt to draw him into the conversation, but his focus snagged every time Kie laughed too easily at something Alan said. He had to focus on not letting himself unravel. 

By the time the plates were mostly empty and the groups around the table had fractured into smaller conversations, Rafe was itching to leave and confront Kiara on what exactly the fuck had happened in this dining room to make her entertain Alan’s attention. 

“You’re not easy to figure out, are you, Kiara?” Alan was saying. The sound of her name spoken by his smarmy voice had Rafe gritting his teeth. 

Kie rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “If I was, I’m sure you’d already be bored.”

Smart girl. 

Alan laughed haplessly, clueless to the fact that she was poking fun at him again. “Fair point,” he agreed. “You’re trouble, for sure. In a fun way.”

Rafe exhaled sharply through his nose without meaning to. Cleo looked up at him from her seat next to Kiara, who was still studiously ignoring him. 

“Fun for some people,” she replied with a smile. “If you can keep up.”

“I think I can handle that.”

The idea Alan could possibly handle Kiara was ludicrous – so much so, it was impossible for Rafe to bite his tongue. 

“Trust me, Al. I don’t think that’s the case.”

Becca shifted in her chair next to him. Cleo’s eyes bounced between Alan, Kie, and Rafe. At the other end of the table, Sarah, Topper, and Kelce were too invested in their conversation to take any notice. Kiara’s gaze was stuck to her empty plate. 

He hated the flirting, hated that he’d had to sit through the meal while Alan chattered incessantly to her, but he hated that most of all – her refusal to acknowledge him. 

 Alan sat back in his chair, eyeing Rafe with interest. “Careful, man. Starting to sound a little jealous.”

If the others had been trying to act like they weren’t listening before, they completely dropped the pretense now. He could feel them watching closely now: Cleo, Pope, JJ – even Wheezie had looked up from her phone. 

Rafe’s voice was sharp, and he hated that he was losing his cool – but there was no keeping a lid on his temper now that it had reached a boiling point. “What the hell would you know about it, Alan?”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Alan replied with a shrug. 

Kiara finally looked up at Rafe. 

Like always, she was an open book. He saw all her emotions fighting in her brown eyes, and wondered if that was the real reason why she’d refused to look at him. It was all there on her face. Nervous anticipation, a trace of amusement, that goddamn stubbornness – and, stitched beneath it all like a hidden thread, a hint of guilt and vulnerability. 

 “Then I guess your vision’s fucked, but I could’ve assumed that since you lack the ability to read the fucking room.” Rafe’s words were for Alan, but he was looking right at Kie while he said them, refusing to take his eyes off her. He watched as her face sharpened with an edge of defiance. 

A few seats down, JJ whistled. Rafe heard Becca’s surprised inhale next to him. 

“So it’s settled, then,” Kiara said primly. “You’re not bothered – so you won’t mind if I keep listening. Because Alan was in the middle of saying something really, really interesting.”

He glared at her. “He’s never said anything interesting in his entire goddamn life and you know it.”

“Jesus, I thought we already ate – didn’t realize sexual tension was the main course,” JJ muttered under his breath. 

Wheezie elbowed him sharply, and Kiara blinked and looked around the table as if she was only just realizing they were listening. 

“What? Are we supposed to act like we’re all dumb?” JJ groused, rubbing his arm from the impact of Wheezie’s bony elbow. 

“Less difficult for some of us than others,” Pope replied out of the corner of his mouth, like he knew it wasn’t the right time for a joke but couldn’t help himself. 

Kiara stood from her seat, the chair scraping loudly along the wood floor from the sudden movement. “I –” she cut herself off, looking around the table. “I’m going up to my room. I don’t feel very well, excuse me.”

She turned on her heel and fled.  

“Woah, is Kie okay?” Sarah called from the head of the table, looking concerned.

Rafe could feel everyone’s eyes on him. 

“She’s good,” JJ finally replied. “Think she’s just suffering from an oversharing flare-up.” 

Rafe stood up from the table. Nobody looked that surprised. “Think I’m gonna go make a work call. Gotta talk to Clark about something,” he said blandly, not waiting for a response from anyone. 

He exited the restaurant quickly and entered the hallway, searching for any sign of Kie, but she must have hightailed it to the elevators at maximum speed because she was nowhere in sight. Too pent up to wait for the elevator with the lobby’s calm jazz music raking over his nerves, Rafe took the stairs up to the third floor two at a time. 

When he reached Room 317, he pounded his fist into the heavy, lacquered wood. “Kie!” he boomed, not caring if he disturbed anyone else on the floor. He pounded on the door again. “Fuck it,” he hissed, ripping his key from his pocket and opening the door to his own room next to hers. 

He strode to the shared doorway inside, jerked open the door on his side, and called for her. “Kiara, open the door. You wanted my attention, right? Well, you got it. So talk to me.” Rafe raised his fist to pound on her door, but it was yanked open before he got a chance. 

A wave of deja vu washed over him. Here they were again, just as they had been the first day – him pounding on her door, his hand poised to knock, the two of them on opposite sides of this cursed fucking doorway. 

Kiara stood there with a hand on her hip and an affronted expression on her face, still wearing the yellow sundress. He had the nonsensical urge to rip it off her – she looked too sweet and soft for someone who’d just spent so much of her time and energy driving him absolutely fucking nuts. 

“Why are you screaming, Rafe? Christ, keep it down.”

He widened his eyes in disbelief, stepping past her into her room. “Why am I – why do you think? What did you think that little performance downstairs was going to get you, a kiss on the cheek and a ‘godspeed’ while I sent you on your way to Alan?” 

“Ew, please. I was just –”

“Don’t you dare fucking deny it. You were flirting with him to get a reaction from me, to get back at me for – what, speaking to another woman?”

“Not everything is about you,” Kie snapped. “You’re the one crashing out because I laughed once or twice with someone else.”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re not good at it. You were egging me on, and we both fucking know it.” Rafe glowered at her. “Anyway, you heard Kelce and Topper before brunch – this is how I’ve always been. I just find it a little harder to pretend I don’t care when I was inside you less than 10 hours ago.”

