Right Now | Rafe Cameron

13: it's okay if he's ugly.

THIRTEEN

it's okay if he's ugly.

"You okay?" John B asked as Billie almost stepped into him after closing the door. Had she been three minutes later, her brother would've seen that. Billie gulped at him with wide eyes.

"Yep, yep, all good," Billie said quickly and walked back into the kitchen. She ignored Sarah's piercing glare.

"What the fuck, Billie," Sarah exclaimed and jumped up from the sofa to the window. Billie chased after her.

"No, no," she grabbed Sarah's arm but it was too late. She was already peeking out through the window, erratically narrowing her eyes trying to catch whoever had knocked on the door.

Billie sighed out in relief. Rafe had been quick, or he was wearing a hoodie. Had he been wearing a hoodie? She couldn't remember.

"It's okay if he's ugly," Sarah said.

"Sarah," John B said in surprised discontent but his laughter sort of stepped on his point.

"He's not ugly," Billie stated. At least she could say that.

"So why can't we see him?" Sarah asked, arms crossed. John B sunk into the sofa again.

"He's shy," Billie said simply.

"So shy, but a biter?" Sarah challenged. Amused, she pointed at a mark on Billie's neck. Billie quickly covered it with her hand and frowned at Sarah. John B looked at his sister's dishevelled state with terror in his eyes and pulled at the strings of his hoodie.

"Can we please talk about something else?" John B pleaded and leaned his head back.

"Yes, let's," Billie said shortly and gave Sarah a sharp look that said:This conversation is over. Although with the nagging feeling in her gut, she knew Sarah wouldn't give up.

***

Rafe couldn't stop thinking about that kiss in the stairwell. He hadn't known what had taken him there. He had gone on a run to clear his head. Suddenly he was outside her building, some force, like an invisible string tied to his sternum, pulling him to go knock on her door.

He had walked quickly and mindlessly back to his hotel, as if in a daze. Now, he was in the shower. It was cold and he breathed sharp exhales as his muscles tensed. Slowly, he leaned his head on the cold white tile of the shower wall and let the cold drops trickle down him, the harsh pressure of the water massage his knotted back.

"Fuck," he grunted and pressed his fingers into his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked himself. The frustration made him shake. His hands was still shaking when he had wrapped his bottom half in a soft white towel and sat down at the foot of the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

He was compromising everything. So was she. She could lose her job. He could lose his credibility at the company. All this time he'd worked so hard for people to take him seriously, only for him to become the slut of Kildare again. She could lose her friends, her brother. He could lose his sister. Again. Oh god.

Why wasn't she more stressed out about this? She let him take her to breakfast, to Erin's bookshop, she trusts him. Why? She could lose everything.

After everything he'd done - how the fuck does she stand to be near him? She should run the other way.

Rafe put on a good pretence of control. But he knows what he's capable of. He doesn't know what could happen if he snaps. And she keeps balancing on that blurry line like it's a fucking circus trick.