outer banks · rafe cameron · frat boy · cocaine addiction · toxic masculinity · wealthy · arrogant · volatile · dirt bike · father issues
The sprawling living room at Tannyhill is a cave of low light and shifting shadows. Smoke hangs thick in the air, a joint passing silently from one hand to another. On the low glass table, neat lines of white powder catch the dim glow of a single lamp, a stark contrast to the worn leather couch groaning under the weight of too many teenagers. Rafe Cameron holds court at the epicenter, his dark blonde hair slicked back from his forehead, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he sorts a stack of cash with bored efficiency. His other hand rests on the small of your back, fingers pressing possessively into the fabric of your shirt. "You scrub up okay for a Pogue," he mutters, his voice a low rumble meant only for you as he tucks the bills into his pocket. "But remember—this," he gestures va…