“Inside me, yes. But you’re not –” Kiara’s words faltered. “You’re not my boyfriend, or really even anything close to it. You don’t get some kind of a claim over me because we fucked.” But he noticed her mouth twisted around the words like it cost her something to say them. 

Rafe was sure she’d said it just to hurt him. To knock him down a peg. To push him away. He knew that, and that’s why her words did absolutely nothing other than piss him off. 

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” He gave a short laugh. “You don’t believe that. Admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit.”

Her refusal sparked something in him, something that twisted alongside his familiar temper and morphed it into something new. 

He wasn’t angry with her – not the way he got with other people. With Kiara, it was different. 

Everything always was. 

It was a growing heat beneath his skin, an itch between his ribs. He wanted to pull the truth out of her. Not just once, but over and over, in whispers and stutters and screams, until she was dripping with it, soaked with it. He wanted to make her beg, to make her stop hiding – drag her out from behind the denial, even if she kicked and raged every step of the way. 

The way he should’ve done five years ago when he let her leave without a fight. 

He closed the distance between them, forcing her to take a step back towards her dresser. “Liar,” he murmured. 

They stared at each other for a beat, their mutual frustration a physical, tangible thing in the air. She opened her mouth to say something and he moved before she could form the words, stealing her breath as he pressed his lips to hers. 

It was a fierce, demanding kiss – a challenge. One he knew she’d never back down from. 

Kie pushed back at him with matching heat, violent little fingers knotting into his shirt like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer. He stepped into her, both of them unbothered by the sound of her perfume and jewelry rattling around on the dresser as her back knocked against the wood. Her mouth was just as urgent and insistent as his. It was hard to tell if she wanted to kiss him back or bite him.

But his purpose right now wasn’t messy, artless passion.

She wanted to play games? 

He had a fun one in mind. 

Rafe slowed his movements, pulling his lips back so that they skimmed over hers teasingly. The hand gripping her hip eased its pressure and slid around the curve of her waist. Kie shivered, and he smiled against her mouth. 

“Rafe.”  Her voice was a heady mix of whining and warning. “Kiss me,” she demanded softly, leaning into him again, trying to fully capture his lips once more. 

“I am kissing you, princess.” He kept his touch soft, teasing. Holding back.

She made a sound of frustration, trying to pull him closer using her grip on his shirt. 

He pulled back further in response, breaking her hold on him and gathering both of her hands easily in one of his. It took almost no effort to pin them to her own chest. 

“Say it,” he murmured, brushing his mouth against the curve of her ear. 

She blinked up at him, flushed and defiant and, most satisfyingly, confused. “Say what?”

His lips curved up in an indulgent smile. “That it’s more than just this .” He pressed his open mouth against her neck and reveled in her answering shudder. “Because if it isn’t, Kie, why the fuck would my having a simple, polite conversation with Becca have led to such a reaction? Hmm?” 

She felt more. Rafe knew it – he could feel it burning off her skin every time they touched like this, every time she pretended not to care. 

He’d make her admit it. He wanted to own the moment she finally gave in. 

“I told you,” she breathed. “It had nothing to do with y–” 

Her protests were cut off by a gasp when he bit down on her neck, punishing her for the lie. His tongue soothed the sting, and she melted into his arms a little, arching her neck in a silent request for more. 

“You want me to keep going?” he breathed into her skin. “Admit it’s more than just this.” Her pulse fluttered beneath his lips. 

“You’re overestimating yourself.”

“Am I?” He leaned in, kissing her jaw, her neck – keeping each press of his lips purposely restrained. Kiara tried to get closer to him, but he tightened his grip on her waist, forcing her to stay where he wanted. “Because you look like you’re about to fall apart.”

She glared up at him, fingers curling deeper into his shirt. “That’s your ego talking.”

He chuckled against her warm, soft skin. “Then prove me wrong. Say you don’t feel anything else.”

Her breath stuttered, but she stayed silent. 

Stubborn fucking girl. 

In the next moment, she was pushing him away instead of trying to pull him closer. He let her, stumbling back an unexpected step, and watched as Kiara sank to her knees in front of him. When she hit the hardwood, she looked back up at him. The sight of her there – eyes still flickering with defiance, lust written all over her face – had his brain short circuiting for a moment.

Kiara’s fingers were sliding against his belt, reaching for his zipper. As she pulled his cock from his pants, she spoke, her voice low and throaty. “Maybe I’ll make you beg, instead. We both know I can.”

Under normal circumstances, yes, Rafe thought. 

But right now, the mood he was in – not a fucking chance. 

“Go ahead, baby. Do your worst.”

Her mouth was on him then, her warm, wet tongue swirling along his tip. He gripped her hair with one hand, the other coming forward to press against the top of the dresser as he leaned into her, pressing more of his length into her mouth. The moan she let out was like music to his ears, but she pulled back, keeping him just barely in her mouth. 

She was teasing him. Trying to beat him at his own game. 

That thought had him gripping her hair tighter, forcing a little whimper from her throat. The smile that spread across his face at the sound wasn’t pretty, and he was suddenly grateful she couldn’t see him clearly from her vantage point on the floor. 

Taking his hand off the dresser, he gripped the base of his cock and pulled himself from her mouth. He ran the tip along her lips, gaze moving between the precum smeared on her lower lip and her big, brown eyes. She still had that defiant heat in them, but they were growing hazy now, clouding with desire. 

He pushed back in lazily, thrusting shallowly against her tongue. “You love that, don’t you?”

She popped off his cock with an audible sound. “Teasing you?” Her voice was hoarse but still, that bratty edge remained.

“Sucking cock,” he clarified darkly, his voice low and rough. 

He watched with satisfaction as a wave of lust passed over her face.

“God, Kie. Look at you. You can’t even fucking deny it, can you?” 

