Unhinged [Rafe Cameron]

[spy games]

(tw: scenes with violence and fires.)

After dropping off Mr. Heyward's fishing hooks, I reluctantly ride into the Kook side of the island, looking for the Cameron mansion.

I just hope that Rafe won't be at home.

Knock knock.

I rap my knuckles against the painted wood of the front door. I hear soft footsteps coming down the hallway. I straighten my back, bracing myself for whoever answers the door.

The lock clicks open and the door swings open, revealing none other than Rafe himself in the doorway.

I feel scrutinized under his dark glare, but I can't help but let my eyes scan his body. Even under the shirt, I can make out the ripples of his abs and the tan of his skin.

"Ahem." Rafe clears his throat. I hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

Oh wait. I'm supposed to be mad at him.

I pick up his package from my bike basket. He eyes me as I do so, not once taking his gaze off of my movements.

I shove the large FedEx bag into his arms.

"Here are your..." my jaw drops slightly at the product description, "um.. your mega sized condoms."

I feel a blush creep up my neck. Well, this just got real awkward.

I look up at Rafe; his eyes are downcast, not wanting to make eye contact.

"Just... sign here." I say, pressing a paper to his chest. He goes into the house to get a pen.

I linger near the doorway, waiting for him to come back. When he does, his eyes stay trained on the paper as if the embarrassment is too great. Which it is.

He's about to sign; the pen is hovering just above the paper, but he pauses, and looks up. He seems deep in thought.

"What are you doing here, Celeste?" He asks, tilting his head. He leans his shoulder on the door frame.

Fuck. He's torturing me.

I shrug coolly. "My job, I suppose. Why? You don't want me to do my job?"

"Of course not." Irritation spikes his voice. "I just want to know what you're trying to do."

"I'm trying to do my job, Rafe!" I say, feeling the urge to slap his handsome face. (Oh sorry, did I say handsome? I meant stupid.)

I jab my finger on the clipboard with the paper. "Just sign the goddamned paper."

He feigns a look of shock and hurt, his hand on his chest. "This service is horrible. I feel so violated."

"Fuck!" I cry out, taking my stupid delivery cap and throwing it onto the ground in frustration.

I push Rafe into the hallway by his shoulders. "Why are you making this so fucking hard for me?"

At this point I'm completely inside of his house, but I couldn't care less.

His eyes cloud over. "You're going to regret doing that." He says, backing me up into the wall.

With every step he takes forward, I take one backward. But I steel my jaw, refusing to show fear.

"I don't regret shit." I lash out. "You beat up Pope with a golf club, your airheaded friend Topper tries to drown John B, and you couldn't give two shits about it!"

He opens his mouth to say something, but I'm already on a roll.

"Don't you remember when we were the best of friends? Remember when we were attached by the hip? Because these last few days are telling me that either you don't remember, or you just don't care. We were there for each other, Rafe. We had fun together. Why in the hell did you have to go off and ruin it?"