nightrunners

xxv.

Attached at the hip, Rafe rarely left Cassiopeia's side for the next few days. The only time when they were apart was when she had to pull a shift at Heyward's. He'd be waiting there, leaning against his bike, every time she clocked out. Cassiopeia's heart inflated every time he reached out to pull her in, making it a habit to kiss her right there outside of the store. She didn't have the guts to tell him though that she hadn't seen JJ at work. Cassiopeia asked Heyward where the boy had been, as it was unlike him not to show up at least fashionably late.

"Needed to change his shift."

"What, why?"

"He said personal reasons."

"What personal reasons?"

"Does it look like I know everything?" Heyward snapped, shooing her off, "Worry about gutting those fish."

The more she spent time with Rafe, the less she had to think about her crumbling friendship with JJ, which was holding on by threads.

None of the Pogues had reached out to her either. Pope made it a habit to work in the opposite side of the store when she was there. The rest hadn't communicated with her, making the girl feel as though perhaps Rafe was right all along, that they only wanted to use her. But spending all her time with Rafe wasn't helping with the intruding, non-stop thoughts in her head.

Maybe check with the ones closest to you, since you trust them so much.

She would lay next to him at night, staring up at the ceiling in thought. Perhaps he was screwing with her, which he was astronomically good at.

Sometimes she felt like he could read her mind, as he would wake up from a deep sleep and pull her in.

"What's on your mind?" He would ask, his voice tiresome as his fingers traced small circles into her scalp. It wasn't much longer until he would make her fall asleep, cutting off her reflections for the night.

He would always get up before her too, and she would often awake to the sea of blue looking down at her, a smirk always plastered across his lips. He would hover over her, his sepia tinted locks dangling in front of his face. He'd wait for a few moments, studying her expression before leaning over and colliding their lips together. He did this to her every morning, making her insides unravel over and over.

He had also shown her the majority of the island that had changed since she left for NYC. They'd stride down alleyways lined with old, ivy covered brick buildings. He'd drive them across the abandoned golf course, speeding over the hills and wiping out on the green. He'd take her to the swamp, in a small rickety boat that they would take turns paddling. Their fingers would entangle as they strolled across the edge of the water, their clothes gravitating off not much later.

Dusk was upon them, and Rafe had felt ambitious.

"Let's play a game."

She shot a curious look at him, the setting sun radiating golden streaks across his hair.

"And that would be?"

He chuckled, his hands running down her waist in anticipation.

"We ask each other personal questions, can be anything, and we answer them honestly."

"Sounds too simple."

He smirked at her response, "You choose not to answer a question, you remove a piece of clothing."

"People are still out here Rafe."

"You think I give a fuck?" He muttered, eyeing her up. "Aren't you intrigued?"