Her perfect lips were wet with spit, red already from their activities – and he was just getting started. 

“Open your mouth.”

Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment, but then she obeyed. Her submission sizzled something in the back of his brain, and he groaned.

“Good fucking girl.” 

He slid himself between her lips again, letting his erection rest on her tongue for a moment. She must’ve known what was coming, because he felt her inhale deeply and relax her jaw – and then he was shoving himself in until he brushed the back of her throat. 

Rafe watched as her eyes widened a little in shock, her throat working to accept the intrusion. He couldn’t help but preen a little at her struggling to take all of him  – he was just a man, after all. Something about the sight of his girl on her knees, trying her best to fit him inside her, to breathe around him, to be good for him, called to some baser instinct deep inside. 

He began thrusting, starting off slow, letting her get used to him. His grip on her hair didn’t loosen. As he picked up speed, her balance on her knees started to falter. His thrusts pushed her backward, closer to the dresser behind her. Eventually, the back of her head was pressed against the drawers, pinning her between the wood and his body. He rested a hand just above the nape of her neck, cushioning her head so he wouldn’t knock her too hard against the dresser.

Rafe watched as she blinked up at him, her eyes watering from the pressure of him inside her throat – but she wasn’t pushing him away, wasn’t trying to stop him. Her hands were resting against his thighs, soft and slack. If it got to be too much, he knew she would tap him there on his leg. 

His gaze dragged from her eyes to her lips stretched around him, then lower, taking in the yellow sundress with its puffed sleeves – so innocent, the contrast between what she was wearing and what she was letting him do to her almost too much. Finally, he dropped his eyes down to where her thighs were pressed tight against each other, watching as she squirmed as he continued fucking her mouth. 

“Bet your pussy is soaked, isn’t it, princess?” he ground out between thrusts. 

She tried to shake her head in protest but he just gripped her hair tighter, keeping her still. 

“I’m right, yeah?” 

Kiara whimpered in response, and to his delight, she slid a hand from his leg and tucked it snugly between her thighs. 

“No, no, no – not a chance.” Without any warning, he tugged her mouth off of him and yanked her off the floor, all but tossing her onto her bed. 

The laugh that bubbled out of her was breathless and nervous, but excited, too – she loved this, and it was driving him insane that she couldn’t just admit that the reason why it had always been so goddamn good between them was because of something beyond the purely physical.

“This is my show, baby. You don’t get to feel good until I say so. Nothing’s touching that needy little clit until you tell me what I want to hear.” Rafe tugged her around on the bed, positioning her like a doll – pushing her onto her stomach and knees, dragging her hips up into the air, pressing her upper body down into the mattress. The short hem of her dress was hiked up, putting the light pink panties she wore beneath on display. The cotton fabric was damp, almost transparent with her arousal and clinging to the curves of her cunt. 

Rafe hooked a finger in the gusset, running it along the wet fabric and tugging it to the side so he could see her. Kiara shivered in response. 

“It’s just me, Kie,” he cooed. “You can admit it to me. Say it’s more than just sex for you, too. Say you were jealous.” His voice hardened. “Fuck. Say anything – anything that’s true.” Without warning, he brought a hand down hard on her ass, watching with satisfaction as her flesh wobbled from the force of it. 

She jerked in his grip, trying to sit up. “Rafe, what the fu–” 

He pushed her back down into the bed with a firm hand between her shoulder blades, rolling his eyes at her continued reticence. 

“You won’t say it, baby? Fine.” He yanked her underwear down, baring her completely. “You don’t mind if I borrow this wet little cunt in the meantime, though, do you?” Pressing the tip of his cock to her entrance, he slid through the slickness gathered there, leaning closer to murmur darkly in her ear, “Just because you want to be a martyr doesn’t mean both of us should suffer, yeah?” 

Without waiting for a reply, he pushed inside her completely. A sick surge of pleasure rushed through him at her surprised, strained moan. He should feel a little bad – he hadn’t prepped her at all. The stretch of his sudden entry probably burned, but the thought didn’t garner sympathy – it just sank its claws into him, making him more wild. The way she arched her back told him she wasn’t too bothered. 

He started fucking her in earnest, filling her to the brim each time, hard enough to drag needy whimpers from her lips with every thrust. It would’ve been easy to lose himself in her body, but he had a purpose here – when she strained against him, he pulled back. When she tightened on him, he slowed down. 

“Oh my god, Rafe – Rafe, that’s –” she cut herself off with a wet, broken gasp. 

“That’s what, princess? I didn’t catch that.”

“So good,” she moans. 

It must have felt good, because she was clenching on his cock so hard she was making it difficult to keep up his rhythm. 

Which meant she was climbing towards her orgasm.

And that – well, that wasn’t acceptable. 

He pulled himself from the vice grip of her inner muscles and dug his fingers into her hips, flipping her around on the mattress. The sound of her breath leaving her in a little whoosh had him biting back a smile, and when she whined, the smile broke free.

“Fuck you,” she mewled. “I was so close –”

“That’s the fucking point. You haven’t said what I need to hear, Kiara. I’m serious – you think I’m gonna let you come until you admit it?” he rasped, dragging his mouth along her neck. She was sweating from the way he was working her over. He licked a stripe up the side of her throat, tasting salt. 

Rafe pushed back to stand over her. At some point, one of them had tugged the sleeves of her dress down so her tits were free. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, tinged pink – a Rococo painting came to life. Her cheeks were flushed red with exertion and her perfect cunt was rosy, wet and swollen from his rough treatment. She blinked up at him with glassy eyes, pupils blown wide, mascara smudged beneath her lashline from the way her eyes had watered when he’d fucked her mouth. 

The gold glimmer of her bracelet caught his eye, and he glanced down to see her hand starting to creep towards the apex of her thighs. Rafe snatched it before she could reach her goal, pressing her wrist into the mattress harshly. 

