𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

０２７．

Her days began to blur together, and Ren couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

She might have been happy. She wasn't sure. She was just living, the way she always had before him, the way she'd assumed she always would. Selling and sleeping the day away and then waking up to sell again. On her days off, she would spend time with Vanessa, or Grey, or Cain, or even Cassie – the blonde who Ren quickly learned was a student studying abroad on Sainte-Anne that had somewhere along the way become Vanessa's girlfriend.

Cassie's inclusion in their friend group was the most exciting thing Ren had experienced in weeks. Besides that, everything was completely and painfully normal. Uneventful, even. Boring.

Ren quickly realized that boredom made her... short-fused. She'd gotten herself into more than one fight during her nights at the club, refusing to back down regardless of if it was a man or a woman, if she was right or wrong. On the rare nights where neither Cain nor Grey were present to break it up, Ren had staggered home with a black eye or swollen lip. This most recent fight, a night or two ago, had left her with a hell of a bruise on her cheekbone. The swelling was only just going down, though her face was still marked with a startling reddish-purple.

It was a bad one. The fight, the bruise she was left with, everything. She should have learned from it, should have figured out when to shut her mouth. But when she saw a too-drunk man harassing a group of girls, all openly unappreciative of his advances, Ren just couldn't help herself.

She was bored. It was something to do.

And it ended all too soon as a couple of bouncers, who had since developed a keen eye for Ren's antics, moved to anticipate the argument before it could become too much of a scene. There was some brief scuffling in which bottles were knocked askew, shattering on the floor, and Ren was scooped up and tossed over a bouncer's shoulder, and before she knew it, she was being plopped on the bar like an angry toddler while Grey dragged the drunk man out.

The bouncer who had hauled her away remained planted beside the bar, watching her with brows furrowed in exasperation. Ren offered him a crooked grin as she reached over the bar, grabbing the closest opened bottle of liquor she could reach and taking a swig.

She was content to sit and observe for a few minutes, watching as the bartenders bustled about and the ever-intoxicated clubbers danced. A few even wandered over in search of coke, which she offered with little discussion beyond pleasantries and prices. Things became painfully boring once more. Too average. Too normal.

Ren was turning toward the bouncer, opening her mouth as she conjured up some hairbrained excuse as to why he should leave her alone, when she saw him. Her entire body went tense at the sight, and it felt like her chest would cave in, and – holy shit.

There he was. Looking up at her with eyes wide and jaw tight as he moved through the crowd toward her. God, it would hurt so much less if he wasn't so fucking gorgeous. But Rafe looked as handsome as ever, dressed in a Nirvana t-shirt that made his eyes look so blue in spite of the hair hanging in his face, and he might have even looked as panicky as she felt, but she couldn't think too long about that because she was still caught on the fact that he had a Nirvana t-shirt on.

Had he always liked Nirvana? She loved Nirvana. How hadn't she known that he liked Nirvana? Holy shit. And he was coming over, walking right toward her, and she could ask him about it, but she didn't even know if she could find the right words. And maybe asking about his preference in bands wasn't the best way to start off the first conversation they'd had in weeks, the first conversation they'd had since he told her he loved her and then just left.