𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬? | rafe cameron

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕.

꧁☙꧂

"God, Sarah. I don't have all fucking day!" Rafe shouted, as he slammed the palm of his hand on the roof of his car.

I sped out the front door, jumping back a bit at the loud sound.

My nose scrunched up, "I'm coming, you moron." I sneered as I walked up to the passenger car door.

I open the door and got in, making sure I slammed the door.

Hard.

With all the force I could.

Rafe is pissed today, for some reason.

He always is, but today seemed worse then usual. His attitude is through the fucking roof.

He won't tell me why.

He blew out a heavy breath before he got in the the car, shutting the door.

I kept my eyes out the window.

"We have to hurry to the store if we want to fucking buy the liquor in time, so fucking start the car." I said, throwing my hands in the air.

I hurried to buckle up before leaning my head against the window.

The engine started.

I could hear Rafe gripping the steering wheel as we pulled out.

His hands were shaky. "Maybe if you didn't take almost two hours getting ready we wouldn't be late getting the liquor." he snarled back, not glancing to look at me as he watched the road.

I didn't bother to answer back, I didn't feel like hearing him complain all the fucking way there.

༻✧༇

"How's it going, Sarah?" the blond, vaguely familiar boy asked, grinning down at me.
The hall to the girls and boy's bathroom in the bar were relatively empty, with only a few people rambling down the hall, leading me to believe that he had been waiting out here for me.

After all, the girls' bathroom wasn't an unusual spot for a boy to loiter outside of, especially one togged out in a jersey, shorts, and football boots.

Our school team jersey? He looked familiar.

It's fucking summer?

Panic mixed with a large dollop of wariness flared to life inside of me.

"Um, fine," I replied, tucking and then re-tucking my hair behind my ear, a nervous trait.
"How are you?"

"Better now I'm talking to you," he announced, confirming my worst nightmare, as he stepped closer, the studs on his boots clanging against the floor.

"Were you waiting out here for me?" I forced myself to ask, needing the vocal confirmation. Don't ask me why, but I needed to clarify the crazy. "In your –" I gestured to his outfit, "Jersey, and huge boots?"

"I was just grabbing a drink I didn't really care what I had on," he explained, not one bit embarrassed by any of this.

"I saw you going into the bathroom when I was heading to the boys, so I figured I'd wait around to talk to you." Shrugging like his nonsense explanation was a perfectly acceptable one, he added, "I'm Wyatt, by the way. Wyatt Evans. We had school together."

His tone was friendly, but I knew better than to be fooled.

Friendly could turn to bully in a nanosecond.
"Yeah. I know." Taking a step back to regain my personal space, I added, "Well, it was nice of you to come say hi, but I have to go my brother is waiting for me, he'll leave soon he doesn't, and won't wait –"