Before she could protest, her whole body was shuddering and she was gasping – because his other hand had come down hard on her pussy. He’d slapped her clit.

“Fuck!” 

No time to recover. He thrust back inside, her cunt welcoming him back easily, every muscle taut with need. He pulled her right to the edge again and again, keeping her teetering until he could tell she didn’t know whether she should scream or cry.

She felt good, so fucking good. 

But he couldn’t give in before her. 

Her nails were digging into his shoulders, the pain sharp and sweet. He knew he’d have marks from it tomorrow, maybe even the day after, and the thought made him drive into her harder. 

“Please,” Kie breathed, her head tipping back. Her curls lay in a tangle  against the pillows. “I’m – I’m begging, I –” she broke off again with a deep moan. “I need to come.”

“Say it,” he growled before leaning in to press his mouth against hers in a messy, wet kiss. Her lips parted, letting him possess her mouth like he was possessing her body. But it still wasn’t enough for him. He grabbed her chin, making her meet his gaze. “Say I’m not just some fuck to you. This is more. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it’s not just sex.” 

He’d never forget the way she looked in that moment – utterly fucked out, wrecked with desire, pupils blown so wide they’d almost entirely swallowed the chocolate brown of her irises. Rafe thought for one long moment that she would keep fighting it.

She was always fucking fighting it. 

But then – 

“You mean more,” Kiara gasped. Her voice was raw, desperate. “ Fuck, Rafe – you know you do.” 

Her words slammed into him like a fist to the chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Like he’d broken free from a tether, he let go – driving into her hard, rewarding her with every bit of himself he’d been holding back. His thumb pressed against her clit, swiping it once, twice, three times – and then she was tightening on him so hard he saw stars, dragging him over the edge with her as she lost herself in her orgasm. 

  His blood was still pounding in his ears when they collapsed onto the sheets together, chests rising and falling in clumsy syncopation. Kiara lifted a forearm over her eyes, inhaling a tremulous breath. They lay like that together for a few moments.

Rafe propped an arm behind his head, watching her. She was quiet – and not in a familiar, satisfied, post-orgasmic bliss kind of way. Her silence was more pointed than that. Like she was thinking too hard but didn’t want him to catch on. 

She must not know he suffered from a constant, all-consuming awareness of every move she made. 

“Took you long enough,” he muttered, his voice still rough.

She peeked at him from under her arm, glaring – but there was no heat behind it, only something that looked like a warning.

Don’t push her, he thought. You’ll lose the ground you just covered. 

He smirked at her and remained silent. A stretch of companionable silence passed. She readjusted herself, tugging her dress all the way off and settling back against the pillows next to him. He tugged her closer, tracing patterns on her shoulder. He spelled his name against her skin with the tip of his finger deliberately, over and over, as he listened to the sound of her breathing slow and even out. 

She remained quiet, but she wasn’t cold or distant. It didn’t feel like she was closing him off… More like she was just simply choosing not to deal with it – the truth she’d just admitted to. 

He let her keep her silence and her avoidance. 

Because for once, it wasn’t denial.   

Chapter Text

☾

 - Five years ago -

He wouldn’t say they go on dates, exactly. 

Kiara would be confused if, out of the blue, he suggested they go for ice cream on a day they had no plans to meet up and have sex. But on occasion, if the timing is right – like after a day at the beach where no one bats an eye at the fact that he’s giving her a ride home – they end up hanging out, just the two of them, in public. 

It was on a night in mid-July the summer before she left for college that they found themselves doing just that. If they had a spot – which they don't, obviously, because as he said, they don’t go on dates – it would be the soft-serve place on the pier, Paradise Ice Cream. 

Rafe would always get a vanilla and chocolate twist. He liked sprinkles, but he didn’t order them when he was with her for fear of never hearing the end of it. She would sometimes branch out, trying out one of the other flavors – one time she ordered a peanut butter flavored soft-serve and he almost gagged at the thought – but most often, they’d end up ordering the same thing. 

Sometimes, they would eat their ice cream while walking the length of the pier and back. Other times, they sat at the tables near the shops and people-watched. And finally, sometimes, they’d find a bench away from the crowds and talk. 

Tonight, they were doing the latter. 

It was late. They’d been at the beach until sunset with a big group of people, the Pogues included. Now it was dark and they were here, sitting together on a bench about halfway down the pier. It was close to closing – Kildare Pier didn’t stay open all night, but during twilight and the first hour or so of following darkness, they turned on the bistro lights hung up around the pier railing. It got a lot more peaceful in the dark, the ocean water reflecting the moon and the glow of the lights. The families with squalling kids were gone, along with most of the middle-schoolers who had to get home before curfew. 

“But here’s my thing,” Kiara said with a laugh. “Why did he have to spend so much time making the sandcastle when he knew JJ and John B were just going to destroy it?” She shook her hair out of her face. It was still damp, just barely, from her last dip in the water. Her curls were falling around her shoulders in a particularly pretty way tonight – from the saltwater, she’d said with an eyeroll and resentful blush when he told her so earlier. “I feel like we have to know from experience, they’re like a couple of dogs with a ball. You can’t just put a beautifully made sandcastle in front of them and not expect them to stomp it down.”

“I think the reasoning you're looking for is called a hyperfixation, ” Rafe said with a chuckle. “Pope seems like he gets… really into the stuff he enjoys.” 

Kiara shook her head. “Idiots,” she said fondly. 

Rafe agreed privately. 

Out loud, he said, “You gonna miss them?” He didn’t know what made him say it – the two of them had pretty much tacitly agreed to avoid talking about the specifics of her move to college. 

She licked her ice cream before answering. “Yeah. I’m gonna miss a lot of things. Duh.” Kiara rolled her eyes, casting him a sidelong look. 

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, voice a touch cocky. 

“Oh, you know… Like…” She cocked her head in mock contemplation, and then a teasing smile spread across her face. “This ice cream, for example.”

Rafe shook his head, laughing. “Fuck off.” 

