THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

019; little talk

"Wait!"

Rafe's voice rang out in a rush through the busy restaurant as Myra walked off, the black plastic tray stuck underneath her right arm. She felt his hand grab her wrist firmly, stopping her before pulling her back, forcing her to look at him. He towered before her, his Atlantic blue eyes beaming with a bright haze in the dim light of the room. It was almost impossible for her to look away. He had something alluring about him. "What?" she asked a little taken aback, blinking her eyes as she felt his gaze dance over her, inspecting every inch of her small framed body. She suddenly felt a little insecure, pushing her shoulders back as to try and fight the uneasy feeling. She was aware that she wasn't the prettiest girl around the island, with her boney bruised knees and tangled blonde hair, but she still hated the weakening feeling she got when she was reminded of it.

Rafe looked at her, remaining quiet for a moment longer as he seemed to have gotten himself lost within a wild array of thoughts. She pulled her wrist away from his grasp, raising her eyebrows slightly, "cat got your tongue or what?". As she questioned him, he seemed to snap back to reality. "What about that drink with me now?" Rafe asked, completely ignoring the fact that he had talked down to her only a minute ago. Myra gazed around, still feeling a little uneasy beneath his blatant stare. The look in his eyes weren't making anything easier either. "I'm working" she then declared, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She couldn't pull away, not for him. She needed this job badly. "After work?" Rafe insisted, a faint smirk pulling at the edges of his lips. Myra sighed, rolling her eyes before she turned around and walked off. She didn't answer, she hoped that he would get the hint anyways. He didn't. Or maybe he did and just didn't care. Rafe was relentless, the smirk remaining clear on his lips as he began to follow her, "at what time do you get off tonight?"

"It's none of your business" Myra muttered back to him dryly as she walked up to a table to clear it of dirty dishes. "Wow, someone's in a mood tonight" Rafe hissed, glancing down at her. His nasty comment made Myra scoff, almost dropping a glass that she was holding. "Yeah and I have every right to be" Myra spat, turning around to face Rafe once more "I actually had a half decent time with you last night, whatever that even was, but you didn't think to mention that you got into a fight with my brother again just before you ran off with me?"

Rafe fell silent as the words he did not want to hear left Myra's lips. She could see him tense up, his jaw clenching as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his expensive dress pants. He gazed off, clearly annoyed and somewhat pissed off. He didn't like when people questioned his actions. He knew what he was doing, always. Other peoples judgement was something that he did not need. He didn't want to see the mellow expression upon Myra's face either, so he avoided eye contact profusely. Rafe could hear the pouge girl scoff again before she walked off, leaving him standing all alone by the table. He had a hard time piecing everything together in his jumbled up mind, how he could despise her brother so badly while at the same time finding himself somehow so draw towards her. They came from the same family and they looked so much alike, the same smile and the same nose and eyes, yet things were so different with her.

"We didn't fight" Rafe called out, gathering himself just before he walked over to her, once more following her behind. "I don't care" Myra muttered, avoiding Rafe's obvious stare as she went about the restaurant. "It wasn't a fight, just a uhm discussion I would say" Rafe repeated, thinking back to the altercation that had taken place between him, his friends and the pouge boy in the bathroom of the very same building they were in right now. He wasn't lying when he said that he wouldn't call it a fight, for he would most definitely not. A fight included, most often, balled up fists colliding and at least a few droplets of blood. A fight was yelling and screaming and arguing. Not agreeing, tension in the air and heavily beating hearts. A fight brought uncontrollable anger and grittet teeth. Fire, ice and bitterness. Sure Rafe had every intention to actually hit JJ that night, but he didn't. He would've if the security guard wouldn't have stopped them, but nevertheless, in the end he never touched him. So Rafe didn't understand why Myra was acting so almighty and annoyed.