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 A whoosh of air crawled through the strands of my hair, as I stepped out of the Island Club

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A whoosh of air crawled through the strands of my hair, as I stepped out of the Island Club.

I was supposed to meet with the Pogues in an attempt to pick everything up that had broken with John B's absence.

"You waited?" I asked in surprise, seeing Rafe leaned against the entrance column of the building.

He shrugged lazily, frowning nonchalantly, "Nah, just happened to swing by again."

"Oh."

A moment of silence ensued, "So... you good?"

"Yup." He nodded, eyeing my every movement as I strutted in his direction.

"Good."

"Good," he replied, playing with the drink that sat in his hand. The straw had looked bent, a sign that he had been fiddling with it for some time.

Rafe had held this energy of being so indifferent, and I hadn't kept track of what point in time that it began to bother me. Almost like I was expecting him to have dropped this act by now and just talk to me normally.

"Your friends wouldn't be too happy, huh?"

"What do you mean by that?" I immediately placed my defensiveness on the forefront and crossed my arms. The scowl of my lips made an appearance, and it almost seemed to amuse him.

"You..." He raised his hand up, letting his ring get caught by the beam of the overhead lantern, before pointing back to himself, "me."

"There's not much to be mad at." I rebutted, watching as he scoffed and laughed dryly. "They're waiting for me, Rafe."

"Can't stay around for a drink?" he lifted his glass in suggestion, smirking softly. The clinking of his ring against the glass was all I could focus on, drowning every single thing out.

"No."

"Why not? C'mon, K... just one drink."

"Look, I was there for you earlier but..." I looked away, wanting to be anywhere but here with him.
The sound of gravel being crunched against the asphalt and our breaths out of sync with one another made it unbearable to be around Rafe.

"But...?"

"The last few weeks have been nothing to you?" I erupted, finally realizing the stupidity of having sympathy for someone like Rafe, who would always ruin anyone's attempts to help him.

"What do you mean by that, Khalia?"

"You know what I mean."

In a flash, the air was thick and quiet for just a while, save for the occasional breeze of nighttime wind.

"Us fucking?"

"God," I roughly let my hand go through my hair, "no, Rafe."

Rafe's head tilted ever so slightly in question for me to elaborate further, but I felt physically exhausted from having to go over the same topic with him.

Rogue Wave | Rafe CameronWhere stories live. Discover now