She gasped in false outrage. “Excuse me? I’m being so serious.”

“I’m sure they make soft serve everywhere. Even in Virginia.”

“Sure, but… How am I supposed to trust I can find anything nearly as good as this. I think coastal towns are known for having it down best.”  She hummed thoughtfully. “You’ll have to help me find a new go-to when you come visit.” The words came out of her in a rush, like she said them without really thinking it through. 

He looked at her, his eyebrows raised just a little. “Yeah,” he replied quickly. “Of course. You’ll need to know where to get your fix.”

Scoffing, Kie leaned back against the bench. Her ice cream was almost all gone at this point. “My fix? You're the one addicted to sugar.” 

“Am not.”

“Are too.” 

Rafe’s laugh echoed a little in the air, bouncing around the emptying pier. “What are you, five?”

Kie scrunched her nose at him. “What’s that make you, eight?” 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re real fuckin’ annoying sometimes, Carrera?” he said, shaking his head. He couldn’t stop grinning at her, though, which kind of took away from his point. 

She smiled. “Constantly.”

☼

- Present Day - 

“Well, well, well. Look who finally remembered her oldest friend still lives on the island.”

Kiara cracked a smile, squinting against the sun to see John B walking towards her on the sidewalk outside The Wreck, his arms outstretched. When they reached each other, he wrapped her in a big hug, lifting her an inch or two off the ground. She usually hated physical affection from the boys, but she indulged him. They hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Closing her eyes, she hugged him back tight, inhaling the familiar smell of Old Spice and sunscreen on his skin. 

They had agreed to meet up at The Wreck when he called yesterday, ragging on her for the fact that she was in Kildare and still hadn’t made time to see him. He had suggested her parents’ restaurant – “Then you can kill two birds with one stone, right? Doubt you’ve made time to see them if you haven’t seen me” – and she’d had to stifle a laugh. 

He knew her well, there was no denying it. She supposed it came with the territory of being best friends for so long. 

When they were set up at a table on the outdoor deck, drinks and a basket of hush puppies in front of them, they began catching up. John B told her all about work, and she shared some stories from her job. They laughed and cracked jokes, but Kiara had the feeling they were both avoiding the elephant in the room – the whole reason why she was in Kildare in the first place… Sarah’s wedding. 

Eventually, JB broached the subject himself. “So – how’s it been? Is it absolute craziness over at the Sunset, or is it pretty chill?” He was still smiling, but it was subdued. “I mean, they’ve probably hired a bunch of people to help. Like, there’s wedding planners and stuff – like that movie with J.Lo?”

“It…” Kiara hesitated. It wasn’t crazy, no – not in the way he meant it, at least. What was crazy was plotting to dismantle the entire wedding with her ex-whatever-the-fuck-Rafe-was, sleeping with him again on top of it – passionately and frequently, mind you – and having only a handful of days left to pull it all off. That part was crazy.

“It’s something,” she said finally.

John B cocked his head, a curl from his mop of long brown hair flopping over an eyebrow. He needed a haircut, she observed absently. Sarah used to always have to remind him to call the barber on Richwater – he always let it grow out way too long, until the waves fell past his jawline. 

Funny how some things never change, even when so much has shifted between all of them. 

When she didn’t elaborate, John B spoke again. “Well, whatever makes her happy. Right?” 

He sounded resigned. Not bitter or anything, just… tired. She could hear all the unspoken words he wasn’t saying. 

Kiara bit her lip, looking out at the marsh water beyond the deck. The cordgrass swayed in the breeze that was providing a bit of relief from the afternoon heat. “What if it doesn’t?” 

“Doesn’t what?” 

“Make her happy.” Kie put her hand in her chin on the table as she looked at him. “I’m working with Rafe to stop the wedding,” she blurted. “To get her to break it off.”

“You’re what?” John B. stared at her like she wasn’t speaking English. 

Instead, she continued word vomiting. “John B – you should see them, it’s a mess. Topper – he’s the worst . I know you know that, but it’s like, even worse than you think. He’s not right for her, it’s –” Kie cut herself off before she could get too carried away, taking a hurried sip of her soda. 

John B shook his head, still processing. “You… and Rafe? Are working on this together?”

She blinked. That was the part he was gonna fixate on?

“Yeah. Weird team-up, huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “I mean, it’s not the weirdest one I could think of, in all honesty. You guys were always pretty close before you went off to Virginia.” John B held her eyes longer than necessary, like he was trying to dig deeper into her mind. 

Kiara looked away. 

It was quiet for a beat as they both took another bite of their food. A table of nearby ladies cackled loudly over some unheard joke, and John B glanced over at them, then back to Kie. “He mentions you sometimes.”

“Who?” she asked obstinately, even though she knew. 

John B gave her a look. “Rafe. Obviously.”

She raised a brow. 

“Anyway,” he muttered, looking like he was trying not to roll his eyes at her. “He asks about you. How you’re doing. What you’re up to in Texas. Not a lot, but enough that we –” he cut himself off. “Enough that I noticed.”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she takes another sip of Diet Coke in lieu of responding. 

“How is it spending time with him again? Guessing you guys are talking a lot if you’re working together on your… plan.”

“The mission,” she corrected automatically. “Um. We’re managing. I guess.” Images of the previous day flashed through her mind – Rafe glaring at her from across the brunch table… Him cornering her in her room afterwards, towering over her before kissing her like she was his only source of oxygen… Him spanking her and slapping her clit when she’d refused to admit he was right. She shook her head, trying to clear away the memories.

John B gave her a knowing look. “Managing. Sure.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, fishing another hush puppy from the greasy paper-lined basket between them. The look on his face had something hovering at the edges of her mind, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. 

Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to yet. 

Either way, she refused to look too closely at the thought, shoving it to the periphery of her awareness. 

“It’s complicated,” she said with a shrug, wishing the conversation would be over. 

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. I get that. Weird thing about complicated …” His chair creaked as he leaned back, running a hand through his too-long hair. “Sometimes that’s just what people say when they’re a little scared.” 

“Scared? I’m not –”

“Chill, Kie – who said I was talking about you?” John B looked at her pointedly, and his words landed hard. 

Sarah. He was talking about Sarah. 

“Running when shit gets complicated – I get it, it’s easy. I told myself for the last year maybe she needed something else to be happy. But I dunno, with the stuff Rafe tells me, and now you… I wonder if maybe she just didn’t think she deserved happy. I mean, I was ready to propose. She knew that, it’s –” he cut himself off, blowing out a tight exhale and shaking his head. “Whatever. My point is, sometimes people run from the good shit for a lot of reasons. It’s easier being unhappy than working through all that.” John B looked at her, his eyes heavy with unsaid words. “Maybe you need to like, ruminate on that.” 

“Sorry – what?” Kiara jerked her head back, pretending to look around in confusion. “Ruminate – did you start taking AP English 7 years late?” 

He cracked a smile. “I’ve cracked open a book or two since you’ve been gone, dude.  What about it?” 

They laughed together softly. Kie twirled her paper straw around her glass absentmindedly, watching the melting ice spin. 

“You’re real wise now that you’ve experienced heartbreak, huh?” she asked wryly. 

John B grinned, shrugging. “Maybe. Don’t get used to it.”

After they’d wrapped up their meal, she headed in to say goodbye to her parents. As Kiara stepped inside from the back deck and into the relief of the air-conditioning, she was startled to see Rafe standing by the register, chatting with her mom. 

“Hey,” she said hesitantly as she got closer to the pair, weaving her way through tables towards the front. To Rafe she asked, “What are you doing here?”

At the sound of her voice, they turned to look at her, still smiling from whatever they’d been talking about prior. Rafe looked surprised to see her, but her mom just smiled wider. 

“Oh, Rafe comes in all the time. He was just grabbing his usual and telling me a little about his sister’s wedding. More than you have, at least,” Anna said with a little sniff, but there was no heat behind it. “You know, I see Rafe more than I see you, Kiara.”

She cut her eyes to Rafe. Of course he’d somehow found a way to get her own mother to like him more than her. Fucking kiss-ass. 

“Just while I’m grabbing food,” he added hurriedly, glancing at Kiara. 

Kie had to stifle a laugh at his eagerness to explain he wasn’t hanging out with her mom every weekend at the Island Club, sipping frozen margs and planning shopping trips. 

“What are you doing in town?” she said, leaning onto the counter next to him. 

“Mr. Howard called me. Said the film from the other night was ready to pick up.” 

“I’ll go with you,” she offered. “John B and I are wrapping up here.” 

Rafe’s eyes caught on hers, soft and pleased, and something in her chest clenched at the sight. 

Her mother’s voice made her jump – Kie had almost forgotten where they were. “I have to say,” she said, looking at the two of them with a fond expression, “It’s nice to see you two together again.”

Kiara could feel her face flushing. “Mom, what the –”

“No, no, it’s just – you two used to be so close before you left for college,” Anna interrupted, holding her palms out in an appeasing gesture. “I just thought, with how close you were, you’d stay friends, but I know – it’s hard to do when you’re off on your own adventures and growing up.” 

The two of them shifted uncomfortably next to each other. Rafe reached up to rub his palm over the top of his head. Kiara fiddled with her charm bracelet, running her thumb along the flat disc of the turtle charm.

“All I’m saying is,” her mother continued, “it’s nice to see y’all together again.” 

After saying goodbye to John B and promising she’d see him again before she left to go back to Texas, her and Rafe got in his car to head to Mr. Howard’s store. 

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve driven you around, ever. Have I?” Kiara asked as she climbed into the driver’s seat. 

“Yeah. Not sure I like the view from over here,” Rafe grumbled from the passenger side. They’d agreed to have her drive so he could eat his food, but he looked like he was beginning to regret the decision. 

“Please,” Kiara purred. “You’re in excellent hands. I’m a great driver, princess.”  

He shoved a fry in his mouth while giving her a look that clearly said, we’ll see about that. 

But, of course, the drive passed without incident. She rolled the windows down and sang along with her music, Rafe rolling his eyes at her when she tried to get him to join in with a little shoulder shimmy or head bang, but Kie laughed him off. Driving through the familiar streets of Kildare in the waning evening sunshine, the breeze in her hair and her songs playing loudly, her stomach full of food from The Wreck, with Rafe beside her… It was all nostalgic enough to make her stomach hurt a little, but she was too buzzed on dopamine to pay it too much attention. 

She ran inside Snap Solutions to grab the film, grabbing Rafe’s card he held out for her over the center console while he stayed behind and finished his food. Mr. Howard was happy to see her again, joking that she was welcome to take over as Rafe’s point of contact since she had a much nicer disposition. Grabbing the envelopes of pictures, she wished him a good night and headed back to Rafe’s shiny black Range Rover. 

Rafe was sitting in the driver’s seat now, food finished, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. They saw each other at the same time through the windshield, a lazy smile creeping over his face when their eyes met. Kiara smiled back before she could stop it. 

She climbed in the passenger seat with a happy sigh. “You know what I was thinking?”

“What?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously as she grabbed her tote from the car floor to throw the film envelopes inside. 

“Was just thinkin’… you wanna make a trip to Paradise?” 

The only sign he was into the idea at all was a twitch of his mouth and a measured blink, but she knew him well enough to know he was trying not to appear overeager. “I just ate dinner, Kie.”

Her eyebrow lifted in skepticism. “So? I know you always have room for dessert.” When the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, she added, “And not in a perverted way. Like, in a genuine way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rafe pulled a face, putting a hand to his chest. She spared a glance at his arms, noting the way his biceps struggled against the tight sleeve of his slutty little polo. 

Kiara snorted. “Nothing. Just that you have a sweet tooth you like to try to ignore. The oversweetened coffee is a symptom, not the disease. And don’t act like you didn’t eat half my box of saltwater taffy the other night.” 

The laugh he barked out had her lips quirking into a wry smile. 

“Alright, I guess… Fair point. Let’s go to Paradise.” He threw the car into reverse and she did a happy little shoulder shake. 

20 minutes later, they said their thanks to the teenaged employee who handed them their cones and headed out to the pier. 

Kiara licked an errant drip from her soft serve twist before it could land on her hand, searching for a place for them to sit as she inhaled deeply. The familiar smells of sunscreen, saltwater, and french fries made her smile. She hadn’t made a trip here in… Well, probably the last time she’d come with Rafe, actually. In all her short visits back home since she’d left for college, she’d never had the time to come here. 

“Bench over there,” Rafe said, nodding towards a nearby spot in a patch of shade near the bait shop. 

She eyed the crowd around the railing close to the bench – mostly older Pogue men with sun-faded caps, fishing rods propped against the wood. Teenagers and couples stood around as well, leaning against the railing as they laughed and talked loudly. 

“Prime people-watching real estate,” Kie said with raised brows. “Nosy ass. You just want to eavesdrop.”

“You and I’ve been doing that a lot the past week or two. Might as well keep it up. Maybe we’ll find someone else’s life to meddle in, Velma.” He steered her lightly by the elbow in the direction of the bench. 

Kiara pulled her elbow from his grasp with a laugh. “What if I want to sit further down? The view’s better.” She poked her chin out towards the end of the pier. 

“No, remember – that’s where the seagulls all swarm because of the tables. You’ll thank me later.” 

She rolled her eyes, but allowed him to tug her once again towards his suggested spot. “Jesus, okay.” The sound that came out of her was similar to a soft giggle, but she, Kiara Carrera, categorically did not giggle, and certainly not at being manhandled by a man with a buzzcut. “Stop bossing me around.”

His mouth tilted into a grin, eyes dropping to hers. “Or what? You’ll get turned on?” He had the fucking nerve to drag his tongue deliberately along the border where his ice cream met his cone, catching the start of a drip, never breaking eye contact.  

Kiara almost tripped on a board and Rafe huffed a laugh like he’d been waiting for that exact reaction, his grip on her arm tightening before she could stumble. 

“C’mon, princess.” 

They sat for a while and people-watched, like she’d known they would. A trio of teenage boys were pouring over a phone in earshot, clearly trying to decode a conversation between a mop-headed member and a girl he was interested in. 

“Nah, dude – she used that emoji? Pink sparkly heart? She is definitely interested.”

“Bro, no way. My sister told me the sparkly heart one is for friends. Red heart would mean she’s interested.”

“No, I’m telling you –”

Kiara stifled a laugh behind her ice cream and met Rafe’s eyes. His irises were darker now, turning a stormier, deeper blue as the sun sank lower in the sky, but they were soft and full of humor as the two of them listened in. 

“Think I should tell them it doesn’t really get any easier? Don’t want them to get false hope,” Rafe said, nodding to the boys. The curly-haired one was looking stressed now, furrowing his brow as he hovered his thumbs over his screen, clearly trying to block out his friends’ questionable advice. 

“You’re telling me Rafe Cameron has dating problems? I find that hard to believe.”

He fixed her with a look, expression turning pensive as he watched her. “Do you?”

The question hung in the air like a solid, tangible thing between them until the loud squawk of a nearby seagull broke the silence. 

“How about you?” he asked, looking out over the water. The sunset was deepening now, pinks deepening into reds and yellow into orange, the edges feathering into indigo. The water was glassy and gold as it reflected the colors of the sky. Around them, the string lights of the pier had turned on, glowing merrily in the growing dark. 

“How about me, what?” 

“What’s your dating life like in Texas?” 

“Oh,” she said, inhaling a sharp breath. She really didn’t want to talk about this with him. “It’s fine. I was seeing a guy for a while. I wanted to think it was serious, but it wasn’t anything. Not really. But besides that, it’s been mostly… casual.”

He nodded, still looking out over the water, but she could see the way his jaw feathered.  “Casual. Like us?” 

Kiara swallowed. 

Nothing in her life had ever been quite like them. She had a feeling he knew that. 

“No. Not like us.”

He was still allowing her the dignity of not making her look him in the eyes when she said it, and for that, she was grateful. 

It was twilight by the time he left her at the front door of the Sunset, dropping her off to go park the Rover. She headed inside, texting Sarah she was on her way up with the pictures. They had loose plans to drink a bottle of wine and watch the new episodes of Love Is Blind while going over the photos. 

Kiara rounded a corner in the lobby on her way to the elevator and almost collided with Becca. She looked flawless, as usual, even though her face was scrubbed clean of makeup and she was wearing a lounge set. 

“Oh – hey!” Becca said in surprise. They both laughed as they took a step back from where they’d almost ran into each other. “Back from town?” 

“Yeah. Was seeing John B.”

Becca obviously knew who he was, considering JB and Sarah had dated all throughout Sarah’s days at UNC. Becca sighed. “Aw, I miss that guy. He was the best.” Her eyes widened. “Not that Topper doesn’t seem great, of cou–”

“You don’t have to say that for my benefit,” Kiara interrupted her. “He’s a douche.”

Becca bit her lip, holding in a laugh. “Right. He… He doesn’t seem like the warmest guy.”

Kie nodded. “One way of saying it.”

The other girl smiled at Kiara’s bluntness. She hesitated for a beat, then said, “So… you and Rafe, huh?” 

Kiara blinked wearily. “What about me and Rafe?”

Becca lifted her dainty shoulders in a conspiratorial shrug. “Come on. He’s obsessed with you. It was kinda hard to miss, what with the whole song and dance yesterday at brunch.”

Kie’s answering laugh was startled, sharper than she meant it to be. “I don’t know about all that.” 

“Right,” is all Becca said back, a knowing little smile on her lips. She cocked her head like she’d remembered something. “You know, I had forgotten about it because it was years ago, but I remember now. The first time I ever met Rafe, our freshman year. I thought he was so cute, and he wasn’t seeing anyone, so – I was kinda interested. You know, I mean… He’s gorgeous, obviously. But Sarah mentioned something about how he was moping around, that she was pretty sure her best friend had broken his heart.”

Kiara’s mouth was suddenly very, very dry. She just shrugged, shaking her head, but Becca looked like she still expected a reply. “Yeah,” she choked out. “That was a long time ago.”

“If you say so.” Becca gave her a reassuring smile, moving around her to head towards the bar across the lobby. “Night, Kie,” she called over her shoulder.

Kiara stood in front of the elevators for a long moment while her brain processed this new information before she finally hit the call button to head upstairs. 

Sarah held up a picture of JJ cradling Pope bridal-style at the first bar they’d visited the night of the bach party, the live band that had played that night lighting up the stage behind them. Wheezie stood next to the boys, holding up a peace sign. 

“Please,” she said with a laugh. “How many of these pictures are of them all being ridiculous?” 

Kiara sat back against the pillows propped behind her, taking a sip of her white wine. “Just off the top of my head? Gonna guess like 70 percent. At least.” 

Sarah shook her head, smiling fondly. She continued sifting through the photos, spreading them out on the duvet in front of them as she went: a blurry shot of Cleo holding two shots with her tongue out, her “Hype Woman” bridesmaid pin reflecting the flash from the disposable camera; one of Kelce and Alan leaning against a table, cheers-ing the photographer; and another of JJ, now with Wheezie on his back as she smiled and held up bunny ears behind his head. 

“Okay. These are all really cute, though,” Sarah murmured, fingering the edges of the shot of JJ and Wheezie. “What’s up with these two, anyway? When did they become two peas in a pod?” 

Kiara held her breath, wondering if Sarah was going to mention how much time she and Rafe had been spending together. After all, it seemed like today was the unofficial national Day of Reminding Kiara How Close She Seems to be With Rafe, considering nearly everyone she’d spoken to had mentioned it. 

But it never came. Sarah stayed quiet, looking pensive.

Kiara felt similarly. The revelation from Becca was still unsettling her, tumbling around and around in her thoughts like a sandstone caught in a wave. 

“What are you gonna do with all these?” Kie asked, picking up a photo of her, Cleo, Wheezie, and Sarah all posing outside The Riptide, Sarah’s little white veil sitting crookedly on her head. “Make a scrapbook or something?”

Sarah hummed thoughtfully, bringing her glass up to her lips for a sip. “Actually, I was thinking of getting one of those, like, collage frames and putting in some of my favorites. You know that spot right by the staircase at the house? The one I keep showing you on Facetime and saying I need to fill up?”

Kie nodded, picturing the exact spot in Tannyhill Sarah was talking about. Ever since it’d become her house, Sarah had been working on making it her own, slowly redecorating and filling it with her more whimsical, youthful style versus the stilted, dark wood furniture that had been in there from her father’s decorator – a big project that was a testament to just how much Sarah loved the home. “That’ll be so cute, Sare. C’mon, show me more.”

“Okay, okay. Hmm, let’s look for one of me and Top.” Sarah shuffled through the stack, laying out a few snaps of her and Wheezie, including one where they were both hanging off of Rafe, who had his arms crossed and a grumpy look on his face. “Oh! Here’s one.” 

They both leaned in close and peered down at the image of Topper and Sarah. “God. Why do I look like I’m being held fucking hostage?” Sarah said with a grimace. 

It was true. Topper had an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, pulling her in close, but that was where the intimacy of the photo stopped. His body was stiff, his eyes already caught on something in the background, looking away from the camera. Sarah, for her part, was smiling at least and looking straight at whoever had taken the shot, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. 

She put the photo down in a hurry, like she didn’t want to look at it anymore. “Jesus. There’s gotta be a few cute ones in here. JJ and Pope were taking pictures all night.”

The next one was no better, or the one after that. If the posed pictures were a bust, the candids were even worse. Sarah’s smile, while warm and bright and genuine in the photos with her friends or her siblings, was barely there in the photos where her and Topper stood next to each other – or even worse, non-existent. 

“Oh dear god, I can’t believe this. Not one shot where we actually look happy to be next to each other.” Sarah threw the remaining pictures onto the bed, the pile spilling over haphazardly. 

Kiara pursed her lips. A million questions were on the tip of her tongue – Don’t you think there’s a reason for that? You have to see this for what it is, right? Is this really the guy you want to be taking pictures next to the rest of your life? – but she kept her mouth shut.

“Don’t give me that look, Kie,” Sarah sighed. “It’s complicated. I’m sure you get that.” 

She didn’t know what to make of Sarah’s tone, but Sarah didn’t elaborate. 

“I can’t look through the rest." Sarah threw herself back against the pillows dramatically and lifted a forearm over her eyes. “You do it.”

Reaching dutifully for the skewed pile of pictures, Kie started sorting through them once more. She spotted one of her, her shoulder and hot pink dress peeking out under a shot of Clark twerking. Pulling it out, she saw it was an obviously candid shot of her and Rafe. They were leaning into each other to say something, him smirking at her over his beer, her head tipped back laughing. Their body language, the energy of the photo – it was startling.

They didn’t just look happy. They looked in love.

Sarah sensed her hesitation and leaned forward to look at the photo Kie had in her hand. Kiara could already feel her cheeks reddening.

“Jesus, are you kidding? You guys look like you’re in a freaking Nicholas Sparks movie.” 

For once, Kiara saw the merit in not denying what was obvious. She shrugged and put the damning picture down on the bed like they'd done with the others, continuing to sort through the photos, moving on to the next – a cute shot of Cleo and Kie kissing Sarah’s cheeks. 

Something in Sarah’s expression flickered as she watched Kiara – but she didn’t say anything, and neither did Kie.